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peaky-shelby · 1 year

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NEW ROMANTICS | MBAPPÉ [12]

» summary: in which an arrogant and talented football player (the best of his time as some say) and a focused and harsh critic of a journalist are gonna have to find a way to co-exist.

» chapter 12: La Petit Mort

» Writer's note: i do hope y'all are not skipping to only the scenes that the main two are together 😭😭 also this chapter will be going back and forth so read carefully.

» Taglist: @moonchildohh @formulahoe @princetongirlll818 @mavieesttriste16 @kiwisa @godessstela @hummusxx @kodzuvk @pink-manz @corbyns-smile @ippid @jayruiewo265738 @blueanfield @mrs-bellingham @sorceresski @sooblovebot @okayymochi @army7g @j-rbps @heli991113 @markhyucksmells @chaotic-taco-collector-blog @i0veless @photmath @http-isabela @rainytelevisionfilmwagon @formula101x @neymarloverxxx

@cepolar @freespirit-51 @marialikescherries @superswaggycooch @lunasmindinwriting @shadysandwichghoul @contrastedfandom @alexxcorona113 @951am @jinsoulorbitzen12 @mati09 @books-loverss @l0verl4ne @kypostsblog @bluberrycheezk @hottieluvr @calcaneous @444jodie @dudde-44 @neysgf @wallflowerjournal @p4rkyonce @toclic @kyliannnkkk @mad-die45 @tlk-duskwood @mentalbaddie @karotland

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Chaos. Voices. Flashlights. Cameras. An endless of maze of people she had to pass through, that seemed to get thinner with every step she’d take. Even when she was away from the journalists, the noise remained. Teammates following behind her, calling her name but she couldn’t stop for anyone. All she could hear clearly was the loud beating of her anxious heart that anytime now would probably fall of her chest. And then silence. A loud bang of the bathroom door closing and everything was shut out of the door. She cuddled herself on the floor, hugging her knees up to her chest and counting down the numbers she had learned from kindergarten.

MAGAZINE “MATCH” LONDON OFFICES – 1 MONTH LATER

Silence. Low sound of keyboards and chatter on the background. Taylor is sitting in one of the cubicle desks in main foyer. She has her head leaned on her hand, her face giving away her boredom as she read through one of the articles that were sent to her. She printed it and got up, she went to her Boss’s office, leaving the files on his desk.

“Already done?” he asked

“I’m a quick reader.”

“or a lazy one.”

“I don’t appreciate my work ethic being questioned like that.” She warned, cutting off his jokes before he could go any farther.

“right… thank you, you can go then.”

“Did you consider my request? About champions league?”

“I told you I have more experienced writer’s on that.”

“Did you even read my points?”

Her boss rolled his eyes “Ms. Wilock, why don’t you go back and finish your work instead of telling me how to do mine?”

She wanted to punch him. Knock his head on the desk and walk away with her head held high but instead she just left his office, cursing every curse word on the dictionary. As she sat back on her desk and opened her computer, she saw a post about the PSG game against Montpellier and Kylian’s injury that apparently was gonna keep him out of the game with Bayern. Her mind going back to the last time she saw all of them together.

1 MONTH EARLIER – PARC DE PRINCES

Kylian rushed to find her, he was stopped by Neymar before he could reach the bathroom door, pushed back by him. “Told you not to fuck with her!” he warned. Kylian slapped Neymar’s hand away and tried to move passed him. Ney stood in front of him, unbothered “Leave her alone!”

They’d continue fighting if it wasn’t for Taylor’s father walking by them to get to his daughter. Kylian slipped away from Neymar and followed Charlie. Marquinhos joining them shortly after.

“Taylor, it’s me! Open the door!” Said her dad knocking for her. There was no response.

“What the ‘ell happened?” Verratti came in, raising his hands. The second Kylian saw him, he felt like he lost any patience he was left with. He tried to attack him, jumping forward.

“Toi et ta ami!” he shouted, Marquinhos held him back. Standing between Verratti and Mbappe. The team was falling apart and all because of a vicious woman that wanted to make a name for herself in the cost of others.

“You’re blaming this on Verratti?” yelled Neymar, ready to grab Kylian by the arm but getting dragged away last minute by Messi. “He’s not the one that said those things about her on a microphone!”

“I didn’t know I was being recorded!” he defended himself.

Taylor’s father kept knocking, still no response, while the boys behind him were fighting like animals but he didn’t care about them, he didn’t care about whose fault it was, he just wanted to make sure that his daughter would be ok. The door opened just a tiny bit and he got inside, shutting it again. Kylian was gonna walk in as well if it wasn’t for Neymar standing in front of it. “Don’t you fucking dare!” The door flew open again, her father coming out worried.

“Get one of the medics here, Now!” he shouted and Leo with Marquinhos were the first to ran down the hallway and search for help. Mbappe snuck in the bathroom and saw her on the floor, her back on the wall, half conscious, rapid breathing, her hand on her chest. She had been showing signs of getting worse for a while now, he never thought it’d be this bad. Neymar held her up with the help of her father and Kylian felt so helpless, so useless in that moment. He was pushed by the medics who came in and took control with moving her while they gave her an oxygen mask to help her breathing. That gave her some sort of peace. He trailed behind the medics while they moved her to calmer room, to let her lay in there. He watched them moving calmly around her, one of them injecting her with something while her dad gave them her full medical history from the back of his head. He made a few steps, he wanted to find the one that caused this. He went to exit the room and Messi blocked him.

“I know what you are thinking and it’s not happening.”

“I just wanna talk to her.”

“She’s with Galtier. He’s handling it.”

“He doesn’t care about taylor.” Said Kylian, waving his head “He’ll just fire her when Ann tells him everything.”

“What’s everything?”

Kylian didn’t answer but his eyes betrayed him. Everything about his posture was betraying him. Messi held back any judgement, there was just pity in his eyes while he looked at Kylian with his hands on his hips. “go home.” He told him. “She’ll be ok and the journalist will be handled— Kylian! You do anything else and this will only get worse for her. Go home.”

“I’ll take him.” Said Neymar. The two other men looked at him kinda worried “I’m not gonna drive the car on a wall, don’t worry.”

Kylian looked behind Neymar, Charlie was coming out of the small room with one of the medics, looking calm. Neymar turned around and walked over to Charlie “Is she good?”

“Yes. She’s fine, it was just an episode.” Charlie met Kylian’s eyes, it was easy for him to point out the guilt in them. Kylian gathered up his courage and walked up to him.

“I’m sorry for the part I might have had in this—”

Charlie raised his hand “Don’t, son. This wasn’t you. Her disease is something we both had to live with, like you, I blamed myself a lot. But it’s no ones fault.” He paused “Walk with me.” He motioned his head and Kylian followed. For the first few steps they said nothing, then— “It’s a tricky thing, our condition. It makes everything a little harder. Things that come easy to most of the people, like breathing, it’s something we struggle with most times.” They stopped in front of a window, the moon watching over them. “She had to sacrifice way more than I did, I think sacrificing became a way of living for her.” He looked up and down at Kylian “I’m not dumb. I know more than she thinks about you two.” Kylian looked down. “I can also see in your eyes that you didn’t mean to hurt her today.” Kylian rubbed his face.

“I don’t even remember talking to that woman.”

“My worst fear is that when I am gone, Taylor will sacrifice everything again. Cause sacrificing it’s all she’s ever known. And I need to be sure before I do, that she’ll have something that will stop her from doing so. Anything that she can count on, the same way she is counting on me.” Kylian could already feel the weight of what her father was asking him “if you wanna make it better, make sure that doesn’t happen.”

Kylian let his words linger in his head. He thought about it while Neymar was driving him home. The silence was loud between the two.

“I should have spoken to Galtier.” He suddenly said “see what he knows. Prevent him from making any rush decisions.” Neymar gripped on the steering wheel. “What happened is on me. If he doesn’t know about me and her there’s no reason to fire her—”

“He knows Kylian!” Kylian looked up at Neymar. Neymar puffed his cheekbones “I spoke with Marquinhos. Ann told him everything. All her theories at least. She’s running with it…” he shook his head “Taylor shouldn’t have to go through this. They’ll eat her alive.”

Kylian wanted to knock his head in the window, instead he settled for hitting his knee repeatedly. While he was trying to recall anytime that they might have been seen together, anytime they held on each other for too long when they were cameras around, every time he teased her, brought her to her limit.

“HEY!KY! STOP!”

“MERDE!” He yelled and punched the door with his fist.

“Galtier is trying to control it”

“he’s going to control it by firing her—I promised her this wouldn’t happen!”

Neymar stopped the car outside of Kylian’s garage. A moment ago he would be yelling at him but he could see how much he was regretting his actions and how guilty he felt for Taylor. Perhaps, he thought, he really cared about his friend. “Go to sleep. We can fix this in the morning.”

Kylian nodded and left his car. He went up to his house, sitting on his bed, the bed she used to spent her nights in for a week before he blew everything up. He closed his eyes, covering them with his hands and let his mind wonder to the few memories he had with her. During half time, just a few hours ago the team was in the locker rooms, messed up because of how the game was going. She walked to the middle. Her eyes meeting his, because they had this secret understanding with each other.

“we’re a team” she said, her voice low but confident “from the ball boys, to you, to all the assistants, me, Galtier, we are a team. We lose and mourn together, win and celebrate together and defeats are softened and victories sweetened because we did them together.” She was looking at him when she said the last few words, he smiled. “so go out there and be a team and whatever happens we will deal with it together.”

Together. He wanted to hug her when she said that, it’s like his body and soul needed the contact and it killed him that he couldn’t do it. He settled for a short squeeze of hands and went back out there to play, clueless of the chaos that would follow just a while after. She doesn’t deserve it, he thought.

He got up quickly and went at his desk on the living room, throwing his documents left and right searching for something. He looked under the desk too but couldn’t find it. One thing was for sure, he wouldn’t stop until he did.

TAYLOR’S HOUSE – NIGHT

“come on, lay down.” Charlie helped her sit on the bed and ran on the kitchen to get an extra glass of water for her. She drank it all, mostly because she knew her father wouldn’t really give her a choice about it. Then she laid down, closing her eyes. “you need rest.”

“I need to know what the public knowns.”

“Nothing about you and Kylian yet, other than that you hate each other. What are you doing—put the phone down.” He took the phone from her and left it back on the nightstand.

“I want to talk to Galtier!”

“Tomorrow! You need to sleep!

“Did Marquinhos call?”

“Taylor!”

She kept her mouth shut, biting her lip, her eyes reflecting all of the sorrow she was feeling “did he call?”

Her father took the glass from her hand and laid her on the bed, dragging the blankets from under her and covering with them so she would warm. He tucked her in, lifting the blanket up to her chin so no part of her would be exposed. Taylor kept looking at him, waiting for him to give answer. “sleep, you’ll talk to everyone in the morning.”

But the night would only grow longer and the morning didn’t seem to be coming any time soon for either of the two and the grew more impatient, waiting for the sun to come up. Kylian was the first to leave his apartment. It was barely morning, the sky was still purple, the Paris streets were empty and as he drove, he kept thinking if he was doing the right thing. Then all of a sudden he was outside of Galtier’s mansion. He knocked on the door, a repeated loud knock until one of the maids opened up and he rushed inside, searching for his coach. Galtier came out of his kitchen confused.

“What are you doing here?”

“You shouldn’t fire her!”

Galtier sighed, his face proving just how tired he was already from this situation.

“Listen to me! I didn’t mean what I said—I was angry!” he searched in his pocket.

“Kylian! It’s not about what you said—” Galtier stopped talking when Kylian slapped a napkin on his hand. He looked at it, examined it, trying to understand what it was. He could make up some of the names on it, a shape that looked like a football pitch. The handwriting was Taylor’s.

“She did an entire game strategy on napkin. Just two days after she got here. A freaking napkin. And we won! You really going to waste this talent because I was an asshole?” Galtier looked up at him. Pity in his eyes. He motioned for Kylian to come inside the kitchen, he told him to seat while he poured a cup of coffee for each of them. He left the napkin on the table, along with the cup and sat down next to him. Kylian’s confidence was gone, he was back to being a guilty boy, his eyes turned away from anyone that could read them to find out just how broken he was.

“How much of it is true?” asked Galtier. Kylian focused on the smoke from the warm coffee in front of him. He didn’t want to admit to anything that might have been too much, what if it was a trick question. That was a good enough answer for Galtier. “She doesn’t have any pictures. If she did the story would be out already. You’re lucky. But you’re not safe. She’s not safe from the press or the internet.” All Kylian wanted to do was drop his face on the burning coffee. “Ann has in her hands what could be a career changing story, you think she’s going to let it go out of the good of her heart?” Galtier drank a little from his coffee, left the cup back down.

“So what’s the plan?”

“The plan is to let me handle it, so both the team and Taylor come out of it unharmed.”

“What about her job?”

Galtier paused, looked in Kylian’s eyes “that’s not my decision. And before you go rushing to the president’s house… it’s not his decision either. If you know what I mean…”

KYLIAN’S HOUSE – 1 MONTH LATER

“Fuck!” he groaned as he sat up from his couch. It had been a while since the injury but it still hurt when he moved abruptly. He walked over to his door and opened it, to find Neymar and Messi on the other side. Neymar was holding a bag with food and Messi had a box with beers. They walked in before Kylian invited them too, they were already in some deep conversation, speaking in Spanish. Kylian watched them walking to the couch, a bit confused as to why they were here in the first place. The two of them sat on the couch, making themselves comfortable. Neymar even took of his shoes so he could lay his legs on the table and Leo sat cross-legged on the pillows. Kylian approached them slowly, narrowing his eyes, he crossed his arms, standing over them, waiting for them to notice him and pause their conversation. Suddenly Neymar turned to him, looking a little annoyed to Kylian’s surprise.

“You can stand there the whole night? Sit down man, eat!” Neymar opened the bag and took out a couple of wrapped tacos. He placed them on Kylian’s table, who, again, watched while his two teammates started eating over his couch.

“Gosh, these are good! Kylian you should try them—”

“What are you doing here?” he snapped, waving his hands in the air.

Neymar looked at him with a full bite in his mouth, his expression resembling one of a kid’s that was being reprehended by his mum while eating. Leo stuffed his mouth with the rest of the taco and wiped the sausage from his lips. Then he opened one of the beers “Beer?” he asked and held it for him. Kylian was still confused by accepted the beer anyway. He sat on one of the chairs and Leo gave a beer to Neymar as well.

“How’s your leg?” asked Leo.

Kylian was still drinking so he shrugged his shoulders as a response.

“What did the doctor say about Bayern?” questioned Neymar.

“They don’t know yet!” he admitted and stared at the floor.

“Are you flying to the Event tomorrow?”

“Yes, why?”

Leo and Neymar gave each other a knowing look, Ney leaned forward and took a paper magazine out of the bag, throwing it on the table. The sound made Kylian look up, his eyes falling on the magazine and reading the headline. Something about Champions League. He gazed at Neymar “what’s that?”

“Read it!” prompted Leo. Kylian stretched out his body to get the magazine and opened it to start reading, multiple columns about multiple teams.

“What am I supposed to be reading?”

“Page 12.”

Kylian flipped the pages, stopping on page 12 and started reading. It was an interview of a footballer’s wife that he had never even heard of.” He was wondering why he was wasting his time reading it until he reached the end and saw her name on the bottom. He raised his head at his teammates, half confused and half angry.

“There is no way she wrote this.”

“Bet she’s not proud of it, but she did.” Answered Leo.

“She hated these stuff!”

“She still does, she just doesn’t have a choice.”

Neymar cleared his throat as if he was making a shot at Kylian, but the latter ignored it “They have someone like her, writing this shit?”

“We had someone like her and didn’t use her pretty well either so I’m not sure we should be judging.” Mumbled Neymar. Kylian threw the magazine at him.

“Still don’t understand why you are here. I tried to convince her to stay. She’s barely answering my texts now. What am I supposed to do?”

“Tell us the whole truth finally! Why did she leave if the story about you two never broke out?”

Kylian thought about it, his mind going back to the last time he saw her. The shot that he lost.

PSG CAMPUS – GALTIER’S OFFICE – 1 MONTH EARLIER

Taylor felt weird walking down these hallways. She felt like she was going to be ambushed by journalist or worst Kylian before she had the chance to reach Galtier’s office but thankfully she made it there without a scar. Knocking on the door and entering slowly. Sitting in her spot, looking as awkward as she had on the first day she got here.

Galtier examined her like he was expecting her to go first but she didn’t even know where to start.

“How are you?” he asked.

“Good.”

“What did the doctor’s say?”

“To take it more easy.”

“doesn’t sound like you.”

She snorted “yeah, it’s not.”

He smiled, leaned forward on his desk “I don’t know if you’ve spoken with Kylian—” she shook her head negatively immediately, Galtier nodded “in any case, there are rumors and please don’t try to refuse them, that’s not why you are here.” She lowered her head. She was a grown up, an adult, pretending this wasn’t her fault would be childish. “As you understand, stay or leave, there need to be some differences around here. And you need to prepare yourself for the worst”

“I already have.” She whispered, her eyes finally meeting Galtier’s, then in one breath she said the brutal truth before he could “I can’t stay.” Galtier was taken aback by her decision, he was scared by how easily and quickly she made it. She must have noticed the terror in his eyes because she was quick to continue “it’s a conscious decision. I pride myself for being fair, I have to be fair with myself as much as I am with the others. What happened…” her voice trailed off, breaking because she could see him in her mind, smiling, holding her, caring for her “it was wrong.” But why did it feel so right? Why did apologizing for it felt like lying? She cleared her throat and continued “I’d love to say that I can pretend it never happened, but I won’t be able to…”

“Ms. Wilock—”

“I don’t think I belong in this world anymore. I don’t think I can keep my mouth shut when I see the things that are happening and writing…” she smiled “I miss it.”

“Looks to me like you are running away.”

“maybe.” She mumbled, staring at her fingers, scratching her nails. “But we both know the backlash, if Ann runs with the story, is going to be insufferable. I’m never going to be respected, always under the shadow of a man, Kylian and…” she paused “you. All me success will go to you, meanwhile I’ll have to deal with every sexist comment on the dictionary. And normally I wouldn’t mind, I’m tough but… half of it will be true and it’s killing me. It’s killing me that I gave them exactly what they wanted.”

Galtier listened to everything she was saying, carefully, he almost understood her. It’s only that if he had an opportunity like hers, to make the amount of money that she was making here but perhaps that was the difference between the two. So he let her go as quickly as she came. She exited his office, head held high but eyes burning with the need to cry and her body asking to fall apart. There was something about making rush decisions like that, like pulling off a band aid to open wound, doctors always said that was the right way, right? In any case she was used to do doing it like that, losing a career from one day to another, losing people she loved because she was unable to love them, because she was scared.

“I wouldn’t know…I don’t think I’ve ever been in love. Don’t think I’d even recognize the feeling if I did.” Her fingers slipped into his, he held them, stroking them gently and looking down at her as they sat cross-legged on his floor, then he smiled.

“Not even Mason?”

She snorted, slapping his hand “even that was a teenage crush. Nothing more. I’m telling you, it has never happened to me, I’m not built that way.” She shrugged her shoulders “maybe it’s because I know first hand everything has an expiration date. It’s hard to be as romantic when you’ve felt that.”

He interlocked his fingers with her as they sat cross-legged on his floor, candles keeping the atmosphere calm for both of them “it’s a messy feeling” he said in a low tone “one day it drives you mad. The other it’s peace.” He smiled, gazing over her hands, so tiny and yet able to keep him still for as long as they wanted “It gets you angry, impatient, miserable and at the same time calm, proud, loved.” He brought her fingers up to his lips, leaving light kisses on them “La petite mort” he whispered in her hands. She enjoyed the feeling of his warm breath washing over her skin. It’s the first time she didn’t mind him speaking French, like language barrier between the two was broken.

“What does that mean?” she asked, waiting for him to look her in the eyes.

He continued massaging her hands, a smile coming up to his lips, a teasing smile. “Small death. Its an expression. The French use it to describe the brief loss or weakening of consciousness” he looked in her eyes, with that dirty look combined with care “otherwise known as the feeling of post orgasm as likened to death, for us French people.” Even his words had an affect on her, the way that he said them, how easily he spoke about it. She slid closer to him, blushing and smiling.

“Is that what love is to you?”

“I think it’s fair to say it weakens your consciousness. Has you dying and awakening repeatedly.”

“How did you say it?” she bit on her bottom lip.

He pushed her hair behind her ear, his finger enjoying the contact with her skin, the energy that vibrated between them and he leaned in, his lips barely touching hers “la petite mort” he said, his bottom lip hooking on her upper and dragging her closer to him until all her strengths crumbled and she dropped herself in him to chase her small death for the night.

And she wished she could chase it again but all she was chasing now was the exit, leaving the campus before he could see her, before she could lay her eyes on him because she worried that if she did all she’d chase would be him and a life made of sugar.

Kylian was training when Neymar ran to tell him that Taylor was upstairs, meeting with Galtier. Considering that all his texts went answered from the night before he ran upstairs. There was feeling of Déjà vu. Just one month ago he was running up to her and Galtier to yell, to tell her how much he hated her boss and now he was running to stop her because he couldn’t stand to the thought that he’d be the reason of her losing something she loved so much for the second time. When he got to Galtier’s office it was empty. His assistant was the bearer of bad news, Taylor had already left and she wouldn’t be coming back.

“Where are you going? We have three hours left!” Yelled Neymar but Kylian didn’t respond. Suddenly he heard a tougher voice, cold and brutal.

“Seven!” He stopped on his tracks, Galtier was standing in front of him. “I don’t suppose you are going anywhere else but training” he said, but it was more of an order “this fiasco ends here. If you wanna be anywhere else, you get there when you are done with your schedule. This is not high school football.”

Kylian gulped but he knew if she was here, she’d tell him the same thing. So, he obeyed and he continued with his training until the sun was down. While on the locker room, Verratti approached him hesitantly, sitting next to him while he was tying his shoes. He gave him a card, he took it, examining it. The name of Annette Monet, along with her details.

“You can give it to taylor if she wants to talk to her. Tell her I’m sorry if you see her.”

Kylian threw the card on his bag. “Why would I see her?”

“You were much closer than I was with her.”

“What did Annette tell you?”

“She hasn’t told me anything. It was me that did most of the talking but I didn’t think…”

“I told you not to get a journalist involved Marco!”

“She was a friend.”

“Obviously not.” He tied the knot on his shoe tighter and got up.

How did he find himself in her apartment? Knocking on her door to be let in? He’s been asking himself the same question ever since that night. One minute he was driving and the other he was standing in front of Charlie, same look in his eyes as the day before. Charlie was smoking a cigarette, he made note of it because he thought it was weird for him to be smoking in his condition. Then he heard Taylor walking closer to the door “I told you to lit that thing off! For crying out loud dad—” she stopped in her steps when she saw Kylian. She was holding cash in her hand, probably expecting the delivery man instead. They looked at each other, silent, until her father took the initiative to invite Kylian in and excused himself seconds later, leaving them alone.

Kylian looked around the room, her suitcases on the floor, a pile of clothes on the desk. Her room looked as messy as ever but it was a different kind of messy, it didn’t feel as warm as he remembered it to.

“What are you doing?” he asked almost disappointed.

She didn’t reply, instead she gazed away from him. Looking at some sort of comfort in her walls, considering digging a hole so she could sneak out of this situation quicker. He made a step forward, confident. “Why?” he asked and it made have been one word but it mirrored a thousand questions that she didn’t have a clear answer to.

“There’s no use talking about it Kylian, what’s done is done.”

“We can stop her from putting out the article—”

”no we can’t and what’s worse is that we can’t stop ourselves! We can delay her, we can put a pause to this, we can pretend we are not driving towards a cliff but eventually we’ll pay the price.”

“Even if it breaks, I can protect you. I’ll take the heat--”

“no you won’t!” she mumbled, closing her eyes and rubbing her forehead.

“Merde—you think I’d let you alone in this--?”

“I have no doubt that you’ll do your best not to Kylian but you’re a man. No one’s gonna care about you fucking the new assistant. If anything, you’ll be praised for it! Me? I’ll always be the slut, my abilities will always be compared to this, poisoned by this. They don’t even know about this so far and your interview already has them hating on me—”

“That interview was illegal!”

“Does it really matter what it was?” She topped his voice. Kylian held back from answering. Maybe because he knew it didn’t make any difference. He really had said those things about her, what’s worse is that he really believed them when he said them. “Honestly between you and me, I don’t know if you ever trusted me as a coach at all! Don’t—” she raised her hand to stop him “you don’t have to say anything. It doesn’t matter, just please understand, that this is for the best.”

“You’re letting go of your dream for a stupid rumor—”

“where’s the fucking dream Kylian? Because this shit feels like a nightmare since day one. Me, trying to be someone I’m not. Chasing a vision, I had when I was a kid and realizing it comes with things I could never stand behind. I value respecting myself and choices more than the zeros on the paycheck.”

“What about me, then?” he asked, his voice firmer. “What about Ney? The rest of them? Is that what all of this was to you? Zeros on a paycheck?”

“Obviously not—”

“Then why are you acting like you’re just leaving a job?”

“So, I won’t break apart!” she yelled, her voice breaking, trembling. She hid her face immediately after she said it. Covering her eyes. “You think this easy? Cause it’s not.” She whispered in her palms and waited to hear the door opening and closing but instead she felt him coming closer, she felt his hands on her shoulders. His head leaning closer.

“This is my fault—”

“Its not about that!” she said, looking up. Having him this close was making her stomach ache. “We are both adults. All of this has been a series of choices that I made for myself. My choice when I gave in to you knowing there’d be consequences, my choice to keep it a secret, not putting an end to it and this… this is my choice too. I’m not letting anyone else make it for me, not Ann, not Galtier, not the world and not you. It’s just me facing the music--” she held his face in her hands, her thumb stroking his eyebrow “and I don’t blame you for it either. I knew what I was doing.” She leaned closer, her eyes began to stink “I wanted it. In a way, this is me protecting it.”

“It’s the wrong choice.”

“Maybe.” It came out so soft “But at least it’s mine.” She smiled and a second later she dived in his hold while he held her against his chest, his face hidden in her hair. Her face was molded on his shoulders, sinking in his perfume, his skin, his everything. He squeezed her in his arms, making a memory of what it felt like to have her there. “Do me a favor.” Her voice came out muffled from his shoulders.

“What?”

“Take a look at your leg before it’s too late.”

He laughed, his body vibrating. She tilted her head and kissed his cheek, her lips lingering on his cheekbone, he moved slowly, his head turning so he’d be kissing her lips instead. A slow kiss, their lips hooking on each other’s and dragging each other out until he molded his completely in hers.

“I’ll stop the article.” He whispered

“How?”

“I’ll find a way.” He said and he was confident. She kissed his cheek again and pulled away because any longer and they wouldn’t be able to control themselves.

TAYLORS’S HOUSE / LONDON – 1 MONTH LATER

Taylor threw her bags on the couch and walked over to the kitchen, getting a beer from the fridge. She started drinking when she heard tiny steps coming down the stairway, she walked back in the living room to meet her sister, who rushed to her arms.

“Hey little one!” she laughed, accepting the hug. “Ready for bed?”

“Can you convince mama to watch a little TV?” she pouted

“Hmm, I don’t think so. I think it’s time to sleep.”

“That’s right, thank you Taylor!” said Beth as she came down the stairs. Taylor smiled when she saw her and knelt down in front of Lily, stroking her long black curls.

“How about you run upstairs and I read you a bedtime story?”

“Will it be about football?”

She laughed “I was thinking the little mermaid.”

Lily nodded with a smile and ran up the stairs. Taylor turned to Beth, the smile fading from her face. “How’s dad?”

“Same as yesterday but he still got that fucking cigarette in his hand.”

Taylor went to find her father. He was in his office, a cigarette in one hand and a pen in the other, he was writing, always writing she thought as she approached him. He lit it off when he saw her by pressing it on the ashtray and he smiled at her, opening his mouth to speak but it was interrupted by coughing.

“She’s right for being mad at you, you know?”

“I know.” He sighed “but it’s only the second one, I promise.”

She noticed he had his inhaler laid on the table, next to the papers. He got up “Is lily in bed?”

“Yes.” She said but she was still looking at the inhaler. Terrifying how much a person could be depended on material things after all. “Did you speak with the doctor?” she crossed her arms to her chest, biting her cheek.

“Same old. Same old.” He stroked his daughter’s face. “Let’s not talk about it.” He kissed her temple and walked away. That’s when her phone began to buzz in her pocket, she took it out, looking at the caller id, comfort washing over her as she the name and picked it up.

“How’s my terrifyingly tall best friend doing?”

His laugh echoed on her ear. “I’m good. Missed ya. Are you coming tomorrow?” She puffed her cheeks, having completely forgotten about the invitation. “I’ll take that as a yes because you don’t really have a choice.”

“Jude, it’s not the best of time and I’m exhausted.”

“Oh, come on. Don’t make me call Trish and have her dragging you at the party—”

“You wouldn’t, you’re terrified of her.”

“That’s not true.” He said but his tone was betraying him. Taylor laughed. “Doesn’t matter, as long as you come. Maze will be here, Saka, Rashford—I heard beckham might make an appearance!”

“Now you’re just straight up lying!”

“Maybe but it’s what I’ll tell Trish and you know she’ll do anything in her power for you to come if she hears Beckham will be there.”

“You play dirty!”

“I play smart, love.”

She snorted. Looking behind her at Beth and her father leading Lily to her bedroom. “Will any other teams be there?” she heard him chuckling from the other side of the phone “Don’t be a smug!”

“it’s a party TJ! I don’t have the full list. Just come, have a drink. I wanna introduce you to a few people. Please for me. Do it for breaking my heart as a kid. It’s your last chance to see me before I head back to Germany”

“Fine. Ok. But I’m leaving early.”

“Sounds good to me darling.”

Some days he’d catch himself thinking about her, he’d hear a whistle and turn around expecting her to be there, moving her finger at him. He’d have a bad game and expect her to turn up in the locker room, yelling and making her sarcastic comments. Her exit was noticed by everyone, for most on the field but for Kylian, he’d feel it at home too. His lonely, big and cold home with the million-dollar view and the lifeless interior. He tried to replace her by flirting, going out, focusing on getting better and for a short time he thought he made it. During games he wouldn’t think about her so much, he’d play like he used to, her perfume fading from her memory until he felt the pain in his thigh midgame. It was brutal. He had to sit down, cursing himself while the medics gathered around him. He could hear her so clearly on his mind, the “I told you so” slipping from her lips.

And now while he was laying on his bed, reading her name on a magazine, thinking about the talent that was being wasted, he wished she was there, so he could tell her to run. Instead, she was stuck back in her own life, in her family home, tucking in her sister, working in an office in the morning and seeing her dad slowly fading. Different hallways, different lives. She laid on her couch, tv on, lights dim and she was writing on her computer, an article about Champions League and the teams that would be playing against each other next week. One of them of course was PSG and then she had to write his name and suddenly her fingers froze on the keyboard and she looked at it. Names, she thought, they have so much power over people.

NATIONAL EURO TEAMS EVENT – NIGHT

“This dress is too fucking tight” said taylor, dragging it so it wouldn’t lift too high.

“No…” mumbled Trish “that’s just you.”

Taylor smacked her as the two of them walked in the after party and Trish would have reacted if she wasn’t scanning the place for all the hot footballers she could get laid with. So many familiar faces and yet there was one missing “do you see beckham anywhere?”

“Jesus Trish, he is not coming. Bellingham lied to you—”

“No, he didn’t. I know when he lies, he knows I know, I can smell it on him and he’s too intimidated to lie.”

Taylor looked at her friend with worry, wondered how she always got her way with men so easily. Suddenly she felt someone coming and throwing his arm around her, and she would have jump if she didn’t recognize the cologne. She turned her head up, a smile Jude Bellingham pulling her closer to him.

“Jude, I can’t breathe—”

“Ah! I’m so happy you came!”

“Where is he Jude?” Asked Trish, interrupting their sweet moment. Jude looked up at her, smirking.

“Brought your bulldog with you, I see!” he smiled. “He’s not here yet.”

Trish walked closer to him, perhaps too close and Taylor watched them. She could feel the energy between the two, something between hate, fear and love, it was such a familiar sensation. “If he doesn’t show up, I’m gonna blame you and you are going to find that unpleasant.” She poked his chest and backed away, turning around--

“I’ve got to tell you something, you’re kinda hot when you’re like this.”

She flipped her hair, gave him a smirk “I’m always like this.”

Taylor couldn’t believe her eyes when she saw Jude checking Trish out as she walked away, specifically focused on her curves, biting his tongue. “EW!” She exclaimed before she could stop herself. Jude returned his attention to her smiling and interlocked his arms with hers, “Come on, I need you to meet people.”

“What people?”

She wished she hadn’t asked because she heard so many names that night, her mind overloading with information. Until she reached the main target for the night. Sarina Wiegman, head coach of the national team of England. Jude took the initiative to introduce them while taylor was struggling to keep her cool. It was midway that she realized Jude was basically promoting her like she was a multitasking phone. She barely got the chance to speak while Jude was making a list of her entire career, sometimes exaggerating. Sarina seemed to be enjoying it, eager to know about her time in France, working with Coach Galtier.

“We are recruiting new people to follow us in Australia for the world cup. I’ll certainly keep you in mind young lady.” She said with a smile, before excusing herself. Taylor looked at Bellingham, with her mouth wide open. Jude was laughing at her reaction, feeling proud of his childhood friend.

“Did she really just say that?”

“Yeah, I think she did—”

Taylor had thrown herself on him before he could finish the sentence and he picked her up, spinning her around while they both laughed. When he let her down, she continued jumping out of excitement, only stopping when her eyes caught a sight of very familiar eyes, eyes that she hadn’t seen in years.

“Well, if it isn’t the first girl that left me on read!” He joked, a glass of champagne in one hand while the other was held out for her to shake.

“Mace…” she said in a sweet whisper, full of adoration and as soon as she gave him her hand, he pulled her in a hug. It was like she was on a time machine, surrounded by her childhood friends, before it all went to shit, a future full of possibilities. She pulled back to look at his face, smiling.

“Thank god you got rid of the bangs.”

He let out a belly laugh while Jude came round him and settled his arm around his neck “that’s what I keep telling him.”

“God this is so weird.” She mumbled “watching you two together when you both belong in different parts of my life.”

“Judy has told me all about you breaking his heart for Carbonara.”

“Carbonara is always worth it—wait a minute, did you just say Judy?”

Bellingham rolled his eyes “swear to god man—” Mason winked and squeezed Jude’s side as a joke. Jude jumped, stepping away from him immediately. “Stop doing that.” He whined. Taylor laughed at his reaction.

“You two fighting again?” Rushford stood behind Taylor, giving her a quick look before smiling “And in front of the lady?”

Taylor smiled when she saw him, putting her hand out immediately “I’m Taylor. It’s very nice to meet you, Marcus.”

“Oh? I think I just met your friend.” He shook her hand.

“Oh gosh is she drunk already?”

“I think she was looking for David beckham so possibly yes.” Taylor hid her face in her hands, groaning. “She’s with Saka now, though.”

“What’s she doing with him?” Jude asked, stepping forward and walking in between the crowd to get to Saka, Rushford followed behind them. Mason put his arm around Taylor and they started following behind the other two.

“So, is this like a European gathering for teams?”

“It’s supposed to be an unofficial celebration for the beginning of EURO 2024” He explained, talking in her ear so she’d hear better.

“Don’t tell me Ronaldo is coming.” She laughed

“Yeah, he’ll be here, right after Beckham.”

Taylor let out a loud laughter, elbowing her ex boyfriend. She looked forward, trying to find the rest of the group that had left them behind when she saw his silhouette in between all the others.

Expensive Dior suit. Golden watch on his wrist, same hand that he was holding his drink. She didn’t mean to but she held Mason’s hand, maybe because she needed to hold something in order not to run to him.

“Kylian.” She whispered and their eyes met in the darkness, the invisible string between the two, pulling them closer again.

Did he think about going to find her the minute he landed in London? Of course, he did and he probably would if it wasn’t for his management rushing him to get changed and got to event. He didn’t wanna be there, he wasn’t in the mood. His leg still hurt and most of these people, he didn’t even like but he had to pretend to be all happy and giggling. He tried to stay with his teammates from France for most of the night but people kept interrupting. He had his hand on his pocket for most of the night, ready to call her, see how she was doing. While he was in deep conversation with Giroud when he caught a glimpse of Mason Mount. He followed him with his eyes until he saw him stopping behind someone that looked like Bellingham. He tried seeing who was behind Jude but whoever it was, was short. Then his heart dropped, a woman’s figure that took him only 5 seconds to process was Taylor, being pulled into Mason’s arms. His froze right where he was, he watched, his eyes examining her every movement while she spoke with the two men she knew from childhood. Men that knew her better than he ever would probably.

“Kylian, are you ok?” Asked Giroud. Kylian looked at him quickly, nodding.

“Yes, I’ll be back right away.”

He excused himself, pushing the crowd so he’d get closer to her. Stopped when he was a few steps away from her and he saw her gripping on Mason’s arm, while her eyes locked with his.

Mason broke the ice by greeting Kylian like they were long lost friends, he even tried to make conversation with him but if you asked either Taylor or Kylian what he was saying, neither of them would be able to answer. They were to occupied listening to each other’s thoughts.

“Hey Mase. Why don’t you find Jude, I’ll come find you in five.”

Mason nodded and walked past Kylian, putting him in the shoulder as he left. Taylor then stepped closer to Kylian, motioned with her head and signaled him to follow her outside. He swallowed his entire drink in one ago and he followed.

Maybe if it wasn’t for Kylian she would have noticed her phone was out of battery again. Maybe if it wasn’t for Kylian she would have left earlier or Trish would find her quicker. Maybe she’d know that Beth was calling her repeatedly.

What do you mean in 3 chapters I'm gonna have to say goodbye to all of them????? What do you mean that this story is ending???? HOW THE FUCK DID A POSSIBLE ONE SHOT TURN TO 180 PAGES AND 90.000+ WORDS???? WHAT IN THE HELL???? WHY AM I CRYING??????? I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH!!! Adore you to the moon and back and thank you for always commenting please please never stop interacting it's the only thing that keeps this story going and i do not take it for granted. I can see that the hype is over and most of the readers are gone but the few that are still here please as always leave a comment to keep the fire going. Feedback is the best gift in the world. Now.... What do you think beth needs Taylor for? How did Kylian stop Ann??? Is Taylor gonna find her place in the national team and move to Australia???? SO MANY QUESTIONS!!! LEAVE YOUR ANSWERS 👀👀👀

#newromanticsfic #mbappe x reader #football writing #neymar x reader #mbappe imagines #imagines #kylian mbappe one shot #kylian mbappe imagines

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daydream-cement · 1 year

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so i was thinking about new years and loved the idea of larissa and r being each others new years kiss.

like the two of them are in an urgent meeting discussing something that had gone down with some students before christmas break, them needing to get some reports done and filed. them sipping some champagne, just for festivities. the meeting going on so long they lost track of time, only a few minutes left before midnight, realizing this one of them takes the leap and asks the other to be their new years kiss, and linger on each other’s lips longer than they should

New Years Kiss

Larissa Weems x Reader

“I can’t believe their end of semester prank was to reshuffle the entire filing room…” You sit back against the wall and lean you head back, banging your head gently against the wall to make your frustration known. Scattered around you were the files of the hundreds of Nevermore students, all needed to be put back into place.

Larissa Weems sat next to you, resorting through her file of papers, obviously frustrated with the task at hand. Students had been sent home a week ago and today, December 31st, you informed your boss that the entire hardcopy filing system has been shuffled about. Now all of student and staff information was in the correct place. Both of you had to cancel New Years plans to sit in a small back room of Nevermore Academy until it was fixed.

You kept sorting. Every once in a while you would exchange sheets of paper. You were reorganizing students and she started with reorganizing staff.

Larissa checked her watch, “I’ll be right back.”

You watched her get up and leave, but you turn your head back down to the filing job at hand. You saw Larissa Weems as an incredibly beautiful woman, but you had never expected more than friendship from her. When she returned, she was carrying a small bottle of champagne and paper cups.

“It’s almost midnight. We have officially been here for 8 hours.” She handed you a paper cup, and opened the champagne over a small garbage can in case it overflowed, “I kept this little guy in my desk for emergencies.”

Truthfully, you had only been working a couple of those hours. When you were together, sometimes your conversations would veer off into philosophy, politics, or educational dilemmas.

“We should have started drinking when we started.” You stated, holding your cup still for her to fill yours and then her own. You held your cup up to her as she stood above you, “Cheers.”

“Cheers.” She tapped her cup against yours, throwing hers back like a shot. Larissa took a seat back down by you. For the next few minutes, you took turns refilling each others cups and drinking.

11:58

“No New Years kiss this year.” You lean into Larissa’s shoulder, enjoying the light tingle in your skull from the alcohol.

“Who said no New Years kiss? You can kiss me.” Larissa questioned and stated, making your eyes widen. You wouldn’t object to kissing her, this was just unexpected.

11:59

“Okay. I mean, yeah sure. I-“ You were a little nervous at your automatic response, you didn’t want to seem overzealous, but you couldn’t pass up the opportunity to kiss her.

Larissa glanced down at her phone, your eyes glanced down at the time, 11:59. Do you kiss now or-?

She leaned in first. You wondered how she was so fearless or were you just too fearful? You met her halfway, pressing your lips to hers.

You hadn’t been this close to her before. She smelled so nice. Larissa brought up a hand to your cheek. Her hands were soft too. You reached a hand out, grasping at the fabric of her jacket to keep her close.

Her mouth opened a little, you felt her tongue graze your bottom lip. You deepen the kiss a little more. It was when Larissa placed a hand on your leg that you both part slowly.

12:02

She glances down at her phone again. Its 12:02. Had your kiss really been that long? Larissa picks back up the champagne bottle, drinking some before handing the bottle to you, giving you what was left.

Larissa’s face was flush. She was embarrassed by how she behaved during your kiss. You saw the redness in her face as she pretended to busy herself with the paperwork once more.

“Thank you for that…” You say, trying not to embarrass her too much more. You turn back to your paperwork at hand.

Both of you sat much closer together now, your thighs touching. You wondered what your relationship would look like from here on out.

#larissa weems #fanfic #wednesday netflix #gwendoline christie #larissa weems x reader #oneshot #larissa weems fluff

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ggidolsmuts · 2 years

Text

Work Distractions - WJSN Dawon

*Hey, does this look good?*

Your phone drops on the desk with a clatter, and you hastily pick it up before any curious colleagues can see what was on the screen. Dawon just sent you a photo of her wearing a loose bathrobe, her bikini underneath teasingly visible.

*I was thinking about wearing this to the beach sometime, what do you think?*

*It looks good, hey you can't just send me pics like that without warning me!*

*Why, should I have said "Warning, hot pic incoming"? You know every pic I send is hot* You groan and wince at how right Dawon is.

*Fine, just saying someone could have seen* Your colleague comes over to ask you a question, and you have to set your phone down to address them. In the meantime you hear your phone vibrating with one message after another.

"Hey, is someone calling you?" your colleague asks, mistaking Dawon's quickfire messages for a phone call.

"No no, that's just messages, it's fine." You put it on mute and stuff it into your pocket. An hour later you groan and finally stretch yourself out—the question took far too long, and annoyingly you've missed your lunch break. Habitually you pull out your phone, to a deluge of messages from Dawon.

*What's wrong with that, you don't want people to know you're banging an idol?*

*Hmph, fine, be that way, guess I'll just bang myself then...*

*I look hot don't I, I should take off the robe* You slowly stiffen as you see another photo, in her bikini with the robe off.

*Did you know, sex feels better when you're wearing a hot outfit, my fingers feel pretty nice right now*

*But I bet it would feel better if your fingers were in me instead*

*Fuck I'm so wet babe, and no, I'm not at the beach ;)* The message is followed by another photo, her bikini bottoms bulging with her fingers underneath, no doubt fingering herself. Her next pic is that of her fingers, coated in her slick.

*It goes in me so easy, in and out, in and out*

*Fuck I came, I came imagining your cock in me instead*

*Maybe you could come back home early today?*

*Come on, you spend all that time at the office, typing at your desk, when you could be typing on my body, however you want*

*Pretty please? I'm so close to another one, please cum over*

That did it, you had to go.

"Hey Boss, I'm going out to lunch, I had to help them earlier." You jerk a thumb behind you generally, but your boss gets the gist and waves you away. You flag a taxi before messaging Dawon.

*Stay right there, don't take off anything and don't touch yourself*

You knock on Dawon's door, and as soon as she lets you in you're knocking on her wall, pushing her against it as you kick the door closed behind you. You kiss her fiercely before addressing her in a low voice.

"Did you touch yourself?"

"No. You came quickly," Dawon teases. But her breath catches as your hand slips under her waistband, and Dawon proves her words true, clenching around your fingers with a breathless moan when you tip her over the edge.

"So did you."

"Shut up."

"I can't stay long." You undo your pants and boxers and kick them off, before hiking Dawon's leg up, holding it up by her knee.

"It's okay, thanks for coming over... oh!" Dawon moans quietly as you pull her underwear to the side and slip in. With how wet she is you quickly sink your full length into her, leaving her to scratch your back and hang around your neck. "Oh fuck that's so good." For how much of a tease she is Dawon melts in your arms, her teeth nipping your earlobe while she moans into your ear.

"Nngh, oh yes, hmmm, haa, hnngh right there!" Dawon alternates between soft moans and quiet grunts, small whispers of joy affirming your every thrust. Your other hand finds a toned butt cheek, and you help stabilize her as she throws her hips forward, willing you to fuck her deeper. Her breaths get shorter and shorter, and soon she groans in your ear.

"Oh god, ohhhhhhh yes!" She buries her head in your neck, her walls clenching on your cock as you yank an orgasm out of her. You yank one out of yourself too, the pleasure suddenly getting too dangerous—you pull out swiftly, a splash of her juices following your shaft out. You moan in tandem with her as your load splatters on her midriff before sliding down her tummy, staining her black bikini.

"Haah, haah, fuck, sorry about that."

"You more than made up for it. Do you really have to go now?" You support Dawon against the wall, and Dawon supports you against herself, both of you weak-legged from your peaks.

"Yeah, sorry, I can't stay too long, it's my lunch hour."

"Wait, have something before you go then, might as well actually eat lunch." Dawon leaves you to put on your clothes, and you try to smooth your shirt out best you can. She comes back in an oversized t-shirt and some kimbap. You sit down gratefully and start eating.

"Did you eat yet?" you ask between bites.

"Not yet, I'll eat after."

"Oh what, you should have some then."

"Nah, I'll have something nicer later, this was leftovers."

"Ouch, good for you I guess, thanks for the leftovers." You wolf down the last piece of kimbap and get up.

"Any time, come over whenever you want more," Dawon teases you once again. You shake your head and make your way back to the office. The rest of the office day goes by smoothly until you get another text from her.

*Hey, do you have time after work today? Want to come over?*

*I was just there a few hours ago*

*That felt like forever ago, and I was thinking...* your phone buzzes with a voice message from her. You hold it to your ear, looking extra suspicious as you make sure no one else is within earshot.

"It was so hot, how you lifted my leg, I was just dangling there, unable to do anything, you could've done whatever you wanted. I couldn't stop you, I wouldn’t stop you. How about you get off work, so you can get off on, I mean in, me?" Dawon ends the message with a moan, as if she was already touching herself. Something in you gives and breaks, and you quickly pack your stuff.

"I'm going to have an early dinner, I'll do the rest at home."

"Didn't you have a late lunch?" your colleagues point out.

"Wasn't enough, someone needs filling." You don't even realize your own mixed up words, and thankfully neither do your colleagues.

"Hey—mmph!" You push the partly open door open and reach for Dawon's knees, lifting them to your waist as she instinctively hooks her legs around you in a slight panic. Before she knows it you're carrying her to her bedroom and pinning her to the bed. You plunge your tongue past her lips and and lock her in place, kissing her fiercely until the need for oxygen finally overcomes the need to touch her lips with yours. Dawon's cheeks are flushed pink, but she still manages to shoot out a teasing barb.

"Get off early from work? Your boss won't be happy."

"You're the one to told me to get off in you, such a fucking tease." You latch your lips to her neck, sucking on her skin.

"I'm an idol, it's in— Ah! It's in in the job description." She moans as you slip your hands under her oversized t-shirt, and when you find nothing underneath, your slacks suddenly not so slack.

"You're an amazing idol then, you never put anything on since I left?"

"Why? I was going to make you come over and you'd have to take it off again anyways, this saves time."

"What if I didn't come over?"

"Please." Dawon rolls her eyes and gives you a grin. "Like you could resist coming over." You pull the oversized t-shirt off her, getting harder at the sight of Dawon's figure. You rid your clothes and get equally naked, but when you line yourself up with her she stops you.

"Not like this." She takes your hands and brings them to her knees. Placing her own hands over yours, she has you push her knees up and open, lewdly spreading herself for you in almost an "M" shape. A red haze takes over you, your crimson tip already brushing against her pink entrance. You stare at her intently, and she can't help but blush and look away, burying her face in the pillow.

"I'm not going to stop you."

The red haze descends on the two of you, just like your cock sinking into her pussy. Both of you cry out loudly, Dawon feeling tighter than ever. You set a punishing pace almost immediately, giving Dawon just two thrusts to adjust before you're slamming forward into her.

"F-fuck yes, just like that!" You're surprised at how loud she is, watching and hearing Dawon lose herself turning you on more.

“So fucking tight!”

“Hnnngh yes, right there, right there!”

But even your grunts and her cries are unable to cover the loud plop-plop sounds of your balls slapping against her skin. Dawon's biting on her pillow, and you fuck another muffled wail out of her. Her hands are wild, scratching you, pushing you away, pulling you back in, not sure what to do under your onslaught. You grab them and place her on the back of her knees, and you hold them there. In her ecstasy she's pulling on her legs, holding herself even more open for you. Your core burns as you keep fucking her furiously, but the feeling of drilling deep into her, of having her pussy coat ever more of your shaft, is sufficient motivation to drive into her deeper.

"Mmmmph! H-harder, faster!" Dawon manages to eke out two words between orgasms, and you squat over her, basically dropping your hips on hers every time. She raises her hips to take you vertically—both of you will be sore at the end of it, but there was no stopping the pleasure exploding from the two of you.

"Fuck Dawon, gonna cum!" Her pussy immediately clamps down around you in response, as if willing you to cum, and the sudden pressure makes you fall to your knees, plunging the iron spike that is your cock straight down into her. You're suddenly face-to-face with Dawon, and she pulls you in, screaming her pleasure against your lips as you pump her full of your seed. You feel her trembling, her core twitching as she maintains the position, letting you continue to fill her directly, to let gravity help pull the last few spurts of cum into her.

When you finish, so does Dawon, and she goes limp, relaxing and causing you to slip out of her. You collapse on top of her, smearing her skin with the mix of cum and juices as you nuzzle her neck, peppering her with kisses.

"What got into you today?" you murmur. "That was hot."

"Ah, so you did like the subby stuff," Dawon chuckles softly, and you could feel her entire body vibrating in laughter.

"That was an act?"

"Just the messages, Exy unnie said it worked wonders for her and her fling, so I thought to try it out."

"And?"

"Everything after that wasn't an act, just thinking about our lunch time quickie got me wet while I was eating afterwards, so I messaged you."

"So was it “working wonders” for you?"

"Are you suddenly asking about your performance?" You blush but say nothing. Dawon pulls you in for a kiss before whispering. "You heard me, I couldn't stop cumming. Fuck I'm gonna have you do that all the time on my safe days."

"Fuck Dawon, you can’t just say that—"

"It feels so good having you fill me instead of a damn condom you know?" You shiver, feeling yourself get hard again at the thought of filling her up. Dawon slips a hand between her legs before bringing it up to her face, licking a finger clean of your load before eyeing you seductively.

"Oh no, I'm losing some of it already. Think you can fill me up again, Daddy?"

Damn it, Exy teaches her the best things. You were going to go finish your work at home, but it doesn't look like you'll be going home at all tonight.

You need to finish in Dawon after all.

A/N: Just had that Dawon bikini pic in the back of my mind. It was going to be short and sweet (ending after the first scene), but the thought of a teasing but subby Dawon was pretty hot, so I went with it. Thanks for reading!

#smut #wjsn #dawon

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yoongisugaagust · 2 years

Text

HOME: The Confession

•Summary: Min Yoongi meets his forever.

The repetitive beat played out loud as Yoongi huffed. He sat at his studio desk with his head leaning against the chair completely exasperated. The sounds of his keypad being tinkered with brought him out of his haze.

“Hyung,” Namjoon stressed. “Your code doesn’t work all the time.”

“It works perfectly fine,” he spun himself around to see Namjoon walk in with Jin and Jungkook. Jungkook took a seat on the couch. “What’s happening?”

“Just got out of the meeting with PD Bang. He wants to put out a special collaboration LP between Cypher and Kosmos for the company’s anniversary. He already has a few songs in mind and the rest he wants us to write and produce on our way. I’m assigning you with Jin hyung so you two can bounce idea off each other. Hoseok is working closely with Jimin and Tae and I’ll be working with Jungkook.”

“We’re doing unit songs?”

“Two songs each group and three collaborative songs. We’re working in units for song concepts. I want you two to bounce idea off each other in the meantime. Write notes, whatever and bring it when we all meet.”

Yoongi nodded his head in confirmation swiveling from left to right in his chair. Seokjin made himself comfortable on the couch as Namjoon and Jungkook made their exit.

“You good?” Jin questioned.

“Yeah just a lot on my mind.”

“We can work on this back at home if that’s what you pref-”

“Y/n said something last night. She was asleep when she said it but..I don’t know. I don’t know how I feel about it.”

“Do she call out the wrong name?”

“No!” Yoongi looked skeptically at his friend. “She said she wants to marry me. Just said it in her sleep.”

“What’s the issue with that? You’re obviously in love with her and I can tell you’ve been thinking of having a future with her. Shouldn’t you feel good that she seems to feel the same?”

“It’s just throwing me off. I don’t know why that is but. I don’t know. What if we’re in over our heads? We haven’t been together for long and now things with the group are about to get even busier than we ever have been.”

“Yeah no I definitely feel you’re over thinking it. Have you two talked about getting married before?”

“That’s the thing. We’ve never mentioned it so maybe we haven’t thought this through fully.”

Jin sighed pinching the bridge of his nose. “She loves you enough to want to marry you and you obviously wanted to marry her or at least you’ve been considering it.”

“We’re just assuming she wants to marry me. She never actually said the words consciously.”

“Nobody’s pinning you against the wall forcing you to make a decision. Y/nah is great and she loves you. Take some time to figure out what you really want and have that conversation with her. It isn’t that hard to use that brain of yours.”

————

“Hey,” Yoongi walked into your kitchen greeting you. You faced the stove mixing the contents of the pot.

“Here try this,” you said holding the wooden spoon to your lips blowing lightly to cool down the stew. Yoongi instinctively ate from the spoon.

“That’s really good jagi,” he said around the still hot bite.

“Better than last time?” You asked and he nodded. “I’m so happy!” You rejoiced at how much better you were getting at cooking new Korean dishes. Your best friend Jin was helping you out when it came to the fairly new recipes and you used Yoongi as your test subject.

“Your food is always good I don’t know why you’re always so worried,” he chuckled.

“Yeah my food is good but when it comes to the Korean dishes I want it to taste just as authentic as it should.”

“Well you have nothing to worry about,” he kissed your lips then ushered you off to sit down at the table while he served your plates.

“I wanted to ask you about something,” you brought up bringing Yoongi to stop mod chew. “Sara’s obviously moving out so I was thinking you can move in?”

“You want me to move in here?”

“Or we can move in to a new place altogether.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. I just thought since we already spend almost every night together that that would be the next natural step.” Seeing your eyes become glossy had him thinking twice.

“Okay uhh, yeah.”

“You hate the idea, don’t you? You don’t sound confident in the least. You can say no Yoongi.”

“I just want to make sure that you’re sure about this. It’s a big decision.”

In an effort to conceal the tears riding on the rim of your eyelid you sat up and took your plate over to the sink even though you were nowhere near finished eating. Not skipping a beat Yoongi approached your stilled form and prodded you to turn around. You took a moment to wipe away any tears that raced down your cheeks and turned around between Yoongi’s hands on the counter.

“Like I said before we spend maybe every other night together and I wouldn’t have brought it up unless I was certain this was what I wanted.” You looked away from his gaze. “You don’t want to and that’s okay but..” you paused for a fresh breath. “Don’t agree to it just to make me happy.”

“I wasn’t blindly agreeing to the idea.”

“We can come back to this discussion when you’re ready. For now maybe it’s better if you don’t stay over tonight.”

70 notes · View notes

truckreincarnation · 6 months

Text

The Waters Turn From Blue to Red | Harriet | Trial 3.5 | Re: What Happened

Avery asked it first. The question she knew was coming, the one she knew she’d have to answer. “What happened?” Manami echoed it. Harriet opened her mouth to respond, but then… everything fell apart. Bian, babbling and sobbing incoherently. Frank, begging her to take it back. Luz, glaring at her. Nao and Germain, silent and suffering in their own ways. Yuliya, telling her to expect a letter, despite everything. And Shinjuku…

She’d told him about her past. How at 12 years old she lost control of her emotions and attacked a student at school. How she was swiftly labeled a freak and a monster and lost all of her friends. How, for years afterwards, she would be struck with these impulses to hurt the people around her, physically or emotionally. How, in this world of endless cruelty and violence, those urges were stronger than ever. How fighting monsters and Bound to the death excited her– and how horrified she was of what would happen if she gave in to those urges.

He made a promise to her. That he would protect her from herself. That he’d make sure she would never have to kill again. He’d kept that promise, when they went to the mountains and confronted Tiger. And she cried and hugged him and thanked him for keeping her safe. She felt so much relief in that moment, and she truly believed that her fears would remain unfounded.

But in the end, it was just another lie she’d told herself to hide from the truth. Harriet knows what she is. Now everyone knows, too.

There’s movement in her periphery, and Harriet glances to her left. Vee. They offer their hand to her, like they’ve done many times before. Without hesitation she grabs their hand in her own and squeezes tightly. She doesn’t want to let go. She can’t let go.

But she lets go. She lifts her head to look at her friends. And, with tears streaming down her face, she begins to answer the question.

“This morning, we all saw a memory. My memory. And after it was over, I felt like my heart had been ripped out of my chest. I couldn’t stop thinking about it, about… about Joules. And I couldn’t stop thinking about how much I wanted the memories to stop. I don’t want to see anyone’s siblings die, I don’t want to live through a friend’s dying moments, I don’t want to… I don’t want to be reminded of someone I’ll never get back.”

“...When Frank’s memory hit, I couldn’t believe what I’d just seen. The way he’d acted. It- it wasn’t entirely his fault, I know that, but at the moment I was just… disgusted with him. I tried to put it out of my mind, but when I went to the third floor and heard him playing his guitar, so… I asked him what happened to his other kid. He told me he didn’t know, that he never saw them again. He yelled at me to leave him alone. So I left and went to the storage room. I was mad at him. I was mad at everything, and I was hurting so much, and I wanted the visions to stop, and I knew how to make them stop, so I…”

Her voice hitches. She doesn't want to say anymore. Just thinking about it makes her want to scream. [Self Harm CW] It makes her want to bang her head against the desk. It makes her want to bite her tongue until it bleeds. It makes her want to tug on her ears hard enough to rip them off. She deserves all of that and worse, for what she did. [CW End] But she owes everyone the truth. She has to keep going. Taking several shaky breaths, she continues.

“...I grabbed a lance. It was broken but I didn’t notice, or… maybe I didn’t care. Then I went back to where Frank was sitting, and… I took out all my anger on him. I don’t remember everything that happened. The bench… I must’ve broken it. And I don’t think he tried to hit me back… or if he did, he missed every time. But I do remember he tried to get me to stop. He told me that Joules wouldn’t want to see me like this. And I remember being so, so mad at him for saying that, for bringing them up. And I remember thinking that… if I threw him down the stairs into the secret room, nobody would find his body. So when I had the chance, I opened the staircase.”

Harriet squeezes her upper arms tight, her fingers pressing hard into the fabric of her sleeves. Briefly she glances at Frank, but she can barely make him out through the tears. “I’m sorry,” she whispers. Not that it would do any good. There wasn’t anything she could say or do that could make up for what she’d done to him. And there wasn’t anything she could say or do that could make up for what she did next.

“But… I didn’t… I didn’t know Meili was going to be there. I didn’t see him come in, I don’t remember if he said anything… he must have, right? He had to have tried to make me stop. But I couldn’t hear him, I was too angry, and I’m strong, too strong, so when I grabbed Frank to throw him down the stairs… I struck Meili with him, in the chest. And they both fell.”

“…That’s when I realized what I had been doing. What I had done. It was like I’d woken up from a nightmare, only to find out that everything that happened in the nightmare was real. I went down the stairs to see if they’d survived the fall, somehow, but… when I saw them lying there, I thought they were both dead. Then I heard footsteps coming. I hid. And then I saw Shin. I remembered the bond with Frank he’d told me about. And I knew, if he found out that I had done this, then…”

She had lied to protect herself, there was no denying that, but she had also lied to protect others from the truth. She'd lied to protect Shinjuku from seeing how badly she'd failed him. But in the end, she couldn't keep lying. Not when it meant that she'd have to watch another friend die because of her. Whimpering, she slowly lifts her head and looks towards Shin, her tearful eyes filled with regret and pain.

“I’m- I’m sorry I couldn’t keep our promise. I’m sorry that I couldn’t stop myself. I don’t want you to think you did anything wrong, you tried really hard for me, but I just… I’m not… I’m not a good person…”

Gasping for breath, Harriet’s gaze shifts to the right. Past Frank, Avery, and Theophania, to the empty seat where Meili once sat. Where he’d never sit again, because of her. She bites her lip, wishing that she could take it back, like Frank had begged her. She wants to see them smile again, wants to hear them sing and feel the gentle warmth of the sun radiating off of them. She wants more than anything for him to come back and still mostly be himself, the way Perry had.

But what are the chances she would want anything to do with her murderer?

“Meili— Meili’s my friend. When we all got here he was the first person to call me “friend.” I never forgot that. They always had such nice things to say about my art, always supported me, and I tried my best to be a good friend to them too. We got along so well, and she trusted me, a-and… I betrayed her, I k-killed her, I…”

Harriet knows what she is. Now everyone knows, too.

“I’m a monster…!”

#Harriet #ch3 #trial3 #submission

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uwandapieceofme · 1 year

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Newcastle, Take 2

As I was winding down my trip, I returned to Newcastle in the hopes of winning tickets to see Sam Fender perform at the O2 Town Hall. I booked two weeks at a cheap Airbnb near Northumbria University. The building had formerly been student housing, and the rooms reflected this, with bright green walls and functional furnishings— desk, chair, wardrobe, all made of plywood and sturdy plastic— with a bed shoved in the corner, up against the wall.

Upon my arrival, I set up what few things I had, to make the room feel more homey: books and journal on a small shelf over the desk, art supplies and food in the two drawers underneath, clothes hung in the wardrobe. There was no laundry here. There wasn’t most places, which meant that when my clothes needed washing, I soaked them in the sink, for 30 minutes or more, whatever seemed reasonable. Then I’d take bar soap and scrub and wring and scrub and wring, until I had blisters on my hands. I hung my clothes to dry anywhere there was space: over the shower door, back of the office chair, suspended by black plastic hangers from the window ledge, the edge of the desk, and the door hinges. When they dried, they were always stiff and smelled funny, like damp and animal fat. Nothing ever really got clean, anyway, so I’d wear things as long as I could between washings, and put on clothes that had been drying overnight and were still damp.

I hoped and pined for sight of him every day— I’d almost managed to think about other things, and relegate him to a dark corner of my mind— but being so proximal once more turned me back into a desperate, lovesick idiot. Vague logic told me no man— certainly not a stranger I wasn’t likely to meet— could fix me. But my feelings had far outrun logic at this stage, and my mind spiraled in futile obsession.

My initial goal when I’d set out had been self-discovery. I’d realized in the months before I left that I didn’t know myself at all. What I liked, what I wanted, what made me feel what sort of way. I’d spent most of the past years just reacting to things, trying to avoid anything that caused me too much pain or anxiety which, as time went on, became just about everything. This fuzzy notion got chucked out the window pretty early on in my travels, in favor of guilty conformism. Never mind I’d been trying and failing to conform for most of my adult life. I was horribly lonely (I scarcely spoke to anyone my whole trip, except for transactional purposes), and I had all my family asking me to send updates and tell them all about my incredible travels. That was all the pressure I needed to abandon my integrity.

The good news was that I’d picked up reading again.

I walked into the Amnesty International bookshop and beelined immediately for the back wall, out of view of the store clerk, to avoid being noticed, watched, and asked that most horrifying of questions: “Can I help you find anything today?” As luck would have it, the clerk seemed even more hostile to social encounters than I, and disappeared in back, where she remained for most of my visit.

I wasn’t looking for anything in particular, but my loneliness— and the lack of a television in my room— made me realize I needed someone else’s voice besides my own banging around inside my head. I wanted something to help illuminate my situation, but also nothing too threatening, as this whole trip had become a mindfuck of, “Why can’t you be like everyone else!?!” My initial search was guided solely by titles. What sounded intriguing? I pulled books out, admired their covers, read their dust jackets. I took my choices up to the counter: a movie magazine I’ve since recycled because I couldn’t be bothered to read it, and two books, The Minute Particular by E.G. Lee and Strange Meeting by Susan Hill. One was about a man’s spiritual journey and the other was about two men who befriend each other after being deployed during the first World War.

I started with Strange Meeting and was instantly hooked. I was back to the feeling I’d had when I read M.F.K. Fisher’s As They Were, which I’d gotten for myself as a Christmas present the year before. The way the words felt in my mouth as I silently shaped them was both rich and exciting. I was also happy to do more than stare helplessly at a blank page, or creep on his Instagram, or else look dully out the window and feel like shit. I hadn’t even gone that long without reading, but I suddenly understood its place in my life.

Besides reading (and shelling out three or four pounds every morning for a latte, since the room had no kettle and I refused to go without), I’d opened up to my sister about my feelings (after having DM’d him, like a fucking psychopath, trying to tank my dreams by making an irrevocable cock of myself). I’ve never been much of a sharer. I always felt uncomfortable telling my family what I was going through. Partially, I didn’t trust them, and partially, I just wanted to keep up the performance, only ever communicating when things were going well. I also tripled down on my commitment to becoming a musician (though I still wasn’t sure how to make it a reality).

There was also food to help me get through the days. At this point, exhausted as I was from traveling and my own incessant mental rhythms, I tried to release some of the pressure by letting myself stay inside most of the time. When I went out, it was to see a film, go on a walk, or buy something. Otherwise, it was for food. There were lots of interesting-sounding places nearby, as I was staying near the university campus, and the city centre was only a twenty minute walk. Up to then I’d been subsisting largely on digestive biscuits, cold beans, and some sort of produce— carrots, apples, grapes, or anything else that could keep without refrigeration. I was desperate for fresh, hot food. Ramen, tteokbokki (I’d been searching, unsuccessfully til now, for some that was as good as what I’d gotten in Utah), nachos, dumplings, ice cream.

When I finally got a plane back home, I cried, picturing the view from my window in the converted student accommodations. It was bleak, honestly: grass, a few young trees, a couple benches, and a covered bike rack that doubled as the smoking area. A green wire fence held back trees and nettles and overgrown weeds. Just beyond was a pitch, patches of bright green grass coming up through red-brown dirt. Still, I felt like I was losing something.

Partly it was fabricated fondness, a desperation for “anywhere but here”. But, too, it was nostalgia, having grown up watching Poirot and The Avengers, reading P.G. Wodehouse. Something about the people and the country felt more relatable than where I was from. I felt the need to visit every town and city, from Cornwall to Aberdeen, where artists and characters I loved had lived and worked. It’s flimsy reasoning for giving up your apartment and your job and hopping on a place. But as a person who’s dealt with anxiety and depression for a long time, I know to follow the excitement— however superficial and unfounded— wherever it takes you. Otherwise, you’d never fucking move.

#newcastle #travelogue #sam fender #northumbria

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hanjisungs-bigtittyg0thgf · 2 years

Text

Overtime

boss!chan x personal assistant!fem reader

Trigger warnings: name-calling, intimidation

Content warnings: oral (m&f receiving), names (baby girl, dearest, good girl, babydoll, baby, slut, whore), daddy kink (obviously), praise, degradation (don’t ask me why i put both praise and degradation in here, i’m a whore), spanking (kinda? anyways we love a good ass slap), chan folds you like a pretzel then holds your hand while finishing you off cause he’s caring like that. minho makes an appearance early on.

Summary: you work as bang chan’s personal assistant. with a comeback on the horizon, he tells you he needs you to pull some serious overtime.

Word count: 5559

A/N: be sure to check out the video i’m about to post, it was kind of the inspiration for the bj part lmao anyways y’all want me to save you seats in hell?

Smut below the cut

You let out a frustrated sigh as you pocketed your phone, which had just buzzed with a message from your boss. You were about to clock out for the day when he asked you to come to his studio. Your kitten heels clicked against the hardwood floor as you made your way to the tiny room where the magic happened. Except it wasn’t magic when you’d already been in the building for eight hours, barely getting a moment to sit as you ran this way and that for him.

You straightened your clothes before reaching out to knock on the charcoal door. It swung open before you even finished and you were met with a bright smile. “Come in.” Chan urged as you plastered a pleasant expression on your face. Despite the crush you had on him, you were annoyed and had to fake a smile.

Yes, you worked for Bang Chan. The Bang Chan, the leader of fourth generation KPop idol band Stray Kids and the mastermind behind almost every hit track they’d ever performed. You were his personal assistant and the unnervingly beautiful man had been irritating you beyond belief today with all the running about he’d made you do. “You wanted to see me?” You prompted as he closed the door to his studio while you perched on the arm of the sofa that sat across the shoebox room from all his equipment.

“Yeah. So…” he looked sheepish and regretful and you felt a ball of anxiety settle in your stomach. What bad news was he about to break to you? “As you know, we just announced a comeback.” You felt yourself deflate. You’d worked for him just long enough to have witnessed two comebacks and he never slept during that time. He’d be extra crabby the next few weeks. Maybe he was apologizing in advance for that? “I hate to do this to you but I’m gonna need you to stay late until we start promotions. On days I’m not in the studio, like days where I’m doing a photo shoot or an interview, I’ll give you the day off to make up for it. So you’ll have a day off once or twice every couple of weeks until we start the jacket shooting and filming the music video, then it’ll be even more frequent. You’ll keep your weekends, I won’t take that from you. But starting tonight, I’m gonna need you here until ten.”

You wanted to fucking scream. Instead, you let out a sigh and pulled your phone out to call your roommate. Chan looked on in confusion as your roommate answered the phone, you forcing him to maintain eye contact. “Hey. I know you said you wanted to cook for me tonight but I won’t be home until almost eleven. Can you just put my share in the microwave and I’ll heat it up when I get there?” He looked upset that he’d ruined your plans and he bowed his head as your roommate questioned you. “Yeah, they’re working on an album and it’s crunch time so he needs me here until ten for the next couple months. I’m sorry. Give Daisy kisses for me, yeah?” She let out a disappointed sigh as you hung up and Chan rubbed his neck awkwardly.

“Hey, look, I’m really sorry. This comeback is different. If it weren’t for that I’d only ask you to stay until seven, which I know isn’t what you signed up for either.” He sighed and sat down at his desk, turning to face the monitor which displayed a track he was mixing just before you arrived. “On the bright side, you’ll get a fat check for it. The company gives time and a half for any overtime, as you know, and I will personally provide a bonus.”

“Gee, you’re my boss, not my sugar daddy.” You teased as you settled in, knowing it would do no good to stay mad when you couldn’t leave for another five hours. You weren’t much younger than him so the two of you usually shared playful banter throughout the day. You let out a soft laugh but he didn’t laugh with you and you immediately thought you’d fucked up. “I’m sorry, I was just-“

“I could be.” His voice was much lower than usual and your stomach filled with bats. Not butterflies, that was far too tame. Your stomach was full of bats, violently flapping their wings as they tried to escape. “I could easily give you anything you wanted in return for your…affections.” When you didn’t answer, he spun in his chair to face you. You could barely see him, he’d already switched off the overhead light in favor of the desk lamp beside his computer and the light behind him made it hard to see anything more than a silhouette. The room was filled with a warm glow but the fire he’d just started in your body was far warmer. “I see you staring at me, day in and day out. You can’t deny you find me attractive. I can see it now, written all over your face.”

Somehow, you found your voice. “Well I’ve got eyes, haven’t I?” You quipped and he gave a disdainful laugh, the sound shooting straight to your pussy. You really needed to stop allowing yourself to enjoy being degraded. You took a steadying breath as you stood, shaking your head. “Mr. Bang, I do believe you’ve cracked open that special bottle of gin you call ‘motivation’ and mustered up a startling amount of courage. I will be taking my leave for another coffee run now.”

You spun on the ball of your foot and started for the door. You barely had it open an inch when it was slammed back shut as Chan’s large hand splayed out over the dark surface, his arm by your head. You stepped to the side so you could turn to face him without bumping into him, fully intent on pushing him away, and the second you were facing him, his other hand slammed against the door. His head was hung low but the second he had you caged, he moved to look at you and you wanted to evaporate on the spot.

His expression was dark and seductive, his tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek in annoyance. When your gaze met his, your face heated up and you couldn’t maintain eye contact this time, your head turning. “You’re not going anywhere. You’re paid to do what I tell you.”

How was he doing this? He was normally just a sweetheart with a weird sense of humor. You’d seen fans online discussing him being a daddy dom type but you never put much stock into it. He seemed too normal. Yet here you were, trapped in his studio as his eyes devoured you like he was a starved man and you were the last crumb of food he could find.

“Look at me.” You refused, shaking your head. You feared you’d do something that could cost you your job if you so much as glanced in his direction. This only served to irritate him further and the hand that had initially slammed the door shut harshly gripped your jaw, forcing you to turn your head towards him. “I said look at me.”

You forced your eyes open against your better judgment and he smirked. You felt like you’d just opened a door you couldn’t hope to close as his strong hand wrapped around your neck. Your lashes fluttered at the way he held you against the door, your expression practically begging him to kiss you, and he almost scoffed at the pathetic sound you made. “What a whore.” He jeered and forcefully released you, stepping back. “Why don’t you go get that coffee, dearest?” His tone was scathing and it was obvious that he was playing some game of push and pull that you weren’t sure you wanted to be involved in.

You needed no further convincing, quickly slipping out of the room and skittering down the hallway like a kicked puppy. You repeatedly pressed the elevator call button until the doors slid open and the second they closed behind you, you braced yourself against the wall. Your chest heaved as your head tipped back, the sound of your labored breathing mingling with the occasional ding of the elevator signaling your descent. What the hell had just happened and why were you so worked up over it?

You took a few deep breaths as the elevator neared your desired floor, not wanting to be seen so flustered. You made your way to the little diner located on the ground floor of the building and went straight for the coffee bar. You made both your coffee and his absentmindedly, the memory of his expression bouncing around your skull and putting you in a daze. A trainee greeted you as he returned his dirty dishes and you gave a halfhearted response.

You practically jumped out of your skin when you felt a large hand on your shoulder, almost spilling the coffee you’d just fixed. “Hey, calm down. It’s just me. Are you okay?” You turned to see Lee Minho staring at you with clear concern. He’d just come from one of the practice rooms if the sheen of sweat on his gorgeous face was any indication.

“Uh- um- yeah I’m fine.” You lied, flashing him a smile. You were most definitely not fine. You weren’t sure if you were bothered by how wet you were or if you were bothered by how little time it took for Chan to get you that way, but you most definitely were not fine.

And it seemed Minho could tell. “Stop lying. What did he do to you?” He crossed his arms and you shook your head. He raised a perfectly groomed eyebrow at you but you still refused to answer. Finally he rolled his eyes and plucked Chan’s coffee from your hands. “Clearly he did something to upset you. I’ll go talk to him and-“

“No! No, it’s fine. I’m fine.” You took the coffee back and forced a smile. “I’m kinda stuck here for the next five hours anyways.” His confused expression encouraged you to explain a bit more. “He told me he needs me here until ten every night until you guys start promoting. Said this comeback is different so he’s gonna need me to put in overtime.”

“That’s…utter bullshit, but okay.” He sighed and you nodded in agreement. “Sure, this one is different, we just gained a lot of popularity and it’s an extended album. But an extra five hours every night? That’s insane.”

“I mean, at least I’m getting paid time and a half for my efforts?” You shrugged, trying to find the positive. You’d already found the positive, one of the hottest men in the industry - possibly the world - had just propositioned you, but that wasn’t the point. You let out a sigh and shook your head. “It’ll be fine. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get this upstairs before it gets cold. It was nice seeing you.” You flashed a smile - genuine this time - and turned to leave, paying for the drinks on your way out.

Your reprieve was far too short and you found yourself moving slowly as you made your way back to the studio. The click of your heels wasn’t nearly as purposeful as before, your gait indicating you weren’t prepared to see him. Why would you be? He’d just pinned you to the door and toyed with you. Your boss of all people!

You tucked one of the drinks in your arm to free your hand and tapped on the door. He took longer to let you in this time but his expression was playful once more. “Which one’s mine?” He chirped as you walked past him, kicking your shoes off and taking your place on the sofa once more.

“Here.” You held out his drink and he took it eagerly, his expression akin to that of a child on Christmas morning. The man loved his coffee. “You’re such a kid.” You chuckled softly and shook your head as he sat down and spun the chair back towards his desk, sipping happily on his coffee.

You, being the coffee fiend you are, downed your drink in a matter of minutes. You disposed of the cup and just as you sat again, he called for you. “Something came unplugged under the desk. I’ll show you which one.” He said as he stood.

Seriously? In a pencil skirt? You stifled an irritated groan and slid off the couch, onto your knees. You crawled under the desk and looked for the cord he was wiggling. You didn’t catch him staring at your ass but if you’d looked over your shoulder, you would’ve seen him practically drooling. You followed the cord to the end and saw it was still plugged in but not very securely so you fixed it. But before you could crawl back out from under his desk, Chan trapped you once again. “You’re too tense. You should loosen up a little. Have some fun.” He leaned back in his chair and smirked at you.

“I have plenty of fun, thank you.” You spat and placed your hands on his knees, fully prepared to push him away from the desk. He quickly grabbed your wrists to stop you and you paused. Oh. He wasn’t just toying with you to work you up. He was an ornery bastard when he was horny, it seemed.

“So show me what it’s like to have fun with you.” He didn’t seem as intimidating as before. He looked far more relaxed despite the tent in his pants that stood right in front of your face. “Don’t worry about being left hanging, I’m eager to return the favor.” His expression darkened and you gulped. There it was. If he said one more word using that tone, you’d break. “I bet your moans would sound so pretty hidden in a track…”

You couldn’t keep your hands from moving. Despite his best efforts, neither could he, it seemed, because you broke free of his grasp and quickly popped the button of his dad jeans. That was another issue you had with him. He could wear some of the most questionable things and still look effortlessly sexy. Even the dad jeans looked amazing on him, clinging to his thighs in a way that made your mind go blank. You made quick work of the zipper too and looked up at him expectantly. This was not how you’d expected your overtime to be used.

He lifted his hips for you and a moment later his pants were around his knees. He hissed as you wrapped your hand around his dick and your mouth watered. He was perfect. A thick eight inches that just barely fit in your hand, the tip the same dusky shade of pink as his lips, which were parted in anticipation. You wondered if he’d be the first man to punch your cervix. Ah I’m getting ahead of myself.

“Look at me.” You parroted his words from before in a whisper, watching his jaw tick in annoyance at being told what to do as you tried not to let an evil grin take its place on your face. You couldn’t help it, you were irritated with him over how he’d handled things today. With his eyes locked on yours, you stuck your tongue out and teased the tip. He let out a sigh as your lips closed around the head, your tongue teasing the slit.

“Just like that, baby girl…” he groaned, his hands holding your hair back from your face as you hollowed your cheeks. The name sent a thrill through you and you let out a soft whine against him before taking him as far as you comfortably could, earning a choked sound. “Fuck, baby, slow down..” he rasped, his head falling back as his eyes drifted shut.

You refused, easing yourself further down and trying not to gag. That battle was lost when he gave a shallow thrust, the tip of his cock slipping down your throat. You swallowed several times to fight the gag but this only spurred him on, a series of low moans tumbling from his plump lips as he bucked his hips repeatedly. The sound scratched an itch in your brain you didn’t know existed.

You pulled off a moment later, much to his dismay, gasping for air as you jerked him off. Your throat was gonna hurt so bad by morning. His moans pitched up ever so slightly as you gave him a squeeze, his grip forcing you back down on his cock. It wasn’t very far, he seemed to have some semblance of pity on your abused throat. “Fuck, baby girl, you’re fucking amazing..”

The praise made you squirm, your thighs pressing together in a desperate attempt to get some sort of relief from the flood of arousal that washed over you. His words and the weight of his dick on your tongue were driving you up the wall in the best way possible. So you were visibly disappointed when he suddenly pulled you off. Damn your oral fixation. You let out a whine but he shushed you, his attention turning to the door.

“Wait.” He ordered and pushed his chair across the tiny room, reaching out for the door. You frowned as you watched him, your annoyance not fading even when you realized he hadn’t locked the door. He was remedying that but you were frustrated at losing contact. You still didn’t get your way even as he came back to you. “Get up.”

When you didn’t immediately move, he grabbed you by the shoulders and pulled you from under the desk, forcing you to stand. He stood with you, kicking the chair aside as he untucked your plain white blouse and began undoing the buttons one by one. At least he had the decency to do that instead of ripping your clothes off like you wanted him to do. Your own hands went behind your back to unzip your skirt but he quickly took your wrists in his hands, shaking his head. “Shouldn’t I get to unwrap my own present?” You shuddered at his tone and nodded slightly, unable to meet his gaze. “Good girl.”

You whimpered at the name and watched a smirk settle on his face as he shoved your blouse down your arms and tossed it aside. He pulled you flush against him as his warm hands slid to your back. “Look at me.” You didn’t want to. You really didn’t want to. But your eyes met his almost instantly and his expression was smug as his fingers deftly unhooked your bra and tugged on the zipper of your skirt. In a matter of seconds, you were left in only your black thong.

A complaint at his lack of nakedness was forming on the tip of your tongue when he squeezed your ass, earning a soft gasp. He didn’t seem like someone with a lot of experience based solely on the fact he’d been in the industry for over a decade so he played by the rules and rarely left his studio. But the way his capable hands began to knead your ass before sliding up to squeeze your hips was telling you he’d had his fair share of late night rendezvous. He spun with you in his arms and gently pushed you down on the sofa, leaving you desperate for his touch as he whipped his shirt off and shimmied the rest of the way out of his pants. He knew exactly how to wind you up.

He was beautiful and it was hard not to stare, your eyes practically fucking him already. His low chuckle brought you back to yourself and your face heated up when he knelt in front of you. “Lean back.” Your body was now following every order as if on autopilot. You leaned back and let your head rest on the back of the couch, gasping when he snapped the waistband of your panties against your skin.

He didn’t pull them off just yet, much to your dismay, instead dragging a finger over the wet patch. He pushed your legs up so your heels rested just on the edge of the couch and began to trail sloppy kisses along the insides of your thighs. You felt his palms smoothing over the backs of your thighs before his thumb began tracing circles over your sopping pussy, his free hand kneading your ass once more. He continued to toy with you until he was satisfied with how strung out you were, finally pulling your panties to the side and blowing on you. You let out a shaky breath, eyes half-lidded as you met his gaze with anticipation.

When his tongue met your pussy, you let out a soft sigh. Finally. You bit your lip as he began to flick his tongue back and forth over your clit, further working you up until his lips encased the bundle of nerves and he sucked. You mewled at the sensation and your eyes slipped shut as your hands tangled in his hair. It was softer than you’d imagined considering all the bleach he’d endured. In the back of your mind, you knew you shouldn’t be doing this considering the power dynamic. He was your boss. But fuck he knew how to eat pussy.

Despite your eyes being squeezed shut, you were seeing stars. He was alternating between sucking on your clit and rolling his tongue against it in a way that made the fire under your skin burn even hotter. Your moans were high and breathy as you bucked against his face.

“Chan-“ your voice was a desperate moan as you called his name, squirming against him as his large, veiny hands held your hips in place. Your eyes flew open and you immediately looked down at him when he pulled away, a soft cry of protest slipping out before you could contain it. Why did he stop? His jaw ticked in annoyance and your pussy clenched around nothing at the sight as he stared up at you disdainfully. “Chan, why’d-“

“Daddy.” He corrected, his stern voice sending a tingle of pleasure down your spine. “When I’m fucking you, you don’t get to call me Chan. You call me daddy. Understood?” He swatted your thigh and you whimpered, nodding quickly. The implication that this wasn’t a one off event wasn’t missed and you sucked your bottom lip between your teeth at the thought. He slapped your sensitive skin again when you didn’t speak up and your body jolted. “Words, baby girl. Do you understand?”

“Y-yes, daddy…” you whispered and he flashed a mocking smile at you, just barely satisfied with your answer. He moved to dive back between your legs but you tugged at his hair to stop him, instinctively calling out his title. He looked back up at you and raised an eyebrow even as his lips reconnected with your sopping heat, repeatedly kissing there. He was making it damn near impossible to protest. “Please just fuck me, daddy..” you whined, barely able to get the words out due to him mouthing at your pussy.

“I think that’s the best idea you’ve had all night, baby.” He sneered, straightening himself and pulling your panties off. You barely had time to blink before your legs were resting on his shoulders as he stood on his knees. You tried to shimmy yourself down onto his cock but he pulled his hips back. “Tell me, babydoll, are you always this fucking desperate?” He taunted and you whimpered.

“Maybe, maybe not. I guess you’ll have to find out.” You huffed, not willing to give a straight answer. You didn’t think about the fact you’d just invited him to continue toying with you like this for the foreseeable future.

“I fully intend to. And I’m gonna see to it that your desperation is directed at me from here on. I’m going to own every cell of your body and you’re going to remember this for months. You’re going to dream about my hands all over your body and the way I fill you up just right. You’ll want to be nothing more than my possession. You’re going to enter this studio wondering when you can be mine again, on edge every time I look at you. And I’m going to toy with you like some sick game of cat and mouse every chance I get. So that the next time I touch you, you’ll fall apart at the seams and beg me to put you back together.”

Holy shit. His words were delivered in a tone so demeaning you felt like melting into the sofa as the fire under your skin seemed to reignite with a vengeance. You were lost for words but he didn’t give you a chance to form a coherent thought anyways. He was already shoving his cock into you, stretching and filling you in a way you’d never felt before. He was definitely going to be the first man to punch your cervix.

“Fucking hell, baby..” he groaned, his head falling back and giving you the perfect view of his jaw. You wanted nothing more than to suck hickeys into the column of his throat. His neck was just so thick and you wanted to bite him. “You’re so tight like this…” he praised, his head coming back down and turning just enough for his lips to meet your calves. It seemed your desire to bite was mutual because his teeth raked over your skin a moment later and you keened.

“Daddy, please-“ you begged, your voice merely a whisper. You didn’t know what you were begging for, you just knew you needed to beg for anything he’d give you. He didn’t give you a moment to adjust to his size, he simply set a torturously slow pace. The drag of his cock was almost unbearable with how deliberately slow he was being and you found yourself trying to meet his thrusts, needing more of the delicious sensation.

“Look at you, already begging like a good little slut.” You knew he was making fun of you but praise was praise even if it was backhanded and you couldn’t dream of stifling the moan he drew out. “Maybe you do know how to be a good girl instead of a dumb little fuck hole.” You wanted him to keep talking down to you and he seemed to know this. “I don’t hold much hope in that though. You can’t even string together a few words for me and I haven’t even started fucking you dumb yet.”

“Please do.” You moaned, jolting when he slapped your ass. He gave you a pointed glare and you realized your mistake. “Please fuck me dumb, daddy, I need it!” You wailed, grateful for the soundproof walls. If it weren’t for that, anyone left in the building would know exactly what Chan was doing to you.

The change in pace made your toes curl and you felt your whole body burning up from the inside. The way his dick abused your cervix was giving you delicious pangs of pain. Your back arched as he slammed into you and you let out a feeble cry when your shifting gave him the perfect angle. It was all downhill from there, Chan degrading you as you babbled on about how good it felt. You could feel the coil in the pit of your belly winding tighter with each thrust and you whimpered out some sort of warning but he slapped your ass, the harsh blow eliciting a soft cry. “I already told you to use your words.” His voice was far more strained than before as he hammered into you and you wondered just how close he was.

“Daddy, please- I’m so close- ‘m gonna cum, please lemme cum, daddy-“ you sobbed, tears you didn’t know you had finally spilling over. He didn’t speak, he simply held steady in his pace and took your hands in his. You felt so small and delicate when he did that, like he was afraid of breaking you while he guided you through your orgasm. Wave after wave of white-hot pleasure crashed over you, your body shaking from the force of it. Your voice came out as a choked sob rather than a moan and you felt like you were ascending.

Chan didn’t ask where you wanted it, he couldn’t have hoped to last through your orgasm anyway with the way you squeezed him. His hips slowed as he let out a groan much higher-pitched than you’d anticipated. Your mind went as numb as your legs as his cum filled you to the brim, leaking out when he pulled out. You shuddered at the feeling and slumped back on the sofa, panting and trying to stop your tears. You wanted to cry harder when he let go of your hands.

Warm hands gently lowered your legs before wiping your cheeks. His touch was feather-light as he tried to dry your tears. It was a stark contrast to the way he’d just used you and it seemed to sooth you. You peeked out for only a moment before closing your eyes again when you saw how close he was. His lips met your forehead and you forced yourself to take a deep breath. “You’re such a good girl, y/n. You did amazing.” He whispered, his thumbs brushing back and forth over your cheekbones.

You felt him move away and opened your eyes, pouting at him. He gave a halfhearted laugh at your expression and pulled you towards him, moving so he was on the sofa and you were sat sideways on his lap. “I’m sorry if I came on too strong.” His voice was barely above a whisper as he urged you to lean into him. You didn’t need to be told twice, immediately laying your head on his muscular shoulder and tucking your face in his neck. “Are you okay? That was pretty intense…”

You nodded and he let out a sigh of relief. “I like intense…” you mumbled against his neck. “I didn’t expect intense from you of all people but I liked it.” You assured him, definitely inflating his ego. But then you remembered something he said and you couldn’t stop the teasing smile that settled on your face. “Did you get everything you needed for the track?”

He laughed harder than you’d expected and tightened his arms around you. “Maybe, maybe not. I guess you’ll have to find out.” He copied your previous words in a playfully mocking tone. Basking in the afterglow with Chan was different from anything you’d ever experienced. He was so attentive and warm. After a few minutes of comfortable silence, your fingers tracing lines and shapes on his chest while he ran his veiny hands up and down your back, he spoke. “I hope you know I wasn’t just using you. That this wasn’t some sick power play.”

“I know.” You whispered, kissing his jaw. “I’ve worked with you long enough to know you’re not like that. If I’d genuinely not wanted to do this, things wouldn’t have changed. Maybe it would’ve been kinda awkward for the next couple of days after the whole ‘I could be your sugar daddy’ thing, but you know when to stop.” You let out a content sigh and pulled back to look up at him. “You were right though. I definitely am gonna be on edge every time I step in this studio.” You chuckled softly as you looked up at him.

“I just realized something.” He gave a huff of disdainful laughter as the thought hit him. For a moment you thought he was going to toy with you again but you realized quickly that he was mocking himself. “I did all that to you but didn’t even kiss those pretty lips.” His tone was far different from the disbelief that made itself known a moment before. He was bordering on coquettish as the playful gleam returned to his eyes, his lips curling into a half smile. Your cheeks flushed a soft pink at the blatant flirting and you whined as you ducked your head back into his neck but he pulled you back. “Can I?”

You gave the tiniest of nods, flustered once more by the switch in his personality. How was he so smooth in every situation? Every thought you had, fled your mind the second his lips touched yours. His hand tangled in your hair as he sucked gently on your bottom lip, drawing a soft gasp from you. No one had kissed you like that before. You were reluctant to let him break the kiss but he pressed his forehead to yours as you both caught your breath. Both of you wore tiny smiles as if you shared the biggest secret, his fingers lightly massaging your scalp as your breath mingled with his.

You were falling in love with your boss. It would be a mess of red tape later but for now, you’d just enjoy his affection.

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divinegrey · 2 years

Text

RISE OF THE FALLEN / jinx x fem!reader

THE VANISHER SERIES, part 5

masterlist for the series here

as a celebration of 200 followers, here's another part of the vanisher series. i hope you enjoy <3

prompt: in the aftermath of your bloody beatdown, you and jinx spend more time together. the shocking information of the return of a long lost sister sets things into motion.

words: 3389

warnings: mentions of psychological abuse, cursing, canon-typical violence

“Someone has been lying!”

You watch as Jinx throws a random bomb down the silo. Curiously, you glance over the edge and watch as it falls, falls, and falls. Then, you hear the telltale KABOOM! of the grenade detonating.

“Right,” you say from your spot on your chair, checking one of the many injuries you sustained a week ago. “And who gave you this information, exactly?”

“Chuck! At the bar!” Jinx turns to you with a look in her eyes that tells you exactly what she’s thinking of. You exhale.

“You mean Theiram?” You correct, raising a curious eyebrow. When she waves her hand dismissively, you shrug. Chuck is Theiram. Theiram is Chuck. You don’t question it. You’re more concerned about her state of mind. Over the past few days of your recovery, she’s been so on her guard and protective of you to the point where if anyone has come even a foot near you, she’s right by your side, gun drawn.

While you appreciate her need to protect those she cares for, it does do something to taint your otherwise silent image. You’re an assassin. Having Zaun’s most feared woman as your… companion is going to muddle things a little bit. They’ll begin to associate you with her, then they’ll think Silco has finally hired you as part of his permanent staff.

Quite frankly, you don’t want to see his little bitch face again.

“I need— I need to do something, I need to know what’s going on,” Jinx says, putting her hands on her desk. In the reflection of the cracked mirror, she looks at you.

“I can get the information you need,” you say, standing up. “It might be worthwhile to take a quiet approach to this.”

“No.”

“...no?”

Jinx leans against her desk. “Toots, you’re banged and bruised. I ain’t letting you go back out there when three of your ribs are broken!”

“Sweetheart, I’ve gone through worse,” you say, making careful strides toward her.

The past few days could be described as paradise and pain. Pain because you’re recovering from being beaten up by Silco with a metal pipe, and paradise because Jinx kissed you. Jinx. The woman you had slowly been falling for despite every urge you had to safeguard yourself from the emotions you keep locked away in your chest. You hadn’t wanted those emotions to ever get out, but they did because Jinx pulls every part of you to the surface.

You fear the moment she reaches the bad parts that have laid buried for years.

Jinx meets you halfway, putting her hand on your chest over your collarbones. “I know you have.”

You understand intimately what she’s asking in the way she says it. Gently, you rest your hands on her hips, leaning down to put your forehead on hers. “I had to do things, endure things in order to become who I am now. They weren’t good things, Jinx.”

“Like what? Surely, can’t be as bad as… the things that I— that I’ve done.” Jinx trips over her words. You can feel her start to fiddle with the front of your shirt, nails tangling in the fabric.

You’re curious. “And who’s to dictate good and bad?”

Jinx swallows roughly. Her eyes jitter back and forth on your face, unable to choose a place to look. “I had a family. Before Silco. They—” She puts her head on your chest. “I killed them.”

Oh, we’re more alike than you think, my darling.

“Mylo, dead. Claggor, dead. Vander, dead.” Jinx’s hand curls into a fist.

The Hound of the Underground. Her father? Adopted? You believe with a sharp certainty that Mylo and Claggor have to be the two mock dummies sitting on the couch not too far away from where you’re both standing.

“My sister, Vi, she—” Jinx exhales sharply and in a sudden turn of events, shoves herself off of you. She turns her head away and folds her arms over her chest. “Vi called me a jinx. ‘Cause I got them all killed.”

Ah. You did wonder where her name came from. You make a mental note of this Vi and tuck it away in your head for later. A new trail to investigate, for better or worse. On another level, you sympathize with Jinx; the pain of killing your family is one you unfortunately understand. Perhaps in a more personal regard.

You go back to the topic. “Was that good or bad?”

“Bad,” Jinx says with unrivaled clarity. “I fucked up. I killed them. I can’t get any of them back now, toots.” She turns around and looks at you with so much pain in her eyes that your heart aches all the way to your bones. “And now that I have you I’ll fuck up again and it’ll be my fault and I’ll lose you and I can’t—”

You intervene. “Who’s telling you that?”

Jinx swallows. “Them.”

You glance over your shoulder to the dolls of Mylo and Claggor. You say, “They’ve been in your head for a long time, haven’t they?”

“Since they died in the warehouse explosion.”

You know now what she’s talking about. Somewhere in the back of your head you recall being on the balcony of your mentor’s home and seeing a plume of blue smoke rising from the ports. That was Jinx. How long ago was that? Seven years? You were barely twelve, barely three years into your training. Jinx was twelve when that happened. All the pieces come together in your mind, the answers becoming clear.

“Did you intend to kill them?”

A flash of something in Jinx’s eyes. Her voice cracks, “I only wanted to help.”

“Then it wasn’t your fault, darling,” you reply. You take her hands and squeeze them. “Regardless of what happened, your intent wasn’t bad. You wanted to help them. How could you have known what was going to happen after? We’re not fortune tellers, Jinx, we’re human. Fate is something far beyond our control and our understanding.”

To drive your point home, you lay a kiss on the ridges of her knuckles, then on her forehead. She leans into your touch, her shoulders shaking with the intensity of her emotions. You understand her more now. You brush your hands through her hair, playing with her bang the same way you did this morning when you woke up before her, and she was half-sprawled out over you in the most protective manner possible.

She’s stopping you from helping because she wants you alive. Doesn’t that say something about her?

“Whatever you’re planning, Jinx…” you trail off, figuring out your words. “I’ll help you. I promise. But,” you pull away so you can cup her chin and look at her. “If I see you going down the same path I did… I will stop you.”

Anger passes her face. You wouldn’t have noticed it if you didn’t learn to pick up on the subtle signs of her eyebrows knotting together by a fraction, or the curve of her lip downward.

“Why?” Jinx asks with an earnest tone in her voice. “Don’t you trust me?”

“Jinx, I haven’t let anyone touch me the way you have in years,” you reply, putting her hands on your stomach, over the wound she stitched up at your hideout that turned into a nasty but healed scar. Then to your face, where you still harbor bruises from last week. “I trust you. More than anyone else in this damned world.”

“Then… would you stop me? Don’t you want me to do good?”

“You don’t need to do good for me. Do good for yourself, and yourself only. There is still good in you, despite everything that has happened to you. Your trauma, your childhood… you had to survive somehow. I don’t blame you for anything you’ve done,” you say. “Though it may be your name, you are not a jinx.”

You kiss her, trying to help her understand how you feel for her through your lips. She holds onto you tightly, the taste of salt on your tongue from her tears. You can only imagine what’s running through her mind at this very moment, and you can only hope that you’re a balm to her pain, not an irritator.

“The things you’ve done don’t compare to what I’ve done,” you utter. “Not ever. I see the light in your soul, darling. Your soul could never be as black as mine.”

“You’re not bad, Vanny,” Jinx whispers against your mouth. “Not to me.”

I wish I could believe it, you think. You kiss her one more time, your bodies flesh to flesh, molded together to become one being. When she pulls away, you hug her, holding your head to her chest. She’s fond of listening to your heartbeat.

“So what’s the plan?” You ask.

Jinx gives you a smile, then turns to her desk. She pulls out a case. “I’ve been working on something for a few days. While you were sleeping.”

You knew that. You’re a light sleeper, but you gave Jinx her privacy when she needed it.

“Sevika will know. She always does, Silco tells her everything. Those two girls that Chuck mentioned, Sevika is probably tailing them. We find out who they are,” Jinx continues. She pulls two items out of the case and turns around. The items are masks— one gold, and the other a dark black metal with engravings on it. She holds the black one out to you with a frightening determination in her eyes. “And we do it the hard way. Payback for what they did to you.”

You take the mask and examine it. On the inside rim, your fingers run over an engraving that says mine.

A smile comes to your face and you put it to your face. A perfect seal. The air filtration kicks in and when you talk, the voice modifier activates, “On your lead, Jinx.”

~~~~~

You’ve taken your place in Silco’s office, against the far wall to the door so that when Sevika comes in (because she will), she doesn’t spot you immediately.

Three… two… one.

The door flings open. Sevika stomps in, looking pissed as all hell. Loudly, she says, “We lost her.”

In Silco’s chair, Jinx turns around, clipboard in her hand. She tilts her head to the side, asking with curiosity, “Lost who?”

She makes a gesture with her fingers. Immediately, you pull the nozzle on the container tucked under your arm. A noxious green gas hisses, leaking from the container. You toss it into the ground in front of Sevika, causing her to turn in your direction.

“You little bitch,” Sevika curses, but it’s followed by coughing. She stumbles, and you merely give her a wiggle of your fingers, very Jinx-like in manner. In your peripherals, you see Jinx putting on her mask, a look on her face that makes your heart pound a little faster inside of your chest.

You watch with complete and utter amusement as Sevika’s face slams into the table. Her body hits the floor.

“Toots, you played your part wonderfully, but the show ain’t over yet!” Jinx leaps from the chair. Together, you heave Sevika onto the chair and tie her there with rope. You clear the gas from the office with the vents, ignoring the dull pains in your chest. Silco did a number on you.

You watch Jinx put a knife into Sevika’s mechanical arm. Nice.

When everything is done, you take a seat in the corner of the room. You make sure to position yourself in the most relaxed manner, but also to ease some of the aches you’re still nursing. Jinx takes notice of this, a questioning look to her face when she looks your way. You wave her off, but you have a feeling that she’ll bring it up later.

With a rather loud SLAP! Jinx brings Sevika back to consciousness.

“Pretty nice arm you have there,” Jinx says, sitting on the table with her boots on the armrests of the chair. Her flexibility rivals yours if you were in any state to do so. Jinx pulls the knife free of the wires, twirling it to her other hand to hover over Sevika’s true arm. “Would be a shame if you lost your other one.”

“Hmph,” Sevika grunts. She looks over in your direction. You do nothing, merely watching from the sidelines.

“Hey!” Jinx snaps. “Eyes on me. You know something. I want to know it before I cut your throat open.”

“Right, fine,” Sevika says. “Your big sister Vi is back in town. Hanging around with an enforcer girl. Looks like she’s replaced you.”

Jinx twitches.

“It’s only a matter of time before you do something fucking stupid and implode. Maybe Silco will finally get the message that you’re unreliable,” Sevika continues, leaning her head forward as she continues to goad Jinx. Sevika looks at you. “Just as unreliable as that piece of shit in the corner.”

Jinx hangs her head for a few seconds, backing away. For a moment, you’re tempted to stand up, to tell Sevika to shut up and bury your hidden blade into her throat. Then, Jinx starts laughing, and god damn, her acting skills are getting better and better by the day.

“Oh, ten out of ten!” Jinx slams the knife into the chair, gesturing with her hand to you. “You think she’s bothered by any of your shit? C’mon, she’s way better than you. Like, way better.”

She pushes Sevika’s chair back, simultaneously executing a backflip onto the floor. Jinx walks around the table, hands on her hips. “A message, hm? Well, I know just exactly how to send it to him.”

With that, she grabs the edge of the chair and spins it. She keeps spinning it, Sevika unable to stop herself from going any faster. Jinx waves, then at the perfect time, slams her fist into Sevika’s jaw. You know this time that she’s going to be out for a while.

You rise to your feet. “Your sister is back.”

Jinx exhales. “Apparently.”

“Let me do some recon work, darling,” you ask, putting a hand on her shoulder when you reach her side. “I’ll find her, wherever she is. Nothing in this city gets past me.”

Jinx looks at you, then raises a hand to your face. You let her take off the mask without question, and she gets up onto her tippy toes. The first kiss is sweet, her fingers curling at the nape of your neck. The second is harder, more insistent, and it kicks you into motion, bringing her body closer to yours. It’s exactly what Jinx wants, and you’ve never known her to not go after something she needs.

You lift her onto the desk without a shred of hesitation. She’s lighter than a feather, which is really just odd considering she carries around the heaviest machine gun you’ve ever fucking seen. However, that’s the last thing in your mind when her legs go around your waist and she huffs into your mouth.

“You’re aware we aren’t alone, right?” You say, her forehead pressed against yours. She grunts.

“She’s passed out. She doesn’t need to know,” Jinx retorts, a glimmer of something sharp and hungry in your eyes. “Have I ever told you how mighty fine you look in that poncho, toots?”

“No, but you’re more than welcome to tell me,” you reply.

“Less talking, more smooching, I’m feeling riled,” Jinx says, not even giving any second thought to the repercussions of making out in her adopted father’s office with Sevika passed out in the chair a few feet away, but to hell with it. You can’t ever say no to Jinx. Especially not when she’s got you wrapped around her finger and she doesn’t even know it.

One thing she likely does know is that she’s a very good kisser. She’s smiling into your mouth and there’s definitely the lingering aftertaste of candy that sits on your tongue. You feel the pull in your chest pushing you into her body, causing her to lean and place her back flat on the desk.

You look at her, simply in the awe of her. Jinx folds her arms behind her head, a smug smile on her face. She looks divine.

You look past her and your throat seals up. Your blood turns cold.

The hazy mirage of your mentor looks on you with a face of scorn on her scarred expression. She’s disappointed; you fight back the tears that prick in your eyes, the desperate need for her approval coming back as a roiling force of power that takes over your entire body. In the back of your mind, you hear the click… click… click… of the metronome she would use to train your mind into the state of paralysis you feel yourself slipping into.

Paralysis because it was the only way to empty yourself of any recognizable emotions. Now you hear the metronome because you’ve disappointed her, you’ve failed—

“Come back to me,” the voice of Jinx sounds so far away. “Vanny, come back.”

Click, click, click, click, click, click, CLICK, CLICK, CLICK—

Your mentor narrows her eyes at you. She shakes her head and the wave of shame and humiliation feels like fire and lava in your body. Your lungs feel tight.

Get out of my head, GET OUT OF MY HEAD! You’re screaming. Are you? Verbally or mentally?

Arms around your neck. You shove them off with all the force you have.

The metronome stops.

Good, croons the voice of your mentor. Very good.

You blink, staring at your hands. Your head snaps up to Jinx, staring at you with a maelstrom of conflicting emotions on her face. Fuck. You fucked up. She was trying to help you, and you pushed her away, you hurt her. You did the thing you feared would happen if you let yourself feel something again.

You are the Vanisher. You are nothing but the omen of death, undeserving of love and joy. You kill. That is all you will ever do.

“Jinx, I…” you swallow thickly. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to, I swear.”

“Where did you go?” Jinx says, her voice so god damn timid and hurt. “Did I do something?”

“No, no, sweetheart, you didn’t do a thing I was just—” You shake your head, running your hand over your face. You bite down on the fabric of your glove before saying. “I have people in my head too.”

Immediately, Jinx frowns. Somehow, she looks angry at that. “Tell them to get the fuck out.”

“I wish it were that easy,” you reply, collapsing into a chair. Your legs feel weak, and you glance at Sevika in the corner of your eye. “I’m sorry.”

Jinx clambers down from the desk, taking a knee in front of you. Her hands go to your knees, rubbing your thighs through the fabric of your pants. She shifts upward, putting her forehead to yours— you inhale sharply, curling your hands into fists. Somehow, her saying nothing is saying more than anyone could ever do to comfort you. You know fully well she understands the torture of having someone haunting you at all times, eyes burning holes into your back at every turn. Jinx strokes your cheekbones and you find yourself matching her slow, consistent breathing. How the tables have turned, you think.

“I’ll go find Vi,” you say, your words low. “See what information I can get.”

Jinx nods. “Thank you, toots. Thank you.”

You manage to wrap your hand around her bicep. “I’d do anything for you.”

She pulls away— you fear you’ve said something wrong, but Jinx gives you such a soft smile that your heart melts. She kisses you softly. “Go. I’ll finish up with ol’ needle-fist.”

“Be safe,” you tell her. “I’ll find you when I’m done.”

Jinx backs away, and you kiss her long and delicate one last time before placing the mask she made you over your nose. The seal hisses, the voice modulator kicks in. You squeeze Jinx’s hand and the understanding in her eyes means more than anything in the world.

You disappear out the door and hit the Lanes. You draw your hood over your head, shadowing your face in darkness.

You won’t let Jinx down.

~~~~~

A/N: thank you to all of you who have supported the vanisher series. it means everything to me that you guys love the vanisher as much as I do! tag list: @its-a-game-i-lost

#arcane jinx x reader #jinx x reader #jinx x fem reader #arcane jinx #arcane netflix #arcane #jinx #arcane imagines #the vanisher series #arcane jinx imagines

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redpandaramblings · 3 years

Text

Like Caramel For Chocolate- An Omega Bakugou x Alpha f!Reader fic. Part 6

Part 1 Here

Next part Here

Content Warning: Negative headspace, omegaverse, self deprecation, depressive thoughts, pushy parental figures, ambiguous omegaverse reproduction, unhealthy relationships, relationship that could be easily fixed if idiots would use their words and communicate, Shinso/Denki side relationship, Bakugou is a dumbass but so is y/n

Where we left off-

Before Bakugou could reply, the jeweler came back into the room and handed Denki a piece of paper.

“All right sir, here is your receipt! Your ring should be ready in three days.”

“Thanks.” Denki shoved the receipt into his pocket, quickly making his way to the door. “See you around Bakubro. Don't want to be late for my shift.” The door closed behind him with a bang.

Bakugou wasn’t annoyed though. Now he could pick out the perfect ring for Y/N and not worry about Kaminari being nearby. Everyone knows Kami can’t keep a secret to save his life.

“I don’t know how much longer I can keep all of this a secret.” Denki moaned into his hands. He was sitting with his head buried in his arms. Y/N reached across the table and gently petted his hair.

“I know what you mean, but I don’t think either of us are in a good position to start telling people.”

Y/n and Denki sat in a secluded corner of a dimly lit cafe. Both of them had this time free and both of them definitely needed to talk. They stood a lot less chance of anyone asking questions if they were just two friends getting lunch instead of them privately going to each other’s apartments.

Denki looked up, giving Y/N a wide eyed expression. “I know, but I wasn’t expecting Bakugou to show up when I was dropping off that abomination of a ring! I just was lucky the jeweler had already taken it to the back. You were right by the way, that thing is absolutely horrendous. Like, was the designer blind?”

Y/N snorted. “From what I’ve heard, great great grandpappy had a lot more money than brains and wanted to impress his omega by shoving as many stones onto a ring as possible.”

“No kidding. I think it can be seen from space.”

“Very likely.” Y/N chuckled before slumping back into her seat with a sigh. “Though I might have an idea about what Bakugou was doing there.”

“Wait, seriously?”

Y/N nodded with a sigh. “Yeah. When I got back he invited me to the summer festival. I’d forgotten about it.”

“Ah shit, yeah. Isn’t that your guys' anniversary?”

“Yep.” Y/N sighed, rubbing her forehead. “Of course he had to pick this time to actually celebrate. We haven’t gone or done anything… God, I think since he became a hero.”

“So you think he was getting a gift.” Denki sat back as the server came, placing your orders in front of each of you. You both murmured your thank yous and waited until the server was out of earshot before resuming your conversation.

“Yeah, he had to have been. Makes me feel terrible, but there wasn’t a good time to… Well…”

Y/n gestured between herself and Denki.

“Tell him that you’ve been betrothed to an omega of much superior looks, breeding, and manners?”

You gave Denki a little kick under the table as he cackled. He grinned cheekily as he poked at his food. “Sorry. Humor is my coping mechanism. I get it though. Timing sucks all the way around.”

You nodded, sighing and taking a bite of your own food. “Can’t say anything during his heat. Then his schedule was swamped, and I had to sort things out with you. Then bam, anniversary that for some reason he decided to remember this year.”

Denki snorted, popping a bite into his mouth. “That’s about the long and the short of it. And we haven’t even begun to figure out how to tell everyone we’ve not only accepted arranged betrothals, but that we’re engaged to each other.”

“I don’t know, I was kind of hoping we could just move to Tahiti and never speak to our former friend groups ever again?”

“A valid possibility. But that means we’d have to learn French and maybe Tahitian. You know I only passed English because Hitoshi and his dad coached me.”

“Fair point.” You sighed heavily. “But I’m really not looking forward to these conversations.”

“They have to happen though. You might have some anonymity to hide behind, but I’d rather my friends not find out about our engagement when they see an article about Chargebolt getting married.”

“Really?” You smirked slightly. “Then you’re going to tell everyone at your agency, hmm?”

Denki kicked you under the table. “Shut up!”

You poked at your food again as the smile fell from your lips. “So… Did you get a chance to think about what I sent you?”

Kaminari nodded. “Yeah. And I hate to say it, but I think you’re right.”

“I thought about it a lot. I hate to leave the area, but it would be too awkward to stay here after everything.”

A few days ago you had sent Denki an email with a list of places that had job openings that would suit both of you. You both loved where you lived, but after everything, how could you stay? There’s no way the two of you could continue to keep living in the same apartment building as Bakugou. That would be cruel. Cruel to whom you didn’t quite want to think about. You spoke up again.

“Any place catch your eye?”

Kaminari nodded. “I was kind of thinking Okinawa. I have a few connections there. Decent distance from here and from our parents. And that would probably be the easiest transition.”

“Works for me.” You said, as if it wasn’t ripping your heart out to do this. It hurt. But it had to happen. In the end, you had to believe this was what was best for everyone. It might take some time, but this was it. This was what would make everyone happy in the long run.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Shinsou was worried. Denki had been acting odd. And that’s saying something. The blond omega was usually loud and bubbly, the life of the agency. At least once a week, he invited Shinsou out for drinks, meals, clubs, karaoke, or some other nonsense. But ever since he’d gotten back from his three day leave, Kaminari had been acting strange. When he thought no one was looking, he was quiet. Withdrawn. Like he was puzzling out the toughest problem of his life.

Denki having a problem? Pretty typical. Denki having a problem and not talking to Shinsou about it? Pretty unusual. The blond had always come to the purple haired alpha with even the simplest of problems. Apartment searches, furniture assembly, what support items would suit his quirk best, even things like what to get from Starbucks. And even though he might groan and roll his eyes, secretly Hitoshi loved every second of it. When he had helped by digging through websites, cobbling together a rickety shelf, or reminding Denki that he always got the most cloyingly sweet items on the menu; Hitoshi got to pretend that he was Denki’s alpha.

Shinsou wasn’t sure exactly when he had fallen in love with Denki. Probably had been since high school at least. His dad had warned him against loud blonds while his father had laughed. But he couldn’t help it. Kaminari had been one of the first people to enthusiastically believe in him. Had always sought him out and wormed his way into Shinsou’s life and heart. And now Shinsou couldn’t understand it, but Denki was pulling away. Even as he watched the blond who was typing up a report on his computer, it somehow felt like Kaminari was slipping right through his fingers.

Shinsou cleared his throat. Kaminari glanced up. “Yeah man? What’s up?”

“You doing okay, Denks? You’ve seemed a little out of it.”

Denki met his eyes, startled, then quickly glanced away. “Yeah. Yep! Totally fine.”

“Denki. I know you.”

Kaminari sighed and slumped on his desk. “Just some life stuff. Family stuff. Friend stuff.”

Shinsou frowned, walking over to place a hand on Denki’s shoulder. “You know you can talk to me about anything, right?”

Denki snorted and laughed quietly. Shinsou furrowed his brows.

“Yeah” Denki sighed. “I know. But half of it isn’t really my stuff to tell and the other half isn’t exactly worth talking about.”

“You sure? We could go grab one of your obnoxiously sweet coffees after work. Go to mine or yours, watch an old crappy horror.”

“Tempting. Thanks man. I would, really, but I got some stuff I have to do after work. Some other time maybe.”

Shinsou frowned. It was rare for the omega to turn down an invitation for a movie night. Hell, it was rare for Denki to turn down an invitation, end stop. It made him even more worried about his omega… friend. His omega friend. His friend who just so happens to be an omega. Hitoshi closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He really didn’t want to ruin the best friendship he had. But he couldn’t keep this up much longer. His alpha had decided on the electric blond long ago, and the omega’s unusual behavior and unhappy scent was driving him wild with the need to protect. He really needed to pull himself together and confess soon.

“Well, whenever you’re free then,” Shinsou said, reluctantly letting his hand fall from Denki’s shoulder. “You know my number.”

Denki nodded and looked up, giving him half a smile. “I do. Thanks Shinsou.”

Shinsou walked back to his desk, his mind made up. He needed to tell his omega how he felt, and soon.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/N twisted and turned, looking at herself in the mirror. It had been a very long time since she’d worn a yukata. It didn’t feel right to dress up like this. But wearing anything else also felt wrong. Everything about this date felt wrong. Like this was the kind of she she did in another life. And now here she was, going on a date with the man she loved. Who she’d always love. And who she’d already decided she was going to let go.

Y/N snorted and fussed with her hair a bit. Maybe she should have just refused this date. Claimed to be sick or something. But that felt wrong too. So, she just had to get through tonight. After all, what’s one more night of pretending everything is fine? Hopefully this could be a good memory from a relationship that just wasn’t meant to be. After tonight, she’d wait a couple days and then talk to Bakugou and let him go like he clearly wanted.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Katsuki was going to throw up.

He was going to throw up, right here, all over himself and all over shitty hair, too. His red headed friend was giving him a pep talk as he helped Bakugou into his jinbei. Not that Bakugou needed the help. Or the pep talk. It just was easier to let the squad come over when they had found out about his date. It’s not like he wanted them there or anything. Once Kiri, Mina, and Sero realized he was going to use this date to ask Y/N to be his mate, they had insisted on helping him get ready.

None of them knew about the little velvet box in his pocket and that his plans went further than just asking Y/N to be his mate. Bakugou bit his lip to keep from frowning as he looked over his friends, a certain loud blond conspicuously missing. You wouldn’t hear Katsuki admit it out loud, but he really wished Denki could have been here. He loved the others, and they were great in their own ways. But Denki was his pack’s other omega. He got it in a way that the others didn’t. After tonight, he’d have to make sure to catch Pikachu up on all the news. Hell, maybe he could help his fellow blond finally talk to that purple haired idiot he’d been mooning over for years. Everyone in the pack knew Denki’s family had been harping at him to settle down for quite a while.

Bakugou looked up in time to see Mina coming at him with the hair grease. He threw up his hands.

“Fuck no! Keep that shit away from me!”

“You’ve got to do something about that pile of straw you call a haircut. Besides, Wouldn’t it be nostalgic? Weren’t you interning for Best Jeanist again when you asked Y/N out the first time?”

“Yes, and I’d rather shave myself bald than ever have my hair like that again!”

Mina sighed. “Fine. We’ll do something else. But if I can’t slick it back, you will be wearing eyeliner!”

“IN YOUR DREAMS, PINKY!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You waited outside the entrance to the festival. It was strangely soothing to watch the people flow by, like you were a rock overlooking a stream. There were groups of friends, couples both young and old, families where the laughing children ran ahead of their parents eager to get inside. You gave a small smile at the last. Maybe that could be you someday, a parent getting to see a festival through the eyes of a child again. Though the mental picture was hazier than it used to be. The children you half imagined just blurs of colorful yukatas, instead of loud and stubborn blond haired brats with their father’s eyes and attitude. You huffed a quiet laugh to yourself as a thought occurred to you. If you and Kaminari actually went through with this plan, decent chance the kids would still be blond. The thought hurt a little.

“Y/N!”

You looked up and had the breath knocked out of your lungs.

Katsuki was beautiful. You knew it. Thought it often, even. But tonight he practically glowed. His hair had been tamed into a softer look than usual. The jinbei he wore was the perfect compliment to his skintone. Was that… Yes. Dark eyeliner made his crimson eyes pop. Your heart ached. You’d always love this man. No matter how it tore you apart, he’d always own part of your heart and soul. You smiled weakly and raised your hand in greeting.

“Hey. You look good.”

“Thanks.” Bakugou scratched the back of his head. “Mina got ahold of me.”

“That explains it then.”

“Hey!” Katsuki gently elbowed you in the side before taking his place next to you. “You saying I can’t dress up on my own?”

“Yes.”

“Y/N!” You dodged out of the way as he swatted at you, laughing. Yes. This could be it. One last good night.

“Shall we go in?” You asked, holding out your hand.

“That’s why we’re here, isn’t it?” Katsuki asked as he walked past you, ignoring your hand.

You gave a quiet smile as you followed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Katsuki picked at his food, none of it making it to his mouth. He was going to be sick. He was going to be sick right here and some paparazzi was going to see and take a picture and the big headline tomorrow was going to be “A Puke Worthy Proposal.” He was trying his best to keep up the illusion that everything was fine and normal, but it was rough. It had been a long time since he’d taken his alpha on even a normal date. And this wasn’t any normal date. It didn’t help that things were feeling forced and awkward.

He wanted to hold your hand, but his own hands were sweating buckets. He tried to keep up casual conversation, but that was getting harder and harder as the night wore on. Every sentence he wanted to just blurt it out and get it over with. It was impossible to keep talking about what vendors he recognized when all he wanted to say was “I love you and I’ll always love you and I want you by my side until the sun stops shining.”

It didn’t help that things felt awkward. Almost nothing was feeling easy or natural. It really had been far too long since the two of you had gone on any sort of date. He frowned as he thought about it. It had been over a year, at least. Longer, even. Well, he was going to have to fix that. He’d be able to use some of that pro hero paycheck and spoil you like you deserved. His Y/N. His mate. And soon, his wife.

Bakugou stared at nothing, his eyes going unfocus as he started daydreaming about how spectacular your wedding would be.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This was a disaster. You glanced over to where Bakugou stood picking at his food, looking bored. You’d been trying to keep up the conversation, but for the past several minutes you’d only gotten hums or grunts in response to anything you said.

“It’s amazing how they got all those pro heroes to dance nude as one of the main attractions this year.”

Katsuki grunted.

Yeah, he wasn’t paying attention at all.

You sighed, looking down at your own untouched food. You never should have agreed to come. At least this date was proving it to you. This had to end. The two of you didn’t know how to be a couple anymore. It was even clearer that Katsuki wasn’t even interested in trying. You had no idea why he wanted to have this date in the first place. Some bizarre sense of obligation? Maybe his heat had shaken him up enough that his omega needed the sense of normalcy? This issue was this wasn’t normal for the two of you anymore. It hadn’t been for a very long time. You sighed, glancing around for a trash can to oust you untouched dango.

A loud pop caused you to look up. The fireworks were about to start.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bakugou looked up at the sound of the first firework.

“Wanna head to the pier?”

You nodded quietly, following him as he led the way. He was sweating so much now that if he set himself off he’d take out half the city.

This was it. It was almost time. The two of you were going to watch the fireworks from the out of the way pier like you had all those years ago. It was at the end of that fireworks show the two of you had had your first kiss. And this time… Well this time at the end of the show he was going to propose and you were going to say yes, and it was going to be perfect.

That is if he didn’t barf before you two got there.

“Hurry up,” he grunted as he picked up the pace.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You tried not to flinch at Bakugou’s harsh tone. He clearly wanted to get this night over with even more than you did. You tried not to let it hurt.

The pier was empty as it always was. The lack of lighting keeping others away. The first time you had discovered it, it had felt hidden and intimate. Now it felt desolate. Lonely.

You walked up to the railing and stared at the sky. The fireworks didn’t feel magical anymore either. Your fingers wrapped around the railing as you glanced to the side. Bakugou wasn’t even looking up. He was staring at the reflections of flashes in the dark swirling water below.

You couldn’t do this anymore.

No more.

The fireworks illuminated you as your grip on the railing tightened until your knuckles turned white.

“Katsuki?”

“”What?” He asked roughly, barely glancing your way.

“Let’s break up.”

And that was Part 6, my darlings! Hope you're enjoying the drama, because there's more angst on the way! You can scream at me about the cliffhanger in replies, reblogs, tags or asks. :P

TAGLIST- @yzviea, @not-a-pushover, @thelilypieforever, @kumihayu, @aomi04, @ladybakugouu, @luajosephdun-blog, @hakunamatatayqueen, @my-thoughts-are-weird, @left-alone-yuki, @officialtrashbusiness, @lonelyheart-clubband, @katsuki-cait, @moonwritters26, @animexholic, @kyrah-williams, @emilymikado, @wolvesblaxe360, @ficklemcselfish, @helena-way07, @fandomsaremylifesposts, @baby-bakuhoe, @sukeraa, l@ucypevensie11, @idk-sam, @katsuki-cait, @weirdestlove, @sasa-slayer, @anime-for-live, @kaidousimp, @bluesdustyflames, @vitheria, @milktea0208, @maristaymulti, @whatdidshesayyy, @memesbyeloise , @fandomsgotmefucked, @killmehe, @shy-panda02 Just a reminder, if you want tagged make sure you have the ability to be tagged turned on; and I’d have to be informed if your blog name changes! Cheers, Darlings!

#reader insert #bnha reader insert #bakugou x fem!reader #bakugou angst #bakugou x reader #reader insert angst #bakugou katsuki #katsuki x reader #omegaverse #omega bakugou #alpha reader #multi part fic #denki #fake dating #fake engagement #part 6

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thefanficmonster · 3 years

Text

Power Couple

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: Fluff, Humor

Summary: Sean, Felix, Dave, and Joel welcome Corpse’s girlfriend to a game of Party Animals. It’s her first time playing and she has to deal with a lot more than just the controls and objectives - her boyfriend being a cute, cuddly sweetheart with ulterior motives to his clinginess.

Requested by @susceptible-but-siriusexual. Thank you so much for your request! Hope I captured what you wanted and how you wanted. Feel free to send any other requests you may have XOXO

It’s been one hell of a day. Had to correct twice as many documents as I was originally supposed to at work; found my car with a flat tire in the parking lot as I was about to go home; argued with my boss over the phone while stuck in a traffic jam. It’s been a rough twelve hours, but it has led me here and that’s what I’d rather think about.

By ‘here’ I mean I’m sitting on the couch in Corpse’s recording room, my computer in my lap, my screen displaying the screen to the game Party Animals. The suggestion was Corpse’s. He immediately picked up on my below par mood and wasted no time finding a solution to bright up the remainder of the day, shadowing the shitty portion of it. I am not what you would call a gamer. Sure I’ve played Among Us with Corpse and his friends a few times. Even that I struggle to do because I’m internally fangirling over all the people in the lobby. Yeah, dating a youtuber doesn’t mean you automatically stop gushing over the many content creators on the platform you’ve been watching for quite some time now. Corpse knows how nervous I get so he’s always near me when we play with Sean, Felix and the other. All he has to do is give me that encouraging smile and wink of his and I’m good to go. Side note: massive props to him for going easy on me in Among Us, getting teasingly called ‘simp’ by his friends in the process.

“You’ll love it.“ He promised me over and over again as the game was downloading on my computer.

“I don’t doubt that, Corpse. But I am going in completely blind and I seriously don’t wanna embarrass myself.“ I mumble a quick ‘nor you‘ under my breath, hoping he doesn’t catch it because I’m in for a pep talk if he does.

To my dismay, he does, “Listen here, you couldn’t embarrass me even if you actively tried to do something outrageous. Most likely scenario, I’d join you in the act.” He ducks in front of the couch so we’re at eye level, his hand coming up to cup my cheek in the sweetest, most comforting gesture ever. “We’ll show em who’s the boss at stealing candy.”

I can’t help but laugh, feeling unable to express just how much this man means to me. Words can’t do the feeling justice.

“Y/N!“

“Y/N!!“

“Corpse Wife has arrived!“

Hearing all the greetings lights a flame in my chest, the warmth spreading all the way to my neck and cheeks. “Hi guys! Missed playing with you!”

“We missed you too!“ Dave, the only one of the gaming gang I’ve actually met in person, replies to me, his words along with all the others’ wrapping around me like a comfort blanket. Despite them knowing I’m a fan of theirs, they’ve always made me feel welcomed, comfortable, nothing less than them.

“You know anything about this game?“ Felix asks me.

I shake my head, almost forgetting he can’t see me, “Corpse told me it’s funny and cute. It sounds like the perfect game for me.”

“Oh no, this is a game of survival. Survival of the fittest!“ Sean shouts excitedly, a bang following his shout I can only assume was him hitting his desk.

“I’d like to think I’m pretty fit.“ I shrug my shoulders, laughing along with the guys.

“This is the only way to find out if you actually are.“ Joel’s voice comes through my headphones in the form of a tease.

Sean mumbles quietly to himself as he’s deciding how to separate us in two teams. “Guys, a little help here. We all suck at this game, it doesn’t really matter who’s in which team.”

“Actually...“ Felix trails off, “Corpse and Y/N are the ultimate power couple in Among Us. Chances are they will be in this as well. So, the only logical move would be to...“

“I’m taking Y/N, you take Corpse.“ Sean declares. “Joel, Dave, who do you guys wanna be with?“

And the game starts. Sean, Joel and I are the Meowfia while Corpse, Felix and Dave are yet to choose a team name. We throw around snarky, cocky comments at each other, taunting the opposite team as we struggle to take the candy to our respective sides of the map.

“Don’t you dare pull that lever, Dave!“ I launch at Dave, knocking his cute avatar away from the lever, buying Joel and Sean some time to steal back the gummy bear Corpse and Felix took from us.

“Y/N! Joel is out! Help me!“ Sean is freaking out now. I ditch Dave’s unconscious body and run to Sean’s aid.

As I’m helping him push it towards out area a member from the opposite team latches onto my avatar, weighing me down and hindering me from doing anything.

“Hug!“ Corpse laughs as he has literally turned into a koala, holding onto my avatar.

“Corpse, you know you are actually supposed to hinder Y/N, not hug her. It’s cute though, don’t get me wrong.“ Felix laughs as him and Sean continue to struggle over the gummy bear.

“Nah, his tactic’s great. I can’t do shit.“ I desperately try and shake him off, “Babe, this is unfair. I can’t even be mad at you!“ I whine, staring to panic now that Dave is back to life and Joel is nowhere to be seen.

The round is won by Felix, Dave and Corpse who, if I might add, didn’t let go of me for the rest of the game.

We switch maps, now every man for himself. We’re on the submarine, recreating the Hunger Games with cute fuzzy animals. The thought passes through my mind, causing me to giggle.

“Y/N, you sound exactly like I’d imagine your avatar to sound. You’re so cute.“ Sean’s avatar circles mine a few times as he laughs.

He’s not wrong, my pale blue puppy is indeed cute. Apparently immortal as well.

“How is Y/N still alive?! Holy shit, her and Corpse really are a power couple.“ Dave shrieks when he sees me pick up the freeze gun. “NOOO!“ He shouts, devastated by the fact I shot him, sending him straight to his death.

“Chill, Dave. It’s all cool. Nothing personal.“ I struggle to hide my laughter, “No hard feelings, right?“

“Of course not, love.“ I can tell he grits the sentence through clenched teeth.

“Aw Dave, you are such an ice guy.“ I giggle, now shooting Joel with the gun.

“Someone take that gun from her!“ Sean cries as him and Felix race up the submarine.

Suddenly, the avatar of my boyfriend again wraps itself around mine. I hadn’t seen him in a while, considering Sean knocked him into the ocean earlier in the round.

“How are you still alive?!“ I try to spin my puppy to get him to let go but he holds on tightly. “Babe, I swear, you are cute and I love you, but this is ridiculous. How and why are you alive?”

“That’s his superpower! He never fucking dies.“ Felix laughs, letting out a yelp when he briefly slips while climbing.

“Immortals!!! Immortals!!!“ Sean breaks out into a song, a song I really like, breaking the restraints I had on my laughter.

“Drop the gun or we’re dying together.“ He says almost seriously. Even though I can only see the back of his head I know he’s grinning.

“A Titanic/Romeo and Juliet mashup? Why not? I can live with dying a double historical death.“ Even though I appear accepting of his offer, I’m still trying to set myself free.

In the end, Sean claims his first win of the game and the rest of us are dead at the bottom of the ocean. Corpse and I did indeed die a Romeo and Juliet/Titanic death, getting everyone in their feels. We make a deal to get together and play again as soon as possible and we all go our separate ways, exiting the Discord call.

*Later that night*

After a dinner consisting of takeout and two thirds of a shitty romantic comedies, Corpse shifts from next to me, starting to get up from the couch. I am surprised to feel jolted out of a half sleep as the room is now completely silent, the TV being turned off.

“Hey where’re you going?“ I ask groggily, rubbing my sleepy eyes.

“I have some editing to do. Don’t worry, I won’t stay up too late.“ He kisses my forehead before grabbing his phone from the coffee table.

Just as he’s about to walk away, I wrap my arms around his legs. He laughs, catching onto what I’m insinuating. His chuckle brings a smile to my face and butterflies in my belly. No matter how long we date for or how much time we spend together, some things never change.

“Payback, huh?“ He asks, the smile audible in the question. I keep my eyes shut but nod, my arms still around his legs. “Alright, you koala. You’re coming with me.”

In his recording room, he settles in his chair placing me in his lap in a way that my legs dangling off to the side, my side leaning against his chest, my face hidden in the crook of his neck. We’re both comfortable, content and relaxed.

I don’t know when exactly it happens, but all my mind has registered is a quiet ‘I love you’ and the soft touch of Corpse’s lips on my temple. I manage to reply with an ‘I love you too’ before my sleepiness consumes me, my body completely relaxing against his, the warmth of his body, his scent, the sound of his breathing making me feel safe and loved: the two feelings I want him to feel with the same intensity when I’m in his arms.

Something tells me he does.

@simonsbluee @save-the-sky @hacker-ghost @itsminniekat @bi-andready-tocry @imtiredaffff @jazzkaurtheglorious @hereforbeebo @fandomgirl17 @chrysanthykios @annshit @i-cant-choose-a-username-help

#corpse #corpsehusband #corpse husband #husband #corpse fanfiction #corpse fanfic #corpse husband fluff #corpse husband fanfic #corpse husband fanfiction #corpse x reader #x reader #corpse husband x y/n #corpse husband x reader #reader #requests open #request #fluff #love #romance

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liuhsng · 3 years

Note

Hiii I just wanted to drop by and say I really like your 1 am timestamp with ceo Sunghoon, I swear you’re so good at writing. Also would you mind doing a sort of part 2 where the baby is born and the couple are having a late night time fluff and the baby starts crying 🥺

☆彡 3:38 [A.M]

☆彡 warning/s: mild cursing

☆彡 note/s: thank you anon, here's your request! this a sequel for '01:55 [A.M]' and it can be read here.

his hands worked their way through the keyboard, messy, dark bangs falling gracefully against his forehead at every breathe and movement he makes.

the clock beside the male was disregarded ages ago as it seemed like he never really cared about his sleeping schedule when he's busy dealing with the mounds of work he had to manage on a daily basis.

fixing the glasses on top of his nose bridge, he released a small sigh, stretching his limbs over his head to somehow ease the sore muscles at his shoulders and back.

''side effects of sticking your ass in this seat.'' the said male chuckled and leaned back on his office chair, the cold leather coming in contact with his bare nape and arms making the ceo slightly shiver.

the male swore under his breath, he was supposed to take a leave for a few days and enjoy some time with his family but why is he stressing over work and is so close to dozing off and slamming his head on his desk?

''way to go, park sunghoon.'' a dry laugh escaped past his lips, fingers going through his hair and easing the little to none tangles present in it. it wasn't that late as the elegant glow coming from the moon made it clear, its' light passing through the glass walls managing to illuminate the big room he's currently wasting his time in.

sunghoon sighed for the umpteenth time that night, fuck the people who said that just because he was a ceo of a large company automatically means that he's just lazing around. he ca't even see his own wife or baby that's probably wondering why was he staying so late up again-

''and this is why i'm your wife.'' a soft, melodic laugh snapped him back into reality as the male quickly spun his chair around only to be met with the love of his who was casually leaning against the door frame, a tray of coffee and snack in hand as a small smile graced her angelic face as he looked at her with the loving gaze he held only for her.

''why is that?'' sunghoon hummed, raising a brow and directing a small smirk at the females statement who did nothing but roll her eyes and walk towards him and placing the tray down full with delicacies on his table.

''you said you were going to finish...those, it looks even taller than it was earlier?'' she asked in wonder, gesturing at the rather large stacks of paper displayed on top of the desk. truly, he said that he was going to lessen the amount of paper work but it seemed like he wasn't going to be true to his word.

''don't answer my question with another question.'' sunghoon only playfully growled, pulling his wife into his arms as soon as she was in his reach, placing her carefully onto his lap as she mellifluously laughed; the sound making the male look at her with the never unwavering amount of love.

''you don't know how much i love you.'' placing a chaste kiss to her forehead, he pulled (y/n) closer; listening to the light breathing coming from her as she instinctively snuggled to his chest and tuned in to his beating heart that always had a calming effect.

sunghoon was busy whispering sweet nothings to his wife as she played with his fingers, dazzling smiles plastered on both of their faces as the silence of the night was something to be thankful for.

that was until a familiar high pitched cry interrupted the couples' moment, but instead of complaining like most people do, (y/n) immediately stood up- followed by sunghoon who decided to screw his work over, throwing his glasses somewhere in the large office. their son needed him, he was going.

''did our little sungwon miss daddy? i'm sorry if i've been spending too much time on work.'' sunghoon picked up the little park once the door to his room were opened, nuzzling his nose onto sunghee's who quickly stopped crying once he was taken into his fathers' arms.

''i promise i'll spend more time with you and mommy, hmm?'' the ceo asked, chuckling at the sight of his son clapping mindlessly at him as (y/n) could only stare in awe at her two favorite boys.

she might've carried the little ball of sunshine in her womb for nine months, but it was obvious that the baby will grow up as a daddy's boy, along with the fact that the little park looked like a carbon copy of sunghoon. though, she couldn't ask for more.

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subwaysurf45 · 3 years

Text

Back Into the Swing of Things

summary: Bucky is finally stable and after your friendship turns into a relationship, Bucky asks you to teach him about the little things. (set around civil war)

words: 3355

warning: legit none just fluff!

pairing: bucky x reader

Masterlist

You were sat at the little desk in your room, your music was blasting through your headphones as you nodded your head to the beat. It was paperwork day, the worst day. For some reason it was a busy time or missions which meant mission reports, you liked to just bang them out all at once for one day every couple of weeks. Some people did them right after but the little notes you take in your journal allow you to wait a bit and then do five at once. The plate that used to have a sandwich was now empty, Bucky brought it by because he knew it was your day and if he stayed around you it would most likely lead to Bucky trying to pull you into bed for snuggles. He’d claim you’d look too cozy to be doing work, you'd wear one of his shirts and maybe some pants.

With a sigh you lean back in your chair, a couple pops coming for your back. “Four outta five…” you muttered to yourself as you took the papers and stacked them on the other reports. As you reached for the final one there was a knock on the door, “come in, Bucky.” You called over your shoulder.

“How’d you know it was me?” Bucky slipped through the doorway, he walked over and spun your chair around.

“Your knock is very polite,” was all you said. It was true, he’d knock loud enough to be heard but not too loud to seem demanding.

“Thanks…?” Bucky sat on the edge of your bed, “I wanted to ask you something,” Bucky looked to the floor.

“Talk to me,” You cheered and gave your full attention.

“I have a list of things in my notebook, just stuff I don't get- like understand. Would you mind helping and explaining some stuff?” His face was red and his eyes looked down, it was painfully obvious he was embarrassed.

“Sure,” You shrugged and Bucky smiled. He got up and went to get the book.

Debit Card Machine

Bucky was sitting across from you at a small diner, you went after rush hour to give yourself space and also Bucky doesn’t like crowded and loud spaces. Bucky had gotten a B.L.T. and you got something similar but you’d never been here before so you weren’t exactly sure what was in it- but it was good.

The waitress came by, the uniform was very retro like the rest of the place. It wasn’t way back to the 40’s more late 80’s early 90’s, Bucky had said he liked coming here because of the jukebox even though that was way past his time. He found it easier than an iphone, which was on his list of things to learn.

“Coffee or tea?” the lady asked.

“No, just the bill please,” You smiled at her, she nodded and walked away. Bucky got up and moved to sit beside you because he didn’t want to learn by looking at the thing upside down, the debit card itself was slightly conquered territory but he had the idea.

“And you said this was on your phone as well?” Bucky picked up the card and looked at it, his fingers running over the numbers that were lifted.

“You have to connect your card and all that to your phone so you just hover over the machine and it’ll pay.” You mimed the action of paying with your phone over nothing for Bucky to get the gist.

The machine showed up and you explained all the buttons, the waitress seemed confused because Bucky looked your age, she would have expected a guy to know how this works but she also kept her distance like most waitresses do.

“So you put your card in, the chip end goes in,” you showed. “Then you make sure the price matches the one on the receipt, if it does then you hit ‘ok’,” you did hit ‘ok’. “Then you have to tip, I personally go the percentage route so I’d click the far left button,” It made a sound when you did. “Now, depending on the service you can tip a different amount, I go fifteen percent as a baseline but she was really nice so I’ll tip twenty.” you typed it in, Bucky had a shocked face.

“Twenty dollars, that’s another meal!” He whispered, trying not to let the lady hear; she did.

“Twenty percent, our total goes from eighteen-tirty to twenty-forty five,” You showed the number again, then you clicked okay and proceeded to type in your four digit number. Bucky watched over your shoulder and tried to remember it all, when you were showing things at home he’d take notes and have a couple diagrams to remember it all but his notebook was no longer in sight. You glanced down after giving the machine back to see him rolling the book onto itself under the table, Bucky shoved it into his back pocket when you both got up to leave.

“Do you mind going over it again when we get home?” Bucky asked as he held your hand, the Avenger tower in sight.

“Of course,” you left a little kiss on his cheek.

Cooking Bacon

You didn’t remember reading this when you first went over the list. Granted, there was tons of stuff on Bucky’s list. It seemed he added it on later, like he watched Wanda cook and had a little idea to add. Either way, you both were in the kitchen in front of the stove. You both had aprons on, yours was a nice navy blue while Bucky’s read: ‘kiss the cook’. He wanted the navy one but then lost a game of rock, paper, scissors.

The pan was heating up on the stove, you had the lid ready beside it on the counter. Bucky seemed nervous because of the idea of the grease spitting out at him, he was starting to stand slightly behind you or away from the stove in an area he thought he wouldn’t get hit. “Alright,” you clapped your hands together after feeling over the pan to check the temperature. “We are gonna cook four pieces, so I’m gonna take them out of the package,” You were careful around the stove because Bucky seemed extremely nervous for you. He kept making little ‘peep’ing noises like he was about to say ‘watch out’ or something but decided against it, it was cute.

You put in two and then Bucky came over to put the others in, he was so leaned back he could barely get the bacon strips into the pan. On the last strip he haphazardly dropped it in, this caused the grease to spray back. A couple bits landed on your arm but a few more hit Bucky.

“Fuck!” He jumped back as you went to cover it quickly. The lid steamed up in seconds. Bucky was at the sink, washing his arm off. “Does it, like, burn through stuff?” His tone was so concerned but you couldn't help but laugh at the question.

“No, you’re safe,” you nodded. Bucky came back over and stood right behind you, his chin nestled on your shoulder as you waited a bit. His arms circled around your torso and he also watched the pan, he didn’t know what to look for per se, but he did it anyways. “This should be good,” you stepped forward which caused Bucky to let go. “We’re gonna lift the lid and start to flip them, alright?” You grabbed the tongs and clicked them a few times, it was a thing you always did.

“Let’s go,” Bucky’s voice wanted to sound excited but he was slightly scared.

You lifted the lid and stood off to the side, quickly but calmly you flipped the pieces over and then covered the lid. “So, we give that time, then we'll take the lid off and just move them around and flip them more, you can do that,” You smiled over your shoulder to see Bucky writing something down. It was cute how much he cared about the little things, you’d never been taught how to cook bacon or cooking in general, it was something you just found yourself doing.

Bucky took the tongs and went for it, he lifted the lid and went straight into flipping them. After he found they weren’t spitting back he seemed to loosen up, his shoulders rolled back and he seemed to find a comfortable position. He was looking over to you for any tips but you stood there with a smile on your face, he was actually doing a good job.

You got out a plate and paper towel, Bucky transferred the strips over. He watched you pat them down with a paper towel, this was something you adopted into your life because you weren’t the biggest fan of all the grease.

“This is a big part, so listen up,” Bucky looked over from eating one of his two pieces. “Write this down, never and I mean never pour this grease down the sink- ever.” Bucky had the piece of meat sticking out of his mouth as he scribbled it down, he hummed and nodded to let you know he got it. “There is a can under the sink, grab it for me, please?” You picked up the pan but stayed over the stove, Bucky came back with an open can. There was nothing in it except congealed grease, he seemed grossed out but you were used to it. “Dump it in here after it’s cool but not solidified, just don’t pour it down the sink.” You poured the stuff in and left it on the counter to cool off, Bucky finally bit down on the piece of bacon before handing over your two pieces.

“I think that went well,” Bucky nodded, he leaned against the counter with a tired sigh. You didn’t have to heart to make fun of him for being scared of the grease, he seemed proud of himself. So you just stood beside him and rested your head on his shoulder, “good job, Buck.”

Skin Care

Bucky was the type of boyfriend to sit in the bathroom and just watch you put on or take off your makeup, he was truly put under a trance when he would watch you. In the beginning he’d ask questions or ask what you were doing and why, but now he had watched you so much he’d pass you the tube of mascara as you finished on your brows.

Your skin had adapted to a long and specific routine, this was your time for about ten minutes before bed to fully unwind and have some quiet. You would rotate products and skip over some of the serums each night but there were the basics you were going to teach Bucky: Wash, tone, moisturize.

Before you went to the drug store you asked Bucky about his skin, he really had no idea what you were talking about and half the time he’d shrug it off. “I don’t pay attention to my skin,” was a common phrase. You lightly touched his face and felt his T-zone, he joked that sometimes if he opened his mouth really wide his skin would feel super tight and dry.

“So then you have dry skin,” you said. Thinking of the products to get him, Bucky didn’t have acne, it was more for cleaning the skin and keeping it healthy.

“I think,” Bucky really felt like a pain. He was trying to help you out so you could find good products but all he was giving was half answers, ‘ya, I guess’ or ‘I think so’.

But currently you both were standing in the bathroom, it was right before bed and Bucky adjusted his headband for about the hundredth time. He said it was too tight but you knew he was being a baby about it, his hair was also pulled back into a bun.

“We are gonna wash our face,” You showed how warm the water should be before splashing your face. Bucky copied right after, and awkwardly leaned forward to make sure water didn’t drip on the floor after while he waited for you to move on. “Now we are gonna wash our face, so take that bottle with the blue cap and put a bit in your hand. A little goes a long way,” You added and did the same, both faces in the bathroom were sudsy and ready. Bucky went in first to wash it off, his hands cupping under the tap and collecting as much water as he could before leaning right in to wash off his face. He did it twice.

“Pat dry?” He remembered you saying that before. His hands held the fresh towel, you hummed in response because your face was in water. Bucky patted and gently rubbed around, when you stood up you dried off as well. Both faces were damp, Bucky looked at the little water droplets running down your neck before turning back to the task at hand. “Toner- don't tell me, I know this one!” He grabbed your arm, “red cap?” His face lit up with joy as you nodded, “I got this!” He cockily laughed, he knew what he was doing.

Bucky took the little cotton round and drizzled some of the toner around on it, he passed one over to you before making one for himself. Bucky leaned in and got super close to the mirror, he watched intently as you rubbed your face. He copied, it was like the cotton pad was barely touching his face. The last thing he cleaned was his nose before pulling the cotton away, he scanned over the pad and saw the gross residue.

“Ew, that was on my face?” Bucky was enchanted by the pad, holding it super close to see the leftover dirt. You had already thrown away the pad, it made you giggle to see Bucky so hypnotized by literal oil and dirt.

“Moisturizer, final step for you,” You sang. “I like to pick it up with my knuckle, like this,” You unscrewed the lid and tapped your pointer finger knuckle to the opaque, soft cream. Bucky took his new one and did the same. He wiped it into the palm of the opposite hand, “rub it around, heat it up before putting it on,” He did just that. “You’re a pro, Buck!” You giggled as Bucky meticulously put it on. He was applying it upwards and spreading it evenly around, his fingers gently dancing across his face as the cream worked its way in.

“How do I look?” He turned to you.

“Like you’re glowing.”

“I feel like it,” Bucky laughed and looked back at the mirror. He tilted his head around to see how his skin would look under the light in the bathroom, he seemed to forget you were there and was completely in awe of what he did. Bucky brought his fingers to his face to feel around, the moisturizer had set and now his skin looked full and plump. The pads of his fingers gently tapped his cheeks and made the shimmer on his cheekbones move and twinkle.

“Alright, that’s enough admiring yourself,” you laughed and pushed him out of the way. Bucky stayed to watch you finish up your routine.

Record Player

As a way to say thanks for helping Bucky with over fifty niche things, Bucky decided to teach you how to properly use a record player.

This wasn’t any old player, this was Bucky’s player. No one was allowed to touch it without permission and even though you have never gotten the green light, you asked almost every week. This was one of the only things Bucky could really hold onto, when he touched the dark, stained wood he could almost see himself back in the 40’s; almost.

He once got really mad at the beginning of your friendship, you really didn’t know it was his, you just thought it was a talking piece. Bucky ended up yelling at you, he had just changed the needle and you were running your finger on it to see how small it was. Steve had ran in because Bucky was yelling- it was a whole ordeal that ended with Bucky not talking to you for three months.

But now there was trust and Bucky liked that after that little fiasco you didn’t even think to touch it, he could really trust you and now was a great time to show off his favourite thing. Bucky was all giddy to show his record player off to you, you were grabbing some water before he started and you noticed Bucky was using the cuff of his sleeve to wipe off a smudge before going back to inspect it.

“Alright, let’s start!” Bucky smiled. This man didn’t start with the parts and what they do, he started with the history of it all. Bucky pulled all the facts he knew about record players in general and the vintage one that was sitting in front of the both of you, his eyes seemed to light up with each new fact that popped into his mind. Part of you wanted to check your watch but you also had never seen this man get passionate over an object before, he could get passionate over people- you, Steve, Sam, etc. -but never over this. “Are you ready to play music?” He reached over into his bin and pulled a record you’ve never seen.

“Which one’s that?” You asked as Bucky pulled it out of it’s sleeve.

“It’s just a random one I picked up a week ago for this,” Bucky held the record the proper way. “Thumb on the center and index on the edge, don’t touch the actual grooves because the oils in your hands can clog them up,” Bucky moved his hand around to show you.

“Sorry, what do you mean you bought that record for this? And why does the needle look different?” you noticed the needle looked extremely worn, it looked great and new a couple days ago.

“Don’t worry,” Bucky dismissed it. “So now we are gonna place the record softly,” Bucky placed it down and turned back to you. He talked about the arm and the needle before showing you how to put it on manually and then with the little leaver, after showing them each way twice he stepped back and offered you a turn.

“Seems easy,” you mumbled and took the arm, you were doing it manually first. The movements were extremely soft and slow, when the needle made contact it took half a second before a really grainy sound came through the speakers. It sounded wrong but Bucky nodded, he applauded you for taking the needle off as well. Then you did it with the leaver, right when it was about to touch you thought it looked off so you nudged it a bit- bad idea. The needle didn’t even hit the record and part of the arm scratched the recessed vinyl. “Shit!” You yelled and ripped it off. Causing the record to scratch, the sound and the record itself, there was a shine to the edge. “Oh god! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to mess it all up- I really didn’t mean to break it- god, you must so ma- I’m sorry-” as you fumbled over yourself Bucky just started to laugh. “What?” you were about to cry because of the guilt.

“That was a sixties record and a needle that is five years old, you didn't do anything. I bought it because I knew this was bound to happen.” Bucky only laughed at your exasperated sigh, you fell into his hug like a child. “Poor baby,” he mockingly cooed, he found it so funny how you were screaming apologies at him even though it was painfully obvious it was a shit record and needle.

“That was scary, I think I need a nap after that…” you sighed.

Bucky threw you over his shoulder, “thinking the same thing, doll.

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bubblyhoney · 3 years

Note

sarah i have thought of another fic request or like a cute idea i guess! i didn’t have anyone in mind when i thought of it so you can write it for whoever you want honestly :)

okay so the reader is a streamer but streams games like animal crossing, standew valley, etc. then (insert who you’re writing for) says they don’t like that game, but later ends up buying it and the reader is like “i thought you said you didn’t like this game” and they’re like “well i like you” and they confuses their feelings and they end up playing the game together and reader gives them a tour of their island or farm

i feel like this request isn’t good, but the scenario seemed cute and i wanted to share it. sorry if this is confusing or just too specific cuz i know it can be hard to write requests like that! but yeah i hope it gives you inspiration and you like the request <3

new horizons

warnings: language, a Marvel reference (hint: natasha said it about tony), stupid idiots who don’t realize they like each other, use of pet names, Uno rage, Hasan Piker's presence

words: 1473

tags: sapnap x gn!reader

A/N: i’ve been trying to catch up a little on my requests (i’ve only got a couple so i’m not super overwhelmed) but school and outside life has been taking up most of my time so this one took me a while to make! tbh— ive never played animal crossing so i did google some of the game mechanics and i apologize if anything is inaccurate about the game…. but i liked relaxing and writing this cute one so thank you for requesting hails :3

requests/inbox status: open

“This game is trash.”

Your head quirks, fingers stopped on the screen. You’re in the process of giving your character a cute new nickname; it’s kind of hard to decide between “awkward dude” and “elderly skater”.

“Excuse me?” Your chat comes alive with emotes and ‘KEKW’s, obviously entertained by you and your almost-more-than-friends-friend.

There’s a story for that later.

Sapnap’s rough laugh comes through your headset and he audibly swallows, the sound of a water bottle dropping onto his desk echoing.

“I’m just saying—it’s boring. It’s like Minecraft but you don’t like… do anything.” The grainy image of his bearded face shifts and you see him pull out his phone.

“It’s— you can’t even compare it to Minecraft! It’s a completely different game system—you actually interact with other people live in the game.” You huff out a dramatic sigh, slumping in your chair with a pout. “Just because you go into this lucid state where all you know is ‘touch block, hit George’ doesn’t mean this game isn’t fun.” (He scoffs at your awful impression of his voice. Your viewers love it.)

“Jeez,” he mumbles, fumbling with the cap of his water bottle. “Touched a nerve there, bud.”

You roll your eyes, getting back to the village in the game.

“Don't ‘bud’ me.”

The call falls comfortably quiet, the sounds of him tapping obsessively on his phone and you clicking away filling the silence. A gentle bedroom-pop YouTube playlist remains in the background, prompting you to hum along and glance at the chat to see a flood of “check twitter” and “Y/N TWITTER!!”.

“What happened on Twitter?” You mumble, confused, and pull the website up on another monitor. Sapnap just makes a curious noise, swinging back and forth in a circle. “Oh my God,” you say to yourself, fingertips brushing your parted lips.

“What?”

“Hasan Piker just followed me and retweeted one of my not even remotely political old tweets. Like from a year ago.”

“That’s— wow. Congrats?” Sapnap’s voice cracks, and his ears flush pink the tiniest bit when you glance at his face on Discord.

“I’m gonna go on record and say that he could get it.” You shake your head in disbelief.

Sapnap falls uncharacteristically non-hyper-verbal, so you look past the frenzied chat and to his screen— wait. He muted and turned his camera off.

“Um,” you start, furiously typing question marks in your private chat. “Where’d you go?” You mute and turn screen share off for your stream, concerned that he might’ve fallen off his chair and broken his neck and needs you to call the ambulance.

The characteristic ding of a twitter notification sounds through your bedroom, and you look at your phone quickly.

“That’s where I went.”

Sapnap Tweeted: “all Y/U stans can choke on my dick”.

“Jesus, Sapnap,” you say, and rapidly refresh to read the replies. This tweet was deleted. “That’s so— that barely makes sense, bro. Why— literally what?”

His snicker floods your ears and you relax in your chair. Crisis: averted. “Don’t fucking— what’s wrong with you?”

“I thought it would be funny,” he offers, shrugging, and fiddles with the straw in his water bottle, smile fading. “And also Hasan pisses me off.”

“Why, ‘cause he wants a piece of this? Jealous?” You think back to your viewers, knowing they’re probably spamming question marks and coming to ludacris conclusions about both of your absences. No offense to them. You remember your stan days very vividly.

“I mean, kinda.” He rubs once at his nose, glancing at the camera (and what feels like you) before taking a sip from his water bottle.

“Wow.” You watch one strand of his hair fall from beneath his hat and brush against his full eyebrows. “I’m uh—I’ll get back to my stream. You coming? Or is it time for a Sapnap-snack?”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” He snorts and leans his chin onto the balance of his arm.

“That means you like to take a little snack break mid-stream and come back approximately nine hours later and you didn’t even eat.”

“You know what— fuck you.” He flicks the camera as you laugh at the look on his face.

The teasing mood is easily kept as you switch games from Animal Crossing to Uno, all the while slamming Sapnap with +4’s and skipping the newly-arrived BadBoyHalo at any chance you can get. It unironically pisses him off and he has to take a Sapnap-snack break midway through (only a fifteen minute break this time, during which you and Bad take a “What Kind of Bread Are You?” quiz). The rest of the night is filled with devious cackles (you), loud and sudden bangs that sound suspiciously like someone hitting their desk in anger (Sap) and the stupid barking of Rat, AKA Lucy (Bad). She’s cute but a menace to the sound quality of Bad’s microphone. You sign off stream around 2 a.m. with various forms of thanks and kisses blown to the camera. It’s been a refreshing night, actually; you’ve been busy organizing a partnership stream all week and all your friends have been busy filming or editing or what-not. Quackity had time for a little Roblox every couple of days, though. He’s got your back.

The next time you see Sapnap is after a two hour stream of him try-harding in Valorant and you finishing responding to an email from your partnership in the VC.

“Okay, I’m back.” You hear him shift in his chair and click a couple more times on his keyboard. You perk up in your chair, closing the email browser you’d been looking at.

“Do you want to play anything else? I’m down for anything.”

“Absolutely not Uno. You can go to hell for giving me 6 cards that one time,” he jabs. You scoff, crossing your arms and leaning back in your chair.

“Okay, the +4 was on me but it’s Bad who gave you the last two. That’s not my fault, sweetie.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he mumbles, trailing off as the clicking of his keyboard stops. “Hey, um—Guess what?”

Your heart beats loud in your ears at the tone of his voice. He sounds nervous; that’s never good.

“I’m scared to guess,” you try, playing with a little Minecraft dog figurine you have on your desk with fidgety fingers. “What?”

“I bought Animal Crossing.”

Silence. You stare at his discord icon blankly, trying to reroute the wires of your brain.

“Tell me you love it.”

“Well… I haven’t actually played it— but you said you liked it, so.”

“So,” you repeat him, ears warming but continuing on. “Is that what you tell all your friends when you buy something they like? That it's because of them?”

He seems to choose his next words carefully, pausing a beat to consider your questions.

“Well, I don’t have a crush on all of my friends.”

“You—what?” You stutter, caught off guard and stumbling. What did he just say? “Don’t tell me you mean you have a crush on me.”

“I’m almost positive I just did.” His discord icon stares right back at you, taunting.

“You know, you’re very casual for someone who just admitted they like-like me.” Your cheeks flush pink and you have to press a hand to your chest to keep your breathing sounding stable.

“Yeah, I’m kind of cool like that,” he offers, a huff of a laugh punctuating his statement. The conversation moves into a lull that you can’t help but know is because of you. He must expect you to say something about it, right?

“You are very cool, Sapnap.” You tilt back in your chair, sucking in a breath to prepare yourself for your next words. “And—Isortakindofhaveacrushonyoutoo.”

He must understand you, for you can hear the grin in his voice when he asks “Really?”

“Y-yeah.” You feel like a preteen again, all shaky and giddy in front of the boy you just asked to a middle school dance.

“Um, alright. What do we do now?”

“I don’t know,” you answer genuinely and swing in a happy little circle in your chair. “We could play Animal Crossing.”

“I’m down.”

You swear you’ve never heard more beautiful words.

He keeps his camera off for most of the time you two play, too focused on creating his island and asking you questions about how to fish to turn it on. He silently flips it on when you help him decorate his lawn, needing to show you in real-time the decorations he has bought and where you think he should put them. He looks cute. I mean, of course he does. He always does.

You tell him goodbye late in the night, eyes saying a little more than just “see you tomorrow”.

You like him. He likes you.

It’s even better when you two have matching gardens.

A/N: anybody and everybody (especially my precious hailey) let me know what you think!! :]

#sapnap #mcyt #sapnap x gn!reader #sapnap x reader #sapnap x you #sapnap fluff #sapnap drabble #sapnap oneshot #bubblyhoneyfics #honey answers #mcyt x reader #🥚except small

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soobmint · 3 years

Text

voices | choi beomgyu [f] soulmates! au, 14.2k words

s u m m a r y : after seeing your soulmate for the first time (whether in passing or by actually meeting them), you are able to hear their voice in your head—but only when they are singing. you have never been very interested in finding love, and choi beomgyu has lost all interest in singing. what happens when the two of you begin to change one another’s minds about the things you wish to avoid more than anything else?

c o n t e n t s : soulmates au, strangers to sorta enemies to lovers, guitarist! gyu, freckle gyu, college au, yeonjun is your best friend, gyu is a brat but a cute brat, very fluffy, a tiny bit of light angst

t a g l i s t : @hyuckworld @chanluster @honeyju @magicalstellar @yeonjuniper (if you’d like to be added to the taglist for future oneshots, please let me know!)

n o t e : this was requested by my dear friend alice, and i hope i did the request justice! the lyrics used in the oneshot are from genius’ english translation of “runaway.” i hope you guys enjoy the oneshot, and do kindly leave a like, comment, or reblog if you enjoyed it! that would mean the world!

YOU MET CHOI BEOMGYU THE DAY YOU SWORE TO NEVER FALL IN LOVE.

As dramatic as it sounded, the day hadn’t been quite so terrible. You were sitting cross-legged in the floor of one of the many practice rooms in your university’s music department with a bag of popcorn in your lap, your head leaned back against the wall as you stifled back a yawn. Your best friend, Yeonjun, was going on and on about his most recent breakup, but the story was so similar to all the other breakups he had gone through in the past two years that you were having a difficult time staying focused. The afternoon sunlight trickled in through the windows, reflecting off the symbols of the drum set that rested in the far corner. You scooted to the side a bit so that the light wouldn’t shine in your eyes anymore as Yeonjun paced back and forth in front of you.

“And then she just stopped talking to me,” He said, running his hands through his hair. “Out of nowhere too! Things had been going so well, but then it was weird. Next thing I know, she’s breaking up with me—get this—over text.”

You tossed a piece of popcorn into your mouth. “Tragic.”

“I know you’re being sarcastic, but yes, it was tragic.” He finally stopped pacing and collapsed to the ground beside of you, leaning his head against your shoulder. “Love is so hard. You meet someone, you think it’s going to work and that you’ll spend a long, happy life together. Next thing you know, you’re single and stuck with your best friend in a stinky music room, waiting for some club meeting to start—or whatever it is we’re in here for.”

“We’re here because we are in charge of organizing the music and theater departments’ performance at the open house next month,” You corrected, flicking his forehead. “And didn’t you only date this girl for like, a week?”

He sighed, sitting up to glare at you. “Love knows not the boundaries of time, my dear friend. You’ll understand once you find it for yourself.”

“Calm down, Shakespeare. I am not falling in love.”

“Unfortunately for you, I don’t think you have any control over that,” He said with a teasing smile. “But why wouldn’t you want to?”

You scoffed, turning to stare at him. “Well, for starters, you haven’t exactly given me a good idea of what ‘love’ is supposed to be, seeing as you’re crying about another ‘true-love-gone-wrong’ every three weeks. Why on earth would I want that for myself?”

“Hey, love is different for everyone,” He said. “Just because my love life is vibrant and exciting and full of various names and faces doesn’t mean the same will happen for you.”

“How do you predict my love life will go, then?”

He hummed, tapping his finger against his chin in thought. “Well, you’re pretty boring, so you’ll probably be the kind of person that waits until they find their soulmate, then you’ll settle down and live a long, safe and uneventful life with them.”

“Shut up,” you said as you shoved him, but you couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled out of you. “I think my soulmate is out of the question, though.”

Yeonjun frowned. “You still haven’t heard him since back then?”

You sighed, shaking your head as you leaned back against the wall. “Not a thing.”

It was quiet then as the two of you thought about what this meant. It wasn’t the first time you had been faced with the reality of your situation, but it still felt like a punch to the stomach every time.

In a world where people waited years, decades even, to hear the voice of their soulmate singing in their head, you had been considered extremely lucky to have heard the gentle voice of a boy in your mind at the age of thirteen. You knew that you had to have met him somewhere—at least in passing—in order to hear him, but you had no clue who he was.

Yet, in a way, it felt like you did. He sang often—so often you wondered if singing was as necessary as breathing to him. It wasn’t a bother to you though; in fact, it was quite the opposite. The songs he sang always told a story; some spoke of love and joy, others off loss and heartache. You felt like each song he sang held a piece of him, and that piece was something that was shared just between the two of you.

Until his voice was gone.

It was rare for him to go a day without singing. Yet suddenly, in your sophomore year of college, days and weeks went by without a single note, and you had yet to hear his voice since.

Your soulmate had stopped singing, and it was difficult to not imagine that the worst had happened.

Yeonjun must have noticed the solemn look that came over your face, because he leaned over and gave your shoulder a squeeze. “Don’t be so gloomy,” he said. “He could still be out there.”

You smiled the best you could, although the pit in your stomach remained. “Yeah, I guess he could.” You tossed the popcorn to Yeonjun and stood to your feet, wiping the crumbs from your hands. “Wait here, okay? The other guy that’s supposed to be helping us is—” You paused to glance at the time on your phone, “—ten minutes late. I’m gonna make sure he knows where to come or see if he’s lost or something.”

Yeonjun nodded, helping himself to what was left of your snack. “Who is the other guy, anyway?”

You sighed, picking up the piece of paper that the department head gave to you when she asked you to organize the showcase, claiming that it would be a great deal of experience for you to acquire in your senior year of university.

You were mostly doing it for the extra credit points.

You began to read the names of the seniors that were in charge of organizing the project listed at the top of the paper. “From the drama department, Choi Yeonjun and Kang Taehyun.”

“Taehyun had an appointment,” Yeonjun said through a mouthful of popcorn. “He’ll be here tomorrow.”

You nodded, tracing your finger along the page, stopping beneath the next pair of names. “From the music department, Y/N and Choi Beomgyu.” You looked up from the paper, tapping your forefinger against your chin. “Choi Beomgyu? Do you know him?”

Yeonjun pondered for a moment before snapping his fingers. “Ah—that guy!” You weren’t surprised; Yeonjun seemed to know everyone in the performing arts programs at your school. “He’s one of the top guitar students, if I’m remembering correctly. Have you not heard of him?”

You shook your head, looking back down at his name. Choi Beomgyu. It did sound familiar, but no images or information came along with the words printed on the page. It was nothing more than a tugging feeling in your stomach that made you feel like you knew him from somewhere.

You began walking towards the door, still staring down at the paper. Just as the tips of your fingers brushed across the metal handle, the door swung open, and you barely had time to glance up and see a head of fluffy black hair and big brown eyes before the door crashed into your forehead so hard you fell backwards to the tile floor.

With a hiss, you brought your hand up to your forehead, relieved to find a lack of blood there. Your eyes were blurred with tears, but through the fog you were able to see the same round doe eyes you had caught a glimpse of before you hit the ground.

“Are you okay?” It was a guy’s voice, clear and ringing in your ears. You rubbed your eyes to clear some of the moisture and were then able to get a better look at the boy in front of you. Curly black bangs hung over his brows, brushing just over the tops of his wide chocolate eyes. His sun-kissed skin was sprinkled with a light spatter of freckles across his nose and lightly flushed cheeks.

You blinked several times before responding. “Y-yeah, I’m okay.” You accepted his hand when he offered to help you stand back up, and soon, you were on your feet once more.

“Sorry about that,” he said, brushing a hand through his already tousled hair. He leaned forward a bit, tapping his finger against your forehead. “Just got a tiny bump, though. You’ll be okay.”

You backed away from his touch, but he didn’t seem to notice as he had caught sight of Yeonjun. Your best friend was quite literally on the edge of his seat, perched on the ledge of the desk while shoveling the last crumbs of popcorn into his mouth as if this were some movie unfolding before his eyes. If you had been close enough, you would have hit him.

“Yeonjun?” Door Boy’s face lit up, and he strode over to give your pink-haired friend a high five. “I haven’t seen you in ages!”

“Hey, man,” Yeonjun said with a grin, ruffling Door Boy’s curly hair with his fingers. “I know, it’s been way too long.”

“I’m sorry, who’s this?” You asked, still a bit dazed from your unexpected collision with the door.

Yeonjun looked back at you, gesturing to the newcomer. “Oh, this is—”

“Choi Beomgyu,” he finished the introduction himself, giving you an overdramatic bow as he said his name. “And you must be Y/N?”

Things were beginning to click together in your head: Door Boy was Choi Beomgyu. In other words, Door Boy was your assigned partner—the one you would be spending the next four weeks trying to plan a performance with.

For some reason, the fact that you had met one another by him slamming a door into your face didn’t leave the best feeling in your chest.

“I look forward to working with you, Y/N.” He gave you a big, lopsided grin, one that any other person would likely find heartwarming.

You forced a smile in return, rubbing your hand across the bump on your forehead. “Same here, Choi Beomgyu.”

PERHAPS IT HAD A BIT TO DO WITH HOW POORLY YOUR FIRST MEETING WENT, BUT SOMETHING ABOUT BEOMGYU REALLY GOT UNDER YOUR SKIN.

The day after you had first met one another, Yeonjun had asked everyone to meet up in the coffee shop inside the campus library. This time, Taehyun from the drama department was also able to be there. You had gotten to know him pretty well over the past four years because of how close he and Yeonjun had become, so the three of you hung out often.

In fact, for the first fifteen minutes of the meeting, it was just the three of you sitting there. You pushed your tongue against the inside of your cheek in agitation before taking another sip of your coffee. “Does this Beomgyu guy have a thing for being late?”

“Relax, Y/N,” Yeonjun said absently from across the table, his attention focused primarily on his cell phone screen. “Not everyone’s a time freak like you.”

“Time freak—What does that even mean?” You crumpled up the wrapper from Taehyun’s straw and threw it at Yeonjun. “Unlike you, I actually care about getting these extra credit points and would like to organize this event properly.”

“Hey! I care!” Yeonjun placed a hand over his heart, as though he had been wounded.

You and Taehyun exchanged a side glance with one another, eyebrows raised.

“Stop looking at each other like that! I do care!”

Before the point could be argued any further, a messy-haired boy crashed into the seat beside of you, out of breath, his backpack falling from his shoulder and onto the ground from the impact. You stared at him for a moment before realizing that it was Beomgyu.

“Sorry—I’m late,” he said in between deep breaths. “On my way here—saw one of the campus cats—got distracted.”

You stared at him again, almost laughing at how ridiculous of an excuse that was. However, considering what little you knew of Beomgyu, the thought of him being fifteen minutes late to a meeting because he got distracted by a cat didn’t seem all that unlikely. With a sigh, you slid a blank piece of notebook paper towards him and set a pen on top of it. “It’s all good. Mind taking notes?”

He nodded—a bit too enthusiastically, if you were to say so yourself. “Sure. Can I grab a coffee real quick?”

You were about to suggest that he should wait until after the meeting, since the three of you had been there for such a long time already, but Taehyun chimed in before you could say anything with, “Of course. We’ve got nowhere else to be.”

It took everything within you to not roll your eyes. You were usually on the same page as Taehyun, but of course, this situation had to be an exception, because Choi Beomgyu was there.

The slacker was rummaging around his backpack, searching for something. He pouted, looking up from his bag. “I forgot my wallet.”

“No worries! Y/N doesn’t eat breakfast, so she always has an extra swipe on her meal card,” Yeonjun said from across the table. Your mouth fell open, eyes wide as saucers. “I’m sure she wouldn’t mind letting you use it. Right, Y/N?”

You weren’t quite sure that you did want Beomgyu to use your meal card, but what kind of jerk would you be if you said no? With gritted teeth and a glare at your best friend, you fished your meal card out of your wallet and placed it into Beomgyu’s open palm.

The pout left his lips instantly, a big grin taking its place. “Thanks. I’ll return the favor sometime soon.”

Doubt it, you thought, watching him rush towards the counter to order. You’ll probably forget you said that by the time you get your drink.

Soon he was back at the table, caramel latte in hand, your meal card back in your possession. You cleared your throat, shifting in your seat. “If everyone’s ready, we can go ahead and get started. I met with my professor yesterday—she’s also the head of the classical music department. She’s technically our ‘overseer,’ but all the responsibility of planning the performance is on us. We’ll only have about forty minutes total to showcase the drama and music departments, so we need to choose our sets wisely.”

“Yeonjun and I were talking a bit about this earlier,” Taehyun said. “We’ve been preparing for our winter show since the beginning of the summer, so we figured we could just perform a scene from the play.”

You nodded, liking the idea. “That sounds perfect. What’s the play?”

“A Midsummer Night’s Dream.”

“Right, I knew that. Could you guys work on finding a scene around ten or fifteen minutes long to perform for the open house, then?”

Yeonjun and Taehyun both nodded. You smiled, glad that you were finally starting to get some things together for the event.

When you glanced at Beomgyu to make sure he had written that down, the smile left as quickly as it had come when you saw that he was doodling tiny flowers and hearts all over the page rather than taking notes.

He must have felt your eyes on him, because he glanced up and caught your gaze. Seemingly unbothered, he simply smiled and said, “Don’t worry. I was just about to write it down.”

Your fingers itched to reach over and take the pen and paper from him so you could just do it yourself, but you kept your composure. “Beomgyu. Any ideas for what the music department could do?”

He finished writing down Drama Department—Scene from “A Midsummer Night’s Dream” before looking at you again. He shrugged, another nonchalant smile spreading across his face. “Not really. I’m down for whatever it is you decide to do.”

“Wow, helpful. Truly.” Your eyes went wide when you realized you had said those words out loud after Yeonjun and Taehyun began to snicker beside you. Your face flushed with embarrassment, but Beomgyu seemed unphased, that careless lopsided grin of his still on full display.

You sighed, brushing a piece of hair behind your ear. “Well, I was thinking about having the orchestra do a piece, and then having one of the student bands do a piece. That way we have something classical and something more contemporary. Thoughts?”

“I think that’s a good idea,” Taehyun said. “If we do our scene first, the orchestra could kind of act as a bridge between Shakespeare and more modern art.”

“I agree,” Yeonjun said. “And since Y/N is in the orchestra, she can get in touch with the director and have them prepare something. Oh, and Beomgyu!” The curly-haired boy looked up from his doodling when his name was called. “You know a few different bands, right? Think you could piece together a group of performers?”

“Definitely,” Beomgyu said. When he noticed your eyes on him, he quickly scribbled down Orchestra—Y/N. Band—Beomgyu Me.

“Well, since we all have our first tasks, I guess that’s all for today.” You were happy that the meeting was over; you were ready to get back to your dorm so you could get to work and actually get things done.

“Wait!” Beomgyu said as you stood up, slinging your bag over your shoulder.

Now you have something to say. You raised a brow at him expectantly.

“We should exchange phone numbers, right?” He smiled, standing up and holding his phone out towards you. “I have the others’ numbers, but I figure I should be able to contact my partner from the music department.”

You hesitated, but knew there was no logical reason why you shouldn’t give him your number. You were going to be working together for the next several weeks, after all.

After putting your number in, he took his phone back and grinned at you again, eyes scrunching up into crescent moons. “Perfect! I’ll try not to bother you too much, but I make no promises.” He reached forward and ruffled your hair, and you were too caught off guard by the sudden touch to back away, or to even react at all. He then waved at all three of you, throwing his backpack over his shoulder. “See you guys tomorrow then.” He turned towards you again, throwing you a casual wink that still managed to have you flustered. “I’ll be in touch, partner.”

You turned to watch him leave, face warm as you brushed through your hair with your fingers, trying to undo the damage your “partner” had done.

Something told you that he wouldn’t be keeping his promise about trying not to bother you anytime soon.

OVER THE NEXT FEW WEEKS, BEOMGYU PROVED HIMSELF TO BE ONE OF THE MOST BOTHERSOME PEOPLE YOU HAD COME ACROSS IN A LONG, LONG TIME.

The worst part was the fact that he didn’t do anything blatantly wrong. He did everything he was asked to do when it came to preparing for the showcase. The first week of work consisted of the two of you gathering all the students who would be participating in the performances, along with Yeonjun and Taehyun preparing those from the drama department. Beomgyu performed all of his tasks just as he was asked to do, so it wasn’t as if he was bothering you by being unhelpful.

It was just something about the way he held himself that seemed to get under your skin for no apparent reason.

For the past week, your “partner” had basically been a tagalong—he would stand beside of you and do what he was asked without contributing much to the creative process of planning. You found it hard to criticize him up front, as he just did as he was told.

However, that was all he did. When the four of you would all sit down together to discuss plans or ideas, Beomgyu’s role never changed: he would sit beside all of you, jot down anything you told him to in his nearly-full composition notebook, and crack an occasional joke that would always send Yeonjun and Taehyun into fits of laughter, but only earned a stiff, forced smile from you.

You were starting to wonder why your professor had assigned him to your team. After all, putting on this open house was your last shot at making a lasting impression on the higher ups in your department. Everything needed to be perfect; mediocracy was not an option.

In other words, Choi Beomgyu needed to step up his game, and he needed to do it quickly.

You thought about this on the day of your first rehearsal, where all of the students who would be participating in the performances had gathered in the main auditorium of the music building.

Drama students were scattered in all directions, occupying the space around them with dramatic line readings and critiques for their classmates as they practiced their roles. Yeonjun and Taehyun were busy taking charge of the drama students, making sure everything was running smoothly amongst them. You watched as Kai, one of the freshman students Yeonjun had taken under his wing, followed your friends around like a baby penguin waddling after its parents, and you couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

Music students were spread across the stage, the orchestra setting up instruments and covering stands with sheets filled by notes and lyrics while the band tuned their guitars and plugged up their mics. Soobin, a tall, blue-haired student from the same year as you, waved at you from stage with his mic in hand. You waved back, happy that you had been able to snag him as the main vocalist for the band’s performance—his voice was angelic, able to captivate any listener.

“Hey.” You turned at the sound of the voice you had begun to grow quite accustomed to, whether that was for better or for worse. Beomgyu was standing beside of you, brushing a hand through the curly black bangs that hung just above his eyes. The tip of his nose was flushed pink, a sign that he had likely just been out in the biting cold that had begun to creep up as fall quickly approached. He had his backpack slung over one shoulder and his guitar case held in one hand.

“Running a little late, aren’t we?” You asked, glancing at the time on your phone with no attempt at hiding your frown. “Is this going to be a trend with you, Choi Beomgyu?”

He laughed, nudging his shoulder against yours. You wanted to be more irritated with him than you were, but he had the kind of laugh that put everyone around him at ease; the kind of laugh that filled one’s chest with warmth, as if you had been directly touched by a ray of sunlight reaching down from the sky.

So you settled with being only slightly irritated, pursing your lips to keep your expression in check as he responded with, “What fun would it be if everyone was on time?”

“It’s not about fun, it’s about making sure this whole thing runs smoothly,” you said as you turned to face him. “Speaking of which, since you didn’t have any suggestions, I went ahead and helped the band choose a setlist. They’ll only have time for two songs, but the ones I picked are really diverse and should be—”

“Ah!” He cut you off, snapping his fingers in front of your face, causing you to flinch back in surprise. “I knew there was something I forgot to tell you.”

“What?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, grinning as he shifted a bit closer to you. You could smell his cologne—a misty citrus scent that was so light you could barely tell it was there. “Well, it’s kind of embarrassing, but the professor actually wanted the band to perform one of the songs I wrote. If that’s okay with you, of course—you’re the boss, after all.”

“You—you write songs?” You asked, trying not to get irritated at the sudden disruption of what you had planned. He had been complacent this entire time, so of course, the time he actually had something to contribute, he would be messing up what you had already set in place.

“Well, if it’s a suggestion from the professor, I can’t just deny you permission, can I?” You said with a forced laugh. “Do you have the—”

“Sheet music?” He finished your sentence, shaking a stack of papers in front of you. “Right here, partner. Want me to go tell the band?”

You sighed, crossing your arms over your chest. “Sure. Just tell them to switch the second song I had picked out with this one.”

He smiled at you again, ruffling your hair with the same hand he held the papers in. “You’re a saint. I’ll talk to you in a bit then?”

You had no time to respond before he was setting off towards the stage to talk to the band, papers and guitar in hand. You huffed through pursed lips, mumbling under your breath as you tried to put your hair back in place.

“What was that all about?” You dropped your hands to your sides when Yeonjun approached you, eyebrow quirked. Half of his cotton-candy colored hair was pulled into a ponytail, and he had on a pair of big round glasses with what you knew to be fake lenses—a fashion statement rather than a necessity.

“I don’t think Beomgyu knows much about personal boundaries or personal responsibility,” you mumbled, allowing Yeonjun to come up and finish fixing your hair with his fingers. “He decided to just now tell me that our professor wanted the band to use one of his songs in the performance.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing’s wrong with it, I just—” You hesitated, unsure of how to respond without sounding like a jerk. “I just wish he would have told me about it sooner. That’s all.”

“Y/N, you need to cut the guy some slack,” Yeonjun said, stepping back once he was finished fixing up your hair. “You act as though you have a personal vendetta against him or something.”

“I do not,” You argued, feeling you defenses flare up at his words. “Why would you say that?”

“I don’t know, maybe because every time he walks in the room you start to grimace, and every time he talks to you I can literally feel the amount of energy it takes for you to not roll your eyes.”

“You’re exaggerating.”

“If you say so.” He put his hand on your shoulder, giving you a stern look that did, in fact, make you roll your eyes. “Give him a chance, Y/N. You may end up liking him more than you’d expect.”

You scoffed as your best friend walked away from you, returning to work on his previous tasks with Taehyun. A vendetta? Was it really that obvious to the people around you that Beomgyu got under your skin?

Perhaps Yeonjun was right—you did have a tendency to be extra sensitive when it came to your academic responsibilities. Maybe you were being too hard on Beomgyu; his goal was the same as yours, even if his methods differed drastically from yours.

You looked up to the stage to see Beomgyu laughing as he said something to Soobin, the rest of the band analyzing the sheets of music in their hands—Beomgyu’s song, if you had to guess. His skin glowed like honey beneath the stage lights, and you noticed that when he laughed, he laughed with his entire body; his eyes disappeared into crescents, his shoulders shook, he clapped his hands together and even stomped his feet a bit. You smiled slightly at the sight, before a pang of guilt hit you.

He did seem like a nice guy. It was time you gave him a chance to be seen as such in your eyes.

ANY PATIENCE YOU HAD DESPERATELY TRIED TO HOLD WITH BEOMGYU WAS WEARING THIN, AND IT HAD ONLY BEEN AN HOUR SINCE YOU DECIDED TO GIVE HIM A CHANCE.

You had both stayed behind with Yeonjun and Taehyun to clean up the auditorium after the practice. “I think that we’re done, don’t you?” You asked everyone after picking up a few discarded sheets of paper left behind by the drama students.

“Almost,” Beomgyu said from the stage. You looked up at him to see him pointing at two large music stands left behind by the orchestra. “Someone left these behind.”

“Can’t we just leave them there?” Yeonjun asked.

Taehyun shook his head. “No, we were given specific instructions to not leave anything behind.” He glanced at his phone. “They’re about to close the building for the night, so we should hurry and put them up.”

“I know which room they came from, so I can take them back,” Beomgyu offered.

“They’re pretty heavy, Beomgyu. Are you sure you can carry them on your own?” Taehyun asked.

“Yeah, it’s fine—”

“No, no, someone should definitely help you. You have to carry your guitar too,” Yeonjun interjected, a mischievous glint in your eyes that sent sirens blaring in your head. The feelings of disdain only grew when Yeonjun made eye contact with you directly, seeming to give you a sweet smile, but you knew the expression was laced with ulterior motives. “Y/N, why don’t you carry one while Beomgyu carries the other?”

You wanted to smack him, but that wouldn’t have been a good look for you, considering that everyone already thought you hated Beomgyu anyways. You glanced up at him on the stage to see that he had already picked one of the stands up, his guitar in the other hand. He gave you a big grin, eyes sparkling like freshly fallen snow. “What do you say, partner? Care to give me a hand?”

You pushed your tongue against the inside of your cheek, knowing that there was no way you were getting out of this one. “Sure,” You said through your teeth, glaring daggers at Yeonjun before making your way up the steps to the stage. The music stand wasn’t too heavy, so you almost dared to ask Beomgyu to try carrying them both in one hand, but decided against it.

“We’ll go ahead and leave then,” Yeonjun said, throwing a taunting wink your way. “You two have fun.”

You hate to bite your tongue to keep from cursing at him as Yeonjun and Taehyun left the auditorium, leaving you alone with Beomgyu for the first time. You glanced his way, noticing that he already had his eyes on you. Instead of averting his gaze when yours met his, he just smiled wider, gesturing towards the door with his head. “Shall we?”

You forced another smile. “Lead the way, partner.”

You followed him out the doors and up the stairs to the first floor, where the orchestra’s practice room was located. You were very familiar with the area, being a violinist yourself. When the two of you reached the room, you rushed forward to open the door, as Beomgyu’s hands were full. He thanked you and stepped inside first, and you followed suit, letting the heavy door swing shut behind you.

“Where should we set them?” He asked.

You nodded to the far corner of the room. “Over there.”

The two of you set the stands down, and you instantly turned back towards the door, ready to get back to your dorm for some alone time after such a taxing day.

“In a rush?” Beomgyu asked from behind you.

You turned to look over your shoulder at him as your hand grasped the doorknob. “Nah, just tired. Aren’t you?”

He shrugged, shifting his guitar case from one hand to the other. “Not really.”

“Lucky you,” You mumbled, turning back towards the door. “Well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow—”

You stopped mid-sentence, heart dropping to your toes. When you tried to turn the knob, it wouldn’t move. After a moment of shock, you tried again, and then again, violently shaking the knob, trying to get the door to open.

“No, no, no,” You said, shaking the handle desperately. “Come on, this can’t be happening!”

“What is it?” Beomgyu asked, setting his guitar on the floor before rushing to your side.

“The door won’t open.” You shook the knob more frantically than ever, the entire door shaking from the force.

“Woah, easy there, partner,” Beomgyu said, gently placing his hand on your arm. “Why don’t you let me try to—”

“What exactly do you think you’re going to be able to do differently?” You snapped, snatching your arm away from him. His mouth hung open, eyes wide with what you assumed to be shock. “We’re stuck in here, Beomgyu. We’re stuck, and we’re not going to get out for god knows how long, and with you as my ‘partner,’ I’m one hundred percent certain we’re not going to be able to find a way out of here on our own.”

You could tell that your words struck a nerve with him by the way his shoulders tensed and how his eyes went narrow. Looking back, you wished you could reel the words back in, but they had already done their damage.

“Why do you hate me so much?” He asked, his voice low and thick with irritation.

It was your turn to be shocked. “What?”

“I said, why do you hate me so much?”

You blinked rapidly, feeling exposed and vulnerable now that he was confronting you. “I don’t—I don’t hate you, Beomgyu.”

He scoffed, pulling his bottom lip under his teeth. “Come on, I’m not that much of an idiot. This entire time, from the moment we first met, you’ve been cold and snippy with me. You can barely hide how much you dislike me with your facial expressions. I thought maybe we just got off on the wrong foot, so I’ve been brushing it off and treating you kindly. But you still treat me like I’m some annoying fly that you can’t quite get rid of, and I want to know why.”

“That’s not—I don’t hate you,” You repeated, jumbling your words together as you struggled to figure out what to say.

“Well, what’s the issue then?”

“You don’t take anything seriously!” Your voice wasn’t quite a shout, but it was almost there. Beomgyu took a step back, arms dropping to his sides.

“You’re treating this entire thing like it’s an elementary school play,” You continued, your voice getting louder and your words coming out more and more rushed the more you spoke. “You don’t contribute in the meetings, you show up late, and you barely do the things I ask you to do. I understand it may not be anything special to you, but this is my last chance to do something memorable here. I’m graduating in the spring, and up until this point, I’ve been nothing but another violinist tossed in the orchestra. I don’t stand out to my professors, or to scouts, to anyone.”

Hot tears began to well in the corners of your eyes as thoughts of your mother surfaced. Every word she had ever said about your pursuit of music being a waste of time, of how little a chance you had of making it, how your only hope was to stand out in the department, which, of course, she highly doubted you would be capable of doing.

“I have to do this, and I have to do it right.” Your voice wavered as you swiped at your cheeks, where a few tears had fallen. “If I don’t, then I’ll—I’ll—”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” Beomgyu’s voice was gentle, in stark contrast to the razor-sharp tone he had held just seconds before. You looked at him through your teary eyes to see that his own eyes were wide, this time with concern rather than anger. “You don’t have to explain, I understand, okay? I’m sorry, Y/N.”

You sniffed, more tears gliding down your cheeks as you did so. “What?”

“I’m sorry,” He repeated, looking as though he were about to start crying himself. “I had no idea that’s how I was coming across. I’m really, really sorry.”

You stared at him, dumbfounded. How were you supposed to respond to that? The last thing you expected to hear from him was an apology, especially since, now that you had yelled at him, you realized how unfair you were being towards him. You shook your head, wiping furiously at your eyes. “No, you don’t have to apologize Beomgyu. I should be apologizing—I’m the one being irrational, not to mention I’m also the one that locked us in here—”

“How about we just call it even then, hm?” He cut you off, looking around before he spotted a box of tissues on the front desk. He grabbed one and made his way back over to you, gently wiping the tears from your face, being careful to not touch you directly. “We’ve both apologized for something that the other person doesn’t think requires an apology. The grounds are neutral now.”

You laughed, gently taking the tissue from his hand so you could wipe your eyes on your own. He stepped back when you did so, smiling nervously at your sudden laughter.

“Thank you, Beomgyu,” You said quietly, wadding the tissue up in your hand.

He rubbed the back of his neck, rocking back and forth on his feet. “No need to thank me, Y/N.” He paused, seeming to be in deep thought. It was quiet for a moment before he stuck his hand out towards you, expression cautiously hopeful. “Now that we both understand each other a little better, do you think we could start over?”

You smiled, wrapping your hand around his to give it a firm shake. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

THE WORLD ALWAYS SEEMED COLDER WHEN YOU WERE ALONE.

Of course, it could have felt cold because you were alone in a hotel parking lot, sitting on the cool pavement in the late hours of the night. You hadn’t brought a jacket with you, and your dress was sleeveless and made of thin fabric that didn’t do much to protect you from the wind that sent strands of hair flying across your face.

However, you were certain that if your mother or father had been sitting beside of you that early winter’s night, you would barely even notice the bite of the wind or the goosebumps that prickled up all over your bare arms. Even the stars had denied you their company; the sky was pitch black, void of any trace of light.

Lower lip trembling, you sighed as you kept your gaze on the sky above, thinking that maybe, if you kept looking, you’d find a single star shining amidst the darkness. Tears filled your eyes, but you wiped them away before they could fall.

“You’re a strong girl, Y/N,” Your mother would say if she were to catch you crying. “Strong girls don’t cry, do they?”

“No,” You whispered, even though she wasn’t there to hear you. “Strong girls don’t cry.”

“What do you mean?”

You jumped at the sudden voice, placing your hand over your heart before you turned your head to see a boy sitting on the pavement beside you. He had curly black hair that stuck out from beneath a beanie, covering the top of his eyes, and a big jacket on over his clothes. He seemed to be the same age as you, but of course, you couldn’t be sure.

“W-what?” You spoke through shaking lips, pulling your arms around yourself in an attempt to stay warm.

“You said that strong girls don’t cry,” He said, eyeing you with curiosity. “What do you mean by that?”

“Oh,” you whispered, looking down at your shoes—a pair of black flats with scuff marks all over the toes. “It’s nothing— just something my mom says.”

He hummed, leaning back on the palms of his hands. “Well, I think she’s wrong. Everyone cries, even the strongest people alive. If someone tells you they don’t cry, then they’re lying.” He turned towards you, a big grin on his face. “You don’t seem like a liar to me.”

You sniffled, wiping your hand across your cheeks to catch the few tears that had managed to slip down. “Thanks, I think.”

“It was definitely meant as a compliment.” He sat up straight then, narrowing his eyes at you. You shrunk back a bit, shoulders shaking as the wind only seemed to get stronger by the second.

A moment later, he was sitting right beside of you, so close that his arm brushed against yours as he slipped his coat off, revealing an oversized hoodie beneath it. He wrapped the coat around your shoulders, and zipped it up, trapping your arms inside. He smiled again and sat back, but he was still close to you, so close that your shoulders were pressed together and his pinky was resting on top of yours.

Eyes wide, you slowly shook your head and slipped your arms through the sleeves so you could reach the zipper. “No, I’m okay—”

“Hey, keep it on, please,” He interrupted, placing his hand on top of yours to stop you from unzipping the coat. “It’s freezing out here, and you don’t even have any sleeves.”

You hesitated, not wanting to be a bother to this unexpectedly kind stranger, but you would have been lying if you had said that the cold wasn’t starting to bother you. Not wanting your lips to turn blue, you nodded, pulling your arms back into the coat to keep them extra warm.

“Thank you,” you said quietly. “What are you doing out here, by the way?”

“Me? Oh, I was just sneaking out to the indoor pool.” He pointed over his shoulder at the building with a large dome roof made of glass. “My parents are already asleep and didn’t notice me leave. You?”

“Ah, well, my family is staying here for the night. My parents and I are going out for dinner to celebrate my birthday.”

“It’s your birthday?” He asked, eyes growing wide. You nodded sheepishly and his smile grew bigger before he reached over to ruffle your hair with his hand. “Happy birthday!”

You giggled, smoothing your hair back down when he pulled his hand away. Your eyes met his, which seemed to sparkle with the light of billions of galaxies, paired perfectly with his beaming smile, and you realized that maybe you didn’t need the stars that night after all, because he alone shined brightly enough.

He looked around then, eyebrows furrowed. “But, where are your parents? Shouldn’t you guys get going before all the restaurants close?”

Your smile faded just as quickly as it had appeared. You swallowed, your eyes drifting towards a car that sat a few yards away from the two of you. The car was running and the lights inside were on, casting a yellow glow onto the two occupants seated in the front: your parents. Although you couldn’t hear what they were saying, you knew that they were yelling by the way they pointed their fingers at each other, and by the expressions on their faces, and the intensity with which their lips were moving.

The boy followed your gaze, his mouth parting slightly in surprise when he caught sight of your parents in the heat of their dispute. He glanced sideways at you before moving to sit in front of you, blocking your view of your parents.

“Why don’t you sneak to the pool with me?” He asked.

You shook your head immediately, a slight smile returning to your face. It was clear that he was trying to distract you, and you were grateful. That didn’t mean you were willing to sneak away from your parents, especially when the tension among your family was already sky high.

“Why not?” He whined, sticking his bottom lip out in a pout.

“Because I’m not supposed to move from this spot,” You said.

“And I wasn’t supposed to leave my hotel room, yet here I am.” He shrugged nonchalantly, brushing his bangs out of his eyes only for them to fall right back into place. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

There were a lot of really terrible things that could happen as a result of you sneaking away to go night swimming with a boy you didn’t know while your parents fought in the middle of a hotel parking lot. You could probably list ten off the top of your head. However, when you looked into the starry eyes of the boy in front of you, his lips spread in an encouraging grin that made you feel warm inside despite the cold, you hesitated.

What was the worst thing that could happen? The list seemed to be erased from your head as quickly as it appeared.

He tilted his head to the side, a playful glint sparkling in his eyes. He stood up and stretched his hand out to you, his fingers trembling from the cold.

“Should we run away?”

Your fingers twitched, urging to reach out touch his own. You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to find the balance between being rational and following where your heart was leading. These two things did not seem to be lining up.

Before you could do anything, however, you heard a car door slamming shut. You jumped to your feet just in time to see your mother stepping away from the vehicle before your father drove off, leaving her alone in the parking lot. Eyes wide with worry, you watched as your mother brushed her hand across her cheeks before taking a deep breath and making her way towards you.

“Y/N,” she said when she reached you, not even glancing at the boy beside of you as she took your face in her hands. “Your dad is going to come pick us up in the morning. How about we just have a girl’s night to celebrate your birthday instead?”

With your heart dropping to your toes, you felt the tears welling in your eyes once again, but you refused to let them fall. You smiled and nodded, wrapping your hand around your mother’s. “Yeah. That sounds fine.”

You turned towards the boy to see that his face was full of concern. Forcing the best smile you could, you unzipped his coat and slipped it off your shoulders before placing it back in his outstretched hands.

“Thank you,” you said quietly. Before he could say anything back, you had turned away and began walking back towards the entrance, arm-in-arm with your mother.

“I was thinking we could order a pizza and rent your favorite movies,” she said, straining to keep the emotion out of your voice. “I’ll order the food once we get back to the room, okay?”

You nodded slowly, halting your footsteps just before the automatic doors that led inside.

But when you turned your head to catch one last look at the boy who shined brighter than the stars, he was already gone.

IN THE HAZY PLACE BETWEEN SLEEPING AND WAKING, YOU COULD HAVE SWORN YOU HEARD HIM SINGING.

With your eyes still closed, the sound rang through your head, clear as day. It was comforting, as if you had heard it before. Yet it wasn’t a sound that only echoed around you. This voice, so gentle and sweet that it seemed to drip with sugar and honey, filled all of your senses to the brim. You weren’t just hearing it, you were feeling it.

“In moments like those, when tears fill your eyes, hold my hand tight. Should we run away?”

You sighed, swept away by the sound and the words that the voice sang. You felt as though you had heard it before, but you couldn’t quite think of where. Snuggling closer to whatever it was that you were leaning against, you allowed the faintest of smiles to trace its way across your lips.

The singing stopped. “Y/N?”

“Hmm?” You pressed your face closer against the warmth you were leaning into, frowning at the sudden absence of the soothing voice.

“Are you awake?”

“Yeah,” you mumbled, slowly forcing your eyes open.

You weren’t quite sure where exactly you expected to be when you opened your eyes, but it definitely was not on the floor of the orchestra practice room with your head in Choi Beomgyu’s lap. Beomgyu was smiling down at you, black curls hanging over his eyes, freckles illuminated by the faint moonlight that spilled through the windows.

You sat up quickly, trying to fix your messy hair as you felt your face grow warm. You didn’t remember falling asleep, but you were incredibly embarrassed that you had.

“How—how long was I asleep?” You asked, your voice hoarse.

“Just an hour or so. I think you got so stressed out after trying to call so many people that you just passed out,” Beomgyu said. He reached his hands toward you and helped you straighten up your hair, which only served to make your face even warmer than before.

“Sorry,” you said, gesturing to his lap. “For . . . that.”

He waved his hand at you before folding his hands behind his head. “Don’t apologize. Seems like you needed the sleep—you were dreaming pretty intensely.”

“I was? Did I say anything weird in my sleep? What did I say? Was it embarrassing?” You grabbed his sleeve, eyes wide as you bombarded him with questions.

He laughed, shaking his head in reassurance. “Don’t worry, it was nothing embarrassing. But you were talking.”

“What did I say?”

“Hmm, something about it being your birthday?” He placed a finger against his chin, eyes narrowed. “I’m not sure exactly what else. It was all kinda random.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, biting the inside of your cheek as you let go of his sleeve. You remembered every bit of the dream you had—well, it wasn’t really a dream as much as it was a memory. It was embarrassing to think that Beomgyu had heard any part of the memory, but you tried not to think about it too much.

“Beomgyu,” You said, opening your eyes once more to look at him. “Were you singing just now? Before I woke up?”

He didn’t say anything at first, his expression blank. Then, he smiled, nudging your shoulder with his. “Of course not—you know I don’t sing. Why?”

“Actually, for the record, I did not know that,” You corrected. “And I don’t know, I just . . . thought I heard someone.”

“Maybe it was your soulmate,” Beomgyu said, moving his eyebrows up and down.

You sighed, looking down at your feet. “I wish it was. I haven’t heard from him in two years.”

The smile fell from Beomgyu’s face right away. “Ah, sorry, I didn’t know.”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to apologize.”

“Do you . . . know what happened to him?”

You shook your head, staring at the moon through the window. “No. I don’t even know who he was.”

“Hey, why are you speaking in the past tense?” He turned towards you and grabbed your shoulders, forcing you to face him. “Think positively, Y/N. He could still be out there. When did you first hear him?”

“When I was thirteen,” You answered. “But he stopped singing two years ago.”

“And you haven’t heard anything since then?”

You hesitated, thinking back over the past two years and all the sleepless nights you had spent waiting and hoping to hear any trace of a note ringing in your ears, the faintest hint of a voice. Sometimes, when you were just about to close your eyes, you would’ve sworn that you could hear his voice for the briefest of moments before you drifted off, but you would always blame it on being sleep deprived.

“No,” you said quietly. “I haven’t heard anything. He used to sing all the time, too. I would wake up to the sound of his voice, and it would carry me throughout each and every day. I know it sounds weird to say this about someone I don’t remember meeting, but I felt . . . connected to him, if that makes sense?”

Beomgyu didn’t say anything, so you continued. “He’s actually the reason why I picked up the violin. I got so used to his voice, I would go around humming all day. I guess my mom got tired of hearing me, because soon after I started hearing him, my mom signed me up for violin lessons. And, well, now I’m here.”

You looked over to see Beomgyu smiling softly, but his eyes didn’t meet yours. “Do you have any idea of who it might be?”

You were quiet for a moment. The image of the boy from the hotel parking lot with his star-struck eyes and diamond smile came to your mind, as always.

“No. But I have someone I hope it is.”

You looked over at him again, and this time, his eyes met yours. The silvery light of the moon highlighted the right side of his face and the bridge of his nose, casting a stark shadow across the other side. He was neither smiling nor frowning as his eyes searched yours. What exactly he was looking for you couldn’t be sure of, however, you liked the eye contact well enough to let it go on for a moment longer before you cleared your throat, looking back towards the window.

“Did you try calling Yeonjun again?”

“Yep. No answer.”

“Taehyun?”

“Nothing.”

“The professor?”

“Didn’t pick up—I left a message though.”

You sighed, allowing the back of your head to hit the wall behind you. “We’ll be stuck here all night at this rate.”

“Well, now that you’ve had a little nap, we may as well use this time to be productive,” Beomgyu said, standing to his feet and stretching his arms above his head as he did so.

You crossed your arms, raising a brow as you watched him pull his guitar out of the case. “What’s this? Choi Beomgyu taking initiative?”

“Hey, we said we were starting over.”

You laughed as he sat on the edge of the desk in front of where you were sitting on the floor. He pulled the strap over his shoulder and began tuning his guitar by ear, something you always struggled to do with your violin.

“What are you doing?” You asked.

He strummed through all the strings, nodding when he was satisfied with the sounds. Glancing down at you, he smiled. “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m going to show you the song I wrote.”

Interest piqued, you sat up straighter and smiled back at him. “I was hoping that’s what you’d say.”

He laughed, adjusting his position on the desk before his fingers found their place on the neck of the guitar. You listened attentively as he began to pick the first notes, watching the way his fingers moved deliberately across the frets, yet, his movements never lost their grace. At first, he kept his eyes focused on his hands. But as the song went on, his eyes slowly closed, and he played without seeing, relying solely on the sound of the notes he was creating and the feeling of the strings that pressed into his calloused fingertips.

Awestruck would have been an understatement for the way you felt as you watched him play. The way he became one with the sounds he created, the way his wrist twisted to strum and how his fingertips slid across the length of the instrument as if it was the very thing they had been created to do. You were hypnotized, allowing the music to seep into your heart and make it thump against your chest like a caged bird begging to be set free.

If you had to put a word to how he looked in that moment, “beautiful” was the closest you would be able to get.

He opened his eyes as he strummed the last note, a gentle grin on his lips. You noticed how his eyes sparkled in the darkness, despite his back being towards the moonlight rather than his face.

“What do you think?” He asked, his voice sounding sharp as it pierced through the thick silence that had settled over the room.

“It was—”

“It was real pretty, kid.”

You yelped in surprise at the sudden voice, jumping up to your feet as Beomgyu practically fell off the desk, nearly dropping his guitar in the process. You helped steady him, and together, you looked towards the door to see that it was wide open, fluorescent light from the hallway spilling into the room as the janitor stood in the entry way, arms crossed over his chest as he blew a bubble with the gum in his mouth.

“If you’re done serenading your girlfriend, would you mind leaving so I can clean up and go home? This building closed an hour ago, but if you both leave now I’ll keep quiet.”

Your cheeks went hot, and you struggled to form words as Beomgyu scrambled to put his guitar back in its case. “Girl—girlfriend? No, we’re not—I mean, I’m not his—we just got stuck and—”

“Thank you, sir. We’re really sorry.” Beomgyu cut you off as he picked up his guitar case with one hand and wrapped his free arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side. You gasped, but were too stunned to do anything but follow Beomgyu’s lead as he pulled you out of the room.

“What was that about?” You asked once the two of you had safely made it out of the building. “You were not serenading me.”

Beomgyu shrugged, letting his arm fall from your shoulders. Your mouth fell open at his lack of a denial. “Choi Beomgyu! Stop messing around.”

“Who said I was messing around?” He teased, winking at you as he began to walk towards his dorm building, which was on the other side of campus from yours.

You scoffed but said nothing as you watched his back while he walked away from you, trying to piece together what had just happened.

“See you tomorrow, Y/N!” He shouted, turning around as he walked so he could wave goodbye.

You gave him a weak-hearted wave in return, pressing your hands against your flushed cheeks as you slowly began to tread back to your own dorm room.

How strange it was that just that morning, you would have given almost anything to avoid seeing Beomgyu.

But now, you found yourself counting down the minutes left until the next day so you could see him again.

WHEN YOU GOT BACK TO YOUR DORM FROM REHEARSAL THE NEXT EVENING, YOU HAD A TEXT.

Beomgyu: I know we said we were starting over, but I can’t forget that I still owe you a coffee. Meet me at the library in 15?

You felt like an idiot, but you couldn’t stop the grin from taking over your face. Slipping your shoes back on, you typed out a quick reply before slipping out the door.

You: Make it 5. I’ll be waiting.

When you arrived at the library, you were surprised to see that Beomgyu was already there. The line for coffee was very short, as most students had settled into their dorms for the night. Only a few stray overachievers and those that were desperately trying to cram for exams were there, and Beomgyu had claimed a place in line amongst them. He held his guitar in one hand, as per usual, and you wondered if there would ever come a time in which you would see him without it.

“How is it that you demanded to meet me ten minutes earlier than I planned, and I still got here before you?” He asked once you had reached him.

“First of all, I did not demand anything from you,” You said, pushing your fist against his shoulder. “Secondly, that is so unfair, because you know that your dorm is way closer to the library than mine is.”

“Sounds like an excuse to me, but okay. Ah, it’s our turn.” He placed his hand on the small of your back and pulled you closer to the counter. Your stomach flipped, but for some reason, you didn’t mind.

After the two of had gotten your coffees, Beomgyu told you to follow him up the stairs. You expected to stop at the second floor, but to your surprise, he kept leading you. He took you through a door in the back that you didn’t even know existed, where there was another flight of stairs. At the end of these stairs was another door. You stepped outside and found yourself on the rooftop, with a great view of the campus below.

“Are you sure we’re allowed to be up here?” You asked.

“Well, no. But I’ve come up here a lot and never gotten in trouble, so what’s the harm?”

“That does not make me feel any better.”

“Come on, Y/N.” He took your hand in his and brought you over to the wide ledge, big enough for the two of you to sit on without the fear of falling off. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

You paused, eyes growing wide. He stared back at you as he hoisted himself up on the ledge. He took a sip of his coffee before asking, “Why are you staring at me like that?”

You shook your head, setting your coffee beside of him before bringing yourself up to sit on the ledge yourself.

“Nothing,” You said. “You just reminded me of someone.”

“Ah.” He stared at you for a moment longer before he slipped his jacket off and wrapped it around your shoulders. You opened your mouth to protest, but he placed his finger against your parted lips, which was more than enough to shut you up.

“Just accept an act of kindness, would you?” He said, zipping his jacket up over you. You watched him as he did so, noticing the way his chocolate eyes sparkled in the midst of the cloudy night.

You swallowed, averting your gaze. “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome. That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

It was quiet then, but not in an uncomfortable way. You enjoyed sitting beside of him in the silence, watching the lights of campus below you, feeling the warmth from his jacket spread over your chilled skin.

“Actually, Y/N, there’s something that’s been bothering me,” Beomgyu said, breaking the silence.

You turned to face him, curious. “What is it?”

For the first time since you had met him, Beomgyu looked nervous. He picked at the skin around his nails, doing everything he could to keep his eyes from meeting yours.

“Remember how you asked me if I sang? When we were locked in the orchestra room?” His voice was a bit quieter than it had been before.

“Yeah, you said you didn’t.”

“Right. Well, that—that was a lie,” He blurted, seeming to regret his words the second they had left his mouth. “Well, not a blatant lie, because I don’t sing anymore. But I used to.”

You were a bit confused, but seeing how nervous he was, you decided not to ask him why he would lie about such a seemingly trivial topic.

“What made you stop?” You asked carefully, not wanting to upset him.

He hesitated, wringing his hands together. After taking a deep breath, he spoke again.

“My father and I used to sing together,” He began. “I taught myself how to play the guitar, but he was the one who taught me how to sing. He loved to sing, more than anything else, and he always told me that I had a brilliant voice. He said it would be a shame to keep such a voice to myself.”

He smiled fondly as he spoke of his father, and you couldn’t help but smile as well. The joy slowly faded from his expression, however, as he began to speak again.

“I lost him two years ago,” He said quietly, voice thick with emotions that caused your heart to clench. “He was in a bad car accident. I was doing really well here, in vocals and guitar. But when I lost him, I just . . . I couldn’t sing anymore. I tried, I really did. I just couldn’t do it.”

“Oh, Beomgyu,” You whispered, gently placing your hand over his trembling one.

“It’s pathetic, isn’t it?” He sniffed, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. “Singing was the one thing he wanted me to do, and now that he’s gone, I’m failing at it.”

“No, Beomgyu,” You said, your voice firm as you squeezed his hand. “It’s not pathetic at all. You’re doing the best you can, and you’re still here. And most importantly, you tried. That’s what matters.”

He brought his eyes back to yours then, glistening with moisture in the moonless, starless night. He smiled at you then, and you smiled back.

“Y/N.”

“Hm?”

“Have I told you yet that you’re really, really beautiful?”

Your breath caught in your throat, and you froze, feeling the blood rush to your cheeks. You were frozen for a moment before you scoffed, pulling your hand away from his and tucking it into your lap.

“I thought you were going to start being more serious,” You mumbled, refusing to look at him. “Stop messing around.”

Then, he moved closer to you, placing one arm behind you while he brought the other to rest against your cheek, gently turning your face towards his. He leaned in, so close that his breath brushed against your skin. He smelled of citrus and vanilla, and you found yourself leaning closer to him.

He glanced at your lips, then met your eyes once again.

“What makes you think I’m not being serious?”

His lips were soft when they pressed against yours, and it felt as though your heart would burst right out of your chest. You allowed your eyes to fall shut as he gently moved his mouth against yours, slowly tucking a piece of hair behind your ear as he did so, before allowing his fingers to gently trace their way along your cheek, then your jaw, until he rested his hand against your neck, pulling you a tiny bit closer to him.

He broke the kiss for a fleeting moment, just to open his eyes so he could look into yours. You liked the flecks of light that beamed in his irises, as though his eyes were made of starlight. He smiled, allowing his nose to brush against yours as his eyes moved back down to your lips. Once again, he closed the distance between you, capturing your lips with his for the second time. He tasted like coffee and cheap cherry chap-stick—and odd combination, but you didn’t mind as you brought your arms around his neck and shifted closer to him, twisting your head to the side as you moved your lips in time with his.

The moment was unexpected, to say the least. But perhaps that was what made it feel that much more magical.

At least, it was magical until you felt scalding hot liquid splash all over the side of your leg, seeping through the fabric of your jeans to burn your skin.

You gasped against Beomgyu’s lips before pulling away, staring wide eyed at your jeans that were now stained with coffee. Your cup, which had been sitting between the two of you, was now knocked on its side, the contents drained.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, Y/N,” Beomgyu said frantically. His lips were shining from the aftermath of your kiss, his freckled cheeks and nose red as a cherry. He gently pressed his hands against your leg, pulling them back when you winced from the impact. “Oh god—I’m sorry, I forgot that it was there and I was leaning in and I knocked it over and—”

You laughed at how flustered he had become, amused by this side of him that you hadn’t seen before. You grabbed his face and pulled him towards you, pressing your lips against his in a swift kiss, effectively shutting him up.

“It’s okay, Beomgyu,” You said once you pulled away, letting your hands fall from his face. “I guess you just owe me another coffee.”

The goofy lopsided grin you had grown accustomed to took place of the frightened expression he had worn just moments before. He hopped off the ledge, extending his hand towards you to help you down.

“Come on, partner. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

IT WAS THE DAY OF THE OPEN HOUSE, AND YOU WERE SLIGHTLY UNNERVED BY HOW WELL THINGS WERE GOING.

You had hoped that everything would go smoothly. The past few weeks, you had spent all your time and energy making sure that the event would be as close to perfect as possible.

Well, you had also spent a bit of time with Beomgyu, but only when you had the time to spare, of course.

The performers were all setting up; the drama department was working on setting up the stage props, as they would be going first, and they were busy rehearsing with the orchestra for how they could effectively move the props to make room for the instruments in a timely fashion. Yeonjun was rushing about, directing them with the grace and efficiency only he could pull off.

Everything was going perfectly. You should have just been happy about that, but for some reason, it felt as though you were just waiting for something to go terribly wrong.

“Y/N.” You turned at the sound of Beomgyu’s voice, smiling as he walked towards you. He was dressed in a white button up shirt that he tucked into a pair of black jeans. His sleeves were pushed up a bit, exposing his forearms.

“Everything okay?” You asked once he had reached you. You glanced at the members of the band, who were talking in hushed voices right behind Beomgyu. Your eyes narrowed when you noticed that something was amiss. “Where’s Soobin? Is he on his way?”

Beomgyu sighed, running a hand through his already messy curls. “That’s what I was coming to talk to you about. He’s sick—he won’t be able to make it. I just got a text from him.”

You blinked slowly, trying to process what you had just been told. Soobin was the main vocalist for the band. Without him, or someone to fill his position, there would be no performance.

You quickly walked over to the band, desperately trying to think of something to fix the situation, and Beomgyu was following right behind you.

“Can any of you do lead vocals in Soobin’s place?” You asked.

“No,” the main guitarist said, looking just as stressed out as you were. “We’d have to change the entire key for it to fit my range, and even if we had time to do that—which we don’t—we wouldn’t have any backup vocals.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, squeezing your eyes shut. “There’s got to be something we can do to replace him. We can’t just take the band performance out.”

“How about Beomgyu?”

Your eyes flew open at the sound of Yeonjun’s voice, and you whirled around to see him standing behind you.

“When did you get there?” You asked.

“A minute or so ago,” He said, striding forward so that he stood on the other side of you. “But seriously, everyone knows Beomgyu can sing. He used to do it all the time. Why not have him take Soobin’s place?”

“It would make sense,” the guitarist said, his face lighting up with a glint of hope. “He’s been here for all the practices—I mean, he even wrote the song!”

You turned your eyes towards Beomgyu, worry overtaking you in an instant when you saw his expression. All the color had drained from his face, his lips pulled between his teeth. His hands were trembling, and he refused to meet your gaze.

“Beomgyu,” You said quietly, taking his shaky hand in your steady one. “You don’t have to. We can figure something else out—”

“I’ll think about it,” He said, eyes finally finding yours. He did his best to force a smile, but it was so strained, your worry only grew at the sight. “Just . . . can you give me a little while?”

You nodded, squeezing his hand. “Of course.”

He slipped away from you then, disappearing behind the stage. Your eyes followed him until you couldn’t see him any longer, worry creasing your brows.

“What was that about?” Yeonjun asked, stepping a bit closer to you. “I understand not wanting to force anyone to do something last minute, but we don’t really have many options.”

“There’s more to it than that,” You said quietly. “Just trust me, okay? And if he says he can’t do it, he can’t. We are not going to force him to do this.”

Yeonjun still looked confused, but he simply shrugged. “Whatever you say, captain. But just so you know, if he can’t do it, you’re gonna be the one singing in Soobin’s place. And trust me, no one wants to hear that.”

You fought the urge to flip him off as he walked away, wondering why on earth you still kept him around as your best friend.

The rest of the preparations went on, and soon, the audience had begun to fill the auditorium. You hadn’t seen Beomgyu since that moment during rehearsals, and you were beginning to grow worried.

You stood in the right wing of the stage as the show began with the drama department. You tried to focus on the performance—it was amazing, of course, especially since Yeonjun played a lead role in the scene they had chosen. Everyone knew he was an amazing actor. However, rather than being able to enjoy the show, you could only think about where Beomgyu was and wonder if he was doing alright, your stomach twisting itself into knots as the seconds ticked by.

By the time the drama students were finished, the audience standing to clap for their flawless performance, you had bitten your nails down to nubs as you grew increasingly worried. Yeonjun rushed over to you when he left the stage, smiling widely as he stretched his arms out to his sides. “How’d we do?”

“Hm?” You snapped out of your daze, shaking your head as you gave him two thumbs up. “Oh—wonderful. You guys were great. Hey, will you make sure everything goes well with the orchestra? I have to go find Beomgyu.”

“Well why don’t you stay here and I’ll go find him—”

“Nope, I’ve got it! Thanks best friend, you’re the greatest!” You gave him a quick hug before he could say anything else, quickly rushing out of the auditorium. You made your way down a few hallways, taking a couple of turns until you had reached one of the dressing rooms. You knew this was where Beomgyu had been getting ready because his guitar case was propped against the wall outside of it, so you hoped he was still inside.

You knocked on the door. “Beomgyu? Are you in there?”

It was silent, but you heard someone sniffle from behind the door. You sighed, leaning against the wood. “You don’t have to say anything, okay? But just hear me out.”

There was no response, but you could have sworn you felt someone leaning against the door from the other side.

“I know you may feel like you have to pressure yourself to do this, but you don’t,” You said gently. “Nobody is going to be disappointed if you can’t get up there to sing. Not me, not Yeonjun, not the band.”

You paused, biting your lip before you continued. “Your father wouldn’t be upset either, Beomgyu. The fact that you’re willing to even think about doing something this hard just to help out shows just how great of a person you are. He would be so, so proud of you. I’m proud of you, too. Whether or not you get up there and sing tonight, I’m proud of you. Okay?”

You stayed there, waiting in silence for a moment longer before you pushed away from the door, walking back towards the auditorium.

The orchestra was almost finished with their set by the time you returned to the wing. Yeonjun and the band were waiting with anticipation when you returned, eyes wide and searching behind you, probably hoping that Beomgyu was close behind.

“Is he coming?” Yeonjun asked.

You sighed, shaking your head slowly. “I don’t think so. We’ll just have to call off the band’s performance, but it’ll be okay—”

“That won’t be necessary.”

You turned at the sound of Beomgyu’s voice, unable to help the big smile that overtook your face. You hurried towards him, grabbing both his hands in your own.

“Are you sure?” You asked. “You know you don’t have to—”

“I know I don’t,” he said with a smile. “But I want to.”

He leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss against your forehead. “Thank you. For everything.”

He went up to talk to the band after that, leaving you a blushing mess. The orchestra had just finished their set and were busy making way for the band. Yeonjun walked to your side as Beomgyu and the rest of the band took their places on the stage.

“Did he just kiss you?” Your best friend asked. For some reason, he didn’t sound surprised.

Dumbfounded, you brought your hand to your forehead and nodded, unable to speak. Yeonjun laughed at you, causing you to snap out of your daze so you could punch him lightly in the shoulder.

Once the band had finished getting ready, Beomgyu cleared his throat, tapping the mic before leaning forward to speak into it.

“Hello everyone, thanks for coming out tonight. My name is Choi Beomgyu, and these lovely people surrounding me are some of the many talented musicians in our music department.” He paused when the audience clapped, waiting until the applause died down before he spoke again. “To wrap up this showcase, we’ll be performing a song I wrote myself. I wrote this about someone I met a long, long time ago.”

He turned his head to the side then, making eye contact with you from the stage. He smiled, not taking his gaze away from yours. He looked heavenly in the light cast from the spotlight, strands of his black hair seeming to turn silver beneath the glow, his golden skin shining brighter than ever. You were sure that if you were close enough, you would see the star-like sparkles in his eyes that you had grown to adore.

“I hope she remembers me, even after all this time.”

“Is he talking about you?” Yeonjun whispered into your ear, noticing the direction of Beomgyu’s stare. “You guys just met like, a month ago.”

You were just as confused as your best friend, so in response, you simply shrugged, unsure of what was going on. He was definitely talking to you, but you had no idea what he was referring to.

“I hope she remembers me, even after all this time.”

You racked your brain, trying desperately to think of what he could mean. Had you met him before? Did he remember you from somewhere, from a memory that had somehow slipped your mind?

The music began to play, and you took a step closer to the stage, eyes narrowed, ready to focus on the lyrics, wanting more than anything to remember what Beomgyu was talking about.

“In moments like those, when tears fill your eyes, hold my hand tight. Should we run away?”

Your eyes went wide. You stumbled back, reaching up to hold your head in your hands.

“Y/N?” Yeonjun’s voice was distant, overpowered by the sound of the honey sweet voice that filled the air. “Y/N, what’s wrong?”

You gasped, hands tangling in your hair as the singing continued.

“Be my forever, call my name. Run away, run away, run away with me.”

Your head was ringing. Not only were these words the same ones you had heard in your head the night you were locked in the classroom with Beomgyu, but the voice—Beomgyu’s voice—was the same one you had heard day and night while growing up.

It was your soulmates voice.

You knew it was, not just because of the lyrics or the familiarity of the voice. You knew it was your soulmate because you didn’t just hear the words and the notes of the song, you felt them. Every inch of your being felt as though it had been struck by lightning. The voice filled up all of your senses, overpowering you in the most beautiful way imaginable.

But it was too much. His voice coming through the loudspeakers paired with it ringing inside your head built up so much pressure that it caused your vision to blur. You quickly stumbled out of the auditorium, fumbling your way through the front doors that led outside.

You sat down on the pavement, taking deep breaths as your mind began to calm down. No longer overwhelmed by all that was going on around you, you closed your eyes, listening to Beomgyu’s voice as it filled your mind.

“Don’t wanna stay, now we can go. Take me now to the magic named ‘us.’”

With those words, the voice died down, and you were surrounded by silence.

You simply sat there for several moments, your eyes remaining closed as you tried to understand everything that had just happened to you.

Beomgyu was your soulmate.

Beomgyu was your soulmate, and he was alive.

Bit by bit, you started to piece things together. The night of your thirteenth birthday, the day before you heard his voice for the first time. You had met the boy with sparkling eyes and a lopsided grin in the hotel parking lot. He had offered you his coat, and then his hand.

“I hope she remembers me,” Beomgyu had said.

You smiled to yourself, placing your hand over your heart as it beat fiercely against your chest.

“Yes, Beomgyu. I do remember you.”

“Y/N!”

Your eyes flew open at the sound of the door being thrown open behind you. You turned to see Beomgyu barreling towards you, practically collapsing to the ground in front of you. He took your face in his hands, eyes frantically searching yours.

“Are you okay?” He asked, his fingers gently running along the length of your cheeks.

You nodded, smiling even though tears began to pool in your eyes. “Beomgyu,” You said quietly, lifting your hands to hold his wrists. “You knew, didn’t you?”

“Knew what?”

“That you’re my soulmate.”

He paused, the worry in his face slowly being replaced by a wide, sparkling smile.

“So you finally figured it out, huh?” He said, brushing a strand of your hair back behind your ear. “If you didn’t figure it out after tonight, I wasn’t sure how else I was supposed to show you.”

You laughed, a tear slipping down your cheek as you tightened your grip on his wrists. His expression changed once again, brows knit with concern. “Are—are you crying? What’s wrong?”

“No, nothing, it’s fine,” You assured him, resting your forehead against his. “I’m just happy. I’m so, so happy, Beomgyu.”

He sighed with relief, wrapping his arms around you in a hug, pulling you snugly into his chest. His chin rested on top of your head as you slipped your arms around his middle, pulling him even closer than he already was.

“I was a little worried that you’d be disappointed when you found out it was me,” He said with a light laugh.

You shook your head against his chest, snuggling even closer to him. “Of course not. You’re exactly who I hoped it would be, Choi Beomgyu.”

The two of you stayed like that for a bit longer before Beomgyu pulled away and stood up in front of you.

The boy with stars for eyes and a smile that outshone the moon stretched his hand out towards you, fingers shaking from the cold, cheeks flushed from your embrace.

“Should we run away?” He asked.

This time, you placed your hand in his and let him pull you to your feet.

2K notes · View notes

spinster-sisters · 3 years

Text

Criminal. khj

TW: Violence kinda, weapons kinda, illegal stuff obviously, exhibitionism, marking, posesiveness, gang? au? possibly, I honestly dont know what this is.

WC: 6k

I normally dont do summaries but I got a funny one:

You and your boyfriend escape a bank robbery.

The toe of your shoe clicks against the marble floor as you tap your foot. Across the room, high up on the wall there is an analog clock ticking down the seconds. It’s getting late, and the bank teller couldn’t be going any slower. Only two people ahead of you now.

You check your phone for the fifth time in the past 10 minutes, no update. Must not be running as late as you thought. You shift your weight to your other foot only to start taping once again. Ok sure, you weren’t late, it doesn’t mean you like how long this damn lady is taking.

The line moves up as the teller begins helping the next person. You attempt to swallow your impatience as best you can, pulling out your phone again to quickly slide between apps, but the longer you stand there the louder the ticking of the clock seems to echo around the room.

Looking away from your device, you take another look around the room. Nothing has changed since you came in. In between the doors and the lines, there was a seating area filled with two uncomfortable-looking couches facing each other and a coffee table between them. There were still 3 tellers sitting at their desks, 10 customers in line counting you. Two in the first line, three in the second, yourself, and two others in the last. About as busy as you would expect at this time of day. But the waiting still sucked.

Finally, you hear the teller ask “is there anything else I can help you with?” And you know that soon it will be your turn at the window. Pulling out your phone again you shoot a quick text.

[ it’s my turn next, hopefully, I’ll be out of here soon ]

1:24pm

Just as the woman in front of you steps away a notification dings on your phone.

[ See you soon ;) ]

1:25pm

You sighed at your boyfriend's message, thinking the winky face was a bit on the nose for your taste. But Hongjoong liked to tease.

Dropping your phone back into your pocket, you look up just as the teller motions you forward. The click of your shoe against the tile seems almost deafening in the quiet room as you step forward, trying to mask the small smile Hongjoong’s message had given you.

“what can I help you with today?” The lady at the counter-question with subdued chirpiness. Clearly, she has had a long day, already ready for it to be over. The thought made you wince.

“Hi, there seems to be a problem with the direct deposit on my account. My last paycheck didn’t go in.” You start, placing both hands on the counter.

The teller nods, with mock understanding, clearly just an impulse for years of customer service. Somewhere outside several car doors slam, but no one inside seems to notice the sound.

“Could I have the number of the account?” The teller asks, placing both hands on the keyboard and frowning at the screen, prepared to type whatever comes out of your mouth. You don’t have time to say it.

All the lights on the monitor suddenly shut off. The woman helping you looks taken aback for a second, looking over to her coworkers only to see them doing the same. The hairs on the back of your neck shoot up as nerves build in your stomach.

The next thing happens so quickly you barely register it. The glass door slides open and a metal canister flies into the room. Acting on instinct your hands fly to your ears, your eyes screwed shut, and you drop to your knees. Even with your ears covered it does little to silence the ear-splitting bang that rips through the room. It sends the rest of the room's inhabitants to the floor seconds after you, either from shock or from the disorienting mix of light and sound that came from the small device.

Flashbang.

Your heart jumps up to your throat. You open your eyes but did not let your hands drop just yet. The ring was still sounding in the room, but the blinding light had gone. Just as the last of the ringing fizzled out the doors slid open again.

A group of masked figures took confident strides into the room. Your eyes searched the street behind them, looking for anyone who might notice what’s going on. There was no one. Your stomach dropped again. The others in the room finally seemed to be regaining their hearing and sight, only to shriek when the men came into view. Swallowing your nerves you do a headcount of the patrons. Three tellers, ten customers including yourself. All adults, no children. That was good, children would cause problems.

After assessing the situation and taking a few deep breaths, you look over to the group of men who were starting to spread out around the room. The more you looked at them the more frightening they appeared. Each of the men were were dressed head to toe in black with a mask covering the bottom half of their faces, but even as you sized them up you avoided looking at their eyes, drawing attention to yourself now would be stupid.

Every one of them carried a gun. But as they fanned out across the room only one had it pointed. The same one that spoke.

“Anyone not on the ground better get that way. We don’t have all day.” The voice that spoke was calm but had a clear edge. The tones meaning ran clear in your ears as much as everyone else’s, calm does not mean forgiving. You kept your head down, trying your best to sink into the shadows trying to avoid drawing attention to yourself, that’s what people always said to do right?

You heard a few thuds as the few people in the room who remained standing dropped to the floor. None of the other patrons or staff said a word. Thank god, fighting would make this much more difficult.

“Great, now I want everyone’s hands on the ground in front of them. Try to call anyone and one of us will put a new hole in your head, so why don’t we make this easy and nobody make a sound.” The voice continued in that same tone. Your eyes shot up to make sure everyone was following orders as you placed your own hands on the cold tile next to your bare knees, they were already getting stiff and you hoped this would be over quickly.

A few of the men began walking through the people on the floor, hands on their guns but not drawn, checking just as you did that everyone was behaving. As one of the taller ones drifted toward your spot you stared at the same tile a few feet ahead of you, matching the other patrons around you.

You heard the heavy thuds of footsteps as they paused in front of you, just for a moment. You felt the gaze burn into the top of your skull as you stared forward, holding your breath.

“You don’t look nearly scared enough.” The new voice spoke, completely nonchalant. The next moment, a heavy leather boot pressed down onto your hand, crushing it against the tile. You winced and let out a small cry as pain shot up your arm. It stung as he dug his foot harder onto your hand. Both hands started to shake as the pain built, the knot that had formed in your chest from the moment the flash-bang fell through the air tightened till your breath became choked and shaky. Suddenly the pressure was gone.

“Much better,” the voice all but giggled before moving on.

You took a heaving breath as soon as the boots left your field of vision. You felt sweat start to form on your brow bone. You looked up again. A few terrified faces of other patrons looked at you with fear, clearly expecting that the man was going to blow your head off.

The man who spoke first stepped forward and motioned to the middle teller who was watching petrified from behind his desk, head barely peeking over the edge.

“You,” he started again, taking long strides across the room, walking within a few feet from you on your right side to the opening that led behind the counter, “Why don’t you show me to the safe?” He asked, voice still disconcertingly cordial. The teller gapped for a moment, and the man tilted his head expectantly. The teller stumbled to his feet, eyes not moving from the shiny gun trained on him. He did little more than gesture vaguely for the man to follow him before they both disappeared behind the doors that lead to the back of the bank, 2 of the other men followed behind him.

The room was stiff with tension. For the patrons at least. All of you seemed to be holding your breath, but the men could not seem calmer. Their postures were relaxed, many of them had their arms crossed over their chest or were leaning against furniture. None of them even had their weapons drawn, but they were still visible. Enough to keep everyone shaking with fear with their heads down. It was bizarre but effective for the time being.

Your head was absolutely swimming. Trying to keep notice of the positions of everyone in the room, taking shooting glances around for a few seconds at a time, checking the faces of your fellow hostages. Everyone knows in situations like this it’s best to just comply, you sure fucking hoped the others knew that as well. You tried to lead by example anyway. And then there were the men. You didn’t dare look any one of them in the eye, knowing what kind of consequences that would bring. But you tried to keep tabs on them. They weren’t moving much in the few minutes since the three men disappeared with the teller, but any slight movement they gave was noteworthy into your mind. You had to keep things under control.

The minutes ticked on in almost complete silence, save for the one man who was humming of all things. How could they possibly be relaxed right now you did not know. The sound was harsh against your ears for how gentle it was, it kept distracting you from your thoughts.

The thought in question was a dangerous one. Your back was beginning to ache from being hunched over and your palms were sweating uncomfortably against the marble. From where you sat against the furthest teller window you were blocked from the direct view of every robber by either furniture or walls. What you wanted to do was risky, any slight movement on their behaves would land you in their line of sight. That was an opportunity for anyone who could take it.

You need to text Hongjoong. He needed to know what was going on. You watched the men carefully for the next few minutes, looking for any sign that they might start looking around, but they all seemed perfectly content in their places. With a shaking hand, you slowly began reaching into your pocket. You managed to pull the device out without anyone noticing, but as you slid it into your lap and under your shirt one of the other patrons saw, and their eyes shot wide open. Shit.

They looked at you with frantic, pleading eyes that screamed call for help. They were looking too obvious. You swallowed and shook your head, trying to get them to look away, but they didn’t.

“Heads down,” a deep voice called. Both you and the other patron snapped your eyes to the floor, but after listening for a few seconds it didn’t sound like anyone was moving toward you. You were still blocked from view. With a shaky breath, you slowly pulled the phone out. Unlocking it silently, you pressed on the messages app.

“Well, what’s this?”

Dread shot through you. The man had reappeared from the back, slinking quietly to your side somehow without you noticing. Your head shot up to look at him as he stood, barely 5 feet away from you staring down at your phone. The entire room's attention was now on you. You felt your blood freeze in your veins as the eyes above the mask narrowed into a glare. You didn’t even move to hide the phone, you didn’t move to do anything. You just sat there, staring dumbly back into his eyes. You heard the distant sounds of fear from the hostages and soft chuckles from the men.

The bag he had slung over his shoulder was tossed to the nearest member of his crew, the two that had followed him into the back of the back reappeared, took one look at the scene, one shaking his head before they both carried on out the door with the three bags.

A hand shot into your hair, grabbing it by the roots and pulling you to your feet. Your scalp burned, the pain was so sharp and sudden your eyes screwed shut and you lost Yoruba balance. Disoriented, you let out a shriek at the pain and if it weren’t for the grip on your head you would have fallen right back down. The phone was ripped from your hand. The man slid his hand from your hair to grasp the back of your neck firmly as he looked over the screen. When your eyes opened he was scrolling through the messages from half a moment before laughing a full and wicked laugh.

“Texting your boyfriend? How cute.” He all but cackled. He observed your face, your eyes hard and pricked with tears, and he giggled again. Shoving your phone into his pocket, he motioned to the others before pulling you towards the door. You stumbled over your legs multiple times, letting out cries and hisses as you went but doing little to resist.

The other hostages, let out distraught sobs but you blocked them out, their sympathy would do nothing for you now.

You were pulled out of the building at the same moment the sound of engines roared to life. In one quick glacé you saw that the street was still deserted.

Your back was slammed against the wall of the bank, just out of view of those inside and the barrel of the man's gun was trained on you. You shut your eyes tight.

You heard a bang. And the wailing cries of the hostages inside.

Then familiar lips crashed onto yours. It wasn’t really a kiss, more of a peck. The man's lips moved against yours for only a few seconds, so little you had no time to react before they were gone.

You opened your eyes. His mask was pulled back up, and he had taken a step back. His gun was already holstered at his side.

You didn’t have to see the bottom half of the man's face to know he was smirking. You pushed yourself off the wall and glared at him. At that moment two cars pulled out of the parking lot, one stopping directly in front of you. With a huff you pushed past the man who you could almost guarantee was still grinning.

Opening the door you slid into the backseat against the far window and crossed your arms over your chest. Seconds later the man got in and closed the door. And you were off.

“Come on your not actually mad are you,” he giggled, pulling down his mask.

“You damn near pulled my hair out Hongjoong! Of course, I’m mad!” You spat. You heard the two in the front seat chuckle.

“Oh don’t think you're off the hook Yunho. What the fuck was that? Since when was breaking my hand apart of the plan?” You hollered, kicking your foot against his seat. This only lead to more giggling. You resiliently stared forward, not looking at to boyfriend. He didn’t seem bothered by this in the slightest. Hongjoong slid across the back seat to wrap an arm over your shoulder that even in your rage you didn’t have the heart to shake off.

“But it’s not like I was lying! You looked way too calm. If any of them had looked at you it would have been obvious something was up.” Yunho defended, gesturing with the hand, not on the steering wheel.

“Come on, darling. You know we have to make it believable. I can’t have my best spy get their cover blown because I’m too gentle with you.” The arm around your shoulder tightened, urging you to look at him. Finally, you turned to him, smiling at you so brightly you’d think you were on a friendly road trip.

“Besides, I thought you liked it when I pulled your hair?” Hongjoong said with a cheeky wink. At that Wooyoung howled with laughter from the front seat. You blushed crimson and promptly reached your foot over to kick his seat as well.

“Oh shut up. You were going overboard and you know it.” You grumbled with much less enthusiasm. Hongjoong smiles softly at your pout before leaning back in his seat, giving you a bit more space. Comfortable silence lasted only a few minutes as you drove on before Hongjoong spoke up again.

“Why did you pull your phone out anyway? That was dumb, even if you are on our side.” He asked, fingers rubbing circles comfortingly against your shoulder. You sighed.

“Because the rest of the boys fucked up.” You replied plainly, but still easing into your boyfriend's touch. Both Yunho and Wooyoung made offended noises from the front seat, but you carried on.

“The way they were positioned was wrong. There were blind spots, several actually. You’re just lucky I was the only person in one. I figured I should let you know in case it became a problem.” You continued.

“Hmm,” Hongjoong muttered. While he heard the sound of your voice, you doubted he was listening, as his hand instead taken to playing with your fingers in your lap.

“Isn’t the whole idea of having someone undercover on the inside, so they can tell us where the blind spots are?” Wooyoung asked from the front seat, still clearly offended at your statement.

“I told Yeosang, it’s not my fault you guys planned to take him in the safe this time instead of keeping him in the lobby like always.”You shot back. But even that was half-hearted. Your body really did ache after being hunched on the hard ground for 10 minutes without moving, and the comforting touch of your boyfriend's hands made you melt into the seat, all the tension and worrying about ways it could go wrong eased off your body in waves.

You all could talk about how it went and what needed to be tweaked next time later, right now you just wanted to rest. Hongjoong pulled you against his chest by your shoulder sensing your quick drop in energy.

Just as you were about to doze off a thought popped into your head.

“Hongjoong?”

You could feel the hum he gave in response against your cheek, telling you to continue.

“Are you sure you should have pretended to shoot me? I mean, best case scenario local police add murder onto our rap list. Worst, they find out you have a man on the inside. Either one is bad.” You murmur into his chest. Your group had never killed before as there had never been any need to, and it wasn’t something that any of you really wanted to do.

“That’s only a problem if they catch us.” He replied. Sounding, as always, perfectly certain of himself.

Living like this had its pros and cons, much like anything else. The main con being having to drive long ways away for jobs, just as a way to keep yourself safe. Which sometimes meant pulling over on the side of the road at any ditch or shitty motel for the night before getting back to your homes.

As your vehicles pulled into a run-down motel about a mile off the main highway, Hongjoong and Seonghwa had gone into the lobby parading as drunk college students on a road trip to rent the rooms for the night. Needless to say, it had been a long day, the other boys meandered to their rooms and probably fell asleep the moment their heads hit the pillows. But not you.

You had been patiently waiting on the hood of the car you arrived in, for the moment Hongjoong got back. And when he did reappear and the others disappeared, you couldn’t quite bring yourself to go lay down as quickly as they did.

As the crunch of their footsteps on gravel faded till they were indoors, you turned your head upwards to the sky. It was late at night and in the middle of nowhere like this, you could see millions more stars than in your home. Hongjoong kept his place, leaning on the car hood next to where you sat, looking up as well but not at the infinite sky like you. No, he was watching your face.

You don’t know exactly how long you sat there, looking up at the sky but you know your neck had begun to ache when Hongjoong finally pulled himself onto the hood of the car next to you. You naturally came to rest your head on his shoulder, still looking up at the stars, but now in your peripheral vision, you could still see Hongjoong studying your expression carefully.

“Something on your mind?” You ask in a quiet voice, still looking up. Hongjoong stirred, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close. You tear your gaze from the stars to look at him. The moon cast a pearly light on his face that in your eyes made him glow.

“Sometimes I think I ruined you,” though his words were serious the giggle he gave at the end showed he had no real remorse. You still scoffed.

“I was a criminal long before I meet you Kim Hongjoong, don’t go thinking you

drastically changed the course of my life.” You reply in a dry tone, even if he was joking, it was still a point you wanted to drive home. He had no reason to be guilty with how you turned out, you were probably safer with him and the others than where you were before. He laughed at you again.

Hongjoong laughed at everything. And his laugh was one of the best things about him. Looking at him now, it gets harder and harder to imagine what your life would have been like without him.

“Babe, you were a petty thief, I turned you into a serial bank robber. I consider that pretty drastic.” He shot back, reaching up to pretend to fix your hair.

“If it wasn’t you, it would have been somebody else, and between us? I’m glad it was you.” Your words came out slightly more sentimental than you had anticipated and when Hongjoong fell silent next to you, you promptly blushed and turned back to the stars.

You and Hongjoong very rarely spoke about stuff like this. Even if neither of you would ever admit it, the truth of living life like this is that all it takes is one day, one mistake, for the family you created and the life you live to come crashing down around you. The span of a few minutes could be the difference between running off into the sunset and quite literally never seeing each other again. And after the slight hiccup, you had today that only you had noticed at first, that thought was at the forefront of your mind.

So basically you liked to live in the moment.

It was quiet for a few minutes, him watching you and you watching the sky. There was a very slight breeze in the air, but the summer air was made it more of a gentle cool wind than an uncomfortable chill.

“It’s getting late, you should go to sleep,” Hongjoong muttered. Quieter than his usual quip.

“I slept in the car.” You replied easily. Which was true, and while that nap had been anything but restful with the constant bumps in the road, he didn’t need to know that.

“Oh well, here I was trying to get you in bed but I guess you don’t want to.” He sighed, regaining some of the playfulness from earlier while running a teasing hand up your spine. It gave you shivers, but you had no desire to give in to him so easily.

“Who says we need a bed?” You ask matter of factly. Turning to give him the same wink he had laid on you earlier in the day. Jobs like the one you did today always put you on edge, no matter how many times you did it. Unlike the rest of them, it took you hours to fully relax and admit safety enough to let your guard down. You would never call Hongjoong carefree, but he did have a habit of trying to jump you the moment you were a safe distance away. Hongjoong leaned down to whisper in your ear.

“Are you asking me to take you on the hood of this car? Because trust me, darling, I would.” Shivers his your spine once again, but you weren’t quite down bantering yet. You turned your head away from him to look at the beat-up old motel and the deserted parking lot you sat in. Motioning to it all you replied.

“Is this the most romantic place you could find?” You ask, each word oozing with how unimpressed you were by the scenery. At that Hongjoong placed a finger under your chin and tilted your head up to look at the millions of shining stars once again. You could feel his next words before they came.

“I don’t know, I think I did a pretty good job.”

It’s true, looking straight up and nowhere else gave the impression that you were sitting on the top of a mountain, the entire world below you and nothing but heaven above. Cheesy, but effective.

Hongjoong accurately assumed your silence meant he had won. Pushing you by your shoulder till your back hit the cool metal, your eyes stayed trained on the sky above. Your legs hung over the front of the car, pushed up only slightly till you lay with most of your body on the hood. Hongjoong’s moonlight face still hung in your peripheral, hanging over you slightly.

You stared straight into the sky as Hongjoong slung his body over yours, trapping your hips to the metal with his own.

“Please tell me you're not going to be super dramatic about this?” You as with your last dreg of defiance. He smirked at you.

“Babe, this is going to be the most dramatic moment of your life.”

And with that, Hongjoong leaned down over you, connecting your lips with a heated kiss. Your arms automatically slung around his neck, pulling him closer. Your breath hitched almost immediately, feeling all strength leave your body as you melted into the kiss. Hongjoong took time to switch between a long slow-paced drag of his lips across yours, to nipping and sucking gently at your bottom lip as he pleased. The air no longer seemed like a necessity, when staying like this forever got more and more appealing.

Running his lips down to your jaw you almost rolled your eyes when you felt Hongjoong suck a rather impressively sized hickey right onto the underside of your jaw. It would perfectly match the fading ones that dotted your collar bones and the base of your neck, though the placement of this one would be much more visible.

Hongjoong’s hand took hold of your waist, slipping his fingers under the hem of your shirt and pushing it to bunch up over your chest, exposing you to the cool night air. He hadn’t removed it completely, but nonetheless he leaned back to admire. The ghost of a smirk wormed its way onto his lips as he ran his soft fingertips along the marks he gave you.

Staring at the ones lower on your stomach, trailing up your body with feather light touches. Your eyes screwed shut when he brushed over the ones on your breast. The bra you had been wearing today was nothing special, if not a little plain, but you could barely stand the heat of his gaze as it traveled up your body along with his hand.

Eventually, he reached the newest addition to the collection of purple splotches on your body. Cupping your cheek with his hand he urged your eyes open.

“I go through all this work to get you out under the stars and here you are with your eyes closed. That’s rude of you.” He stated with an exaggerated frown.

“It’s rude to tease,” you tried to sound as playful as him, but it came out as more of a whine. He giggled at you and carried on.

“I’m not teasing, I’m admiring. Now let me continue or you’ll get nothing.” He replies sternly. The mood suddenly shifting as the sparkle in his eye shifted to a darker hungrier look. You gulped slightly before letting your head fall back against the metal to stare up at the sky again. You felt Hongjoong’s mouth on your body again. His warm lips giving new life to some of the more faded marks on your chest. The cool air suddenly felt incredibly hot as your boyfriend's hands ran up and down your sides, occasionally stopping to squeeze whatever flesh he could grasp. Each time pulled another sound past your lips, although you did your best to muffle them.

“You look so pretty like this baby,” he remarked, barely pulling away, “I want to hear how pretty you sound too.”

It wasn’t spoken like a command, but you took it as one. Letting your mouth hang open in a moan when Hongjoong took one of your breasts in his palm, kneeling it slightly before pulling your bra down just enough to free it. He wasted no time in dragging his tongue over your nipple, then sweeping back down to suck a mark directly on the underside of your boob.

Your legs clenched together as he worked, the small amount of friction it gave in your shorts only served to drive you to more extremes when you rolled your hips against his. You groaned startlingly loud at that, the sensation of his hard dick pressing against your core even through the denim of both your pants pulled wetness from your core quicker than you would ever care to admit.

Hongjoong pulled away with a laugh, sitting up straight to look down at your already keening expression.

“Calm down baby, we have all night. No need to rush.” He chuckled at you. Despite his words, he took almost immediate action, running his hands up your bare thighs till his fingers hook on the waistband of your shorts. He pulled them down, but only just enough. Slipping his hand between your legs to cup your heat, while palming himself over his jeans. You whined again and clamped your legs around his hand, holding it in place. Despite your body’s subconscious efforts, he slid his finger over your cunt through your damp underwear.

Under any other circumstances, it would have been incredibly embarrassing how wet he made you from just touches to your body, but at the moment all you could think about was how desperately you wanted him to continue.

“Your soaking wet already, it feels like cheating with how quickly your body reacts to me.” He mutters, pressing two fingers against your hole, with nothing but a thin scrap of fabric keeping them from pushing inside you.

“Hongjoong, please fuck me. I’m begging you.” You groan, rolling your hips against his hand repeatedly. He broke out in a wide smile.

“I like the sound of you begging. Do it again for me.” He commands, voice laced with honey. You took a shuddering breath, turning your eyes to meet his with a pleading look.

“Please, I need you to fuck me.” You beg with all the desperation you have.

“Oh course baby, all you had to do was ask.” He lilts, tilting his head to the side with a sickly sweet smile.

Hongjoong pulled his hand from your core, which left an unhappy feeling in your stomach. But he used said hand to assist in pulling his dick free of his pants which spurred your legs even further apart. Your hands had been hanging uselessly at your side since this all began but as he leaned over your body once again, staring straight down into your wanton face, your hands flung themselves behind his shoulder to hang off of him.

Hongjoong pressed the tip of his cock against your entrance, running it through your folds twice, watching as your face shifted from bliss to desperation each time he almost slipped in. And of course, he laughed. But that was the last bit of torture he gave you before sinking into your cunt.

Your synchronized groans sounded throughout the empty parking lot when he finally filled you to the hilt. And with his own patients starting to run as thin as yours he wasted no time in pulling out and thrusting again.

Your back arched more each time he pushed into you, feeling him stretching your walls and brush against the most sensitive spots inside you made your toes curl. And as he began to build pace his deep pants and groans rang in your ears.

He was doing anything but going fast. Long hard and deep thrusts shook your body in a steady rhythm. Your nails dig into his shoulders through his shirt and your mouth hung open as he fucked into you.

“Come on baby, you're not that far gone already are you?” His voice carried a teasing tone, but his own breath had gone shaky. You both stared into each other’s faces, watching each other’s expressions shift with bliss at every thrust. You were moaning and whining freely now. Words have failed you.

You felt the muscles on Hongjoong’s shoulder strain beneath your fingers, and with your orgasm fast approaching your nails practically clawed down his back. Hongjoong hissed above you, but the action did nothing but spur him on.

“Your gonna cum baby? Gonna cum already on my cock? How desperate you must be, to let a criminal have his way with you like this.” He growled the words down at you. His words shot to your core, making you clench around him, with a whine you forced words past your lips.

“I don’t care, just want you.” The words were barely a whisper. But the effect was the same. With a ringing cry, you came undone underneath him. You shook and threw your head back, staring directly into the stars above you. Your body moved of its own accord, but that was all beyond you. The only thing you could think about was the look on Hongjoong’s stunning face as he came hovering above you.

You both basked in the feeling of waves of pleasure rolling over your bodies. Continuing to grind against each other subconsciously as you rode it out.

The cool air returned with a nip. Hongjoong had all but collapsed above you. As you came back to reality the cold metal of the car suddenly felt so comfortable you could fall asleep right there. You felt your eyes being to drift shut.

“Oh no baby, I’m taking you to bed for real this time.” Hongjoong chuckled, pulling himself up to look down at you again. He gave a small smile at your pout.

“Your pretty cute for a dangerous criminal.”

You gathered up the last of your strength to hit him on the shoulder.

and this my friends is why I dont make a habit of writing longer things, they just get away from me.

I meant for this to be a short hot sexy lil thing and it turned into this long ass sappy thing

#ateez smut #hongjoong smut #ateez scenarios #ateez au #hongjoong scenarios #ateez timestamp #hongjoong timestamp #hongjoong au

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