#because she was asking about leaks of products!
Text
light a flame
kim dahyun x f!reader
sum: the girl you're accompanying seems to have a musical tick for you, pulling your heartstrings despite being distasteful.
tw: fluff ; angst? ; smut ; cursing ; tension ; abusive pasts mentioned
of all the quotes and lessons shared to you in your years of existence, there was one saying from your eighth grade middle school band teacher that stuck with you for the longest time now:
music is life.
the feeling of being on stage is exhilarating. that rush of adrenaline pumping out the nervousness of the song etched into your brain. you’ve done it multiple times up to this point, it’s practically second nature.
being blinded by the bright lights of the auditorium, the soft material of your dress meshes with the leathery cushion of the seat beneath you. fingers are spread across keys of your grand piano, waiting for the first note, an untold story yet to be heard through the music.
will the long hours of practice be worth it? can it reach the people out in the audience? these thoughts and emotions built up inside of the life i’ve dedicated to?
that first sound, a chord, the grandness behind the touch. it’s a breath of fresh air, you lived for classical music, the discography between different composers, the madness of their pieces.
there was one slight catch in your part unfortunately: this wasn’t a solo act.
her hands are up with the violin in between, extending out to the crowd captivated by her beauty. it’s revolting to you. locking eyes with her, she pulls a small tug at her lips forming a smile. it’s infuriating you, the facade she’s carrying over her appearance.
“you see me, right?” she asks with her eyes, taunting you, pushing you to the limit first. “all of these people are watching me.”
she’s taking up the spotlight over, seeing that she’s the more superior musician in this performance. that off white dress exposing her shoulders, her middle back facing you and the piano. classy, regal, royalty, everyone knows her name compared to yours.
but no one knows the truth between you two, or the battle that’s about to unfold in front of their eyes. you and her are both soloists, not meant to be the background performer.
so you’re asking yourself why, on god’s green earth, to the sheer amounts of frustration that you didn’t think you would have, find yourself playing second fiddle to the girl standing on the right of you, taking in that glorious spotlight you rightfully deserved away?
jealousy was an unfamiliar feeling, because this woman was making you leak in it.
—
“y/n!”
(for the impasse that’s about to happen, this is how it pans out.)
you perch your head up from the cover of the grand piano to see professor baekhyun, a beloved musical director and mentor that helped pull you into his program after watching one of your competitive piano recitals back when you were in grade school.
he had an eye for talent, so he waited until the right moment to swoop in when he heard the news from your range of musical teachers that you were looking for a possible destination, becoming his esteemed and most trusted pianist that he’s ever had the pleasure of teaching let alone play under.
confused after hearing your name, you scan around the room to see him on his podium, waving a hand prompting to come over amidst the cleaning chaos happening around you. it was another productive rehearsal done for the day, and it was roughly late in the afternoon. luckily, you had nothing left in your schedule since this would be the last thing you had before heading back to the dorm to catch up on some assignments and maybe even squeeze a few reps of the music you and the orchestra just went over today.
weaving through all of the empty chairs and stands, some of them which still had music folders and binders, you eventually stop at the bottom elevated podium that baekhyun was standing from, attentive and ready for whatever he had to say for you.
“good! you’re here.” he says, smiling with an outreaching hand before stepping off the podium to meet at your level. a way of which he liked to ground himself to his students, always open and inviting to sprinkle wisdom whenever he can. “you got a minute for me?”
“i do, actually. is there something wrong?”
“no, not at all.” baekhyun replies, before lifting a hand behind your back, leading you to stand on the podium with him now while the rest of the orchestra students kept going with putting their cellos and violas into their cases.
while on the elevated podium, you look over to the sea of chairs rising from their elevated rows the further you see to the back of the room, where the wind players are sitting all the way to the percussionists stand. it was like a hierarchy of sorts, all of these instruments with different keys and tones all coming together to create this unspoken language that captivates even the people that claim they ‘don’t listen to music.’
it was more than a different world. this was your second home.
“how do you feel about the excerpts from today?” baekhyun asks you, giving a quick glance at him, looking at the master scoresheet on the grand music stand in front of you.
“i think it’s alright.” you answer, skimming through the bars beyond bars of notes, changing time signatures, the score playing through your mind as you twiddle your fingers with your head moving slightly to deepen the internal feeling. “i only had a little bit of time to sight-read prior, but this is an interesting piece to pick out, professor. i’m pretty pleased.”
baekhyun steps down from the podium, following along his pathway stopping just on the stage.”i know that this piece won’t be a problem for you, especially when it’s with the ensemble.” he says, walking along with an arm over you to the edge,stopping again just before the steps. “there was something else i had in mind for you specifically, y/n.”
“really? whatever it is you request i’d be willing to consider.” you beam with a cracking smile, letting a little laugh out that baekhyun receives well by also chuckling a bit. he taps your shoulder showing the repoire you built with him over the past couple years, the mutual admiration and respect through the shared passion for music was nothing to ignore.
“this is why i’m amazed with your enthusiasm, y/n.” he says, “the way that you’re so driven by music is something to be proud of. i’m glad that i can have you as one of my many pupils in my teaching career.”
“i’m flattered with all of the remarks, sir, but i don’t want to take up most of your time.” you reply while looking out to the nearly cleared out room of musicians.
“oh! right, sorry.” baekhyun apologizes, lifting a hand up in assurance while he inhales a quick breath right when he continues. “i’ve been approached by the board to help for this special event that’s coming up in a little bit over a month and a half.”
“special event?”
“it’s something to commemorate the hundred and fiftieth anniversary of our music program,” baekhyun states, priming you to have a shocked expression of how momentous the occasion was. “and i wanted to formally ask you to perform as one of our programme’s highlights.”
“wow, i–uh–” you cough for a short second, “i-i genuinely don’t know what to say, professor.” you say shaking your head in literal disbelief. “i’d love to have the divine honor to perform for this—showcase? recital?”
“to put it that way, yes.”
your shoulder gets bumped by a hand, that turns out to be mina’s when you give her a quick glance on the right and smile while she heads on her way out, violin case on her back and you can visualize the pointe feet when she makes the steps down the stage.
“so,” baekhyun brings your attention back to him, “what do you say, y/n? think you can prove to the board of all the well-spoken things i’ve said about you for the past year and a half?”
the faint sound of chatter and various instruments being hit by someone in the percussion section just messing around helps you think of the very promising proposition that’s on the cards now. most of the students have left by now, but some hung around for a bit longer for whatever the reason may be. professor baekhyun’s hall was a space that you wanted to be in ever since the first tour during orientation. this institution, this sanctuary, a haven for people like you, dedicated to leave their own mark in the art of music. doing an event like this was good for experience, to play and build more connections even after graduating.
“yes.” you say, nodding your head in full agreement to baekhyun’s question, smiling all dorky while doing so. “i’ll take up on your offer.”
baekhyun can see in your eyes the starstruck child that he once saw years back, as if he had seen someone he hadn’t in a very long time. he smiles with his eyes, proud and delighted to hear your answer. “bless you, y/n. for a lot of things that i’d say but truly, thank you.”
you don’t say anything, because you didn’t need to. he sticks his hand out for you to shake in which you do, nodding along to this exciting project that was about to unfold from this point on.
“ah, i almost forgot about one detail,” baekhyun says clasping his hands together, nearly getting ahead of himself like he almost does in ninety-nine percent of the rehearsals. “you’re going to be in a duet with one of our string players.”
a stifled laugh leaves your lips because of your professor’s clumsiness. there was no doubt that he was seen to be one of the most revered teachers in the department because of how he makes music so enjoyable and easy to get on with while also being heavily respected for those who wanted to take his teachings to heart. before you could get lost in the fun, you clear your throat to bring the conversation back. “a duet right? who are you pairing me with exactly?”
baekhyun kept his attentiveness on you while asking, looking over your hair to see if the second person was still here by any chance with the second to last wave of students making their way to the door. “let me see if she’s—oh, there we go. miss kim!”
turning your head over your shoulder, eyes filled with curiosity, you see the woman approach you and baekhyun. she moved with a purpose, almost gracefully. the air surrounding her gave a triumphant aura that swept in the small space between you and the professor. wearing a white quarter-zip with the ends of the sleeves tucked up to see the hint of skin on her wrists, the small hands you think that weren’t meant for a string instrument. her eyes keen with an observing gaze, the low lighting in the room showing how she gallivants across closely with an effect.
when she sets herself adjacent in the unoccupied space between you and professor baekhyun, the two of you move inward to shift the conversating line to connect her in. now with a closed, comfortable proximity, her gaze engages towards you, expression blank but with eyebrows hinted slightly upward that washed the intimidating demeanor she carried away while walking over.
the sound of the soft clamoring from the group of students then fades out into the hallway giving the room a more echoey space where it was just you three and a few straggling students still getting their materials together. baekhyun made sure that the room was quiet once again as he carried on with what you and he had discussed so far.
“great, now that we’re all here, i’ll keep this brief.” baekhyun says, clapping his hands together then forming tiny fists. “y/n, i’m sure you’re acquainted with miss kim here?”
“dahyun.” she says to you, snapping your attention away for a second. you nod your head in acknowledgment, twining your fingers together. “i’m sure we’ve seen each other around classes quite a bit.”
“right,” you down the lump forming in your throat. “we have, i’m pretty sure.”
“which brings me to what i was just talking to you about, y/n.” baekhyun butts in immediately after the short exchange. “you’re aware that dahyun here is also one of our best musicians in the ensemble.”
“i remember the festival that we did a while back where she had a standalone solo for one of the pieces, yes.”
“so my idea was to have you accompany her with a piece that you two have agreed on or one that i have personally handpicked.” he continues, noticing dahyun rolling her shoulders back with her chin slightly pointed upwards from the corner of your eye. the attention of detail from the impossibly perfect blend of charming and pretty seen from her gorgeous side profile along with a face that looked noticeable without anyone ever saying about it.
as clueless as you looked—not really that’s just how you looked in normal circumstances like these—eyes attentive to what was being talked over. dahyun runs a hand through her hair and back. fingers small, nimble, delicate to the touch. you’re patting your hoodie down for no apparent reason to help shield the fact that you were slightly leering to a degree (just out of curiosity and not because she’s—okay, no. get that out of your catalog.)
“would you prefer for us to look through some pieces for a few days and then get back to you? or–”
“i think it would be better for professor baekhyun to give us something instead of that. makes it more of an interesting challenge to tackle.” dahyun butts in suddenly. you’re initially thrown off by the act (stunned would be one better way to describe it). but baekhyun admires students who are willing to set themselves apart from the rest. hell, a good majority of the students are musically driven here that also included you, so there was no place to talk.
bakehyun just laughs, looking at you with a shocked motion of falling backwards slightly with dahyun tugging a smile at the corner of her lips form what she just said.
“right,” he starts again, “it wouldn’t be me if i didn’t challenge two of my esteemed students with something that can test both of their musical capabilities.” he says, hands on hips proud of the pupils in front of him, clicking his tongue to signify the end of the conversation. “i guess that settles it then. i’ll leave you two to do whatever information exchanges that need to be done, and keep on the lookout for an email by me in the next few days.”
you both give professor baekhyun his goodbyes, heading into his office for some downtime and other needs or responsibilities he had to take care of. that just left you and dahyun who instantly went to get her stuff before leaving. you trail behind her since her chair was right beside where you were sitting on the piano, sheet music still out and backpack open for you to deal with.
“dahyun,” you set your sheets into one clean stack. “since we’re gonna be working together on this, it’s only right to—”
a phone was immediately out with the number pad on the screen. you stop short, perplexed at why she had an outreaching arm towards you. taking the hint, you grab the phone, digits are inserted, and you give the phone right back to her. “i sure hope you know what you’re doing, because i had a few ideas of works that we could’ve glossed over together.”
dahyun sets her eyes on you, not even paying attention to her own typing on the phone. “well, that wouldn’t be fun then, right?” she says. you hear a light buzz on the piano next to you, your phone, swiping it over to see a text message that was definitely from dahyun. “besides, who doesn’t like to be challenged around here?”
“what are you trying to say?”
“scared that you’ll fall short?
“that’s not the point here. whatever happened to ‘oh! nice to finally meet you? or ‘are you excited to work together on this performance project?’”
dahyun giggles, not that evilly but more so like plotting towards something, you’re furrowing your brows together with a cross look that breaks out a singular dimple in her face, tongue on the far side of her teeth like she’s earned that gaze from you.
“i’m not an easy person to get along with.” she says, tilting her head at an angle towards you with a near mischievous smile, almost taunting you in a way. not bearing any mind to it however, you shake your head.
“listen dahyun,” you whisper, leaning slightly inward to match her face, “i think we’re gonna get along just fine with this, believe me.”
“that so?” dahyun scoffs, “alright then, if that’s what you want to believe, then be my guest.” shouldering her backpack on and violin case in hand, she walks past you at her own pace. “you have my number, so watch for my texts.” was the last thing you heard while she waltzed her way out of the hall and into the bustling hallways.
you’re biting an inner part of your lip from the exchange that happened just now, looking down at your phone to see the simple text message of ‘hey, it’s dahyun. this is my number. don’t even think about texting me here unless it’s related to the duet performance.’
shutting off your phone, you hit it against your thigh a couple times before letting out a sigh. slumped shoulders realizing that this was going to be a lot more than a challenge.
what the hell was wrong with this girl anyway?
—
see, like professor baekhyun, you too had left a small detail out - a little lie in the spring season of april where the trees and flowers are blooming in their full brightest colors so to speak.
but the truth was the fact that you were familiar with dahyun for quite some time now - specifically since the sixth grade.
“ren! ren! come over here and get a picture with your sister!”
you hear your mom call your brother over while you’re bedazzled in a nice crown holding a trophy and bouquet of flowers. the pomp and circumstance of another successful recital event where you achieved the highest award in your category.
might’ve been overkill from your instructor at the time to keep the repertoire under wraps from the adjudicators only for them to be jaw-dropped to the floor floor when they see a twelve year old smash other contestants out with the third movement of beethoven’s moonlight sonata flawlessly to achieve and always, impress.
competition may be fierce, but everyone in music is fighting towards something with a point to prove.
cheers and jeers are filling your ears while you’re smiling with a scrunched nose getting smushed into a hug by your older brother. look, the nervousness you had before getting on that piano was nowhere to be seen replaced by flashing lights of the cameras. once all of the pictorals were done and over with, you and the entourage you have surrounded make way towards the front foyer of the convention center. guests start to peep over and catch wind of the main headline that was the talk of today’s event, honing in on the mutters and hitched breaths.
while that was happening, another group of people also made their way down the stairs towards the front doors. a girl was at the front of the pack wearing a sash, holding flowers as well. with her fair, creamy skin, the lines on her face tracing a smile, silver hair embellishing her appearance to the point where you’re probably not even watching where you’re walking. there’s an increase of people conversing around the entourage - also an influx of coverage suddenly - journalists, camera crew members, it’s a live reality show.
“that looks like the kim family.” your mom points out, bewildered and amazed with the amount of attention that they’ve managed to spin around in the matter of a few seconds. family friends and relatives are also shocked with how the whole frenzy just unfolded right in front of them.
“the kim family?” you ask, trying to get a better view at the bottom of the set of stairs, also quite puzzled to see what was happening.
“the kims.” ren supplies, “i thought you would know about them actually.”
“who are they, ren?”
ren leaned on the wall on the opposite side of the stairs, gazing over to the right in the distance where the group was walking through. “they’re one of the most well known family names around the music community. the whole family is backed up by generations of musical talent, with their daughter, dahyun and her brother winning in the accompanying duet category.”
“so that’s what the buzz was about in the other hall.” your dad say, exhausted with the ‘unbearable’ amount of down time you had after performing, since the awards ceremony wasn’t until the afternoon.
“believe it or not,” ren has your attention again, “i heard that dahyun is poised to be the crown jewel of the family as a musician, the way she captivates her audience with the aura she possesses while playing.” amidst all of the chaotic people shadowing her, dahyun now walked closer to the steps giving a sly wink to one of the cameras.
“i heard a bit of their performance when we came down here to eat,” you tell ren, “the presence she has just by existing is really amazing to witness.”
and if attention was something that you were being held under a microscope by, the people surrounding dahyun began to notice that you were just there. shocked to see that another one of the main headlines in yourself was just going unnoticed, they spread the message like wildfire within the group and all at once the flurries of lights are back onto you again.
ren, being the protective older brother and bodyguard that he was, kept his back towards you, fending off any pesky individuals that might take your personal space. smiling without a care in the world, you turn left to see dahyun’s face on you - stoic and intense with sincerity. you could feel the raw power she held without her saying a single word. she had a solid idea of who you were, and you had the same regard while the shift in the balance of this unexpected dynamic showed her ascending upwards while you stayed put. (the notion of being each other’s acquaintances was certainly present, but there’s nothing that carries over beyond that.)
like the sheet music that you play through the emotions of yourself, until there’s the end bar of a measure, you move forward, dividing up the small sea of people as to who they should follow.
—
for a more recent and relevant pretext, there was this:
it’s the first year and the beginning of the semester after winter break. after being courted by professor baekhyun to consider trying out for his wind ensemble in the first week back, the process of finding chair placements wasn’t technically a problem since you were the sole choice to be the pianist ahead of three different candidates. (and no, you’re no nepo baby, the problem was that everyone else gunning for that grand piano just couldn’t keep up with your–okay, there might’ve been a quick discussion as to how you got the seat in the first place, but we’ll just say that no one else was really even close).
the list of students is posted up on the bulletin right outside of the hall. class was already over and it was getting late, the dining hall would be packed if you didn’t meet up with seb and raiha who were two of your classmates in the intro to music appreciation class waiting with an open seat at the table, but here you were.
in terms of names, there wasn’t anyone who really stood out across all sections. hell, everyone was pretty decent to a degree to get a chair across all woodwinds, brass, and percussionists. the real picky situation was the strings, and my goodness was that a bloodbath.
to the best of your imagination, you could only picture what certain people had to do to differentiate their musical quality to make it stand out amongst the others - there was really nothing borderline to distinct here, everyone was given the same passage, tempo, dynamics, and the way that baekhyun wanted it to be played.
so you’re scanning the list of names from the cellos, double basses, violas, and here’s where it gets interesting: the violins.
selection for the violins was very, very technical. if you had the slightest hiccup in this instrument, it’s pretty much game over for the parts you’d be playing. it’s that cut-throat.
(this is where the second run-in with dahyun happens, almost seven years after that recital encounter.)
she steps up to the bulletin, looking at all of the torn, faded flyers with call slips ripped from its origin. she’s in your peripherals, long overcoat protecting her body, a white scarf wrapped over for an extra layer of protection. her hair is black now, wavy, in contrast to the silver shade she had a long time ago. she also had a set of earmuffs on her head.
a major switch up, but you’re the same kid from that day when you first saw her, not even blown away from the fact that she’s going to the same school as you, in the same ensemble as well. a weird coincidence to gather, but it’s not that weird to really think that but kind of funny how you managed to put two and two together.
so, like any other normal human being primed for a connection, “hey.” you tell her, warm breath meeting the cold air to mix.
dahyun pulls her scarf down and looks over, “hi.” she says, face only poked with a simple hint of pink breaking at the tip of her nose. in contrast to your hoodie and raincoat, she looks cozy, and warm.
“i see you got the first chair, congrats.”
“thanks, glad to see you got the piano seat for the semester.”
“thought i had to work a little bit harder for it,” you answer without sounding like a complete schmuck trying to say ‘it’s easy’, “and i’m glad that in the end it was me who got the part.”
a brief second passes through the small atmosphere you and her created, before the silence is broken by the string of sniffles that’s plugging up your nose.
“well,” dahyun starts again, fixing up her coat and scarf. “i’m gonna go ahead and take off. it was good seeing you.”
“yeah, you too.”
that’s how it ends. you don’t say or ask anything after because she’s already halfway through the courtyard. even worse, you or her don’t even ask about the names. not that you or her needed to, but it would’ve been nice to break that beginning icy barrier down first.
because to what you could assess, kim dahyun–the spearhead of the newly formed ensemble, was nothing more than an oddity.
—
the agreement is already in place, you’ve said yes to playing along as the second role of the act - there’s no drawbacks or repercussions from this, except–
“you’re gonna have to tell me this one more time. you’re playing for who?“
okay, there might be a few people out of the loop on the news, and your roommate tzuyu is a part of the crop in light of this ‘shocking’ development.
“look,” pressing your thumb against the annoying spot that's been the center of your headache for the past few days, “tzuyu, i already told you that it’s just an accompanying role. nothing out of the ordinary for my lineage of expertise.” the soft whirr of the kettle boiling on top of the stove lightly masking the jazzy ambience you’ve built in the kitchen later that night while preparing for the unfancy dinner.
tzuyu, as sharp and quick-witted as she is, plays the role of dunce for a second when she forgets the pot full of noodles bubbling over behind her sizzling on the glassy surface. once she finishes her little hiccup, her doe eyes are set on you again, zeroing in on your unassuming gaze with an eyebrow like she’s not impressed with your answer. “i’m telling you, i don’t understand what’s the big deal about me playing alongside one of the most well recognized musicians in our ensemble.”
“it’s not that,” tzuyu shrugs her folded arms together, “it’s who you’re being paired with.”
“what is it that i don’t know about dahyun?”
tzuyu bears her path from the stove to the opposite end of the dining table, and in all fairness, you know the history of tzuyu getting her point across to you more times than you can count on your fingers. “you’ve only heard about the praises and good things about that girl who has the entire music community at her feet.”
“so, impress me.” a careless threat you throw that summarizes the whole naiveness and innocence of your persona.
a soft laugh leaves her lips, hands coiled up together and placed nicely on the table. “i’ve known dahyun ever since we’ve been in elementary school, and you’ve known me for roughly half of that time. so you tell me, which one seems better to assess on paper?”
“tzuyu, i’m losing this fight already as it is.”
“okay,” tzuyu continues, “dahyun, as great as she is from a musician standpoint, didn’t get to where she is because of her family status nor the glitz and glamor she carries everywhere she goes.”
you lean back on your chair, knee up against your chest, “what makes her so different from the rest that i’ve played under or with?”
“she’s ruthless, leaving no quarter for the secondary role, she’ll do anything to make sure the spotlight is hers for the taking and no one else’s.” tzuyu lists, picking off a grape from the bowl set at the center of the table between you two. “dahyun is always the one who leaves her challengers in the dust, and because of that, most people in your position won’t even make the move to stand on the stage with her.”
you fold your fingers flat, placing your chin right on top of them. “what makes her the bad guy, then? i mean—there’s gotta be more to it than just that.”
“dahyun is extremely harsh with her counterparts. pushing her predecessors to the highest limit of their ability. she–” tzuyu stops short because she knows from first hand experience since stumbling onto it unintentionally, “–she will test, badmouth, and insult you to the point where you’d be considering turning down the role just for the sake of your mental health.”
“is there a level to this? because she was already having this sort of attitude towards me when we spoke earlier.” you ask tzuyu, standing up with an empty bowl in your hands to break this debrief before you even bother asking more questions.
“oh,” tzuyu tells, grinning like she knows it all too well, “that’s just the start of it. if i were you, i’d consider everything you’re about to put yourself through.”
“i’m not considering it.”
“that’s what they all say when they hear the rep the famous kim has.”
—
it’s all the usual when you’re repping out mozart’s piano sonata no. 8 in A minor out of complete boredom after the next rehearsal a few days later, letting your hands gracefully glide across the keys with clear precision, feeling the nuances of every detail that’s been beat down into you over and over again through practice.
everything in the song would meet it’s abrupt end when tzuyu hits the high c note on right end that makes consider moving out of the apartment later when you get back, but instead you just shake your head realizing that anything more from what you’re just playing and you’d never make it back to the apartment as it is.
tzuyu pokes her head through the opening of the lid and soundboard, giving the best ‘really, why’d you do that’ expression making her roll her eyes because she doesn’t regret what she did. “do you always get lost with the stuff that you play on a regular basis?” she asks while you let the fallboard hit the keys below you while your other hand deals with the sheet music in your binder of the same excerpt that was went over prior. “like, when do you not sit at the piano?”
“only when i have more pressing matters to deal with.” replying with a zip-up of your backpack before standing up from the seat. “where are you heading after this?”
“i might get something to eat with sana on campus,” tzuyu replies, “then maybe run to the grocery store. we’re out of eggs anyway.”
“right, i think i can tag along with you actually after i–”
tzuyu shifts her head the opposite direction from you when she hears her name being called by one of the occupied seats with a hand raised. it turns out to be dahyun when she stands up, your eyes land on her with her hair wrapped up in a high bun, glasses that appear to look big on her but she pulls it off right with her simple gray hoodie. tzuyu then glances back at you and she catches you staring a bit longer than expected, so she gets the hint immediately. “i was going to say hi to her! you should come with me.”
“tzuyu, wait–i don’t think that’s a—”
“it’ll be fine.” she reprimands, and she already has your hand in hers, pulling you away from the safe haven of your grand piano and into the unknown space that’s over in the violin section. “besides, it’s better to get to know your fellow musicians anyway.”
you’re sighing, rolling your eyes, pulling the hem of your sweater from the inside of the sleeve to escape from tzuyu’s grasp, but it’s all futile once you and her finally reach to dahyun’s chair at the end of the row, giving a friendly wave and interlocking fingers. “dahyun!!!”
“hi tzuyu! who’s the parcel behind you?” she asks, you scoff at the verbal jab dahyun just dished out not even more than one second of being in her space, darting your eyes away to avoid any sort of eye contact whatsoever.
“oh, y/n? i just had her tag along with me for a second while you were cleaning up. i’m sure you’ve already met her on multiple occasions, so i thought you’d recognize her.”
“looks like y/n here appears to be lingering behind you, but she’s interesting to say the least.”
“i could say the same thing about you, dahyun.” you manage to butt in, bearing a small smile to stand your ground.
“about the lingering part? or the other thing?”
“you’re funny.”
tzuyu forces out a laugh, hands up to ease the rising tension of this intense staredown that she’s caught in the crossfire of with the unmoving eyes she feels from the both of you. “okay you two, i think we can be a little bit nicer to each other don’t we think?”
clenching your jaw, which is a bit out of the ordinary for your namesake. you’re not the kind of person to get annoyed or irritated at anything really, but for some reason there’s something that’s setting you off when it shouldn’t.
“yeah i suppose you’re right tzu,” dahyun nods, eyes twisting over to you like she’s the one who’s done no harm. it isn’t pissing you off, but you’re definitely pressing brows together in pure bafflement, “i’ll be a little nicer to y/n here if she deserves it.”
god, she’s leaving no breathing room for you to settle. the fault lines separating by the second more when dahyun teases you to no avail. “i mean, no offense. i just thought that she’d be a little more–y’know–”
given how she seems lax and so disinterested in the pleasantries, you could sense the hierarchy that dahyun has placed herself, thinking that you’re stuck up, closed-off, just another thing to be not given any care for. but the bottom line was that you’re–
“less disappointing.”
-beneath her own standards, is what she assesses.
seriously, what the fuck is her problem?
“since when were you so good at personality profiles, dahyun?”
that’s what sets her off, slightly. and at this point tzuyu can’t even play the mediator anymore.
“you’re an easy book to read, l/n.” dropping the first name basis all of sudden when you’re just trying to play the good guy in this conversation, “you know, a lot of people would kill to be in your position to play alongside me, so be thankful that you got considered to play the part and like i said, you’re anything but your so called ‘reputation’.”
“this is unbelievable to hear from you. how bout i—”
“enough!” tzuyu chirps out, which breaks the verbal exchange for a moment. dahyun’s expression stays stoic, but her eyes were burning with a fiery ambition like she had a point to prove. pouting your lips together following a sigh, you do nothing but watch her pack up her stuff in front of her music stand, peering over to see the unfamiliar sheet music of a piece that had your gears turning. “alright, did you text sana, tzu?” she asks, and tzuyu nods, giving you a look that signifies that she’s gonna get going on with her day.
you zip back to the piano, grabbing your belongings before hopping off the stage right when tzuyu and dahyun were about to leave. tzuyu gives you a subtle nod before walking past you. next was dahyun, who stops in her tracks to make eye contact with you, “i’ll see you in two days.”
“for what?”
“for the first practice session, idiot.” is all she says before she lightly bumps your shoulder heading out.
even more irritated than earlier, you press your tongue on the inside of your cheek, fighting down the notion of how much a pain in the ass dahyun had just become in a short span of time; eventually, the frustration will build up to a point where you’d slam your hands on the keys where the strings will break.
a saving grace comes, in the form of professor baekhyun waving his hand from his office, signaling you to see what he has for you. “you wanted to see me?” you say, popping your head past the door frame to see baekhyun lounged up with his feet on the desk, with a booklet of sheet music draped across him like he’s reading the newspaper.
“i was just about to head out,” he answers, “but not before i hand you this.” his voice in a light strain when he sits upright, handing the said sheet music that was on his body just seconds ago. you grab the aged paper, skimming through the lines of phrases without even looking at the freaking title of the piece.
“wait,” you hear yourself through the blistering sounds of music, “isn’t this—”
baekhyun chuckles, because he already knows all too well what your question was. “yep, this was the piece that you saw that got me into where i’m sitting right now.”
the top of the page reads: ballade no 1 in G minor, by chopin.
“you–you–you can’t be serious—” in disbelief you were, “i thought that—”
“dahyun requested something more of a challenge for the two of you, so i delivered in that regard.”
never in a million years you think that you’d have the chance to perform this life-changing masterpiece, but here you were. “i–i don’t think i can–”
“you say that you can’t, but i know that you will.” baekhyun cuts you off before you can even think about stepping back from this role. “i could’ve gone with a whole catalog of different pieces, but i chose this one because it tells the story of not only my career, but yours and dahyun’s story weaved through music as well.”
“corny.” is what you follow up with, looking down at the music again. it ends up being all too much, a sensory overload to the brain with the amount of demands this piece had: the delicate touches, the fast-paced sixteenth notes, the rush and slowness from one movement to the next.
“you can hear it too, right?”
“what?”
baekhyun leans closer, “you can hear the music, right?” tilting his head the same right angle you were currently showing. “you do this little ditzy of twitching your entire neck when reading or sight-reading music every time i hand it out to you.”
you pause, letting everything that your head was processing flood in all at once. “i can.”
“then this shouldn’t be a problem for you or her then.”
—
it really wasn’t a problem.
everything about this event seemed completely doable, from the extremely challenging repertoire to the grand scale of the occasion. sure, baekhyun could’ve asked anyone else to do your part but you brought it upon yourself to the task of playing, given with the huge honor that was impossible to turn down.
the hinges of the small practice room swing open, creaks of the floorboards groan from the weight of your steps when entering. various things were disorganized, yet a home of their own when you see the full stack of extra chairs, a rack of music stands with one missing from the very edge of it. something about the very old-fashioned appearance of the place feels unfamiliar but still recognizable.
you’re scanning, ensuring that the room was all to yourself, only to hear the faint sound of strings in the next room over. funny, there was no extension to a nearby room next to the one that you were just in, but you float over to the walkway to see another small space that was occupied with a piano and of course, her.
dahyun has her back turned to you. a black button up with her sleeves rolled up to the elbows, arms up with the violin under her touch. she’s wearing this pair of neutral colored khakis that’s cuffed right were the ankles stop before her white sneakers, playing through a passage of an excerpt that you’re not too familiar with, slowly turning with the weight of music when she catches you in her peripherals, dragging out a note before she tilts down her instrument turning towards you. “you’re late, by the way.”
your bag is still on your shoulder, binder at the side, a blank expression with all of the alarms going off inside the brain at the wrong time. “huh,” you say, somewhat lost in the exchange where she just stands there, eyebrow up waiting for a response. this isn’t helping your case, “what do you mean?” eyes off to the side of the closed piano diagonal in her direction, “i swear i wasn’t late.”
she sighs, head lowered when she curls her lips inward, “did you not see my text? from about fifteen minutes ago?”
“fifteen?”
“fifteen.”
setting your bag onto the seat, already drawing up the bridge before she zeroes in with those monolids, doe eyes that you’re not even toying with the idea of challenging her this late into the day. “i’m not following where you’re going with this.”
“i hate repeating myself, you know. you’re fifteen minutes late, end of story.”
well, shit. she got you there. you had your phone on do not disturb anyway, but no chance in hell dahyun would believe you with the way she was a few days before.
“i mean you didn’t tell me which room we were going to be practicing at,” you tell her, steering your way to the piano, unlocking all of the covers and pegs to avoid any more interactions with her. “to be fair, it’s both parties' fault for a lack of communication.”
“hah,” dahyun breathes, smirking. “i hope you got the sheets from baek after rehearsal the other day,” she says, “i’m already ahead of you past the first theme leading into the second repeat of the B theme.”
“dahyun, this isn’t supposed to be a competition.” you tell her, setting yourself down with the binder up and open with the sheet music of all the different notes handwritten through the bars of what to keep in mind when progressing through the passage. there’s this swirl in the air when she makes her way next to you on the seat, leaning down to read your decent penmanship, lip quirked up before letting out a slight snort.
“you keep notes on your music?” she muses, “i thought you’d be a little more extra about this piece, considering that you’re a teacher’s pet.”
“what?”
dahyun laughs, mocking with her little eye smile when she notices that struck nerve, “i’m just saying, always at baekhyun’s beck and call every time like a puppy with its owner. it’s cute, adorable really.” she also hears the sigh come out of you when your fingers start to splay across the keys, playing the dissonant chords just to get your musical chops up before playing through a measure or two to get ready.
“where do you want to start, then?” you ask her, seeing that graceful stature with her flowing hair reach over for the music stand and bring it closer to the piano, across and centered in between the field of vision in space of the lid. “you wanna try getting through a third of the ballade just to see if we got it down?”
“sure hope you did your homework, y/n.” dahyun quirks. “i heard from someone in the ensemble that you don’t even try to look at the sheets and just play off of sight reading. not the way to go in my opinion.”
“dahyun.” you say, irritably, and she just giggles again.
“aw, something the matter?”
that fucking annoying ass smirk, with her violin in between her chin and collarbone, bow ready alongside the strings wairing for that cue to play. you glance at the sheets before your hands press down on the set notes printed in black ink, head nicked up like anticipating a breath, and you play.
—
for anything of substance, you learn a lot of new things about dahyun in addition to the stuff that you’ve been briefed by tzuyu.
she’s refined, a set routine of her tuning her violin, ensuring that the strings on her instrument are in peak condition, a bit of a germaphobe considering the number of times that she’s wiping down the wood any chance she gets when you hiccup over the notes multiple times.
in between breaks, you see her on her phone while you’re playing a small measure or two of other pieces that aren’t chopin’s ballade. you would like to assume that she’s texting for plans after practice and all of that speculation gets thrown out of the window when she’s–
“can you like?” you’re pressing the bridge of your nose over the sound of the blocks being cleared in dahyun’s game of tetris, “turn it down if it would do you any good?”
she flashes this look of annoyance, brows knitted together and a harsh exhale from the nostrils, raising the game volume all the way up.
“dahyun,” you start, and let’s be honest; there’s these waves of productive which becomes good considering dahyun’s persistence to get you up to speed while you’re playing catch up, but when that comes to a screeching halt because you raised your voice over the slightest thing that shouldn’t have let a normal person off, “look, i get that i was late by my own fault, but we’re not gonna get anything done if you’re just gonna keep acting like a freaking child.”
all dahyun does after is stick her tongue out, not even giving you her full attention while she taps away on the screen. “didn’t really ask for your insight, so deal with it.”
“so are we gonna practice again?” you offer as a last resort to steer this sinking ship.
“nope.” she simply answers, “not until you finish playing catch up.”
maybe agreeing to play alongside her was a mistake after all.
—
the first practice session was already hell from the start.
it’s even worse when the two sessions after are extremely slow.
tzuyu greets at the door, eyelids shooting to worry instantaneously at the sight of you with an ice pack to your forehead, the coolness of that solid item freezing the nerves on your face, stinging the bruise that’s at the corner of your right eye adjacent to your temple. she’s horrified, a hand raised where you lift your own saying that it’s fine, nothing to worry about, all is well for today’s activities.
“you look like shit,” she tells you, seeing your bag on the rack and the coat hit the high chair in the kitchen before you crack the fridge open for a comforting swig of milk straight from the jug. “wanna tell me what happened on today’s events with da–”
“don’t,” you answer, “my head’s ringing still after i got face to face with the goddamn door.”
“is that what really happened?”
“well…”
—
(session two went reasonably tame.
the room was filled with all the exchanges and bickering about different pieces performed and the cv’s being listed out like a fucking five-to-seven minute powerpoint presentation.
reasonably.
it wasn’t until dahyun got too cozy in your nerves by continuing to push your buttons, calling you a nepo baby because of your good rapport with baekhyun and a few other instructors that had known you before attending the institute. a terrible take coming from her, considering the fact that she was a hypocrite and very bad at hiding it.
you weren’t that far in the pyramid unlike her, but god was she so easy to read considering all of the things that were the stark opposite presented in front based by observing:
1.) first to rehearsal the day before, late to the practice session.
2.) internalizing the critiques from the director, she spits them out all over the place when it’s just you.
3.) she got a way in by her family name while you got the full ride and a letter of rec to seal the deal.
that last one might be a loose comparison, but it feeds into what happens next.
“i’ve looked into your family’s history and everything.” you tell dahyun, looking at you in disbelief from the outburst, “still find it unbelievable how you’ve managed to get to this point in your career.”
“and what did you assess?” she chides, “i sure hope everything sounds good as it is on paper.”
“you and that fucking ego.”
“save it, won’t make you feel better.”
ignoring that, giving a light slap on the rim of the glossy wood. dahyun was impossible to undo the taut in her mind to make her stoop down to your level. you hate it, it’s a mistake, you could be doing something else in your day that was more sufficing than this.
“was it really worth it?” you ask, “downplaying everyone else’s status and motivations because it doesn’t line up with what you want? thinking that you’re so perfect just the way you are and above authority?”
“okay, rude.” she says, lowering her bow to the side before the clicks of her heels bring her right to the piano. “you don’t get to say things like that about my life, my background, my family, so zip it.”
there we go, managed to set off one of her tripwires.
“really,” you start again, “because i heard and saw that your dad and brother also went to this school, pursuing the same profession. but your brother wanted to do other things to cultivate his music dream.”
“cut to the point, l/n. we still have to get through the second run through of the A theme.”
“okay, i’ll stop.” complying to her demands, which was funny since you were the one to get things going in the music the other day. “we break even then.”
—
the third session is where all hell breaks loose.
a slow, but still productive rehearsal drained out most of your energy. you would tell baekhyun to call it for today, but you catch a glimpse of that dark mix of straight and wavy hair floating up the stairs, following her like a spirit.
and you’re struggling to keep up with her in the jolly section of the piece midway, watching her pluck away with the strings while your hands are tensing up constantly. the lack of sleep was the culprit due to the fact that this section in particular was an absolute bitch to iron out the night before, especially the measure with the ascending and descending scales jumping into that 180 bpm tempo.
tripping up on a bar, you stop, fist in the air slightly while dahyun tilts her head facing you. “why did you stop? we were really complimenting each other through that passage perfectly.”
“i know, it’s just my hand. got a small cramp.”
you could hear her mock you.
a coping mechanism that you had in your folder was to stand up from the seat, lower down the cover so that the sound can travel more closely towards you. (it doesn’t make sense but it helps the workflow more efficiently when focusing on a hitch in the music.) you tell dahyun that we’ll go again from the scales, and she does a pickup leading up to the chord before descending backward down into the same section once more.
it’s going well, everything seems to be going smoothly until another break in the music stops you.
“i thought you had this section down.” she tells you, violin between her chin and shoulder while you’re scanning through the music again, playing that set of hopping chords on the left hand for good measure. “don’t tell me we’ll have to be here for another two hours. i’m tired.”
“so am i,” you retort, “okay let’s go again.”
two more fuck ups happen.
then dahyun scratches a note.
another slip up, and you can see the frustration building up within her.
“my god,” she tells you minutes later, “do you have this part down or not?”
“i do.”
“then why can’t we go to my tempo?”
“all you’re doing is plucking the strings through these measures,” you sneer, her annoyance now transferred over, “why don’t you sit here and press these keys for a trade, how bout that?”
dahyun sits down for a second, the crinkles in her green long sleeve and black pants bending in every way as if the fabric of the universe could rip to shreds from that moment. leaning forward, her elbows are on her knees, eyes laser-focused with a deadly intent.
“you mess up one more time, and i’ll propose a better idea.”
not answering, you shake your head and count her off into the pickup. the notes are complimenting each other, dancing across the walls, every limb in your body extended into the piano before you second guess yourself into the seventh mistake of today’s practice. dahyun drags out the same note from before, slacking her arms in relaxation before letting out a sigh.
“dahyun, look. it’s been a long day,” you tell her again, back turned towards you, reaching over for something on the floor, from a case. “you shouldn’t have told me to go through this part until i—”
fight or flight response kicks in when you see an old violin flying towards your face.
lucky that you were about half a second quicker, ducking to the left side and falling onto the floor. once the pieces of the shattered wood settle onto the floor, you look to the right, hitting your head on a sticking leg from one of the stacks of chairs, the scratch stinging your face when you sit up properly on the ground, looking up at dahyun in visible confusion.
“what the fuck was that for, honestly!?” you’re yelling at this point, “are you trying to kill me!?”
dahyun presses her tongue against the inside of her bottom lip, her gaze giving no sign of life before tending to that itch bothering her eyebrow. “we should’ve been done with this section from the first couple of tries. now i’m late to meet up with sana and jihyo for dinner.”
“that’s not the issue here!” you exclaim, “where did you find that violin anyway?”
“keep it down and be thankful that it wasn’t a full on chair.” she retorts, “we’ll end here for today, just text me when you’re free for the next practice session.”
you’re still trying to register the sequence of events that had just happened in the span of a few seconds, while seeing dahyun walk past you with a pissed off look on her face, on the way out of the door when you finally stand up, blood trailing down to the floor from your small gash when you see your reflection on the window.
explaining this to anyone outside of this room would deem you as crazy.
dahyun was simply out of her mind.)
—
“you sure about this?” tzuyu asks, waiting for you at the bottom of the steps of the conservatory. “i mean, you could’ve saved yourself the trouble if you just said no in the first place.”
and she’s not wrong, no denying that. it would’ve been a better thought to have, letting someone else take your place to play the supporting figure alongside dahyun. it’s just too bad nobody will ever find out about the story that’s told from the small bandage on your face, plastered with a small sticker of a star to give it a little bit more pizazz.
a lack of misjudgement thereof, and maybe it could be put simply just by getting off on the wrong foot with the silver violinist in the ensemble. doesn’t change the fact that beneath her ‘good girl’ image lies a person that checks off all the marks that tzuyu briefed you beforehand. but of course you didn’t listen, that was a tendency plaguing you for all or life while walking on the scuffs of your shoes along the sidewalk.
blinking with one eye, the cut still open underneath the small pad, you and tzuyu hear the honey filled laugh of sana on the opposite side of the railing, head back while you see dahyun’s side profile, open and smiling before her hair sweeps to the left side of her shoulder.
“i’ve never seen you so stoic before,” tzuyu gathers, tugging on the sleeve of your jacket to get your attention. you bat an eye, looking back to acknowledge her point, “this is a version for me to see and i gotta say, i kinda like it.”
“she pisses me off,” you tell her, a declaration that's been beneath your chest for quite sometime now. “her and i just can’t seem to click like normal people for some reason.”
“why do you think that?”
“i don’t know, and if i did,” shrugging your shoulders with a tug from the corner of your lips, “you would already be the first to know.”
you’re not sure about that answer either, it isn’t right to jump to that conclusion automatically. hell, the world would be a better place if your body was on top of a person’s car passing by you then and there. a tragedy to say the least, an unfinished tale that will never see the ending if it hadn’t been for tzuyu walking with you back to the apartment in the way that she is; humming and pointing out the pretty flowers and lilacs along the bushes.
tzuyu’s look is pensive when you and her stop at a crosswalk, her eyebrow arched while you’re putting an effort to not have the frame of mind on dahyun. the day’s been long, you still had to iron out certain sections of the piece, and there’s that constant train of thought of just ending it all right now.
a look over your shoulder to see the silhouettes of dahyun and sana together, shoulders bumping along between two friends, laughing and smiling before they disappear in a sweeping motion past the corner.
dahyun was an infectious person to be around. she just had that kind of effect on people.
to you,
she’s that dangerous poison that's withering away your soul from the inside out.
—
the fifth session had not much happening.
dahyun was in and out of the practice room for most of the time, trying to get some stuff outside of school taken care of with her family. you couldn’t ask much since–
“it’s not that big of a concern,” she tells you, “it’s just a small thing that needs resolving with my parents.”
“i’m just saying that it would be nice for you to share, unless you find it to be prying.”
“prying?” she questions, and the sigh she lets out is heavy, labored even. “i’m still a little hurt with what you said about my dad and brother the other day. i expect some form of apology at least.”
“i’m the one who needs to say sorry?” dahyun just lifts her brows again when she sees that hint of anger behind your voice. “what about you doing that part first considering you chucked a freaking instrument at me last time?”
she presses a finger to her lips, hiding a smile, “keep it down, there’s other people occupying the other rooms next to us. it’s not like you to cause a scene during the day.”
“fuck you,” you huff, leaning back slightly on the seat, hands falling to your thighs when she shrugs her shoulders again. dahyun then looks down to her vibrating phone, seeing the contact id and raising it up to show what she’s doing next.
“some harsh words, y/n. that’s not nice” she says mockingly, “now if you’ll excuse me, i’m gonna go ahead and take this call.” that bravado not giving you any effect and it’s nothing out of the ordinary when her head vanishes past the door frame.
a subtle nod is all you give yourself, playing through the excerpt again of the ballade before your brain farts suddenly right before the grand return of the b theme in its explosiveness on the score. dahyun had played through this with you roughly about five minutes ago, and you could tell that this was the part of the piece where she enjoys it the most.
while tracking back to redo the whole section again, you catch yourself staring at the keys for a little while longer. it would be definite insanity to repeat over and over, but that’s practice.
instead, you set that right hand to that low d sharp to middle c, the opening notes to another one of liszt's pieces stuck in your memory banks, allowing the feeling of the sound to carry you through the music to help ease your mind for a bit.
dahyun comes back a little more mentally exhausted than usual after the phone call when her ears pick up on the beautiful piece being played on the piano. she stops short at the door, looking past the window that’s framed with you in the middle, eyes closed while your body sways along.
she becomes a little bummed out when you’re already through with the song, notes deflating, going slower and slower, the tone becoming more lower, softer even. eventually it ends with you leaning forward, letting out a heavy sigh when the final whole note is played completely in its full count.
a tear falls out of dahyun’s eye, quick to wipe it off of her cheek before turning around to hide from your gaze. she felt bad for giving you shit recently, but she still hates the fact of how good you were as a pianist - being able to bring people’s emotions out of them with the way you played.
it was just a stupid song, she thinks, but it begs the question as to why she feels this way over something that doesn’t even compute with her?
all that dahyun does is clench her fist amidst all the confusion while you’re looking down to the toebox of your shoe.
—
they say that the law of attraction is a powerful force to have in the mind. positive thoughts lead to positive results, and vice versa.
it’s such an easy mindset to follow, considering that you’ve already thought out what you want to do with your present situation, and probably with your life after.
you can’t say the same about dahyun, however. especially–
“this was a mistake for me to come here tonight.”
–you’re at a party that you didn’t want to be at in the first place. correction, it’s the small celebratory afterparty for jihyo’s master’s recital event a couple hours earlier. nothing wrong with having a little fun to break the working loop every now and then right?
“i told myself the same thing too,” you tell her, fingers placed against the granite of the counter behind you, taking in the lively ambience built by the small number of people in the room, spread out from across the kitchen to the living room, about fifteen - maybe twenty people. “but it’s jihyo’s last big hurrah before she’s off to the real world in music, wherever she goes really.”
and that’s when you look to the right.
it’s an anomaly, a blank page. there’s a part of you in that brain of yours that can’t stand looking at her in the face because she seems so fucking calm and unimpressed. again, it really irks you when dahyun is throwing daggers from her oreo colored eyes, hand combing down that free-flowing, healthy black hair of hers and there’s this stroke of a realization that she is pretty (no, you’re gonna regret it later the more you stare) and enticing, but still a question mark to leave unchecked; for obvious reasons.
“sana insisted that i tag along, gave her a promise that i’d drink with her.” dahyun says, swirling around a cup that was about three-fourths empty before pulling another sip. “now she’s all over momo and mina and i’m not even gonna try to pry her off of them.”
“pfft,” you let out, the peach soju in your hand sloshing about because it would be better off to not get royally fucked up tonight since it’d be a losing situation for you and tzuyu. crashing at jihyo’s place doesn’t seem too bad of an idea, considering that it’s happened before in the past. “it’s still irregular to me, you know.”
dahyun shifts over to stand across from you, back against the kitchen island while holding up the nearly finished cup of terra in front of her mouth, “got something to say?”
“it’s just,” and you’re fighting the urge to smile since it’s still pretty new to think, “i didn’t think you’d be an alcohol person.” you tell her, and she tilts her head slightly determining if the compliment was backhanded or not, “i thought you’d be more of a wine kind of girl.”
“there’s a plethora of things that you don’t know about me,” dahyun teases. “i think you get the gist of my position.”
clearly.
“but i’m amazed that you still have the guts to talk to me,” she adds, pressing the rim of her cup downing the last bits of the beverage. “testing my nerves during practice leading to–” she points to the edge of her skull where the bandage is still present. she says it like it isn’t an insult, more of an observation - a late observation at that.
“right,” you say, the slick of your bottle soaking the palm of your hand when you drink it again. “still need an apology for that, too.”
dahyun pouts her lips when she shuffles back to the same spot that she was before, standing next to you watching the live background of the party. you don’t know how long it’s been since the end of the recital, but the earlier that you can leave with tzuyu so that the sleep comes easy tonight, the better. “i’m sorry.” she says, placing the cup down on the counter behind her.
“what?”
“i don’t like repeating myself, remember?” she reprimands, “you know what i said, so put it together.”
to a tactful decision, you accept her apology. it’s a first step, but a step nonetheless. “was it really necessary though, to do that?” you ask her, pointing up to the bandage trying to state the obvious.
“what do you think?” dahyun raises an eyebrow at you, slightly smirking. “are you saying it’s my fault?”
“no, but i–”
“then you already have your answer.”
with a slow sigh, there’s no point in challenging that topic any further. the noise of momo’s laugh fills up the room so loudly to the point she’s nearly sobbing. you and dahyun just stare at the event unfolding where momo is flat on her back, nayeon over her pretending to do chest compressions from a joke that was probably missed by your ear. but it doesn’t matter, you’re still nudging elbows with the girl that chucked a musical instrument at you a few days ago, brushing that off like it’s nothing. maybe it’s just out of spite, or anger, a calculated attempt to set you straight - whatever the reason she had will most likely not see the light.
“there is something that i do want to ask,” you prompt, and dahyun just giggles again. she’s not annoyed from the sound of it, but intrigued that you’re keeping a conversation going with her, cursing the basis of pragmatics.
“what’s with all the questions?” she asks back, “i haven’t gotten this much from someone since the interviews after the university festival?”
a noise leaves your lips between a snort and a chuckle, drawing your arms together across your middle. “just out of curiosity,” you model while trying to find the right words to ask, “was your family always dead set on you becoming this ‘perfect’ musician for them?”
dahyun breathes, eyes a little more open now, trying to internalize your question as much as she can. “you can be a little more blunt with me. no need to shelter the criticism you’re about to say or heard from.”
she can hear the little ‘tsk’ come out of you before you’re tending to the annoying bandage of the healing cut lying underneath. “look, why do you act the way that you do when it comes to music? especially with me?”
“hasn’t tzuyu answered this for you? or at least talked about me with you?” dahyun answers back, “i assume that she has because she knows first hand why i do things in that way unlike everybody else.”
“you really expect me to take that as an answer?”
“expect much less than that from me.” dahyun deadpans, turning her head at the call of tzuyu walking over with a shit faced sana on her shoulder. you lock eyes with tzuyu, automatically reading her expression to indicate that it was time to go home.
“am i calling miyeon?” you hear dahyun ask tzuyu, leaning over to see sana’s condition, and she’s out cold. “guess i’ll go out to call her then.”
tzuyu nods in agreement, dahyun then excuses herself from the small bubble of people to make her way out of the party and into the calm air coming from the outside.
“i thought you said that she pisses you off,” tzuyu observes, wiggling her body to tend to the sleeping sana riding along her back. “and here you were actually talking to her as if nothing ever happened.”
“well she was staring into my soul since we got here, she just gravitated towards me when she could’ve been literally anywhere else.”
tzuyu seems unimpressed by this, “she tells me that she still hates you, but i think something’s changing underneath.”
that last statement could hold a lot of different meanings and interpretations, probably. carrying grudges against others wasn’t ideally the best thing to have as baggage mentally. dahyun was only the best in and out of the ensemble because of the talent she possessed. too bad that her real personality was the harsh truth to take head on when the wishes of certain things to be different start creeping up at the back of your mind. it could be that, or the tiny percentage of alcohol speaking to you.
“uh tzu,” you point at the round-faced brunette with her cheeks full of what she drank, ready to be spilt out, “sana’s gonna puke over your shoulder any second now.”
—
everything resumes as normal, two more practice sessions pass going into seven.
“i think we should go through it one more time.”
“no.”
“no?”
“you heard me, i said no.”
you can’t help but rub your temple at the immense amount of stubbornness that’s oozing out of dahyun when she sits there at the inquisitive angle of her head to the right, her feet floating off the floor as she kicks them. “dahyun, i swear to god–”
“let’s do something different today,” dahyun says, a little bit more demanding than before when you’re flipping through the sheet music, trying to find spots to brush up while on a momentary break. “you’ve heard my performances while you attended some competitions as a kid, right?”
“well yeah,” you answer, looking at her with those rimless wide lenses sitting on the bridge of her nose painting a soft smile towards you. the gray hoodie provides a cushion for her elbow when she props it on the piano cover. the agenda was to get through half of the piece, given the amount of individual time you and her put into it when you’re not together, gauging progress before the deadline (which was less than a long way to go). “we performed and competed in the same community, how could i not hear you play?”
dahyun laughs, which was rare for you to see. she reaches down for her violin and bow, dragging the hair along the strings to sing a tone before adjusting the tuning in her usual sequence. nice to see that she’s warming up a bit both as a person and musician, but still unsure if it’s determined to be good or a bad thing.
“you remember the capriccioso duet? the one by saint-saens?” she asks, and you huff out a laugh with the say that she’s acting. “i know you have it memorized somewhere in that small brain of yours.”
“okay, wow.” you say, closing the binder signifying the end of practice for now, delving into free time until you or dahyun decide to change your mind sooner or later. “how could i not know it by heart?” you manage again, “i watched you play it on stage as kind of like that encore thing they made you do at the festival event that day.”
“really?” dahyun questions to her uttermost shock, “you’re joking right? didn’t know you were a fan of me back then.”
“i didn’t say that.”
“but you’re implying that you were.” she lets a small trill leave her mouth at the last letter, she’s taken a liking to irritating you, willing to put the effort of being that headache and annoying feeling because it gets you worked up. “what are you gonna do, rip the keys off and throw them at me as payback?”
“i think i might have to if you don’t shut up and get ready to play.”
“how far do you wanna go with the song?”
“are you challenging me?”
“and what if i am?”
you shake your hands and pop your fingers, loose enough to the point that you could rip them off your body and let them play for you instead. dahyun has this warm look on her face, hidden with determination to perform this piece to the absolute maximum as if she were on stage.
that’s the binding that breaks you, somewhat.
dahyun is infectious, consuming your ambitions faster like the inscribed ‘presto agitato’ on the paper you glanced at.
she shouldn’t be making you feel this way, but not all is lost yet.
—
session number nine.
you shouldn’t be getting used to dahyun. you shouldn’t be getting used to the way that she acts around you, it’s becoming all part of the subsequent routine that you’ve wrapped yourself into playing alongside her. it still annoys you how stubborn she can be at times, not wanting to go back with you in certain parts of the ballade, the way that she laughs when you roll your eyes at her when you don’t get what you want.
she still curses at you, everytime there’s a missed note, an early count, rushing, dragging. her grilling when you managed to fuck up the second most hardest section in the piece that’s supposed to be more lively and upbeat, your hands working left and right while she’s plucking away at on the strings. the way her upper half bounces along with the phrase, almost grazing freely in the fields on a sunny day it seems like.
her musical quality sounds intense, but she’s having fun with it. you catch a glance at her with her eyes closed, a soft smile peeking through at her lips. when she opens them, there's that small sparkle behind them before she lowers her eyelids slightly, looking less filled with life while her muscle memory continues to be the constant motion flowing through time.
your approach to this piece may be different than hers, but there's a connection to the contrast between it that’s displayed by the way dahyun plays. the way that she stresses notes in between, like she’s in pain, wanting to be seen. she’s letting her passion be the weak cover to that side of hers. tragic. to be sympathetic towards her or not will be a bridge to cross eventually - the next page at the turn of your fingers when you get to it.
after what two to three hours felt like an eternity, you were the one to call it wraps for the night. throughout the practice, specks of dust came and went between you and dahyun, exchanging coughs during the session that also made you two stop playing. while dahyun decided to just chill out for a bit, you took it upon yourself to sweep up the place so that next time there'll be no suffocating.
“hey, could you hand me the spray for the windows?” you ask her, getting her attention while pointing to the bottle sitting on top of the closed piano. dahyun makes her way to you, noticing that in between breaks, she took off her sweater to combat the stuffiness that filled up the room. there was air conditioning, but most of the time dahyun kept her outer layers on despite you slipping out of your jackets every now and then.
“thanks,” you tell her when she passes the cleaning spray to your free hand, noticing a string of bruises along her wrist. you notice two more on her other arm in the upper regions close to the shoulder, and that got you a bit perplexed. “did something happen to your arm?” you ask, pointing on your forearm to indicate.
“what?” dahyun asks, tone clearly sounding ticked off at the surprise question. “i’m fine, y/n. nothing happened to me that you should be concerned about.”
“don’t lie,” you answer back, taking off your cleaning gloves to grab her wrist, showing the bruises to her. “i know something happened, so tell me. who did this to you?”
“why do you care all of a sudden? are you trying to make yourself feel better after i hurt you by throwing a goddamn old violin at your face?”
“that’s not the issue here! you’re clearly hurt.”
“it’s nothing,” dahyun retorts, “i don’t need you to worry about me.”
“dahyun.”
“don’t. i’m fine, really.” she says, flicking her arm down to escape from your grip, pressed while you click your tongue in annoyance. no need to end today on a bad note, so you grabbed the bottle of cleaning spray and the dry rag used for the windows.
the dramatic period of silence sweeps the room, soft ticking from the clock above serving as the only sound while the seconds continue to pass. once everything was back to it’s original place in the storage compartment, you walk out to see dahyun sitting, mouth partly open to ask again about her bruises, but it’s better to save it for another time for when she’s comfortable, if she’s more comfortable.
“are you sure you want me to play my part of the coda along with yours?” you ask her, bent over at the seat while she’s staring at her phone.
she just gives you a ‘huh’ in her signature monotone voice. typical.
“why would i bother asking you again?” you say again, pulling the lid of the keys back down to protect them from the open air filled with dust. sighing, “you’re already checked out as it is.”
“i was listening,” she muses, “my answer would be the same if you asked me or not.”
“so what was my question, then?” you’re offering once more, “if you were saying that you listened.”
dahyun purses her lips when she zips up her bag, “you know, most people would play it safe and play the backing music given to them.”
“your point being?”
“but baekhyun gave you the full score for the piano, leaving it up to us in how we play this piece together.” she answers. dahyun shoulders her bag, on her way out, you’re quick to follow her too down the hallway. again, it feels too natural to be like this with the person that you have a semi-heated relationship with a (rival, fellow musician, let alone friend? it’s still hazy to fully determine the facts. she’s still cruel, unrelenting, but damn good at what she does, and it’s making you shake your head again mentally.)
a swing of the door and it’s out into the refreshing cold of the night. dahyun stops short before the descending steps, turning around with a shrug of the shoulder.
“i think you should, to answer your question.”
way to be unbearably blunt. seriously, she can go fuck herself with that.
“but–”
“will you? that’s certainly not my place to know.” dahyun says, that tilt of her head and that small dimple of hers, smiling innocently. you hate how she’s so open ended with things like these, because it’s hindering the fact that you’re going to be losing your shit for the next few weeks trying to get this coda down perfectly.
she gives no reassurance when she reminds you to text her about being available for the next practice, the top of her head bouncing along the steps of the conservatory and into the darkness.
—
it’s the tenth practice session, and the sunset is beating down on the windows of the small space in the room while you’re tending yourself to the piano.
you curse again when you hit a wrong note on the keys. this fucking ending part sucks. fuck this piece, fuck chopin, and fuck that annoying ass 39 note phrase and scales that he has because he must’ve been on crack when composing this.
dahyun was supposed to be here thirty minutes ago, but she texted you that she had to help sana take care of some stuff for her music theory class. apparently sana being the procrastinator, decided to wait until the last minute to write up a paper and begged dahyun to help her on it.
speaking of deadlines, the recital was a little less than two weeks away, and you’re kissing your hopes goodbye to bakehyun’s good graces about you if something doesn’t come out of your ass from now and until the performance. you’re spamming the high c-note on the piano to vent your frustration because this piece was hard. staring at the sheet music wasn’t gonna solve anything, but by practicing, it’s possible.
“where is she at?” you’re asking yourself before you adjust your posture on the seat, hands ready before playing through the infamous section again when you hear the small sound of steps approaching the door.
“sorry for being late.”
you turn to see dahyun standing at the door.
“what’s there to be sorry about?” you tell her, “i read your text so i figured i’d just get ahead a bit while waiting.”
a giggle leaves her lips as she looks down, you’re not putting any mind to it however because she always has some sort of comeback at you on the ready. she walks in with hands behind, filing herself into the open space in this little arena crowded by the scattered chair racks and music stands, the emptiness of the green chalkboard on the side reflecting little light off of it when dahyun settles in.
“i thought you’d be a little more forgoing and berate me for being thirty minutes late,” she says, sliding off her backpack and violin case onto the floor before dragging a chair not far from her or the piano. “aren’t you gonna do it now? i’m waiting on it.”
“i rarely get mad over some funny thing that’s called attendance,” you say, fingers automatically playing a dissonant chord written in the paper, “besides, telling you stuff over that isn’t really my style, but i still hate your guts.”
“ouch,” she says, eyebrows perched and a smile underneath. “i’m actually impressed with your honesty.”
“you shouldn’t be, consider that as growth.”
there’s a sudden force that pulls you back when dahyun laughs at what you said, hiding her face with the ends of her hair in embarrassment. it’s also natural for you to play along when you’re nodding along to the scattered notes played by your hands, trying to make sure that you have it right before you pick it up through repetition.
dahyun then walks over from your peripheral vision, standing right behind you while playing through the beginning hit of the coda. she’s intrigued by the different changes between the hands, eighth notes and half notes taking up the bars of music throughout. learning her head closer to yours, getting a closer look while you continue, it wasn’t distracting but she sees you mess up in the same spot again, sighing out in frustration while she picks up the singular page where you broke musically.
“you weren’t kidding,” she breathes, voice flat with a hint of shock behind it. “and i thought my music was hard but this is on a different level.”
“now you see why i was asking you the other day about playing this through,” you say, placing the misaligned sheet back to its original position. “i’ve been stuck on this for the last day or two, but i have it almost down.”
dahyun moves back to her chair while she explains the plans for today’s session, backpack on the seat when she zips it open, fishing out her binder and other materials that she uses during practice, realizing that’s missing something that she thought was in the bag already. “shit, i thought i did - hey, you should take a break. i left my woodblock in the rehearsal hall downstairs.”
“do you really need it?” you ask her, eyes meeting hers while being very unamused. “i can focus on this a little bit longer before we actually get started.
“are you seriously asking me if–”
“dahyun, it was a rhetorical question.” you laugh, fingers hitting the wrong key once again. “i’ll go ahead and take five while you get ready.” dahyun knits her brows together, half-smiling when she starts to make her way out of the room and downstairs.
you’re left alone again in the small space, something that you’re used to at this point since dahyun always walks out in between breaks and what not. it’s another loop from the other day where you’re struggling in a passage of music, decompressing your brain with a completely different song to keep your hands moving before carrying on with the ballade once dahyun gets back.
dahyun’s shoes skate across the floorboards when she returns back from the lower level of the conservatory. again, she stops in her tracks at the open door when she hears the contrastive yet expressive phrasing between the lines. she can feel the power behind your fingers when they hit the keys, almost like you’re venting your anger. you’re confusing the idea in the interplays, crudeness over ferocity.
the frustration, she’s impressed by how much you put yourself through to perfect the little details in your playing. dahyun’s heard this piece a long time ago when she was young, it’s pulling at the threads in her heart at the faint memory creeping through her head.
it’s all too familiar to her. the sorrowfulness, whispering like some hushed curse dahyun doesn’t want to hear. she can feel your hollow cavity within your chest digging into hers, trying not to fall apart with the pain that’s unraveling. you don’t say anything, the full concentration not being fazed at all when you look up as your hands descend down in the scales of the notes, kicking with the powerful chord in the entirety of the piece, allowing the full madness of yourself lost to the winds of the song.
dahyun felt every single wave of emotion pass through her body while you waved with the piano, bending it to your will. she can’t comprehend that you had this side that wasn’t shown to anyone else. facing things alone because no one else could keep up with you, until when she came along.
nearly completing the excerpt, your eyes trail too far from the high key range of the piano, connecting with the door frame to see dahyun there, stopping yourself from playing while she stares at you. “oh,” you breathe, a sense of shock on your face, “i didn’t think you’d be back so soon.”
“well,” dahyun puts the woodblock in her hand behind her back, the pink cardigan she’s wearing nestling onto the aged wood, “i heard you play and just wanted to watch for a bit. not that you would mind.”
“i didn’t,” you say, sharply inhaling before scooting the seat back away from the piano to signify a stop to the playing. “see about that break–”
“hah.” dahyun laughs, making her way towards her spot with her backpack sitting on the chair, her violin case resting at the leg, open and waiting to be played. “do you want me to consider you playing as your five minute break, or are you actually going to get away from the piano for more than five minutes?”
“rude, again.” so on brand for her to be this way like it’s nothing. “if it’s all the same to you, i’d be fine if you’d tie me against the leg of the piano just to make your day better.” you make it sound like a promising offer, a proposition that she’ll happily accept if she wanted to, and she would if it was presented.
she laughs at you, the smirk spread across her face giving you more reason enough to roll your eyes back, reflecting on whatever the fuck you just said. because really, do you hear yourself right now? giving dahyun ideas would be the last thing on the list if it ever came to that.
“didn’t know that you’d be the kind of person to be into bondage.” dahyun manages, trying to stop her giggling from the utter stupidity you just spat out in front of her. “would you really let me tie you to that piano on the floor if it saved your sanity?”
“i meant musical bondage.” oh god, you’re really not helping your case here. even worse when it doesn’t even make rational sense with what you just said. “i–fuck, you know what? forget it.”
dahyun sits herself up on the chair, laughing again when she sees you stand up to hide your embarrassment. “you’re really fucking something, you know that?” she says, and you lock eyes with her. “like, you really surprise me with a new quirk every single time we’re together.”
“you’re still a bitch,” you respond to the observation, “if i say anymore, i don’t think i would be able to stop myself.”
“are you finished with your break?”
“don’t even think about throwing shit at my head if i mess up this time.”
—
it’s late into the evening when the power goes out in the conservatory suddenly.
a flip of the light switch shows no response to the practice room. up and down again twice, no luck.
up and down for a fourth time, still no electricity. the only light illuminating the room was coming from dahyun’s phone, scurrying over to the piano in search of yours, turning it on right after and facing it up to the ceiling while you peek your head out into the hallway that’s wrapped in nothing but darkness.
it’s kind of a fucked situation to be in, really: stuck in the practice room with the power out and it turns out that you and dahyun are the only ones in the building together?
splendid. the walls in the room would serve to be a great listener for impending doom you’re about to put yourself in.
—
“how do you know love’s sorrow?” dahyun asks you out of the blue, in the midst of the darkness.
you let your back slide down the wall, a sigh rasping once the bottoms of your legs lay flat out on the floor. “well,” you’re saying this like it stings you every time you think about it, “it was my mom’s favorite piece to play when i was little, said that it made me sleep at times.”
“so fucking original,” dahyun laughs, that tilt of her head when you see her from the corner of your eye, covering the vulgarity that she’s too accustomed to say, it’s stupid - borderline insanity really - you don’t even know how long it’s been since the power went out. “i guess this is the part where i say ‘oh! i’ve played this one when i was little’ and you would say ‘that’s a coincidence’ or something like that.”
“you and i really have two different scripts going through our heads right now.”
and no one would believe this small bubble, this flashpoint in time even if you lived to tell the tale. it’s how the low light from this old-fashioned lantern stashed in the far corner of the room that looked like it belonged in the late 1800s between dahyun’s feet and yours.
or maybe, when you left the room to check on the breaker down at the basement (god knows how you went there and back without the cells in your inner ear primed up to the highest level of close hearing possible each time you breathe or made a step back upstairs.) coming back to see dahyun shaken up, slightly erratic, the girl can’t seem to sit still given the fact of how much her hands were jittering.
“i didn’t know you hated the dark this badly,” you say, hand through your hair while the illuminating moonlight shines through the window above you two sitting down under. “gets me wondering how do you even sleep at night?”
dahyun slaps your shoulder, causing a wince to tug the muscles on your face. “first of all, don’t assume things that you’ve only heard from others,” she says, “second of all, i was just worried that you wouldn’t make it back in one piece.”
there’s this gaze she gives you with the dim light of the lantern off to the right side of your peripheral. even when she’s covering half of her face with the sleeve of her sweater, her eyes say something different. they’re cold, deadpanning, it’s a delicate hint to that underlying layer that’s hidden over that tough demeanor.
“didn’t think you’d be much of a worrier also, sorry.” you say, hand raised up in surrender, the whole warmth of the ambience created in the room lowering your inhibitions by the second. “guess that’s a new thing learned today.”
“about what?”
“that you do care about others.” you say, much bluntly.
a head is lowered into arms before dahyun looks up again, hiding a mix of a laugh and an inhale - running her fingers down her face before slotting her tongue just behind her bottom lip while you’re checking your dead phone for the eight consecutive time in the span of ten minutes.
the silence ever grows so louder.
“i too hate the nights sometimes.” your head hits the plank of the wood behind you, eyes up to the ceiling like this was some sort of realization brought up within, but this is just an overextension just to keep the conversation going. “i can’t sleep unless there’s a low light somewhere in the room where i can’t see it, but just having one is enough for me.”
dahyun looks at you again, her gaze locked with your side profile while you appear to reconsider everything in the lines of your life up to this point. she’s always so quick to put you down because it felt better to be that way, like her arms folded across her bunched up knees, she’s put this wall down to no second thought because it was easy for her.
it isn’t the end of the world in this situation, “i often can’t sleep at night sometimes,” she tells you out of nowhere, your turn to look at her to meet her eyes, slightly fuller with life. “takes me a bit before i actually doze off.”
“how long are we talking?” you ask her, eyebrows raise in the hope that this carries over.
“an hour or two.” dahyun answers, meeting you in the middle with her face matching yours, the hint of gold hitting the bottom corner of her cheek and jaw. “maybe even longer if sana and i were practicing late.”
brand new, a genesis of sorts. you’ve had normal conversations with dahyun before, talking about classes and music logistics for the recital. but this is a very new territory that’s been unexplored until now, a side of her that’s slowly creeping out from the shadows in its blossoming appearance.
you sit up slightly a bit to peek over the window, trying to see any sign of a security personnel in a golf cart or passer-by, it’s presented with nothing but the lines of trees swaying in the air, the dead of the evening filled with scattered crickets making themselves known in the distance.
“well i suppose i can talk about this then,” you offer the inquiry that could be subject to an interview or interrogation - in dahyun’s case it would be the second option. “would it be okay for you to tell me about those bruises that you got a while back? they looked pretty bad to me given that it was no accident.”
“watch it,” dahyun growls quietly, “i already told you for the last time, it’s nothing to be concerned about.”
“so then why can’t i be?” you’re asking, pleading. there’s also that second thought as to why would you be asking about dahyun being hurt in the first place after all of the shit that she’s done to you? that was also another thing to be addressed. speaking of–
“how come you’re okay with it if someone else were to ask, but when it’s me and all of a sudden i’m getting shit for no reason?”
dahyun just shakes her head, you’re pulling your lips back before saying any more that can make things worse. “look, i just don’t see why we can’t be friends just like everyone else that you hang out with.” you tell her, offering a possible explanation, “am i that big of a problem for you that’s not even worth solving in the first place?
“it’s not that.” she tells this as a bunkered down, spur of the moment excuse. a shitty one at that, especially. “it’s just…because…”
“c’mon dahyun, don’t give me that.”
“what do you want me to say?”
“anything that’s better than just ‘that’. i know you can do better.”
you sigh as a sign of giving up, and dahyun looks the other way before she snaps her head back to you, “it’s because of how much of a kiss ass you are at times. it annoys the fuck out me.”
“i’m a kiss ass? you’re the one who treats everyone like equal levels of royalty but when it’s me, i get treated like some sort of outcast that wants to be heard but you don’t care about it anyway!”
dahyun rolls her eyes, she’s doing it again; not willing to reason to anything else besides her own point because in her mind she’s right. always right. a curl of your right leg finds your arm seated at the knee cap, brows furrowed together trying to piece the revelations together while dahyun just stares out into nothingness in front of her.
“see the thing is–”
you look at her again with a quizzical look on your face, anticipating the potential jab she might dish out on you again.
“i do care,“ she says this, her voice sounds strained, like she’s fighting down the feeling of swallowing the whole fact down her throat. “i do….about you,” it’s throwing your whole head off in the thought process, “it’s just–difficult for me to–accept it.”
good god, the words sound broken. you’ve seen that dahyun can have these emotions with others, and not just be downright shitty when it comes to getting with you. this is a change, a good change at that, and it’s still hard to believe what she just said just now.
“baekhyun didn’t even have you as the initial option to be my accompanist.” ouch, you’ll definitely save that later when you see him again for rehearsal. “i’ve gotten a bad rep because of how i wanted to play things, and the other pianists didn’t like my creative direction in that.”
“dahyun, i didn’t even know this.”
“so when we were stuck with the possible selection, i asked baek if we could get you, and he told me that he wasn’t sure that you’d be a great fit for me. for obvious reasons.”
everything starts to make sense somewhat. “but that doesn’t explain why–”
“let me finish, dumbass.” dahyun sighs out, tugging her legs more closely now, the threads of her jeans creasing under the pressure of skin. “i was only acting that way because i wanted to get the best out of you, since baek stressed that you knew what you were doing, you just needed someone to help unlock that hidden potential you haven’t seen yet.”
you’re so lost in the new script, this might as well be an improv skit on the fly. the realization starts to hit harder little by little the more dahyun keeps explaining, and god she’s a much different person when she’s not berating you constantly or nagging about different parts of the piece that she wanted to work on over yours.
it’s a hazard, the lights in your head won’t stop going off. this is all talk, you might just be hungry, or dehydrated. either or, it doesn’t also help the fact that you’re staring at dahyun’s newly formed rosy cheeks mixed with the amber light bouncing off of it. the sudden closeness sweeping over in a matter of seconds.
“i…had no idea about this, at all.” you say, scratching your forehead trying to gather everything that was just filling your ears moments ago. “i’m sorry, but all of this wouldn’t have happened if we just–”
“talked, i know.” dahyun’s quick on the draw as well. she’s smiling, a wave of relief washed over her, back to her typical bubbly self that she normally was. she was like this with sana, with tzuyu, and now the newest addition: you.
“i suppose that this is all terrible timing.” she adds on, and you’re laughing as well, burying your face into your knees before looking back up on the ceiling soon after. “you see, about the bruises,” you’re reeled back in after the lighthearted break.
“my mom got really sick when i was little. she was a violinist before everything went bad.” dahyun has the new sense of confidence all of a sudden. if it were anyone else, she would’ve shut them down immediately, butting onto the next topic or question, or insult in her mind. “she gave me the belief that if i played the violin, she’d get better. in that case, i did just that.”
you nod, breathing quietly while doing so.
“i played, and practiced, for so many days. every competition that i attended was in the hope that she could get better, and for a time she was–day by day. then it got bad again, and my dad had it all twisted in the head with all of the costs and other outside pressures that he was dealing with for me and my brother.”
the story itself didn’t feel real to hear, but the way that dahyun was telling it showed that she’s been through this and knows that this part of her life was in the past.
“then, it wasn’t in the hopes of making my mom better anymore, it was just about winning. if we won, great, nothing happened. if we didn’t, then my dad would punish us for hours until he felt satisfied that we wouldn’t fail again.
“dahyun…” your voice breaks, lip quivering while anger boils through your body just by hearing that. hugging her for comfort would suffice, but you could see that she was headstrong, and that was something to admire about her, “so what about the bruises from last time?”
“i went to visit my family back home that weekend,” she answers, rolling up her sleeve to see that most of the marks were already gone completely, “got into an argument with my dad and he pretty much let me have it.”
“how are you saying this so nonchalantly when you got fucking hit?” you exclaim, balling your fists up in a heat of anger.
“y/n,” dahyun says, hand on your fist, shocked at the cool touch of her fingertips, “it’s okay. i’m fine now, that’s all that matters.”
taking a few seconds to recuperate, you relax yourself into the woodward on your back, sighing in exhaustion before the power comes back on. you and dahyun look up at the lights before staring at each other, standing up first before helping her up with a quick hand. she nods in approval, a thank you non-verbally, but a nice notion to the gesture you did for her nonetheless.
a few seconds later, a man that worked in the utilities for the school finds you guys, questioning if there was anyone else in the building besides you two, once he got the answer that it was just you and dahyun, he assured that you two would have everything off by the time you leave before moving on to take care of something else downstairs.
“should we not continue with the practice?” dahyun asks, closing the personal space between with her backpack in hand, “we still have to go through the—”
“i think we’ll be fine,” you reassure her, a thumb up to the side of her shoulder with a soft smile. she gives you this mix of a cross but cheerful look when you show your teeth to her, snorting through your nose while you got your stuff together. “go on ahead without me, i would assume sana would be worried about you not coming home by now considering it’s late.”
dahyun freezes for a second, wanting to wait for you, but you insist that she’d get going first before she has any funny ideas to annoy you longer. “are you sure?”
“yeah, i’m sure.”
dahyun then sighs, heel turned to the right towards the end of the hallway. “oh y/n?” she calls out to you, looking up with a hum in response.
“thank you,” she says, “for listening.”
you smile back, a big accomplishment for you and her both to act like this now, “always, you’re welcome though if you’re waiting for that. now get out of here.”
dahyun shakes her head for the final time tonight, looking back at you getting your stuff together from the piano. she stares for a little bit longer than expected, a shift towards something. she could think about it while standing there, but she starts to walk, putting it in the back of her mind to ponder about later.
she also starts to think you’re not so bad after all.
—
[4:07 pm]: i think we’ll be fine for the recital.
dahyun looks at her phone with a pert expression while walking out of her cousin’s cafe on campus heading on her way back to the conservatory.
[4:10 pm]: ditching on the last practice before the performance? that’s not like you at all y/nnie. she texts you instantly.
[4:12 pm]: i got roped to be a stand in for a gig. pretty much out of my hands since tzuyu said yes.
dahyun chuckles at herself from the message, knowing that you were always the person who couldn’t say no to anything offered to you even if you tried. why’d you let tzuyu put in a word for you? clearly it’s a setup.
[4:20 pm]: my thoughts exactly. but it’s fine, at least i’m out of the apartment for something else besides school.
you’re not wrong with that part either, leaning back on your chair while reviewing whatever concoction that’s composed from your head translated onto the digital file on your laptop. this part was for music theory and you thought it would be a good idea to just get it over with before leaving for the gig you were going to be playing at.
“do you know where to go tonight?” tzuyu asks, peering her head over past the door frame, the subtle wave of her hair curtains the background. “shouldn’t you be practicing for the recital next week anyway?”
“i’d very much rather decompress with a different genre than drive myself insane with classical music pieces for more than five days a week,” there's this small heave of your breath when you stretch out your arms overhead, “i also need a break already so why not do this instead?”
tzuyu lets out a soft laugh, pulling herself upright before entering through the doorway, rounding the table before grabbing your empty cup of espresso that was probably downed in one or two swigs. “do you at least have the proper attire?”
your nod while eyes glance over to the door with the outfit attached to the wall, something simple and nothing too glamorous for the occasion. “you said it’s at the small club in the plaza just across campus?”
—
and so, here you were, sitting at a piano with a quaint margarita sitting on top of it. the place itself was lively, filled with conversation and people on the small dance floor adjacent to the stage. sam, the guy that tzuyu said yes to you being the stand-in for the usual pianist, steps close behind the wooden spinet with a glass in hand, raising it up as an offer to indulge in another sip. “i suppose you’re having a good time tonight with this last minute thing?”
“i am,” you answer, rim of the glass to your lips while the remnants of the margarita slides down your tongue, “not much of a drinker but i figured why not have some fun for a bit? song choices are also solid and simple to follow, no issues here.”
“i should have you fill in for seb more often!” sam exclaims, “knowing him and his girlfriend being this well recognized actress, we don’t even see him as much.” you tilt your head at the new information given to you, something that tzuyu didn’t even bring up prior and simply said that your name just came up out of nowhere when her and sam had class earlier in the week, “tzu also said that you’re not much of a jazz enthusiast which is a complete lie–”
“sam, we gotta get ready for the next set.” myung-soo, another member of the small quintet jazz group, butting in with a pat to his shoulder.
in a few short moments after everyone else got into their respective places, “alright, off of my count.” sam says, the members met eyes with each other along with yours before sam mouths the words: five, six, seven, and…
—
dahyun waits at the crosswalk while she checks her phone for the time. ‘9:34’. she shouldn’t be out this late considering that she’s not a fan of cold weather, especially when the wind and the rain mixed in the air, heels clicking along the slick asphalt at the bottoms of her feet when she enters the plaza across from the school’s campus.
her ears pick up on the bossa nova tune heard in the building on the right side, to her curiosity, she weaves her way into the entrance of the club, the crowd looking to thin out from the outside but the complete opposite when she manages to squeeze through past the door. in her mind, she would’ve preferred to just wait outside under one of the commercial heaters that they typically have for restaurants. instead, she watches a couple take the small dance floor, dancing to the music as she bopped her head lightly to the sensual tune of the trumpet and backed piano voice.
her eyes catch the idle vibe of the jazz band’s head bopping, taking in the whole ambience before the room is filled with a collective applause, the voice of the club’s host thanking everyone for coming out tonight before taking the hint to leave early before there’s a huge pileup at the front door.
luckily, dahyun smiles to herself, overseeing the departing crowd of the club dispersing into smaller numbers. she then realizes that most of the people had no umbrellas over them, taking the liberty of closing hers and hooking it to her forearm while she does this plie into the balls of her feet, elevating to catch that someone in the crowd she’s waiting for.
“hey.”
the violinist sets herself down from the tips of her toes, turning around to see you in surprise. your head cocked at an odd angle, left arm folded in front that’s holding your leather jacket, the other hand with a helmet. “what are you doing here?”
“i was gonna ask the same thing?” dahyun fires back, mind registering the image of you and your attire. she stops short at the sight of you in that simple white dress shirt, the first three buttons from the neck down are unbuttoned, sleeves rolled up with your left wrist shining in two simple bracelets. your slacks are doing your midsection justice in all the right ratios–almost hourglass like that could even rival dahyun’s if she put it in a competition–your hair also flowing freely down the right side of your face. it was like dahyun was facing a mirror image of herself.
(really fucking weird if you put a thought into it, but you got lazy to tie your hair up, so that’s why.)
“i told you earlier, i had a gig,” you tell her, the arm holding your helmet out to the now closed jazz club with the lights still on from the outside. “this was it, playing for the regular pianist at this place for tonight.”
dahyun blinks, unfamiliar with the surroundings for a second before she shakes her head to snap out of it. her brows furrow again when you start to walk towards the street again, turning around to meet her eyes again, flipping your hair that makes her clear her throat. “i had a feeling i recognized the person at the piano earlier, didn’t put my finger on it. they were—”
“interesting?”
“enticing.”
you nod, the corner of your lip tugging slightly, forming a smile when you look up to the sky, the hints of stars in the gray bashing against the black canvas. “still begs the question,” you reply, seeing the glint in dahyun’s eyes when she smirks back at you, almost gleefully, “you didn’t just come here to indulge in jazz, did you?”
“my brother,” dahyun says, and she smiles when you have that same expression she had when she saw your text earlier that day, “he’s the bassist for the place here.”
“oh, that’s—” you try to piece it together, getting the same pat on your shoulder, turning your head to see myung-soo on your right, sharing the same eye smile that dahyun has when greeting others (it’s really fucking uncanny in this case). “what the fuck?!”
“nice playing, sorry again for springing this onto you at the last minute.” he says, walking over next to dahyun when she rolls her eyes playfully at him. “it’s good to see you again after all these years!”
“nice to see you’ve done well for yourself,” you reply back to myung-soo, “also impressed knowing that music hasn’t left you even after everything that’s happened.”
“i didn’t even know that you attended the same school as dahyun up until last week.” myung-soo says, pointing to dahyun with his head with another smile spread across his face.
“only because you’re too busy getting your business venture up to speed.” dahyun butts in, elbow to his elbow before her eyes veer the opposite direction. “always sounding like traveling the world will drain the life out of you.”
“and it will! when i get to it.” myung-soo laughs, pulling his bass guitar case over his shoulder more to secure it in place. “were you waiting for me so that we can go home together? i just parked right outside the club.”
dahyun kept her eyes on her brother for a few seconds longer, twisting over to see that you had already reached the edge of the street, jacket on and on your bike before you felt the presence of her eyes on you, looking back to see you visibly confused. “wait!”
you stop, sitting upright when dahyun walks over to you on the sidewalk. “what’s up?”
the moonlight glow reflects off of the glossy cement, the droplets of rain spread out across the body of your bike, the wool material of your slacks soaking in the remnants of water wiped away from the seat. you still have this hinge of anxiety from dahyun’s aura when she’s just standing there, her face expressionless, but her eyes always telling a much deeper tale over the appearance. “did i do something wrong this time?”
“i just…lost my train of thought.” she looks down at the admission, the small gust of wind sweeping through her that curtains the pink rising to her cheeks.
dahyun has that poise to her, an anomaly that can be noticed on any other given day. the fact still stands–
she’s beautiful. (but you won’t admit yourself to that.)
“won’t be the first time i’ve heard that from you,” you laugh, the helmet between your hands nestling in between your thighs while dahyun does that little habit of hers: tongue against the inside of her cheek or where the inside of her bottom lip just rests against her lower row of teeth. “you sound worried, should this be a concern?”
“no, not at all. i just felt like we should’ve practiced for one last time.” dahyun says, inhaling and sighing deeply soon after, the stress becoming apparent for even a slight second. “we’re out of time aren’t we?”
all dahyun sees is you sliding the black helmet on, seeing the opening space where the visor closes, meeting your eyes while you roll up the ends of your leather jacket to give the skin some breathing space to the air. “you sound like me, that's another first.”
“do i?” she asks, and it comes off in disbelief meddled with a laugh. “god, there’s a lot going wrong.” she can’t see it, but you’re smiling under the solid material of the plastic and mesh when she said that, a flex of the wrists that’s followed by holding the handlebars.
“i think we’ll be fine,” you tell her, starting the bike that’s brought to life into a small hum, “we’re musicians, prodigies at that too.” saying that like it’s a fact, an affirmation, a reminder. “like i said, we have this in us.”
dahyun shakes off the reassurance, hand tapping her thigh before she attempts to prolong the conversation for a few seconds longer, “you never told me you dabbled with jazz, or rode a bike for that case.”
you look at her through the opening space of your visor, replicating that same eye smile she gave to antagonize, more than content with the fact that she’s the one pushing the wanting knowledge deeper. it could be poetic justice, or a full circle, better yet–
“i guess there’s just a plethora of things that you don’t know about me.” you tell her, slapping down the visor in place, “that makes us even.”
–a full callback, a coda of sorts. a perfection of writing in all aspects, really.
“i’ll see you at rehearsal,” you say, revving up the motorbike once to keep the seat on your bottom warm. “take care dahyun.”
she groans, rolling her eyes again, but in a more playful way when she smiles back, “i’ll see you in class y/n, good night.”
you give her a final nod of acknowledgement, revving up the bike when you look over your left shoulder for the blind spot, slowly rolling away into the distance, not showing dahyun under that helmet of yours the dimple you couldn’t get rid of.
—
a week passes, and it’s the night of the performance, less than two hours before taking center stage.
the buildup around the venue was grand, there’s a whole press release around the school. light posts and designated areas for the army of photographers set up around the front of the auditorium with well known figures around the community also coming out to celebrate the wonderful occasion.
you’ve managed to scrape past the paparazzi, meeting up with baekhyun and dahyun prior to having the special moment of taking in all the bright lights and the many click. click. clicks on the red carpet. dahyun’s dress is appealing with the off-white and daisy floral look complimenting her porcelain skin, the angles and slopes in all the right places. you look good, she looks good. the accidental eye contact towards each other is also a funny exchange when you notice the blush burning across her cheeks, dahyun can take the attention, but when it’s you, it’s leaving her speechless, asphyxiating for one second even.
even when you’re settling into the reflection on the vanity, adjusting the bracelet that you’ll have to take off for the performance anyway, when the door behind you busts open with no announcement. dahyun storms in, not even phased or horrified with the swivel of your chair to face her. “hey, this isn’t your dressing–”
“you happen to have a spare dress here, do you?” she asks frantically, hands clutching the coat over her, “mine just ripped from one of the sliding doors on the way in and,” her voice sets in the reminder of this whole thing you got yourself into, “we get on stage in about ten-to-fifteen minutes.”
you glance at the clock from the reflection, immediately shooting up from your seat, approaching dahyun to assess the damage when she has her arms folded, closing the space between you and her in the small room. “how bad is the rip?”
“what?”
“show me where the dress ripped, i think i can stitch it together in a few minutes if we’re lucky.” you tell her, hand tugging at the hem of her blazer. her expression is shocked, disbelief that you’ve put yourself forward into the unintentional advances of your actions (no time to act like this when there’s more important matters to deal with).
“are you fucking crazy?” dahyun exclaims, closing the blazer even tighter to restrict you access, and it’s gonna make you bust a blood vessel if she drops the innocent girl act right now. “i’m telling you, the rip is not that big of a deal–”
“but you’re making it sound like it’s the end of the world, now show please.”
she sighs, loosening her pull on the polyester for you to open, that floral dress she had unveiling a tear in the fabric of her waist, the hole showing the small hint of her abs off to the right side. you’re also tugging on the loose threads, opening it up more to see the faintest sliver of her bra (c’mon, really? at this time?) before she clears her throat before you could even make a full internalization of the image.
“wow…” your voice trails as dahyun just accepts the hand at the side of her middle, the softest touch of your hand just resting on the dress while her hand hovers your forearm. “how the hell did this happen?”
“we can figure that out after i get a new dress.”
dahyun doesn’t realize that you’ve had this dressing room to yourself for the past year or so, knowing that it regularly gets cleaned out every few weeks, so the odds of having a dress here just by pure luck is highly unlikely. however–
“did you check the cabinet in your dressing room?”
“no, it’s been locked since i got here.”
you turn to see the set of keys on the corner of the vanity, realizing that one of the old pieces of metal should be able to unlock the cabinet upstairs, hopefully. so you grab dahyun by the wrist, pulling her through the hallway and into the elevator heading up to the third floor of the auditorium.
at first it was just you two inside the lift, then the elevator stopped at the second floor when a sudden influx of staff entered, forcing you to press close next to dahyun once at max capacity. your hands at her waist while her arms brace against your chest. you also kept your head up while dahyun kept hers down, the distance from chin to cheek dangerously close if you or her made a sudden move.
“this is okay, right?” you ask, voice above a whisper, fingers gripping the fabric that makes you blush from the sudden contact. dahyun just nods, hiding her face into the jacket while her heart races at the beeping of the panel.
eventually breaking away from the compact proximity of the crowd in the elevator, you and dahyun manage to make it back to her dressing room, fast to the lock of the cabinet with the grinding of the metal, opening it up to see a singular dress at the very edge inside. you step away for dahyun to get a closer look, and she tilts her head, nodding along to say that it’ll work for now. “thank you.” she says, looking at you, maintaining her professionalism all the way through.
“i’ll be out backstage,” you tell her. “keep your eye on the clock and text me if you need anything else.”
dahyun just looks at the last wave of your hand and leg when the door sweeps shut, looking at the moved clothing piece from the cabinet now onto the couch.
—
the hands shouldn’t be this jittery moments before entering onstage, but they are.
the simple slim, but elegant dress sits on your well-fitted figure, fingertips sliding across the fabric in the hopes of coming to grips. your brain is working overtime trying to ensure that every minute detail of the music is ingrained into your muscles.
dresses annoyed you at times of wearing it for occasions like this, it never got old.
you want to rip it off yourself to save the trouble.
baekhyun waltzes in out of the darkness of the stage equipment, microphone in hand and a calling card that really only had scribbles of lines across just to look the part, knowing that he had a charm of improvising his lines with little to no practice. “where’s dahyun?” he asks, snapping you out of your train of thought.
“shit, i–” you sound like a pole just struck you in the head, “uh–”
dahyun then walks past the doorway with her violin at the right moment, and the image of her has enough pull on you like a black hole swallowing up a planet. her outfit - that high neck, sleeveless dress that exposed her shoulders, her collarbone also hinted the more you let your eyes indulge. she also has this rosy blush of makeup that’s a small touch up, in addition to those pearl earrings that complimented her lazy braid of hair as well.
she looks absolutely ethereal, and your heart skips a bit when she approaches you.
“how do i look?” dahyun asks, catching your eyes while you’re still slack-jawed. she lifts her palms up to the side to present the whole look, “i think it’s pretty cute no?”
you suddenly don’t want to rip off your dress anymore, but hers instead.
so you say nothing, frozen while your doting eyes just continue to blink as dahyun smirks sheepishly. baekhyun raises his hands in adoration, “you look absolutely remarkable by the way miss kim. gorgeous, stunning, the main event for sure.”
he’s right. baekhyun is so damn right.
he then turns his head towards center stage once the prior performance finished up their act, giving a bow to the audience while looking at you and dahyun. baekhyun smiles, eyes fluttering at the excitement that’s about to unfold, and he mouths ‘good luck, but you two don’t need it’.
the presentation and exposition fades out from your ears when dahyun stands next to you, diverting your attention to her when she meets your eyes again. “you’re awfully quiet,” she observes, gauging a punchline to hit with you if the flow of the conversation flows in her direction, “are you nervous?”
your hands stop moving entirely, sliding down your thigh once you’ve been brought back to your senses. “no, i'm not.” you reply, shaking your head at the notion, “the nervousness doesn't get to me.”
“we’ll see about that,” dahyun says, hand clutching your wrist for a slight second before dropping it in a reaction to the applause of your numbered introduction. “fancy a little competition for once?”
“stick to the script, dahyun.” you growl, knowing that the tone in her voice always spells disaster whenever she challenges you. “if you want the limelight so badly, give up trying to move me.”
“never.”
she walks onstage, the roars only getting louder when she peeks over her shoulder to meet your eyes, and you follow. dahyun’s gravity is impossible to resist when you’re also waving to the crowd, the dry light burning your eyes once you’ve settled in on the steinway.
everything settles down, moments away from the set of work that you and her have been practicing on for countless weeks. the eagerness to start, the drive to finish.
dahyun lifts her bow so gracefully, building up suspense when you have your fingers over the two keys of the piano.
and the both of you finally play.
—
(if you could see yourself performing in the audience, you could easily consider the experience to be life changing with the way dahyun’s weight is played through the music. she easily pushed you from the first note of the ballade to the grand entrance of dahyun’s moment on stage.
it lit a light within you, to see her having so much joy in her playing, the highlight of talent for the whole auditorium to see. she’s running away with her moment, you can see her smiling just a bit when she twists her body towards the piano.
dahyun can lead the celebrations once the roar of thunderous applause is heard.
as always, all you can do is follow.)
—
there’s scattered pods of groups at the reception following after the concert. members of the ensemble and the friends that you talk to on the regular all having a quick drink and exchange of laughs. you’re also conversing with different faculty members while being towed around by baekhyun in what felt like a forced promotion.
in between the switches of dialogue, your eyes scan out to the crowd, surveying for anything out of the ordinary - a way out of sorts. yet the sight of dahyun in the distance, talking to one of her professors intrigues you just at the end when she steps away. time starts to lose it’s pace: she has her tongue against the inside of her cheek, that messy braided hair brushing on the midline of her back, she has this quirk of her eyebrows to be perked up in high spirits - it’s cute.
but then her gaze shifts into something more serious, focusing closely across the hall - she’s searching, floating across the floor when she sets her sable sharp eyes on yours. they’re piercing through the more you speculate just mere inches away now.
“i need to talk to you about something,” dahyun announces, and there’s this sense of limbo because it could literally entail nineteen different ways (maybe more), “privately.”
amidst the lively climate of the after party, and you’re riddled with a mesh of nerves and eagerness to leave and find out what’s been plaguing dahyun’s mind, the noise of it all becomes more and more quiet the further you and her get away.
once the sounds are near zero, dahyun opens a door to an unoccupied room secluded on the second floor upstairs from the main hall below, the low light of the doorway as the sole source to see dahyun’s face. the nervousness that was once there before was now substituted with a calming presence between you two - safe and secluded.
“what’s all this about?” you question, walking in further past dahyun followed by the subtle shut of the door. “it’s not like you’re in trouble or anything.”
“oh it’s nothing bad,” she replies, pathing similarly while you set yourself against the door frame, allowing dahyun to take up the bigger space from you. “i just wanted to tell you two things that happened.”
you breathe and swallow, slowly.
“okay,” you mumble, arms behind your back then at your side, “what’s the first thing you want to tell me?”
dahyun just stands there, suspended for a few seconds while the only thing that the walls pickup is the little pats of her thigh. you tense your jaw, while she just clicks her teeth not long after, “weird, i kinda forgot. sorry.”
her lips curl into a smile and you’re thinking of quick jabs to dish out for the hiccup she just presented you with, “so what’s the other thing you were gonna tell me,” you say, “if you can’t remember the first?”
dahyun flashes this look from her charcoal eyes, lips pulled inward as if the uncertainty she’s about to commit derails the whole act she’s put up until now, but she could care less once that first step was taken, and you’re still staring at her like an idiot - it’s nothing new.
she kisses you.
that press she has, it’s the lightest touch. your mind short circuits a bit from the contact, pulling away slightly and dahyun chases to keep her lips on yours. her hand is quick to thread through your hair, the other on the slope of your jaw. your hands were quick to naturally grab her waist, parting her lips in the process from the tug, biting her bottom lip that whips in a sharp inhale of air through the nose.
your back is against the frame of the door. dahyun is collapsing by the millisecond, hands going haywire, she lets out this hum of approval when you groan a bit into her mouth, the movement of everything becoming desperate, frantic - the air leaving her soft lips lifting that urge to go the extra step, slowing down suddenly to backtrack on what she has done to you.
“how about that?” she asks, stealing another peck before you let your inner conscience take the reins of your position for a slight second, swapping ends where she’s pinned against the door now, leg hiked up from your hand under her thigh, “fuck.”
“about what?” you repeat the matter again while attacking dahyun’s neck with your tongue and teeth, a tease for what’s about to unfold while nibbling away at the soft skin before sweeping a kiss to her jaw and the bottom of her ear. “i caught on about this a while ago, i could see it.”
the dragged sigh that dahyun lets out is heavenly. christ–
“you’ve proved me wrong,” dahyun’s eyes lowering slightly when her fingertip skates across the mold of your cheekbone, that damned smile forming across her lips to signify that she’s winning this battle so far. “and to think that i had other thoughts about you.”
“you don’t think i could flatter you enough?” you ask, leaning back slightly while her hand is caressing your middle. “we shouldn’t.” you’re quick for the defensive, “i–we can’t.”
“oh,” dahyun breathes out, “what a shame.” it’s a taunt as she’s patting down your hair while you shake your head.
“screw you,” is the response that’s sputtered out in the heat of everything.
“your problem,” another kiss given out to keep you second guessing, “not mine, dumbass.” she snickers before letting out an unexpected moan when your grip tightens around her waist, pulling her closer. “always the one to play it safe.”
it’s downright evil when that last sentence is whispered out to you. this should be a one time thing, never to happen again - not in a million years or when there’s the next opportunity to play alongside the very person that has put you through hell, dragging you down to an even deeper depth.
“kiss me again.” dahyun says, permissive yet commanding.
you’re at the end of the excerpt, no response for your part, and you do kiss her again. no other choice could be sufficient enough to save you - you’ll kiss her like your life depended on it. she can own you, and curse her for having you all figured out.
—
you’ll count the measures in your head, let the hands work meticulously between the lines. frankly, this flame in your heart will only burn brighter.
—
dahyun keeps you gravitated when you pin her in the same position against the walls of your apartment. it’s way off being gentle with all of the fuck’s and hmms and heated insults of keep your mouth working over me to name a few. your coat is torn off frantically while you’re shoving your nose under the lower ridge of her jaw.
“god,” dahyun murmurs when your lips brush across hers for a second, tending to the other untouched part of her neck before your arms slide around her waist, a hard grab at the hip that makes her gasp. your hand is buried in her hair again as she opens herself up to you, tongues clashing as she tries to hide away, figuratively making herself smaller under you.
there’s an audible smack when you catch your breath, only for dahyun to fill the space in your throat with her voice once more. she needs this: you, over her, hands full, begging to be unraveled. you’ll fuck her up, a final movement, the rhythm that will quiver when you hear her wailing for your name.
“you’re such–ah! p-prick,” she groans again when you’re shrugging off your leather jacket onto the floor, keeping a hand on dahyun before she pulls you back, elbow against the wall while her hand snakes to put your chin higher up before you freeze for a slight second, breath hitching between lips when she lets out a soft whine when you don’t give her what she wants. “please, please, please—keep going.”
her nails drag across your arm, trying to urge you to do something about the momentary pain, but you’re too good with your hands, clutching onto her wrists when you cross and put them over her head. there’s a wrinkle in her dress when she lifts her leg as an attempt to wrap it around you, your left hand quick to deflect it off before it’s back on her midsection.
the edge of your nose is nestled into her hair, lips canvassing the rim of that little heart-shaped ear, a spot discovered when her back arches off the drywall for a millisecond. this is a new side to dahyun—one that’s catching you by surprise the way her eyes flicker, her bottom lip twitching that’s met with another heavy sigh when you kiss the swell.
“why keep fighting…when you’re already losing?” you question, voice muffled against her neck carelessly, dahyun’s gasp filling your ear when you let go of her wrists for her to get around your neck, prolonging the sensation that makes her eyes roll back. “i can stop if that’s what you want.”
dahyun shakes her head, her arms giving no slack when you slide down her neck further, consuming this drug that’s unleashing this symphony of hot, ragged breaths and moans.
“do you–do you have any idea,” she huffs out, her leg hiked up now for your thigh to settle in the middle, “how many nights i’ve gone through–thinking about ruining you?”
you can’t help yourself but chuckle, “funny how you’re saying that,” forehead against hers, face in your hands with the constellations of lust boiling under her eyes,”when i’m the one that has you like this–” smiling against the underside of her jaw when you’re leaving another shadowy mark.
dahyun’s body is so small, so fragile–it’s becoming more and more destructive when you undress the upper half of her dress, resting at the waist when you see the hidden figure much more closely, a blank page of music waiting to be written or sung.
“are you gonna keep staring, or are you gonna get back to it?” she asks impatiently.
“so–” a slide up her chest where your hands stop at her breasts, another kiss after to keep her quiet and mewling, “fucking–” pulling away with a subtle pull of her lips–lathered with your spit, “needy.”
you see the glint in her half-lidded eyes, she’s winning.
“you could shut me up, and i’ll keep giving you shit.” she says, pressing your body closer, “don’t test me.”
“you’ve already done that. gonna need a new offer on the table.”
“am i feeding your ego?” the lines on her face crinkle into a grin, “you’ve been wanting this to happen, haven’t you?”
she’s so turned on when you let your hand tug the waistband of her white dress, playing along the edge of her underwear, slipping in to test the waters, lightly rubbing her clit that stops her movement from the sudden shift of her legs opening wider for you. “i could just leave you like this, and forget about it.”
“don’t–don’t give me that. stop–fuck, i hate–” dahyun sputters out, the muscles in her body cramping and relaxing to the point she can’t stop the bucking of her hips. “fuck me up so bad… just don’t be a tease.”
“what is that you want?” you propose, kissing her again, head into the wall again while dahyun’s hands slide the latter half of her dress, crumpling on the floor. “need me to deal with your bratty attitude?”
she smiles. a wave of relief. she’s honest, a rarity at best, “can you give me what i want?”
“depends,” you reply, hands down the end of her hips, trying to remember the feeling of her hourglass-like body, “we’ll see if i have you screaming to deserve it.”
dahyun shivers in place, lips in between her teeth while her eyes trail down the sight of you sinking to your knees. the underwear is quick to be discarded, and her legs twitch a bit from the trail of wet kisses. you could feel the heat the closer you get. little by little, piece by piece, she has reduced you to where she’s over you once more (for now at least.)
everything changes when your mouth meets her other lips, and a slide of the tongue upwards, relaxing into it, she’s following along.
“hngh!”
you lift her leg over your shoulder, grinning, pulling back soon after to meet her eyes and twitching brows, “it all makes sense now.” with that, you hook your arms around her hips and leg, siphoning away all sensibilities that she has left.
when the tip of your tongue nicks her clit, or when it dips in deeper–it’s a steady approach to eating her pussy in the same way you play the piano. a more delicate touch, the whiner she gets. ravishing and ripping? she’ll grip your hair harder while you’re tearing her to pieces. her pupils are blown out while these hot kisses from you make her cunt drip over your chin.
“yes,” dahyun moans, and she’s already beginning to plead. “fuck, fuck–don’t—you’re amazing–god. please.”
considering all of the choked moans building up within her windpipe and the way her calf is pressing onto the disc of your shoulder, she’s losing it. the sweetness of her pussy is enough to last you lifetimes. you can read the reactions, her hips crumbling over your forearm, feeling the bearings of your mouth faster, harder.
“you’re trembling, is this all too much for you?” you groan, gauging her condition. the heat in her hips is increasing, and with another swirl of your tongue around her clit. it’s magical, she’s lost in the suction.
“no,” she responds, shaking her head side to side before she admits soon after bobbing her head up and down. “hmm, yeah.” it’s the only form of management that she could do once her hips finally spaz out, shuddering while you’re holding her in place against the wall. “god, y/n–” she’s panting at the calculated effort, gripping your head as you lick.
“cum baby, you know you want to.”
“you’re—you-you-you’re gonna make me,” she whines, diminished to a whisper, and it’s a mix of curses in between while she’s finally collapsing, the spill finally being drained. “y/n, i’m gonna cum–shit!” dahyun cries and you’re showering her in praise through hums. the reward of her slick soaking your mouth and chin.
dahyun lets the lingering shudders leave her body while you’re still kneeling, smirking at the work you just did, letting your tongue clean up the last bits of mess she’s made over you, her leg resting on your shoulder comfortably. “such a good girl for me,” you mumble, looking up to see her flushed face, “what a beauty to see.”
you elevate yourself, find your hands clasping hers. it’s a mend that’s built in such a short span of time, but she’s smiling, melting under your touch when you lift her off the ground and in your arms, legs wrapping around your waist while her lips are on yours again.
“how do you want me?” the girl you’re carrying asks, getting lost in that little afterglow she’s emitting when you’re staring at her, thumb rubbing the side of your face when you manage to get to the bedroom, settling down with her on top. “was pinning me against the wall not enough for you?”
“you really,” you start, caught off guard again when dahyun leans down for another messy kiss as your body tenses up, clutching the small of her back while you groan down her mouth. “don’t know when to shut up, do you?”
“just can’t help myself,” dahyun answers, the fringes of her messy hair sending a picture for you to keep in your mind, “i’m gonna get back at you for teasing me up till this point.”
“and i’m not gonna allow you,” your grip on her hip tightens, the threat present when you flip her over on the bed, slipping out of your dress and lowering yourself to treat her to more kisses across her face then down her neck, earning more lovely moans out of her. “no matter how much you try, you’ll lose. every time.”
dahyun’s eyes flutter shut when your hand works her breast with the other occupied by your mouth. her back comes off the sheets just a bit while you’re circling your arm around her waist again, pulling her towards you, her pussy against the cold touch of your thigh.
“baby, baby–baby please—i want you to fuck me–need your mouth - your fingers, please - give me what i want,” she’s writhing beneath you, “you’re such a bitch.”
her hand scratches your lower back slightly, a sharp inhale in her mouth while she’s smiling. fuck her neediness for you, it’s that annoying attitude that she’s unleashed to the point where you’ll consider flipping her over the bed and completely give in to her pleasures, but that won’t be the case.
“ask real nicely first,” you tell her, “i won’t listen to a fucking brat who thinks she can have whatever she wants.”
“and if i do, will you?” she’s doubling down her efforts, working you up when she lifts her head up to shower a few kisses down the line of your throat, hands flowing across the slides of your hips and waist to lower your inhibitions. “i always get what i want.”
“fuck,” you say, gripping both sides of her middle, pressing your knee against her core, and she moans. “fucking brat.”
“yes,” again, it’s not right, you have to set the record straight with her. “need you now, need you to fuck me - ruin me.”
you’re leaving more marks across the others you put on her; the way her body tenses when you let your lips trail down lower and lower and lower, the clutch of your fingers on her leg slowly shifting over to her exposed pussy, wet and ready; something that needs to be dealt with here and now.
“have me like this, and fuck me some more.”
the sound that leaves your lips is primal, and you’re letting her have it. “a fucking slut is what you are,” you tell her, sliding your finger across her folds, and the cry dahyun lets out is something that crumbles the whole facade, “you want me inside now?”
“make me - shut the fuck up.”
“don’t test me,” is all you say to her, and you push two fingers into her swollen cunt. dahyun’s head presses into the covers and you’re already curling your knuckles inside. it’s even worse when you slide down her body more and start to eat her out while you’re thrusting in between, spreading her legs out more to give you clear air.
“just–hnn–no–yes–shit–” she snaps out. it’s a hard fall, way off balance. you’re kissing the inside of your thigh before you’re back for more, the taste of her is electrifying, eyes rolling back while her mind is in a completely different headspace.
“so good,” dahyun tells you, lifting her head up while you’re fucking the life out of her. “fuc–god that’s fucking something.”
the syllables become less verbal and coherent, the arousal neverending when dahyun’s screeches reach another decibel. her hips and legs are in the air by you while your tongue swipes inward again. “my lovely slut can’t seem to keep her voice down,” you mumble breathlessly, noting that her high is coming, “should i let you cum now that you’ve earned it?”
“please–” it’s the countless utterance she’s said for who knows how long now, “i’m so fucking close.” her thighs are trembling at this point around your head and once the sobs come in, the musical cue that dahyun is thoroughly fucked through, you let your kisses become more languid, the rubs on her thigh becoming sporadic - slowing down as she barely puts in the effort to keep her head up.
once everything settles and the stench of sex is the only thing taken into account, you set dahyun on the sheets again, dropping kisses making your way up to her tattered neck and jaw. she tastes herself from your lips while carding fingernails into your hair, humming with a sheepish smile once the tiredness makes its way in.
“already worked over?” you whisper into her ear and she grumbles in response.
“i’m gonna get you back sooner or later,” dahyun answers with a lazy lip lock that has you smiling, “i’ll let it slide just this once.”
“even after everything i did, you still won’t shut up.”
—
when the morning comes, you’re doing damage control, staring up at the funny bumps and patterns on the ceiling while the soft, labored air of the lovely violinist snuggled up tickles your collar bone. she’s all wrapped up nicely in the sheets of your bed, arm draped across your waist as she presses her cheek, getting more comfortable.
she murmurs in her sleep, leg on leg with the sheets as the divider, "i got an offer to perform in vienna."
"vienna?" you puzzle, combing a few strands of hair from your face before your eyes land ontop of dahyun's head, "as in like-europe?"
"that was the thing i wanted to tell you, but like i said, i forgot."
humming in response, the silence settles in again while the events of last night replay back in your head. “how long have you–” you don’t even finish that question, because it sounds like a repeat button on the track.
dahyun just looks up at you, the messy bed hair and intense gaze will have you mentally pulling up over the covers to hide in embarrassment. it seems vague when she’s also questioning too; the inquiry of when did ‘this’ occur. she’ll have you guessing, because she doesn’t answer at all.
“can you get off my arm? like, i can’t feel it.” you tell her.
she just clutches you closer in denial, not wanting to let the heat escape between the two of you. your eyes dart down to see her look up at you so earnestly, following along the curves of your body–the newly acquired spot of bruises across your chest while her fingers graze over your ribs, like the strings that she plucks on a daily basis.
“and if i refuse?” she asks, hand falling flat on the underside of your boob, “do you want me to rush you to the hospital for an amputation?”
“tell them about my heart condition too,” you reply, whispering. the little ‘thrums’ in your chest from underneath are constantly moving like a slow metronome. “might as well pull the plug on me.”
dahyun again just lifts herself up slightly, elbow propped up as she scoots to capture your lips. this harmonious feeling laid all out for you to listen, the hums and giggles that she reveals is a reward in itself. she can be abrasive and stubborn, play along with the self-deprecation, feed into the derailment of your emotional state.
“i could never,” she follows up with, rolling over when you sit up to unshackle the limbs from their slumber. “besides, all of this wouldn’t have happened if it weren't for me making the first move.”
“you’re one to tell me about your little crush on me since we were freshmen is childish?” you say, looking over your shoulder while dahyun just sits their idly, wrists on wrists in their natural lady-like position, “if that were the case, then–”
once you stand up to stretch the tension out, you spin back to see dahyun in a loose oversized sweater that was on your office chair next to the bed, staring at you innocently before looking down with those pouty lips, tugging on the collar that shows the necklace of marks stretch across her neck, as well as some of her collarbone. she could wear a trash bag, or the spare white dress from the dressing room last night, and you’ll keep staring at the image - she’ll look good in anything.
“you didn’t ask for that,” you tell dahyun, hand on your hip while the sleeves cover her hands, shielding her face (and that gummy eye smile combo) away from you. “stealing isn’t a good look for your rep anyway.”
“it’s not stealing,” she retorts, “think of it as borrowing.”
when you swipe the curtains to rein in the cloudy mix of white and gray from the sky, dahyun settles a pillow between her arms, that one pillow that’s muddled with your scent and warmth, prolonging the absence until you’re able to fill that space in her again.
“so you’re just gonna borrow everything that you see in my place?”
that signature laugh again, it’s music to your ears. you’d wanna record it on a voice memo and have it for your keepsake. she can take the materialistic items you have some care for, steal your clothes that will come back around like a boomerang, have you taking tylenol for the amount of times she’ll drive you insane when practicing for performances together - she’ll steal everything, because she can.
“you still haven’t answered my question yet.” you tell dahyun, kneeling in front of the edge of the bed while she’s still trying to avert her eyes from making eye contact with yours. fingers hooking around the sleeves of the sweater cuff, placing them on your face when she eases herself onto you - those gentle fingers and small hands - she’s that flourishing story you’ll read and tell.
a loving dream that was once a nightmare.
-
a/n: happy birthday to the woman who is the pinnacle of this account's existence. if you made it all the way here, thank you for reading as always, it really means a lot. <3
(small shoutout to @cry4mina for helping me push through while writing! this wouldn't have been possible w/o you)
and dedicated for @neoplatinum, my present in return for gifting the title.
#dubu day >.<#kpop x reader#twice x reader#twice imagines#twice dahyun#twice#dahyun x reader#kim dahyun x reader#kim dahyun#twice smut#hyunie
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My thoughts regarding the Wednesday S2 “leaker”
Many hours ago, a lot of you would have learned about a user (FamiliarViolinist704) on reddit claiming to be part of the production team on Wednesday Season 2. They made a list of claims which have been unverified and uncredited. I’m not going to go into detail about the “leaks” and what they detail, but I will give you a reason why we shouldn’t trust or find this user credible.
There have been some inconsistencies this user has made that have caught my attention.
In one comment, they state that Enid breaks up with Ajax and he doesn’t take it well. In another comment, they state that Ajax breaks up with Enid.
Another comment from the OP states that Tyler’s mother is mentioned a few times and that there’s nothing new about her, while another comment from the OP says that she will appear in flashback scenes. One comment states that the character Karloff will break out of a psychiatric ward whilst Wednesday is visiting Tyler. Another comment states that Karloff breaks out when Donovan visits Tyler.
In addition, this person has stated they are doing these “leaks” because Netflix screwed them over, yet they also refused to clarify how they are connected to the Wed S2 production out of fear that they could get fired. So this person still has their job, yet claims Netflix screwed them over, HOW?
There’s little chance that a simple production person would have read the scripts and know almost the entire plot, especially when we are only one month in out of a nine month shoot. Plus, leaks like this usually come some weeks or a month BEFORE the series goes to air, and usually they don’t ask users to ask them what’s going to happen, they usually just post the whole plot, but that didn’t happen here.
To me, this person seems like an arrogant troll who is looking to start trouble in the fandom. They offer no proof and no credibility whatsoever. And anyone with a talent for English or Writing have come up with these “specific” details through fan theories that have been going on for the past year. They probably started this plot as soon as the S2 cast was announced a few weeks ago.
#wednesday (netflix)#wednesday (2022)#wednesday addams#enid sinclair#tyler galpin#bianca barclay#ajax petropolus#morticia addams#gomez addams#pugsley addams#Thing (Wednesday)#netflix
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I fucking hate retail, we're barely open and someone has already had time to call and be a complete asshole 😭
She even threw in the "I spent a lot of money there yesterday" as though that would make me suddenly have the answer to the question she had. Like nah, fuck off, have the sort of day you deserve.
#retail#just some thoughts#and I'm sick#so this ruined my entire day#I'm so upset#like i told her I didn't know what she wanted#because she was asking about leaks of products!#i don't keep up with leaks#wtf
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need you to write me some perv rafe 😌
pairing: perv!rafe x unaware!reader
summary: rafe has a small obsession with you and finds himself with the perfect opportunity to get closer to you.
warnings: pervy rafe, sexual themes, sorta??dark content, male masturbation, panty stealing (is this a warning LMFAO?)
rafe knew you. well. he knew of you. from glances in the hallway when you passed his room, headed towards sarah’s, small conversations when you joined family dinners, and the occasional interaction during parties when you wanted to score some coke on the low.
he knew you from the image he formed in his head. the one that told him your short passing glances were longing, filled with desire. that your hand brushing his at the dinner table was a sign to spread you open on the wooden table and fuck you. that you buying coke from him when there were many dealers in figure eight was because you needed an excuse to talk to him, not just because he was sarah’s older brother and would give you it a little cheaper than most.
you took up far more space in his brain than any of his little sisters friends should. more than any normal girl should. he’d never been so hell-bent on creating and imagining interactions, forcing them to happen, and putting himself in the right places at the right time if it meant he’d see you. countless nights he’d stay awake, hearing your giggles from across the hall while his hand was wrapped around his cock, jerking it to the sound of your voice that would slip between the cracks in the doorframe. rafe couldn’t be by the pool when you’d swim, his length creating an obvious print in the wet swim shorts that clung to his skin at the sight of your body in a small bikini, soaking wet with water dripping down your soft skin. he couldn’t look at you for too long at parties, his focus being solely on you rather than paying customers, even if you were halfway across the room in your own world.
it was safe to say he was obsessed, but it was okay, right? because you totally wanted him too. at least, that’s what he told himself.
for you, he’d always been sarah’s scary older brother that would sometimes stand a little too close, but offered you free coke at parties and would drive you home late at night, even though you only lived a block away and could definitely walk home.
rafe saw the perfect opportunity to get a little closer to you one afternoon after he’d been spending the day by the pool with you and sarah. you’d wrapped your towel around you, saying you were gonna go shower before dinner. sarah waved you off, determined to soak up every bit of sun she could. rafe watched you walk inside, water droplets leaking off of you with each step and the fat of your ass bouncing lightly, visible even through the towel.
he’d quickly sat up, throwing out an excuse of a phone call to his sister before following you inside. his steps were faster than yours, catching up to you quickly.
“hey, yo-you can use my shower if you want? that way, you don’t have to worry about wheezie or sarah trying to walk in.” he tried to sound casual, despite stumbling over his first words. you thought about it for a second before agreeing, having grown tired of trying to split sarah’s bathroom after pool days. rafe guided you upstairs, relishing in the fact that you were now standing in his room in only a small bikini and were about to be showering in his shower. you’d smell like him afterwards; his body wash would linger on your skin, and your sweet vanilla scent would linger in his bathroom. just the way he thought it should.
playing a nice host, he grabbed you a bath towel and turned the shower on for you before closing the door with a small smirk on his lips. you were quick in the shower, only washing your body and vaguely browsing through his products. when you hopped out, you realized you didn’t have your actual clothes. with a towel wrapped around your naked body and a frown on your face, you peeked through the cracked door and asked rafe to grab you your pink beach bag from sarah’s room as it held your clothes.
his eyes widened at the sight of you, but he nodded and left the room, pushing into sarah’s where he spotted your baby pink bag, your name clearly embroidered on the side. he checked over his shoulder quickly, ensuring he was alone, and opened the bag. he shuffled through it before coming across a little white thong that had a small bow on the front. rafe groaned as he shoved it in his pocket, grabbed the bag, and headed back to his room. he watched as you closed the bathroom door again and came out moments later in a sundress that showed off your tanlines from the bikini top, saying a small thank you and leaving the room entirely.
rafe took a moment to breathe, listening to your footsteps pad down the stairs. when he was sure you were gone, he rushed into the bathroom and stripped, your panties clenched in his fist. once he was under the warm shower water, your sweet scent filled the room, making him groan. his cock was throbbing, and his balls were aching for release. the fist clutching your white thong soon wrapped around his aching cock, now soaked and sudsy with his body wash. his grip was tight as he got himself off, your name spilling from his lips with every thrust of his hand. seeing something that once was worn by you wrapped around his length, your panties nonetheless, was surely enough to push him right to the edge. all he could think of was your sweet cunt dripping wetness into the soft cotton, him spreading your folds open and exploring every inch with his tongue, his cock lined with your tight entrance before pushing inside you and experiencing your warm wet cunt for the first time. what really sent him soaring over the edge, hot spurts of cum shooting from his thick cock and onto the shower wall, was your voice on the other side of the door, accompanied by a light knock. “rafe, are you sure you grabbed all the clothes that were in the bag? some things are missing.”
taglist: @sunkissedrafe @cxsmiclore @mousie101
#obx#obx cast#obx fanfiction#obx fic#obx imagine#obx x reader#rafe cameron#rafe obx#dark rafe cameron#obx smut#rafe cameron thoughts#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe cameron x reader#rafe outer banks#rafe smut#rafe x reader#rafe fic#rafe cameron smut#rafe cameron x female reader#rafe x you#outerbanks rafe#rafe imagine#rafe fanfiction#rafe cameron concepts#rafe cameron imagine
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Idk if you remember but you wrote a small drabble where reader was konigs secret admirer and it's been eating at my brain ever since😭 would you ever consider making it an actual story?
Oh I fell in love with the concept too! Here's a part 2 to that little drabble, I humbly offer it to you with my fluffy little paws ^^
CW: 18+ smut, fluff. Nothing bad here, just sweetness. Ok maybe a tiny bit of biting and light angst because it’s König after all... (Part 1 here)
He still doesn’t know who the mystery girl is.
She likes to tease him with cute messages and a photo of her tits but won’t tell him her name or where she lives. The girl won’t come to meet him so that he can show her some love, nor will she agree to go on a date with him. She just responds to his pathetic suggestions with a bundle of emojis that are about to drive him crazy, and another message that says: “Soon!”
König has to fall back on the bed and go to sleep with a rock hard dick and a set of twitching, lonely hands. His dream of having a proper girlfriend was shoved on the back burner ever since he joined the Jagdkommando, but now there’s a certain girl inside his head, a new, even better dream he can’t repel. The next day is no better; he even forgets what he was supposed to bring home from the store, knowing his mom will only sigh and tell him they’ll survive without some ingredient they both know is very well essential.
He stands before the butters and spreads, trying to recall what his mother wanted when he hears a soft gasp further down the aisle. He turns his head and barely catches the sight of a woman, turning in her heels and rushing down the flour section, just somewhere out of sight.
Hope and curiosity spark inside him as he leaves the butter and darts after her, calling “Hey” and “Wait” between the shelves as she flits towards the cashier in mild terror. He chases her as if he were trying to catch a thief, and the girl picks up her pace, then slows down to a complete halt… and turns.
Lovely, fearful eyes behold him the immediate second she meets his gaze, immobile hands clutching a bag of croissants and a jar of chocolate butter against her chest.
He slows down his jog and arrives in front of her with a smile, but the girl only looks more and more afraid. Even her jaw is clenched shut, the spitting image of a prey who just got caught.
“You’re her, aren’t you? The mystery girl,” he asks, trying to make it clear as day just how excited he is to finally meet her in person.
Her eyes stay wide as she blinks, the little bag of croissants crunching a bit further in her grip as she tries to shield her vital parts.
“Are you done shopping…?”
Still no answer.
She’s shy, just like he is... Maybe even more so, which is incredibly endearing: the same girl who sent him a picture of her boobs last night, the same girl who had no trouble teasing him to the point of leaking cum all over his sheets is as shy as a deer when caught in daylight.
It’s so incredibly cute… He thought she was a seductress of the most dangerous kind, but here she is now, looking up at him as if he was some boogieman about to come and snatch her away.
His smile only widens as he looks at his little minx who just tried to run away from the individual she’s sent postcards and love letters to ever since they were kids… Who knew his secret admirer was a bashful little cutie who sneaks around the local store to get herself some sweets and snacks?
“Let me pay for those,” he gestures at the products in her hand.
Another awkward silence follows until she finally turns her eyes to the floor and nods.
Perhaps it’s not that odd that she sent him anonymous notes and talked to him in texts and letters if she’s this timid -- he of all people should know how tough it is to walk to someone he likes and tell them he wants to go out. But he can’t help but wonder if the girl is mute, or partly deaf, or both. He wouldn’t mind. As long as they understand each other, it’s perfectly fine.
She looks at him like he’s a god —or a monster—while he pays for her humble delicacies. She stares at him with eyes still wide while putting the groceries inside a tiny cotton bag she has with her, and says nothing when he extends his hand towards her.
“Here. Give it to me.”
He’s trying to act the part of a gentleman to the full, and she offers the floor a tiny smile while handing him the bag. It weighs less than a half kilo, but the gesture is all that seems to matter because she is indeed smiling, shy and pleased as he shoulders the so called burden for her.
“I can walk you home if you like?” he suggests while pushing the door open for her.
She steps out into the luminous sunlight, eyes squinting a little from the sudden brightness. Then she turns to him and says her first meek words.
��But... Then you’ll know where I live…”
“Ah! She talks,” he laughs with a full smile and watches with a spreading warmth in his chest how she starts to grin, too. She’s looking at the asphalt and her shoes but she’s smiling, incredibly beautiful and pretty, outshining even the prettiest summer day.
“Don’t worry,” he starts to banter with increasing confidence—when has he ever teased anyone, let alone been confident around a girl he likes? “I promise I won’t come howling under your window at night...”
“It’s… It’s not that,” she laughs and bites her bottom lip. “I still live with my mom…”
She starts to walk towards where he lives, and he follows, his long legs catching up with her with ease.
“There was the COVID, and my mom is a little unwell… And with the economy… I’m still a student,” she explains while they stroll down the street.
“Really? I’m a student, too.”
“Oh…? What are you studying?”
“How to kill people,” he shrugs, cursing his stupid carefree mouth immediately. “Fuck… Sorry. That was… I mean, I’m in the army.”
“It’s okay,” she smiles.
He sneaks a peek her way, and she indeed doesn’t seem to be shocked in the slightest. Far more frightened she looked at the store when he noticed her and began to chase the poor girl.
They proceed to talk about what he does and why, how he only just returned from a month’s training that included concealment training in the mountains. She seems interested enough in his choice of career, which he tries to make sound as striking as possible, far more intriguing than it actually is. He tries to appear a little too glorious in her eyes, fearing he won’t live up to the reputation and fantasy she has built inside her pretty little head.
What if she wanted him to be a doctor instead of a moronic soldier? Maybe she fantasized about a lawyer or a historian with whom she could have fascinating conversations… And he’s just babbling nonsense about weather meters and ghillie suits.
But her eyes are still smiling, always at him when he looks away and starts to talk with his hands. When they arrive at the little wicket gate leading up to her house, he notices she lives only about a kilometre away from his childhood home.
She was always here, and he never knew anything about it… His secret admirer, his passionate seducer, turns out to be a harmless, lovely angel who lives right in the neighbourhood.
She takes her little cotton bag and turns to open the gate, and his hands twitch and flex. Say something clever, his mind yells, ask her out for fuck’s sake… But he needn’t worry, for his precious girl next door immediately turns back and shields her eyes from the sun while looking up at him.
“I’m sorry… I froze a little at the store. I just… This wasn’t how we were supposed to meet...”
“No? What did you have in mind for us then?”
She drops her hand back down and gives him a little halfway shrug, embarrassed.
“I don’t know. I just… I don’t even have any make-up on...”
He risks to bring a hand to her face, his thumb on her cheekbone, sweeps a little arc there to let her know she’s fucking beautiful.
“You’re very pretty,” he says, and she raises her eyes back to his, this time looking like she’s being blinded by the sun even if he’s shielding her from it.
“I really liked the picture you sent me,” he says boldly, and for the second time this afternoon, hopes the earth could swallow him right then and there.
A pretty girl sends him one nice picture of her tits, and he has to be an asshole about it… She looks super uncomfortable, so flustered that she nearly guides her face away from his palm.
Fuck that he’s stupid… Must he always be such an idiot and fuck everything up?
“I’m sorry... I meant to say that–”
“I’m glad you liked it,” she rises on her toes and plants a quick, flustered peck on his cheek, then turns to the gate as quickly as a whirlwind. Opens it, and returns solely to give him a bashful, naughty little smile.
“I liked your picture too,” she says so softly he can barely hear it.
“...Oh,” he squeaks, cheek still burning from her kiss.
“Do you want to come and see me tonight...? Mom usually drops before ten...”
“I… I… Sure.”
…
It’s a catastrophe.
His old jeans barely fit him anymore, they’ve become way too tight around the thighs. He’s put on some weight during the past few years and made sure to go to the gym every slack hour he has at his disposal, which means he’s packed a bit of muscle here and there. That, along with the many outdoor trainings, have ensured his appetite remains even bigger than usual so it’s no wonder none of his old pants fit. The only ones that don’t look utterly suggestive and wrong are his grey sweatpants, which he wore to the store today. He can’t very well wear those on a date, no matter what all those thirsty TikTok memes say...
He sighs, and grabs the black military pants he had on when he came here, pairing them with a simple black T-shirt. That’s all he has in his drawers: black, black, black, a few white ones that have some food and coffee stains on them, stains that never leave no matter how hard his mom tries to wash them for him.
The house is silent as he slips the keys into his pocket and hollers that he’s leaving. Like some lovesick, unneutered dog about to slink into the night…
“Mom? I’m going out. I… I have a date.”
“At this hour...?”
“Yeah… We’re… Going out to look at the moon,” he makes up off the top of his head.
His mom would scold him for harassing some poor girl when it’s almost midnight, even if it was her who invited him to her house. And if he’s lucky, there’s going to be a lot more action than just staring at the moon together… Not that that’s all he wants; it’s just that he’s been lonely as fuck and could really use a hug.
Is it a crime, with the past that he has, to want some human contact? Some skin on skin memories that don’t include punching?
“My little boy,” his mom strolls into the room, looking at him with soft, worried eyes. “You look like you’re about to invade some poor, innocent country…”
“Eh… I know. All the other pants were too small.’
She smiles at him: seeing a grown man sweat like a pig before a date must be a silly sight, even more compelling when that man is your own boy. The clock ticks on the wall as she looks at him like he’s about to march off to war, his only shoes a pair of standard leather boots he’s used for two years now. He showed them some grease and a brush, managed to make them look a little less worn and torn – if he had known some cute girl back home had a crush on him, he would’ve visited a clothing store before he came here…
His mom raises a shaky hand and draws him down to kiss him on the cheek, her eyes glossy and hazed from the gathering tears.
“I’m glad you’re finally eating enough,” she whispers with a voice that barely holds intact, and they both know why it’s shaking, why everything’s trembling; her hands, her voice and her tears.
His bottom lip is twitching too from witnessing his mom being so happy for his sake. But he doesn’t want to cry. He must stay oblivious and strong and pretend that things are finally how they should’ve been: normal and easy and wholesome and good. For her, he will never show that he’s shaking… Too many things in her life have done that when she needed them to stay stable and safe.
“Wish me luck,” he gives her a nervous smile, laughing the tears away.
“I always do…”
He leaves before his tower crumbles, slips out into the sweet, scented night.
There’s roses somewhere, roses that smell heavenly, some early jasmine too that wishes to intoxicate his mind. He realizes he has nothing with him to take as a gift for her, and cusses again. This is a fucking date, and he’s not even dressed properly; he doesn’t even have flowers to bring with him… She’s going to think he’s a nobody, some penniless freak who dresses like a crazy person when he’s supposed to dazzle her and make her swoon.
On his way to her place, he stops to cut a small branch from a flowering rowan tree and shelters it from the gusts of wind that blow from the river. The tiny flowers are delicate and fragrant, not exactly what he would’ve taken to her had he been clever enough to visit a florist before they all closed. But it’s cute enough, to him at least, especially when it’s cut from the tree that was his safe haven as a boy.
The curtains at her window shift when he arrives at the gate, and he knows she’s been expecting him, waiting for the clock to strike ten as eagerly as he.
The front door opens, and there she is: dressed far more accordingly than he; his lady has slipped into a sweet summer dress like the angel that she is. It’s bright and yellow, far from the darkness he always wears, and his heart is slowly squeezing to bits inside his chest.
“Hey,” she gives him a wide, knee-buckling smile.
“Hey,” he smiles back, marching to her door like a horny, ugly wolf. “You want to go for a walk? It’s a beautiful ni–”
The moment he arrives at her feet, the moment she sees that he’s carrying a tiny branch from the rowan tree for her, she snatches the front of his shirt and pulls him inside with a surprising amount of strength.
His forehead hits the doorframe with a thick thud before he manages to bow, and there’s a bit of a commotion after that. He huffs something akin to Oof and laughs, making the angel flit around him in a wild, flustered shame, apologizing to him at least ten times.
“Oh my god, I’m sorry! I’m sorry… I’m sorry, I’m sorry….”
“Heh. It’s okay,” he smiles while rubbing the achy spot on his head. He’s forced to sit into an old wicker chair, wide enough to accommodate his back but far too low to hold his stature. He sinks inside it like a veritable giant while she continues to fuss around him, inspecting his “wound” and taking the offering from him with a helpless, embarrassed stare.
“I’ll get you some ice,” she says before leaving him in his chair, the flower he brought softly placed on the bed.
He’s afraid the furniture will break if he moves, so he stays as still as possible while taking in his surroundings, the soft girl adobe he has somehow managed to sneak his sorry rotten arse into.
She has a large TV in front of her bed, a gaming console and a lot of books, candles everywhere he steals a look. The beige bedding looks freshly changed and incredibly soft, and there’s an old bunny toy on her bedstand along with another book, both loved to bits. Some houseplants on the floor appear to be doing extremely well, a small leather bag and some makeup left scattered on her desk. Rocks and twigs and dried flowers rest on her window sill, treasures she’s gathered from her trails. It makes his heart grow soft because he knows she will probably put his little offering there too. A bouquet of expensive, luxurious flowers wouldn’t have hit their target at all.
She returns with a small pack of ice and rushes to him in her flowy, blooming summer dress. Descends on her knees and brings a small towel to his forehead before pressing the ice over it, ensuring that it’s not too cold to make him uncomfortable.
As if he could ever feel uncomfortable, seated in a wicker chair with an angel between his legs, treating his supposed wound with ice and the softest touch…
“Remember all those postcards you sent me?” he asks while she continues to look like the worst person who ever lived, simply because she was too eager to pull him inside her room.
“Sadly, yes.”
“Remember what you wrote to me?”
“Not really,” she says, dabbing the ice pack all over the rising bump on his head. “Something stupid, I suppose…”
“You told me that you love me.”
Her eyes dart to his for a while, hope and shame battling in her fae stare.
“...Oh God.”
“Many times. And then you told me that I’m cute…”
She sighs and brings the ice and the cloth somewhere in her lap. The breasts inside their soft little cell look astoundingly delicious when viewed from up here: he’s slouching in a chair and still, is able to take a rude little peek inside her dress. He slaps himself mentally for being such a goddamn pervert, but then she sighs again, the cute little peaches swelling inside her dress once more.
“That’s it?”
“That’s mostly it, yes…”
He’s getting hard here, which is a problem. A big, big problem…
His shy admirer never notices anything, not even when he softly gestures for her to give the ice to him. He continues to press it on his forehead, trying to concentrate on the cold sensation rather than the swelling dick in his pants.
How is he supposed to not grow hard when he knows this adorable little creature has been infatuated with him for so long? When he knows she’s flustered now, just from hearing him tease her about those silly, harmless cards?
“I kept every single one,” he tells her, only to watch how the shy girl grows even shyer.
“You didn’t…”
“I did.”
He tells her about the bullies and how they made it look like they had sent the cards, telling him no girl could ever want to be with him. It’s a sad attempt to fish for her affection and pity, words of contempt and judgement to hammer it home that he did receive those cards from this girl, he did, in fact, deserve to be loved and adored.
And then she starts to talk about how she watched him... How she went to a different school than him, but that she sometimes strolled behind him when he walked home. They shared the journey to and from school, and he was always completely unaware that he was being followed.
“You stared at this rowan tree for what seemed like hours,” she recalls with a sad smile. “Then, if a bee caught your eye, or a bird or some flower, you stopped to ogle at those instead…”
He laughs, but there’s a bittersweet stone in his chest. If he remembers correctly, these were the only times of the day he could drop his eternal guard: in school, he was being tormented by cruel kids and at home there lived a tyrant with his sad little subjects. Trees and bees and birds were a welcome distraction.
She smiles a little, but it’s not a happy smile, even if it is affectionate.
“My mom always told me to come straight back home,” she says. “But you were never in a hurry...”
He looks at her, and she looks back, some pity in her eyes. There arrives a sweet and sour pain in his heart, a feeling that comes from knowing there was someone who witnessed a glimpse of the hope and pain he lived in. That there was someone there all along…
“You even stopped to look at dog poo…”
“Heh... Was that the moment you fell for me?”
Her lip twitches, the pity in her stare breaks. She rises a little to lean forward, and he catches her with ease as she falls there into his arms, snug into his lap. His lips find hers without effort, and sensation bleeds: his hands are sweaty and shaking as he runs them down along her dress, cups her ass so that she gives a little gasp straight into his mouth.
That’s the thing he was pining for: for her to open that pretty little mouth so that he could pry it further open with his own. Plunge an exploring tongue inside, not too quick and not too greedy, just a little poke to see if she wants to be claimed.
The angel melts in his lap, like pure white snow, until he braces his core and rises to his feet. It’s now or never, and he’s not going to let this moment slip past his fingers. Somehow, they end up on the bed, the smell of fresh linens and her dainty perfume catching his nose before she presses a pair of weak hands on his chest.
“The flower...”
The flower... Of course.
The flower from the rowan tree.
He huffs a laugh on her face, a relieved smile as he understands she’s only worried about trampling his gift.
It’s set aside on the table, but right after that, he attacks her again, begins the ascension to heaven. His lips won’t get enough of her, not even as he drinks her like honeydew and ambrosia: the dress he used to associate with seraphs and summer now seems like a huge obstacle between his tongue and her skin, the need to taste more of her urgent in his hips.
“Can I take this off?” He roughs a hand down the fabric that shields her breasts, relishing the tiny moan that follows when he does that. “I want to kiss you everywhere…”
Her throat makes a wet, charming sound as she swallows, her eyes now pools of dark, drunken love.
“On one condition,” she tells him, out of breath. “If I can kiss you everywhere too?”
It’s a deal, his mind exclaims immediately, but his devilish grin is how he tells her he’s more than eager to accept these terms. His clothes find their way on the floor along with hers, black on black on yellow, but he won’t let her shiver in the cold for long. Like a man possessed, his body finds hers, her soft, naked skin colliding with his like heaven after all those lonely nights of slick, urgent fapping.
He’s not sure who’s worshipping who here, but he vows to never again let this angel fly under his radar, no matter how perfect of a guardian she has been. A guardian angel, following him with her blessed stare, sending him heavenly messages that were real and true all along.
She should be rewarded for her abundant gifts, and so his lips find her shoulders and her neck; they graze her nipples and claim her breasts in devouring that leaves her back arching on the bed.
“You don’t have a girl? Waiting for you back there...?” she asks shyly, even when half her tit is being sucked by his mouth.
“The only thing waiting for me back there is my hand,” he rasps while diving down, down, down, all the way past her navel and the mound she still tries to protect from plunder.
“...I can be your girl,” she whispers somewhere high above, her hands holding his head like that of an untamed dog. “If you want…?”
He breathes on the apex between her thighs, presses a furious kiss there without care.
“F-fuck…” she sighs those thighs open, and from that point on, nothing is enough.
It’s horrible that it must be so: that he finally gets to drink his fill, and it’s still not enough. Her sighs are not enough, her trembling body is not enough. Her attempts to muffle her moans with the back of her hand are not nearly enough.
He wants more, so much more: he wants to try all there is to this with her, forever and ever until the day he dies. He wants to hear her soil her tongue with more curses as he ruins her, bit by bit, just a little bit…
“Say it,” he pants into her glistening lips, “Say that you’re my girl…”
When she does nothing but whimpers in return, he attacks her with both teeth and tongue. Bruises the thigh beside her treasure before plunging straight towards the main prize with reckless want. That’s what finally forces the words out of her mouth: his tongue inside her cunt, delving so deep he has to breathe through his nose to keep from fainting.
“I’m your girl,” she moans on the bed, a bit louder now. “I’m yours, I promise… I always… Always…”
I always was….
She doesn’t say it. She doesn’t need to.
He grants her mercy after that, replacing the tongue with a finger or two. Slow wide circles over her clit accompanied by quick little pumps in her hole make her cum in no time, and he’s glad he listened to the dirty mess talk of his filthy comrades. Patience is not his virtue, but for her, he makes all the effort.... He for sure leaves a little memory on her thigh. It’s not very nice of him, and he fears those teeth marks might stay with her longer than just a few weeks.
Maybe she’ll forgive him if he fucks her after this, rocks her slowly and softly, fucks her like angels ought to be fucked. But no, fucking is not the right word... He wants to make love to her. Drink her moans right from her lips while he does it.
After the climax, he’s still hard and she’s still panting.
He wonders if he’ll get slapped or kissed if he asks for permission to put it inside now... His dick is throbbing while they stare at the ceiling together, but as always, his angel is two steps ahead.
“My turn,” she says with newfound vigour, and he gets more than he bargained for: everything and more as she gives his body the same attention he just gave her. Bites his nipples a little too hard, the little minx, licks his ribs as if it’s some kind of a contest to try and make him tickle. Laughs angel trails across his skin, draws a finger down his nether hair until she meets his jutting dick.
She gives him a tame little lick at first, then slowly, expeditiously, kisses his cock from root to tip. Before due time, his thighs start to tremble, and that’s when she takes it in her mouth: sucks and licks him deep until his abs and balls pull tight. The sheet in his fist threatens to get torn to shreds when he cums, and for a moment, he forgets everything, even his name, until he notices that the poor little thing can’t swallow all his load. She almost chokes on the first spurt, withdraws to cough with her mouth closed while he hisses fat curses past clenched teeth.
When he arrives back to Earth, there’s cum everywhere: on her face, on the sheets, all over his abdomen and his thighs, an eruption that spilled everywhere because his angel got a little appalled.
“I’m sorry,” she peeps with her mouth still full of it.
The poor girl swallows it bravely, and his heart is about to explode: his angel swallows his filthy load like a champ and looks so incredibly valiant while doing it.
“Hey,” he raises a shaking hand towards her, too weak to rise from the bed to comfort her. “It’s okay… You didn’t need to do that…”
“But I wanted to,” she complains while the thick, sticky cum drips down her cheek and onto her breasts.
“Shit… Come here,” he coaxes, and she crawls forward to nestle in the nook of his arm.
He uses the sheet to dry the rest of it off her face. She looks up at him with that trademark seraph stare, so helpless and in love—if this is what having a girlfriend is like, then he doesn’t feel bad at all that he had to wait a little longer than most men. It was worth all the trouble and toil that he has her here now, in his arms, batting her lashes sweetly.
“You’re still incredibly cute, you know...?” she whispers, and a mountain inside him moves.
It’s not sorrow, nor is it yearning; it’s just sweet, simple love. The room smells of salt and sin, but there’s nothing sinful about her when she cups his chin. He knows it’s not elegant to tell someone you love them on the day you've met them, but if the one you love happens to be an angel, then isn't it a sin not to confess?
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Denji is awake, Asa is already inside and Yoshida is Chainsaw Man's ally
We interpreted the last chapter in reverse, so why not continue the exercise?
I haven't read any reaction, but I know in advance that Yoshida will be shown in the same way: as a cold being always there to make Denji's situation worse. But the observation is quite the opposite: he's the one who's constantly negotiated for his situation. Worse still, interpreting him as an ally makes everything absolutely clearer.
I know what I'm saying may come as a surprise, after all, he's the one who announced Denji's dismemberment and doesn't seem to be doing anything to stop it. But don't interpret things that way, the whole answer is in the title.
The title refers to the ambient sounds of Denji's dismemberment, having no words at all, whereas titles usually refer to the dialogue in the chapter. Why is this? Because the answers are in the scenery and the unspoken words.
For example, the answers lie in the questions that seem to be answers (stay focused): for example, we learn that Denji slept for a week… OK… but why exactly did they let him sleep for a week ? The protagonist asks Yoshida: why didn't you wake me up before?
In addition : why wake him now?
The chapter deliberately focuses on a cold Yoshida, who announces that he's put him back to sleep. But why wake him up to tell him all this and then put him back to sleep? After all, the contract had already been broken, Denji couldn't negotiate.
Because it's been a week since Yoshida negotiated to give Denji one last chance. In any case, the time that has elapsed shows that there have been negotiations about what to do with this out-of-control Chainsaw Man. Why is Yoshida doing this? Because more and more, he starts trying to protect him, even though he's supposed to control him. We'll see that his principles and his own way of surviving will also be increasingly undermined.
Yoshida knows that Asa has a connection with devils, whether it was when he prevented Denji from revealing his identity after fighting Yuko or or when he assisted Yoru during the aquarium arc. Telling her to stay away from Denji was a means of protection, as he knew that she was a disruptive element, which could lead Denji to either reveal his identity or transform and thus put himself in danger.
In chapter 132, Yoshida appeared in an extremely dominant position with a bound Denji, with Yoshida looking almost antagonistic. But in reality, the direct consequence of Yoshida's intervention was an equal negotiation around a table about Nayuta and being Chainsaw Man in the chapter 133 that followed. Above all, Yoshida presented himself as a malevolent force when, in reality, Nayuta arrived earlier than expected, a sign that she was safe and already freed.
Above all, we know that there is a mole because the information leaked to the detriment of the church, the public hunters were aware of the attack to the point that Quanxi stopped it before it went off at 5pm. Worse than a leak, there was an exchange of information because the church was not at all destabilised and had already planned its response with the fire demon.
If you're still not convinced: then interpret Fumiko as the strict inverted product of the system that Yoshida has become. Fumiko is a hunter who presents herself as younger than she is, calling Denji senpai even though she's older than he is, while Yoshida never behaves like the teenager he is.
Fumiko also presents herself as Denji's ally, showing that she sees him as a child, whereas she has never had the will to protect him and has always dehumanized him. Yoshida does the opposite, presenting himself as Denji's enemy, playing on the fact that he's the only figure among the public hunters to negotiate with him and face his wrath, preventing him from doing what he wants while secretly helping him.
Yoshida is beginning to worry about Denji, otherwise he'd be totally indifferent to the fact that he doesn't grasp the stakes of the dilemma the hunters are imposing on him. The aim of the public hunters was to send a hunter around Denji's age for more connection, but in reality it's Yoshida who is becoming more sensitive to Denji's actions than Denji is to Yoshida's words.
By being this mediator who enters into direct negotiations, he feels that he is not only responsible for what Denji may do, but by dreading the fact that he breaks the rules, he also begins to dread the consequence of having broken them: Denji will be in danger.
Negotiations then took place for a week to improve Denji's situation, but failed given the way Chainsaw Man behaved out of control. Yoshida could do nothing officially, so he turned to the last resource he had left: the war devil.
When Yoshida confronted Asa, we sensed that he himself was unsettled by what he was doing. We also feel this unease expressly in this chapter, when he sees the state Denji is in.
But what interests us most is that he apologizes to Asa for attacking her, even though she had followed the rules. It's as if Yoshida realised that, even if he made sure that we totally complied with the State and its conditions (Asa had to stay away from Denji, Denji mustn't transform), that wasn't enough to guarantee the security they were hoping for in return.
All this overturns Yoshida's principles in two ways. From a relational point of view, Yoshida sees solitude as a way of life less likely to be hurt, and we also see that his criteria for normality are the fact of being isolated. But the hunter's tactic backfired: instead of not getting hurt, he became increasingly concerned about the fate of the man he was supposed to dehumanise.
On another level, Yoshida's survival strategy is to trust the system, to trust it blindly and to accept its logic, hence his eyes without a glint in them, like Kishibe's, who had integrated them so as not to suffer. But more and more, he realises that this is not enough to guarantee safety. He realised this when he attacked Asa himself. But above all, Denji himself has never broken the rules. He never revealed his identity to anyone. And when he turned into the Chainsaw Man, the contract had already been broken by the actions of Barem, who attacked his dogs and cat. In reality, Denji trusted Yoshida's words, he had fully integrated them, but the state failed to protect him as it had promised.
It is easier, even if only politically, to accuse a 17-year-old teenager of not honouring his commitment than to recognise that the state was unable to protect dogs and a cat from the actions of the church to prevent this transformation.
But above all, and this is what's fascinating, is that Yoshida uses this very political way of presenting this state failure when he opens the doors and is heard by Fumiko and the other agents, as if to convince them that he's still on their side.
Yoshida thought it was enough to be alone and trust the system, but Asa and Denji proved that it wasn't enough. This trust in the state can be represented by the tako-tsubo trap: the octopus enters these cylindrical jars thinking it can protect its fragile constitution by sticking to the sides, but in reality, the octopus remains at the bottom of the trap.
Yoshida becomes aware of the trap he is in and helps Denji more and more. When did he have this realisation? I can't date it, but what I can say for sure is that in chapter 156, he intends to help Denji. He wakes him up to talk to him one last time, he gives him information, if only temporal, and Denji only confirms the failings of the system: Yoshida doesn't know Nayuta's fate because the state has completely failed to protect her.
But more importantly, takotsubo is also a fairly rare heart condition that can be brought on by a great emotional shock, which Yoshida wants to avoid by isolating himself. But as we said, he's already in the trap, so he's already become more emotional.
So Yoshida wants to help Denji, but how? By doing the opposite of what he was supposed to do, bringing Asa back into the equation by warning her about Denji's situation and his position.
The dismemberment of Chainsaw Man is a more than secret operation, and Fumiko asks Yoshida for confirmation, a sign that he is one of the only people with the most reliable information about Chainsaw Man's fate. No-one else could have warned Asa. But above all, Yoshida's information is going to help the war demon: by redeeming himself.
Denji has one leg removed, then the other, but what's left? His arms, right? Whereas Asa's legs are shown at the very end. But what was she missing? Her arms, right?
And what are these doctors doing, harvesting limbs and obviously? On top of that, it's a big number... 26... 27... what the public hunters are surely doing is to weaken Chainsaw Man as much as possible by dividing him up, but to accentuate his division, they're pulling on Denji's strap to force his regeneration while playing on his sleep to leave him unconscious. A large number of Denji's body members are harvested.
And who cut off Asa's arm? Yoshida. What could he do? Place her arm among all Denji's arms. To leave her with a weapon of choice within these walls. Warn Asa, and take advantage of her severed arm by recovering it, was Yoshida's plan B.
I know your headache's already there, but let's get on with it. What's the chapter title? Ambient noises, right? But who hears them?
I'm going to say the first sounds are those of the helicopter. The others are those of the dismemberment operation. But who hears all these successive noises? Isn't Denji supposed to be asleep?
Quite simply because Denji has woken up, not physically but to recover his senses a little, hence the detail of his clenched fist and the fact that he can now hear. How is this possible? Probably because Yoshida made sure not to shoot him completely. Why not? Because not only does he need Denji to remain at least minimally conscious, he also needs him to stay awake out of fear for the uncertainty surrounding Nayuta's fate.
We can see that Nayuta's fate agitates Denji and even makes him semi-conscious. Telling her that she was fine would have had the opposite effect, as Denji would have had no desire to get up. I think you can see where I'm going with this, but it was in Denji's interest to frustrate him even more about Nayuta and that's exactly what Yoshida did.
Let's make a brief philosophical and legal point: Leviathan by Hobbes is a work that forms one of the bases for thinking about the relationship between man and the state. Hobbes wrote this essay while traumatized by the English civil wars, for whom the only way to avoid chaos would be to give our liberties to a powerful monarch.
Man is a danger to social well-being; his natural reflex is domination, enslavement and violence.
Giving our freedoms to the state provides a powerful arbiter who in turn ensures security and social peace - the social contract. Why Leviathan? Leviathan is none other than the State, a creature invented by men, against which no individual can compete. Yoshida works for the state and therefore symbolically for Leviathan, the octopus demon.
The quid pro quo of this contract with the State, the Leviathan, is security, which is not guaranteed, as Yoshida can testify. So what does Yoshida do? He helps the figure whose popularity threatened that of the State as the guardian of social peace. But above all, he is helping the element that the state fears most - civil war, i.e. war within its borders.
Within its walls.
If Yoshida and Asa have one thing in common, it's that they prefer to be alone to avoid suffering. What they do, however, is join forces to prevent Denji from stopping suffering, to enable them to move forward just like the legs they lack.
Just like friends would do.
#chainsaw man#csm#csm part 2#csm spoilers#csm 156#yoshida hirofumi#yoshida#asa mitaka#denji#denji hayakawa#nayuta#nayuta hayakawa#yoru#barem#fami#quanxi#my thoughts
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About Dyersfilm’s “leak”
For all of you who don’t know, dyersfilm is an insufferable individual who used to go by the name of swiftlynatalia. She is racist, homophobic, transphobic, and even made fun of her supposed favorite actress’ eating disorder. However, people on Twitter (especially mlvns) entertain her because she had reliable sources during the filming of S4, and after during post production. She had some true leaks, many being the same that Reddit got right, while others only she had. She was also wrong about quite a few things, but generally she was reliable.
It is worth noting though that she is extremely biased against byler (many of the leaks she got wrong for S4 were pertaining their storyline) and absolutely hates the ship.
This time around, she was getting some leaks during the first couple of months of filming to her curious cat, but she herself claimed that these were not reliable leaks whatsoever and that she was pissed because this time she doesn’t have access to the real sources she had for S4. She has complained about this repeatedly for these past few months. The leaks she has gotten tho, many she has mocked and made fun of because they don’t align with what she wants from the show. She also made a “disclaimer” when the show started filming again that she would not be posting leaks about Byler because she hates us all, and yet every single one of those most likely fake leaks she got she posted, and many of them talked about Byler. She would post them and mock them for “clearly being untrue”. She has barely gotten a single Mlvn positive leak this whole time, and when she’s gotten at least something that alludes to them having scenes together she immediately ran to post it and alert all her friends, even tho she herself knows all of these are most likely fake.
For weeks now, her curious cat has been dry af because I guess nda’s are stronger this time, or no one wants to leak shit to her (she’s rude as hell). she posted the following ask 10 days ago. Someone asked her if she knew about any Mike and El scenes and she said no. Keep this in mind for what’s coming next…
Then suddenly yesterday, she alluded to a Jonathan spoiler she’s supposedly pissed about, but refused to post it like she’s done for everything else. People quickly thought it might involve Byler because she said she wasn’t going to post “leaks” about it, even though she had already lol. So they asked her and she said that “yes, it has to do with Byler.”
Then shortly after this someone asked about Mlvn again, this was just today. Again, note how she proceeds to say she knows nothing about Mlvn 😭
Bylers on Twitter noticed her answers about Mlvn and her comment about a supposed byler leak involving Jonathan and started speculating. She ofc noticed this, and not even after an hour of her saying she knows nothing about Mlvn she goes on to say this.
….
She knows nothing but somehow she knows Mlvn is stable? The bipolar disorder of these answers could rival my own bipolar.
Mind you, we all know that she would’ve jumped up at the first opportunity to post any leak that implied Will was pining and miserable, her and her friends would’ve had a field day over it. And yet, she only clarifies this after…
Not to mention how utterly ridiculous this all is. They’ve filmed stuff up until episode 4 (from what we know), why the hell would Will be pining and hung up over Mike if Mlvn is endgame? That makes absolutely no fucking sense. They would have him immediately fully patch things up with Mike and move on, not be hung up on someone he can’t have in the middle of an apocalypse. Especially not after the Duffers said he’s getting a happy ending. Will getting a happy ending but still being in love with Mike halfway through the last season with Mlvn being endgame is absolute lunacy.
Especially when you consider the fact that narratively, in a sense, Will has already moved on. He doesn’t expect anything from Mike, he doesn’t think Mike can like him back. He saw Mike confess his love in front of El, he helped that confession happen. Will literally has no problem with Mlvn anymore pls 😭 He saved them!!
This is the most ridiculous shit I’ve ever read.
Will is somehow upset at Mike not feeling the same way…when Will already believes Mike doesn’t feel the same and doesn’t ever expect any reciprocation 😭
Either she’s wildly twisting this supposed leak out of context to fit her own perceived narrative of what should happen, or she’s straight up lying about this.
And we know she’s lying about Mlvn so…you people decide what you think of this buffoonery lol.
Wait for Reddit leaks y’all. This woman could get a legit leak saying Byler is endgame and dig her own grave before posting it.
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Oscar the Matchmaker: Part Two
Oscar Jack Piastri x Reader x Max Verstappen
Genre: series
Summary: Oscar struggles with the aftermath of Alpine and a rough start of the season
Warnings: Toxic work place
Notes: I’m using alpine drama as a plot point. Also they call Oscar Jack because lord it’s such a cute nickname he has.
Previous <-
Masterlist
The fact that two rookies are enjoying the luxury that comes with being a world champion is completely ridiculous.
Max loves to spoil them. Mainly because is makes them shy as they try to turn down his offers. He’s stubborn though and usually gives them no other choice but to relent.
Now he’s spoiling them with sleep. They all love sleep. All the time. It’s one of their favorite activities.
Max however, is not sleeping, just resting. His mind moving but his body remains stationary.
Oscar shoots out of the bed faster then Max can register. The Aussie is practically silent as he does it.
The Dutch is quick to follow him. Gently kissing the forehead of the girl still asleep before leaving the room.
Oscar is pacing back and forth, his hands tugging at his hair. He looks to Max as if he’s trying to seem productive and yet not getting anywhere simultaneously.
“Jack?”
He jumps at the sound of Max’s voice. “Sorry, did I wake you?”
“No, I was already awake, just to lazy to move.” Max drags him over to the couch. “Wanna talk about what’s going on in your head?” If there is one thing Max has learned about the Australian, it’s that he’s calm and collected outside and a whirl whine on the inside.
“I just panicked. It’s Tuesday.” He sighs.
A sleepy eyed female walks into the room and drapes herself over them. The two males practically use her as a blanket. “Tuesdays are Alpine meeting days.” Her voice may be sleepy, but the venom in her voice doesn’t go unheard. Max threads his fingers through her hair that is splayed messily across his lap.
"So muscle memory?" Asks the confused Dutch.
Oscar starts fumbling around with his words. "Well - no, it's just that- Alpine weren't the best to me, I guess." His fingers find his hair and run the back if his neck raw.
The confusion turns into concern as Max goes wide-eyed. He knows all the drama that happened. There were countless nights on the phone with Daniel about it. That was Max's first impression of the rookie. The fact he apologized to Daniel for taking his spot and being a hindrance to him.
"He'd gotten in trouble for over sleeping once, and it was absolutely hell. I had half a mind to report them to the FIA." The girl on their lap is flushing with frustration now, her knuckles turning white from her fist tightening around nothing.
Max could see the memories flooding the Australians eyes. He leans over to him and kisses the top of his head. "It makes sense now why you avoid them like the plague."
"They are the plague."
The witty comments sometimes shock the two. The girl is usually quiet around people she doesn't know and is kind for the most part. However, she's also protective.
Max and Oscar chuckle at her antics. Watching her carefully drift in and out of sleep.
~
The next race weekend, they walk in together. It's not uncommon since her and Oscare are practically attached at the hip, but Max is new. They just tell people it's a coincidence.
Oscar has always walked her to her garage. Currently, it's towards the end of the paddock. Meaning they have to pass Alpine to get to it.
Max takes not of how Oscar refuses to look anywhere but the ground. He can't see the female since she's on the other side of Oscar, but he can hear her seething.
The Australian visibly relaxs when they are past.
It sucks saying goodbye to her. They woke up this morning, and it felt perfect. The morning rays leak through the window, limbs tangled up in each other. None of them wanted to get up or leave.
Now, the first had gone off to work, and Max and Oscar were left to walk back down.
Max makes it a point to walk on the side closest to the hospitality entries. He doesn't say anything as they near the door. Some of the guys in charge meandering around right outside.
"I know what you're doing." Says the Australian.
"I don't know what you're talking about." Max looks at him and winks. Somehow, the action calmed Oscar's overreacting brain.
Max waved off Oscar as he jogged to catch up with Lando. The Brit shot him a few confused glances. The ones that said he has questions.
Lando may he an idiot, but he's not as oblivious as everyone thinks he is.
Max leaves that for another day.
~
She knew something was off with the Austr as soon as he entered the room. They're all exhausted from the race, but he was completely void of life.
There's no goofy smiles or sarcastic jokes. Just Oscar, sitting on the bed staring at the wall. She can see him processing something. Whatever it is, it can't be good.
She looks at Max. The Dutch just stares at her with confusion. She'd learned that his upbringing made him mildly clueless when it came to dealing with emotion.
With that in mind, she sets off to Oscar's side. She sits down next to him and takes his hand in her own. "Jack, you gotta talk to us." She signals Max with her eyes to sit on the other side of him. Good thing she's not clueless or they would be in trouble.
"It's stupid drama stuff."
"It's not stupid if it's making you upset." She puncuates with a kiss on his cheek.
"Stupid Alpine and their stupid comments. Apparently, I am not the most expensive but terrible rookie to ever be signed." He sighs. They can hear how he tries to pass it off, but they both know he's lying.
"Lies and slander. You're the best rookie this season. You're driving a tractor right now for fucks sake." Max says.
"Logically, I know that. Emotionally, I don't."
"And you're not required to know that yet, technically speaking." She counters, causing the Australian to roll his eyes.
Max chuckles to himself. “I could crash my car into their garage if you really want me too.”
“As funny as that sounds, I would rather you win if neither of us can even get close.”
“…at least you two are consistently in the points!”
~
Tuesday again. They all lay asleep in bed together. Max opens his eyes for a moment and catches the females gaze.
She places a finger over her lips and points at Oscar. The Australian breathing evenly, sound asleep.
#x reader#fanficion#formula one#f1 fic#formula 1#racing#angst#f1 fanfic#max verstappen#charles leclerc x reader#lando norris#max verstappen x reader#charles leclerc x you#lando norris x reader#charles leclerc#mclaren formula 1#mclaren racing#formula racing#max verstappen x y/n#max verstappen x you#redbull racing#charles leclerc fic#f1#scuderia ferrari#lando norris f1#oscar piastri x reader#oscar piastri f1#oscar piastri x you#oscar piastri x y/n#oscar piastri
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imagine no war!!! remus after hogwarts decides to go to university, meets a muggle and falls head over heels but doesn't think he's good enough for her (w his condition on top of being a wizard and poor) but he brings her to meet the marauders anyway because they keep asking to meet the person he won't shut up about, maybe harry's birthday or just a pub outing or whatever??? he's nervous she'll fancy sirius but it's quite clear to everyone the second they meet that she clearly only has heart eyes for remus and the gang are like are you insane she's CLEARLY smitten with you and it literally takes everyone he knows to point it out for him to think he might even have a chance but is still floored when she's like "remus, i adore you, i've adored you from the moment we met" bc goddammit he deserves to be loved like that!!!
𝐈𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞
Masterlist<3
Summary: The request sums it up, read it hoe
Pairing: Remus Lupin x reader
Warnings: Alcohol consumption and that's all I can think abt hehe
Word Count: 4.5K (i'm sorry)
Requested: Yes
A/N: I'm absolutely sobbing. This is so cute!!! I'm using the Reggie was a spy for the order wild card and roll with that. Tysm for this awesome idea, nonnie! And sorry it took so long.
Remus knew magic existed, the type of magic that opens doors, gives you luck or disarms someone. But until he met her, he didn't know there was a type of magic that could be contained in someone's eyes, someone's smile, or even in that little quirk she had of squinting every time she focused.
Y/N Y/L/N. Even her name felt like the sweetest honey when it rolled off your tongue and into the air, he figured. She was a new kind of magic and Remus was hooked from the get go. They had met on a rather peculiar set of circumstances. When Moony first got to college, he had no friends or anyone nearby to help him cope with the abrupt transition. The boys visited as much as they could, but it'd be for about an hour or two before they had to go back to the ministry.
So, as he did when he arrived at Hogwarts, Remus found solace in reading and taking his wolfsbane at appropriate times. He was doing a classics mayor and reading the Plato classics was a convenient way to kill time while doing something productive. The boy spent hours in the library, sitting on the couches or getting some annotations done on the desks; he'd be done with the school's classics collection before the semester was over if he kept that pace.
He would have if he hadn't found those notes. Remus first noticed them in a worn copy of a compilation from a specific period of Plato's scripts, the third page in Philebus. "Socrates is being very reductive. I don't like it. Out of character, I do declare" written in red ink, cursive letters delicate in the ripped white paper.
He giggled at that, his thoughts exactly. Moony picked the piece of paper and examined it to see if it had any indications of who might've written it, but he found nothing. He only knew that the person who wrote it had a ruined red pen; the stains of ink sitting messily on the opposite side of the annotation. Remus was a sucker for mystery stories and he viewed this as an opportunity of having one of his own!
A short-lived one, since he cracked the case when a pretty girl on his history of philosophy class asked around for a red pen. Remus frantically but quietly rummaged through his satchel and found one just in time.
He rushed to her, offering it out “Here” he smiled, looking down at her as she looked up at him. “Thanks… Remus isn’t it? I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure. Y/N Y/L/N”. Y/N introduced herself, offering her hand out. Stained in red. The boy stared shocked at the realization this was the person he’d been looking for.
“Oh shit m’sorry, it looks like I committed a murder or something. My pen started leaking yesterday while I was studying in the library” She laughed and Remus swore he’d faint if he hadn’t gripped her hand. “Actually…” Remus started, searching in his pocket for the piece of paper he kept, when he finally found it, he showed it to her and a smile broke on those pretty lips.
“…I hope you don’t mind! I-I kept it. Been looking for you, it made me laugh” He admitted, handing it to her “You found me then! And, you’re very much welcome to keep it, Remus” Y/N grinned and Remus mirrored her expression sweetly. They met for coffee the next day. The day after that, they studied together. And the week after, they shared lunch.
About two months after they talked for the first time, they had gone on a date every single week. From museum outings to walks around campus if one of them didn't have much time. They also sat together in philosophy and, turns out, literature (which they realized they shared after).
Y/N gifted him a cool rock once, and he kissed her.
He kept the rock in his pocket ever since.
*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
"Come on, mate, you gotta tell us who she is!" James exclaimed, his excitement palpable as he repeatedly patted the worn wooden bar in the cozy pub they had agreed to meet at. Remus chuckled and shook his head, a fond smile dancing on his lips as he took another sip of his whiskey.
"You've been talking non-stop about her since you two met! The last three times we've seen each other, it's been Y/N this, Y/N that. We've gotta meet the missus," Sirius playfully teased, giving Remus a light shove with his shoulder.
Rolling his eyes playfully, Remus glanced at his friends, grateful for their persistent curiosity but also hesitant to share too much. "Oh, Pads, don't call her that! We're not even official yet, and I doubt we'll ever be. She'll find someone, alright, but I'm just good old Remus," he replied, a hint of wistfulness shadowing his gaze.
It was true; good old Remus had learned how to stop caring about what other people thought of him, but that didn't mean he was entirely confident about who he was.
Navigating the Muggle world presented its own set of challenges for Remus. He knew that at some point, he would have to confront the whole "Hey, I'm a wizard, and there's this whole other world you don't know about, hope you don't mind!" situation with Y/N.
Then there were the lingering money issues that weighed on his mind. College was not cheap, but he had managed to secure a decent scholarship, which alleviated some of the burden. He hoped Y/N wouldn't care about his financial situation. And, of course, there was the delicate matter of revealing his true nature as a literal werewolf. How would she react when she found out?
Yeah.
He was good old Remus: poor Remus, monster Remus, scarred Remus, wizard Remus. If he were honest with himself, he was surprised they had made it past the first day, considering he had stupidly worn a short-sleeved t-shirt without anything to conceal the telltale signs of his condition.
But she noticed the perceptive and kind-hearted soul that she was, and she chose not to mention it. In that moment, Remus couldn't help but imagine the possibilities, but he also knew that reality had a way of reminding him of his limitations. Moony knew he would never be able to claim her as his own. Not in this lifetime, not in the next.
For now, he chose to cherish the moments they shared, basking in her laughter and marveling at the way her hair defied gravity with its radiant beauty. She was his bit of magic in a world that often seemed devoid of it. Deep down, however, he couldn't shake the nagging certainty that good things didn't last for boys like him—boys with tragedy coursing through their veins.
"Yeah, no. We're not doing this shit again," Sirius declared, shaking his head in disagreement. Remus's best friends had grown accustomed to his self-deprecating tendencies and were determined to lift his spirits. Remus might have been a mysterious figure to some, but to the Marauders, he was an open book, their brother.
"That's why she likes you, mate. You're good old amazing, lovely, smart, hot Remus!" James proclaimed with a boisterous cheer, pulling Remus into a tight embrace. "Tell you what, bring her to Harry's birthday party this weekend! I'm sure Lily won't mind," he suggested, his mischievous grin widening. Sirius enthusiastically chimed in, nodding in agreement. "Just ask her first and let me know, okay? I don't want Harry to have a bad time becaus-"
"Oh, Moons, the party is more for us than for him! He'll be out like a light by eight, and we'll get wasted like we always do," Prongs interjected, his infectious laughter filling the air, causing Remus to join in, his worries momentarily forgotten in the camaraderie of his friends.
There was no way out of this one, not that he sought an escape. Remus couldn't blame his best friends for their eagerness to meet Y/N. They knew him better than anyone, and they could see the spark of happiness she had ignited within him. Moony did little to hide his excitement, his heart fluttering with the hope that maybe, just maybe, things would work out.
Now, he just needed Lily's approval so he could gather the courage to ask the girl who had captivated his heart to accompany him to the birthday celebration—a step that held the promise of a new chapter in his life, one filled with both joy and uncertainty
*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
Remus nervously fiddled with the corner of his book, stealing glances at Y/N across the library. The soft rays of afternoon sunlight filtered through the stained glass windows, casting a warm, golden glow on the rows of ancient tomes and the elegant wooden shelves that lined the room. But in that moment, all Remus could see was Y/N, a radiant presence amidst the tranquil surroundings.
Summoning his courage, Remus took a deep breath and approached her table. The scent of old parchment mingled with the delicate fragrance of her perfume, creating an intoxicating blend that filled his senses. As he neared, he couldn't help but notice the way her eyes sparkled with intelligence and curiosity as she immersed herself in the world of words. Her hair cascaded down in gentle waves, its hue reminiscent of auburn leaves in autumn, and he found himself captivated by the way it framed her face, enhancing her natural beauty.
"Hey, love," Remus greeted her with a warm smile, trying his best to appear at ease. "Mind if I join you for a moment?"
Y/N looked up, a surprised yet welcoming expression crossing her features. Her eyes met Remus's, and a playful glimmer danced within their depths. She gestured to the seat across from her, her voice laced with gentle humor. "Well, if you insist. But only if you promise not to distract me from my riveting studies."
Remus chuckled, grateful for her light-hearted response. He took the offered seat, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders. "I'll do my best to behave, I promise," he replied, a twinkle in his own eyes. "But I do have something on my mind that I wanted to ask you."
Y/N raised an eyebrow. Her curiosity piqued. "Oh, really? Well, go on then. I'm all ears."
"There's a little someone's birthday coming up this weekend," Remus began, his voice filled with playful anticipation. "Harry, James' adorable son, is turning two years old. And, well, I was wondering if you'd like to come with me to the party."
Y/N's face lit up with a mixture of surprise and delight, her smile contagious. "Are you asking me to crash a toddler's birthday party? That sounds like a dangerous proposition," she teased, her tone lighthearted.
Remus laughed, his nerves easing with every moment of their easy banter. "Well, I can promise you that the party will be more entertaining than dangerous," he quipped, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "There'll be cake, balloons, and probably a fair amount of chaos. It's a chance to embrace your inner child if you want to look at it that way."
Y/N pretended to consider it, her finger tapping against her chin. "Hmm, cake, balloons, and chaos? You make a compelling case," she replied, a playful smile tugging at her lips. "How can I resist? Count me in, darling. I'd love to celebrate with you and your mates."
Remus couldn't contain his happiness, his relief flooding through him like a warm wave. "Brilliant!" he exclaimed, a genuine excitement coloring his voice. "I can't wait for you to meet everyone, t-they insisted I brought the girl I don't shut up about to the party"
Y/N smiled at that, holding Remus's hand over the table. "So you've talked to your friends about me?" "Oh shut it" He smiled, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. Right before those grey clouds of self deprecation repeating "this won't last" and "enjoy it before she realizes what you truly are" clouded his mind.
He shoved the thoughts away, holding to Y/N's smile against his lips as if it was an anchor saving him from drowning.
*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
Bad idea. Bad idea. Bad idea.
He really did try to plan it all neatly. From what he'd wear to how he'd introduced her to his friends. Remus even asked them to keep the magic discreet since it was all too soon for that conversation, but for fuck's sake; it all got thrown out the window when he saw her in low waisted flared pants and his Bowie shirt. "H-hey!" He smiled, almost yelling, but she just laughed at his enthusiasm.
"Hi Rem," she sighed, leaving a kiss on the corner of his lips which she left lingering a bit too long. "Ready?" "As I'll ever be!". As Y/N and Remus walked hand in hand, the excitement in the air was palpable. However, beneath her playful demeanor, Y/N couldn't shake the nerves that fluttered in her stomach. Meeting Remus's best friends felt like stepping into a new world, and the fear of not fitting in or being accepted gnawed at her.
She stole a quick glance at Remus, hoping he wouldn't notice the physical manifestations of her anxiety. The last thing she wanted was to burden him with her own inner turmoil. But even as she tried to compose herself, her voice wavered slightly as she spoke.
"Remus, I can't deny that I'm feeling a bit... off," she admitted, her words stumbling over her nervousness. "My heart feels like it's racing a marathon, and there's this knot in my stomach that just won't loosen. I hope it's not too obvious." Remus turned his head towards her, a reassuring smile playing on his lips. His eyes sparkled with warmth and understanding.
"Hey, I get it," he said, his tone comforting. "Meeting new people can be nerve-wracking, and our bodies have interesting ways of letting us know. But you know what? You're doing great, sweetheart, and I'm here with you. We'll take it one step at a time, and I promise we'll have a good time together. So, let's embrace the adventure, nerves and all, and see what the night has in store for us, okay?"
Y/N nodded thankfully, the knot loosening up a little. “Thanks baby”. The world stopped in Remus’ perspective at the pet name but he just nodded and kissed her cheek. He helped. He was a warm blanket after a long day even when moments like those weren’t happening. Comfort.
They eventually got to James’ place; the loud music coming from the two floor house making Y/N feel even more at ease. It radiated a warm, welcoming energy even before stepping in. Maybe it wouldn’t be that bad.
“Deep breath”. They both took a breath before approaching the door and knocking, the wine Remus’ plus one brought close to breaking with the force she was holding it with. A bright smile opened the door, hugging Remus immediately. “You have no idea how happy I am you’re here Moony”.
Y/N smiled sweetly at the nickname the boy had for his best mate. She didn’t know where it came from but James seemed to be the sun reflecting on the moon. On Moony. The girl knew Remus’ light was enough to outshine the sun itself, but the comparison seemed cute.
“You must be Y/N! He can’t shut up about you. Can I hug you? It’s okay if not, Sirius says I need to ask before hugging people but I just love it so much I cannot help myself” He rambled, making her giggle as she uttered a small ‘It’s okay’ and hugged the boy. She noticed Remus staring and just winked at him. “Is that cake I smell?” Y/N grinned, peeking inside before James stepped aside to let them both in.
“Yes, come inside! My wife, Lily, has just finished baking her chocolate cake recipe. It’s bloody brilliant! Harry’s favorite in his short lived culinary experience. You gotta meet him too!” Moony stayed behind, cherishing the way James’ warm welcome made Y/N feel a little more comfortable; her shoulders relaxed as well as her grip on the wine bottle.
He stepped in, hanging his coat on the rack he helped Lily choose when his best friends bought the house. Rapid steps came running down the stairs, and before he turned around, the smell of cigarettes and leather filled his nostrils. “Hello Pads” he smirked, hugging his friend tightly.
“Hey Moons! Did the missus come?” “Yes, she’s outside with James and Lily-“. He was cut short when his best friend, (his eyeliner wearing, muscled, rocker, tattooed, charming best friend) ran all the way into the garden to greet the girl. He was head over heels over.
A new feeling settled into his chest. An unpleasant one. Sirius was a dream. Remus was just good old Remus. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! He sighed heavily, ran a hand through his hair, and then covered his mouth. Y/N was not one to be too forward, but the way Sirius looked and acted could easily make her reconsider.
It got worse when he heard her loud laugh coming from the garden, followed by a chuckle that unmistakably came from Sirius. His best friend would never do it on purpose, but then again, his charm was never used on purpose. It just sort of happened. Remus sighed and walked outside to find the girl saying hi to Harry.
The toddler had his tiny hand wrapped around the girl's fingers, babbling incoherencies, as Y/N had a full conversation with him. "Are you sure?" she asked and Harry answered nonsense as the girl nodded back. She looked up at Remus coming through the sliding door. "Remus, he's the cutest thing I've ever seen!".
He laughed and walked over to her. The girl immediately wrapped her hands around his arm and hugged him tightly. James winked at Moony and went inside as the conversation ensued, Sirius teasing Remus about the girl he "brought home".
Soon, Y/N was well adapted to their friend's sense of humour and was joking around with Lily about how dumb they could all be. Despite Y/N's worries, it all went by smoothly. The one he got along with the most was James; he loved asking questions, and she loved answering them.
Remus had always loved her laugh; Seeing his best friends being the cause of it made it even better. "I'm telling you, he's insane!" Sirius laughed, bouncing his leg up and down as Harry sat on his lap giggling. "He's an absolute sweetheart" Y/N answered, kissing Remus' cheek as his best friends tried putting dirt (rightfully deserved dirt) on his name.
"Wait until you know him just a tiny bit better. You'll get to see his menacing self... got us in a shit ton of trouble back in school" James chuckled, making Remus roll his eyes and trying to divert her attention by asking if she wanted a bit more cake.
During their evening, Y/N kept a tight grasp on Remus’ hand while smiling at his friend’s jokes. When it was his turn to laugh, Sirius noticed how the girl looked intently over at Remus with a grin on her face. His eyes looked gorgeous in the sun with those little wrinkles when he giggled, she thought.
In that moment, she realized she wanted Remus to say her name as you’re supposed to say it; sleepily, with a mouth full of food, between laughters and in tears. Y/N saw the specks of brown in the amber colored lake that his eyes were and fell completely. Sirius saw it, James saw it, Lily saw it.
Even more when he turned to look down at her and wipe a bit of chocolate off her cheek, and she kept that look of utter adoration for him. “He’s gone” Lily mumbled to her husband. “She’s too” he agreed. Sirius smirked, getting up to get Harry to bed as he fell asleep on his uncle’s arms as the sun set.
James and Sirius were at the center of attention, regaling the group with a hilarious story from their time at school. Their voices were animated, and they gesticulated with enthusiasm, drawing everyone into their tale. Remus stood nearby, a mix of amusement and mild embarrassment evident on his face.
"And then, there was this one time at Hogwarts," James began, a mischievous glint in his eyes, "when we decided to prank the entire Slytherin common room! We turned all their robes into neon pink ones!"
Sirius chimed in, laughter bubbling in his voice. "Oh, it was epic! They all looked like walking flamingos! The look on their faces was priceless!"
Y/N was thoroughly entertained by the story, but she couldn't help but notice Remus's subtle blush. She leaned closer to him and whispered teasingly, "Remus, were you part of this grand pink robe conspiracy too?"
Remus grinned, shaking his head. "I plead the fifth," he replied, trying to hide his amusement. "Let's just say those were wild times, and I may or may not have been an innocent bystander."
Y/N laughed, enjoying the playful banter. She was captivated by the camaraderie and genuine friendship between the group. As the evening continued, she found herself drawn into more anecdotes and laughter, feeling a sense of warmth and acceptance in their company.
Remus's friends made her feel welcome and included, and she couldn't help but feel grateful for being a part of this close-knit circle, even if she didn't know the full extent of their world. The nerves that had accompanied her earlier had transformed into excitement and a genuine desire to create new memories with Remus and his friends.
The feeling was reciprocated. Remus felt, and not on mere theory; the moment Y/N excused herself to go to the bathroom, his best friends started gushing to him about the girl. "Moony, she's in love" Sirius said between incredulous and joyous laugh "Oh Pad-" "Mate, I'm telling you... she looks at you like you hung the bloody stars!" now said James, Lily nodding pridefully "She looks at you just how James looked at me back in the day".
And Merlin did he want to believe them! He truly, really did. But instead, there was this empty feeling on his chest. There was no way Y/N Y/L/N looked at him in the way James looked at Lily; Almost scared of the joy she brought to him, like that pain in his heart would end up killing him and he'd quite literally die a happy man. So, when Remus dropped her off at her flat and turned his head before she'd kiss him on the mouth, the void went deeper.
*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
Y/N couldn't sleep that night. Her mind was restless, thoughts of Remus swirling in her head like a tempest. She tossed and turned, replaying the events of the evening over and over again, each memory etching itself into her heart. There was no denying it anymore; she was utterly and completely in love with him.
The realization hit her like a wave crashing onto the shore, powerful and unstoppable; she was head over heels for Remus Lupin.
The next day, Y/N couldn't concentrate on anything. Her mind kept drifting back to Remus, like she'd could easily find herself absentmindedly doodling hearts and his name on the margins of her notebook. She needed to tell him; she couldn't keep this to herself any longer.
In the late afternoon, she gathered her courage and dialed his number, her heart pounding in her chest as she waited for him to pick up. When he finally answered, his warm voice on the other end sent shivers down her spine.
"Hey, Remus," she began, trying to sound casual despite the turmoil inside her. "I was wondering if we could meet up later? There's something I want to talk to you about." Remus's response was filled with concern. "Of course, love. Is everything alright?" "Yes, everything's fine," she reassured him. "I just... I have something to tell you, something important."
He agreed to meet at their favorite cafe later that evening, and Y/N's heart fluttered with nervous excitement. The minutes leading up to their meeting felt like an eternity, but finally, the time came. When they sat down together, Y/N took a deep breath, trying to steady her racing heart. Remus looked at her with those caring, gentle eyes, and she felt a rush of emotions wash over her.
"Remus," she began, her voice trembling slightly. "I don't even know where to start. Y-you've brought so much magic into my life. From the moment we met, I felt something special, something I couldn't quite put into words."
He listened intently, his gaze never leaving hers.
"I've never felt this way before," she continued, her cheeks flushing with emotion. "You're like a beautiful enigma, a captivating mystery that I can't get enough of. You make me laugh, you make me feel safe and cherished, and every moment with you is a treasure. You've shown me a kind of magic that I never knew existed, a magic that exists in the little things, the stolen glances, the shared laughter, and the way you hold my hand. It's like you've cast a spell on me, and I never want it to end."
Remus's eyes softened, and a tender smile graced his lips. "Y/N, you're the most incredible person I've ever met," he replied, his voice filled with emotion. "From the moment I saw your ink-stained hands, I knew you were something special. You've brought light into my life, and I can't believe that someone as amazing as you could feel this way about me."
He reached across the table and took her hand in his, their fingers interlocking like two puzzle pieces, finding their perfect fit.
"I'm not good with grand gestures or flowery words," he said, his voice a whisper. "But I can tell you this: I care about you deeply, more than I ever thought possible. You make me happy like I never imagined I'd could feel. I've fallen in love with you, Y/N, and I can't believe my luck."
Y/N's heart soared, tiny tears of joy welling up in her eyes. "Oh, Remus," she murmured, her voice choked with emotion. "I'm so in love with you too. You've shown me a kind of love I never knew existed, a love that feels like coming home. I cherish every moment with you, and I want to share my time with you, if you'll have me."
Without hesitation, Remus leaned across the table, closing the distance between them, and pressed a soft, tender kiss to her lips. It was a kiss filled with love and promise, sealing their feelings and intentions.
"I'd be honored to have you in my life, Y/N," he whispered against her lips. "You're my bit of magic in a world that can be harsh and uncertain, and I never want to let you go."
And so, in that cozy cafe, two souls found solace in each other's love. The world around them faded into the background as they basked in the enchantment of their newfound love, knowing that this kind of magic was unlike any other they had ever known. They had found something truly extraordinary in each other, a love that would stand the test of time and shine brighter than any star in the night sky.
˚ · • . ° .
It’s currently 12am and my brain isn’t working so i’ll just post this and place the word count in the morning.
Remember, the best way to support writer’s works on here is by REBLOGGING WITH TAGS. I’d very much appreciate it if you did!
Thanks again, stranger. Hope you have a nice day<3
NO ONE IS ALLOWED TO REPOST AS THEIR OWN/TRANSLATE/OR COPY MY WORK IN ANY PLATFORM OR SPACE WITHOUT MY EXPLICIT CONSENT.
#remus lupin oneshot#remus lupin#remus lupin x you#remus lupin fluff#remus lupin x reader#remus lupin one shot#remus lupin imagine#remus lupin smut#marauders era#the marauders era#the marauders#marauders fluff#marauders imagine#young!remus lupin x reader#remus x reader#harry potter marauders#marauders x reader
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more sharky imagines plsss!!
Sharky
the tt im talking ab in this is the one where she has lipstick on her face nd the guy rubs it off nd hes got kisses all over him. also i thought i posted this ages ago 😭
---------
You giggled as you lowered your phone, watching the product of the last half hour. Sharky just huffed in annoyance while you giggled even more at that.
You were Sharky's secret girlfriend. He wanted to introduce you to his friends but was scared they'd accidentally leak your existence to the fans, possibly putting you in danger.
You kissed Sharky's cheek again, making the lipstick mark on it more prominent.
"Didn't you already film it?"
"I wanna get another shot."
Just as you were about to start filming the cute couple tiktok you had made him recreate with you, there were people banging on the door.
You jumped and looked at him who just stood up and closed his bedroom door with you in there. As soon as you heard him open the door you could hear his friends yelling in greeting until it kind of went silent. You shuffled to the door as you heard them start laughing, and pointing out the kiss marks that were littered on Sharkys face who just walked very briskly back to the bedroom with red cheeks.
You giggled as you turned and pulled out wipes from your bag and started wiping them off his face as soon as he came in, while he internally sulked about them seeing that.
"Oi have you got a gyal in there?" One of Sharky's friends opened the door.
A shorter one popped up from behind the initial friend and gasped as he looked at you, you could see the other two roaming around the apartment.
"No way. Sharky's got a gyal. Oi Niko, Kenny, come here and look at this."
Sharky just lowered his head into the crook of your neck while wrapping his arms around you. You could feel his warm cheeks on your cold skin, his hands on your waist making your own cheeks heat up too.
"Babe, introduce me to them."
He hummed in return and turned around to face the group of four men who were standing in the doorway.
"Guys, this is my girlfriend, Y/n." He waved his arm to you while they all stood silently looking at you as you waved awkwardly.
"Why are you with him?" The shorter one asked, which earned him a slap on the back of his head from the one who opened the door.
"Shut up Aj. Nice to meet you Y/n, call me Chunkz." He shook your hand before introducing the others. "This is Aj, Kenny and Niko."
"Why are you guys even here-" Sharky was cut off by you smacking his arm, "sorry. What are my lovely friends doing here?"
"We should do game night."
"It's midday man."
It was silent for a moment until the one introduced as Niko spoke up.
"Aj got us kicked out of the place we were having lunch at."
"HOW WAS IT MY FAULT? YOU WERE THE ONE WHO TRIPPED THE WAITER."
"THAT WAS BECAUSE YOU-"
"Oi, stop arguing you idiots," Chunkz smacked them both just above their nape, "anyways. We should get to know your gyal now that we are here."
You smiled at him before he ushered everyone into the living room, and began questioning you, while Sharky continued wiping off the kisses littered on his face.
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Hello! I'm Julie from Cariona and I just want to ask if you're interested in doing ads/promotions here on Tumblr? If yes, how much do you charge per reblog?
For proof of legitimate promotions, you can check @catchymemes, @sulfatto, @isnt, and many others.
Website for reference: http://cariona.com
Over 200 five star Facebook reviews: https://www.facebook.com/carionaproducts/reviews
Please feel free to respond here or reach out to us on [email protected] for more details! Thank you once again and have a great week!
absolutely fascinating that you decided to send this as an ask, when you also DM'd me. unfortunately, you may realize that this was a mistake - you see, asks can be responded to publicly.
so, allow me to respond:
hi, Julie! I'd never heard about Cariona before, so I decided to go poking around, and I learned something!
well, I learned a few things, actually. from your site, Cariona seems to be a small business that sells reusable menstrual products. and while I will never advertise a product that I haven't used, there's nothing wrong with wanting people to promote your company.
I have, however, found a few problems.
the first thing I found was this post by @crafiet from May 12th of last year, saying that shortly after making a purchase on your website, her debit card info was leaked, and used to make facebook ad purchases.
it seems that at least back then, your payment system was insecure. I'm really hoping you've fixed that, because. yikes.
and when I messaged crafiet to ask if it was okay if I linked to her post, she also mentioned that even though your website says you ship from Georgia, her package came shipped from China, and took a long time to arrive.
that's pretty sketchy.
the next thing I found was some folks talking about receiving cards with their orders that have a QR code on them with the words "Scan For God's Message To You", and that on the other side, have this bible verse:
O God, thou art my God; early will I seek thee: my soul thirsteth for thee, my flesh longeth for thee in a dry and thirsty land, where no water is.
Psalm 63:1
fun fact! that's from the King James Version (which I have a lot of thoughts about, but I'm not going to get into that right now).
additional fun fact! that particular psalm is from that time David fled to the wilderness because Jonathan's dad was trying to kill him.
and that's why I have to talk about the verses that follow it:
(ID in alt text; link to the NIV version if you want it)
so...are we like 100% sure it's god that David is thinking about here? because...I mean...that's pretty horny, right? and all of this while on the run from his boyfriend's dad?
I'm not saying anything, but like...¯\_(ツ)_/¯
it's a weird verse to choose for this, that's all.
anyway, back to you, Cariona: after seeing people talking about the bible verse cards, I decided to poke around your website more, and allll the way at the bottom of it, finally found your "About Us" page, which ends with this:
...look. there's nothing inherently wrong with being christian. but to say "we do not wish to impose any beliefs on our customers", and to then put bible verse cards in people's orders? that's sneaky, and I don't like it.
I also think it's a bit sneaky that you've flagged your tumblr account as pro-trans on shinigami eyes. at least, I assume you flagged it yourselves, because I didn't find a single post on your blog that mentions trans issues.
(though you have, entertainingly, reblogged some stranger things fanart, and a castiel cat cosplay)
and while your website uses very gender-neutral language, your "About Us" page doesn't say anything about being inclusive of trans people, just that you don't "discriminate against anyone who has a different belief than ours."
unfortunately, that's not good enough for me. I have this sneaking suspicion that "trans people are the gender they say they are" counts as a "different belief".
lastly, since you say on your website that people can message you asking about your faith, I had a friend do that!
baptists. you're baptists, which is a pretty conservative denomination.
and according to you, part of that 10% you donate goes to your local churches, and some missionaries. who are also probably baptists.
so.
in the end, I just...don't trust you? I don't trust that the 10% you're donating is going to organizations that aren't homophobic or transphobic. I don't believe that you're not trying to impose your beliefs on others, because that's what you're obviously doing. I mean, your "About Me" says that one of the reasons you built this company is to spread the gospel.
and I especially don't like it that you reached out to me (an openly queer person) for promotion without mentioning that you're an evangelical company.
so to answer your question, Julie: no. I am not interested in doing ads or promotions for you on tumblr. and honestly, you probably picked the wrong website for this kind of thing.
#asks#carionausa#cariona#additional info for the record:#my friend told me they did say they donate to some environmental stuff#like maybe wwf they thought?#but from the wording they weren't sure#and also another charity called#Connecticut Quest for Peace#which I couldn't find out much about#it doesn't have a rating on charity navigator#but the posts I found about it on tumblr are all...mmm#very religious in nature#and no judgement if that's your jam#but it's not my kind of thing#so#no thanks#I don't like the idea of promoting a company that gives money to the baptist church and other religious organizations#I just don't#sbs rambles#and I couldn't even find much information about cariona besides this#no business registered in georgia under that name so#who knows#I wonder...hmm#if I was just looking at this information#with no other context#with the errors on the website#and the shipping from china#...I wonder where Cariona _is_ based.#or if it is in georgia - what name is it registered under?
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Imagine being Joseph's girlfriend and feeling awkward and insecure about all the attention he's getting. now imagine the sweet nothings he'd whisper in her ear, the endearing 'I love you's while buried between her legs and little marks left on her skin so she always knows...
Guys, never stop sending me stuff like this.
Good lord. Here we go. 18+ adult rpf stuff ahead, scram kiddos
It'd be difficult not to feel insecure, the attention he gets is so constant, and part of you can't blame them. You've always known how amazing and talented he was. And he cares so much of his fans, part of it being of pure amazement and never expecting this attention. You're proud of him, so proud of him... and yet...
He just seems to shine so much brighter than he used to, brighter than you. He's being cast in these major productions, getting more in the spotlight and rising higher and higher and part of you can't help but think you're holding him back. That one day he'll leave you behind, in the dust of what you two used to be. There's models, actresses that would fit better with Joseph and you can't help but feel you don't measure up. Soon, he'll see you as an anchor that's keeping him in one place and not sail towards the sun.
But Joseph doesn't see that. When he looks at you, he sees the one person keeping him afloat in the storm of this madness he found himself in. Oh, it's fun, it's exciting, and he's getting opportunities he was sure he'd never had a chance to get before Eddie Munson, but it's so mad sometimes. He'd lose himself if it weren't for you. The calm in the storm. He cherishes every moment with you, something as simple as holding his hand is like a lifeline to him. Your smile brightens his day, your laugh makes his heart feel full. You're everything to him. He wouldn't know what to do with himself without you.
The night before he has to leave you for a shoot, he tells you as such, his cock filling you deep. Every thrust of his hips is hard, quick, his hand curled around your throat as his body presses against you, in his bed. One of your legs curled high on his waist, making you look at him in his eyes. He felt a man possessed, wanting every second of this burned into his memory. The sound of your panting moans and desperate cries, making his cock twitch, pulse as the walls of your cunt clench around him so tight it drives him absolutely mad with desire.
Towering over you, his whole body covers you, his hands moving the grasp your hair and pull your head back. His lips dancing along the curve of your neck, his own little grunts and groans beating down on you with heated breath. His body moves on his own, chasing the pleasure you give him, his hips pounding into you harder and harder — yet with every quickened breath, every desperate "Oh, god, oh yes, god, right there, please, please..." he forces himself not to follow through, to ease off, though it makes his body shudder, driving him absolutely fucking mad. His teeth biting into your neck, hard and unforgiving. He knows his cock is leaking, so desperate to cum, but the sounds of your desperate cries is too cute for him.
"...do you know how much I love you?" he asked, stilling inside you, cock pulsing, desperate. But he keeps still, tongue licking where he just bit you, imagining the bruise it'll bring. "Do you?"
You're dazed, but even in such a state, the doubts, the insecurity comes out. "...you say that..."
"Because I mean it. I love you. I love you so... So fucking much..." Starting to move his hips again, slow and deep as he lets out a groan. "I'm going to be — so mad — without you. Absolutely useless, just fucking... I'm gonna miss you..." his voice deep, whispering into your ear with each thrust quickening each time. "Going to miss — going to miss every part of you. Like a fucking — a fucking phantom limb I'll feel — but know isn't there... Fuck," he let out, feeling your pussy clench his cock at that. "Oh, you wanna get praised, do you? Mmm. Easily done, love, my fucking love of my life..."
And he tells you, over and over into your ear. Words of praise mingled with breathy moans and pants from his lips. Accompanied with love bites along your neck, jaw, shoulder as his hips thrust in and out of you with wild abandon. He isn't holding back anymore. His words becoming feverish, mixes of I love you, my fuckin' darling and cunt was made for me, y o u were made for me. Heated utterances of how beautiful you are. Your laugh, your smile, the sound of your voice a bright light in any dull instance his new found fame gave him. Because you weren't part of the fame monster, you were real, technicolor in a grey scale industry and he needed you like he needed air. To feel like himself, the old Joseph Quinn and he needed that, he needed you, so desperately did you have any idea of how much he needs you?
You both cum the hardest and most intense you've both ever felt. You drench his cock in your release and Joseph? He cums inside you, deep and plentiful, thick ropes of his cum painting your walls, coating, drenching them with his cum. He moves, still, body jerking into your body, milking the orgasm out of you both. You could feel him, how much he filled you with his cum, filling you to the brim and more than you two had before. His body feels limp as the last spills inside you.
You both feel light, heavenly, and you feel the rumble of his chuckle as he kisses the flesh of your neck, up to your cheek. "I won't be here," he says, a cheeky grin on his face as he traced his lips along your jaw, toward your lips, "But fuck, you'll be dripping of me for weeks... I hope that'll do until I come back to you." He furrowed his brow, "I hope you know... There's only you. There will always be you."
The sincerity of his words, the way his brown eyes are soft, how sweet his lips feels against yours, the feel of his cock pulsing so deep inside you... Yes... You know. Wrapping your arms around him and you taste his love off his tongue and to your own, the insecurities, the jealousy, the fears melt away and you smile so helplessly, in love with this man.
And he was so helplessly in love with you.
And nothing else mattered.
#👀👀#is this what you wanted anon i mean#i need to sleep but UM i also needed to write this#joseph quinn imagine#joseph quinn x reader#joseph quinn rpf#joseph quinn fanfic#joseph quinn smut#writing — joseph quinn#joseph quinn x you
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Thanks, Boss
---
The idea of returning to work had been a looming dark cloud at the back of Kate's mind for the last month. Her maternity leave was over, which meant leaving her babies behind.
She had never expected quadruplets--who did, after all? But they had all been born healthy, and all with voracious appetites. Since the price of formula had sky-rocketed, she had had no choice but to nurse them and pump.
"Pump?" her mother had asked when she told her. "You mean there's still some left in there after feeding four kids?!"
It had been so hard to explain that her pregnancy had made her mammaries go absolutely haywire. In addition to expanding to exorbant proportions, they always seemed to be in hyper production mode when it came to milk.
It meant her massive breasts always felt incredibly full and heavy. During the day, it had been fine because she was able to nurse frequently, but the moment her babies went to sleep for the night, her breasts basically had to be pumped constantly or else she would leak all through the night.
She was no idea how she was going to make it through her first day back at work.
Sitting in her car in the lot, she listened to the hum of the pumps getting out as much milk as possible before she had to go into the office. She hadn't planned to pump before work, but as it was, the biggest bra she owned had started to overflow with her expanding cleavage on the drive in. So rather than let them leak through her shirt, Kate popped the pumps on, changing them to the highest setting.
She reached into the box where she'd stored the empty bottles to be used at the lunch time pumping session, only to find the box was empty. She whipped around, accidentally slamming one her her breast against the car horn.
How on earth was it only 8:50 AM, and she had managed to fill all fifteen bottles?
With a worry, she watched as the last of the bottles still attached to the pump filled up. She turned it off and capped the bottles, placing them with the others in the electric cooler sitting in her passenger side seat.
Though the pumping session--15 bottles worth!--had given her some relief, she knew it wouldn't last long; she certainly wasn't anywhere close to empty.
Kate got out of the car, doing her best to shove her uncooperative, swollen breasts back into a bra that still felt too small. She buttoned up her white shirt, ignoring the huge gaps between buttons her swollen chest caused.
She was just working on the last stubborn button when she heard a familiar voice.
"Jesus, Kate..."
She looked up to see her coworker Todd standing a foot from her, slack-jawed. Unsurprisingly, his gaze was transfixed to her huge cleavage.
Her face flushed, and in her embarrassment, the button popped completely off her shirt. "H-Hi..."
It took Todd a while to respond.
"You umm... damn... those are..." He picked his lips, keeping his gaze transfixed upon her breasts.
"I know. Pregnancy really changes your whole body..." Though it was true for a lot of women, the same couldn't be said about Kate. Her body had pretty much gone exactly back to the way it was, save for now basically being a milk factory.
Finally, Todd looked away, if only to adjust himself so that his erection wasn't as obvious. "Breastfeeding twins I guess, right?"
"Quadruplets."
"Jesus Christ..." he breathed. A red hue crept across his face, and he had to adjust himself again. "I mean, you already had huge tits. Now, you're like..." He snuck a look down at them again. "What, a J cup?"
If only.
"An M..."
He smirked and swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bouncing. "M for Mega Mommy Milkers I guess... come on, let's go. We'll be late."
---
Kate stood before everyone in the lunch room, her face ablaze. Her coworkers were all men, and every single one of their gazes was trained on her engorged breasts.
The only person who didn't make her feel uncomfortable was her boss, Nolan. Tall and quiet, it would have been easy to mistake him for shy or weak willed. But he ran the company like a tight ship.
"Please make Kate feel welcome back after her maternity leave." He smiled out at his workers. "And if anyone should need a refresher on our sexual harassment policy, I would be glad to assist."
Kate heaved a sigh of relief. He had always been a good boss, looking our for people, and now--
A button from her blouse shot from her shirt, shooting across the room. Another followed, and another as her breasts tried to burst from her top.
She scrunched her eyes shut, partially in pain from engorgement and partially because she didn't want to look at the drooling men in front of her anymore.
'I'm so fucking full of milk... I really need to pump...' she anguished in her head. Though she could feel her nipples ache for release, her break was so far away. Even if it wasn't, she had already used up all her empty bottles; where would she put all of it?
"Kate, why don't you come to my office for some privacy so you can pump?"
Nolan's deep timber was polite as always; he was such a sweet angel. Grabbing her bag with the pumps in it, she made her way from the lunch room to her boss's office. Her breasts swayed and sloshed this way and that with every step she took, milk dampening her teats.
"I'm so sorry," she confessed, sitting down on the couch in his office.
Without the buttons on her shirt, she knew he could see the blue veins on her massive mammaries that indicated how full she was. Even more so, she realized her bra barely fit anymore; more than half her areolas poked out from behind the bra's desperate attempt at coverage.
"It's fine. You're a new mother, it happens."
She beamed back at him. How lucky she was to have such an understanding boss. "Thank you..."
"I noticed you didn't bring any bottles in though." He ducked into the small closet deside the water cooler.
"Y-Yeah, I sort of... used them all up already..."
He emerged from the closet with two empty 5 gallon jugs normally used for water coolers. "Will these do? Ordinarily I would say they'd be overkill, but you do nurse quadruplets... You must produce an incredible amount of milk."
Kate was too grateful and relieved to pay much mind to the embarrassment. She took the giant jugs from him and placed them on each side of her on the couch as Nolan sat down at his desk.
But rather than stare at her expanding and near-bursting mammaries, he looked down at his laptop and worked.
He didn't even glance over when she hoisted her one breast out of the bra to hook the pump on. Soon, the room filled with the relaxing hums of the pumps working on overtime. Her milk drained into the water jugs as she leaned back on the couch and watched her broad shouldered boss work.
He was so calm, and made her feel so comfortable...
'I want him to put his babies in me.'
Her clit throbbed at the idea she never knew she could concoct. But as she continued watching him, the ache of her breasts slowly subsided.
Finally, after two hours, she felt something she'd never experienced before. She pulled the pump away, and her teat didn't even drip.
She was actually empty!
Cleaning her supplies up, she eyed the 5 gallon jugs that were both nearly filled to the brim. "I guess all that milk was really in me..."
Nolan looked up, and flashed her a smile that made her weak. "It's definitely a lot. Do you need to keep it for your babies?"
"N-No..." Despite the major pump session, she knew she would be full by the time she got home. "Do you want me to dump it, or--"
Nolan got to his feet and placed a cap on one of the jugs. Removing the old one from the water cooler, he placed the uncapped one in its place. The machine made air bubbles pop to the surface of the milk as it seaped downward. With a flick of his finger on the trigger, Nolan filled a paper cup up with milk.
He raised it to her, smiling. "Cheers."
---
🐮❤️
#breast expansion#lactation kink tw#tw lactation kink#massive breasts#smut#huge natural melons#huge cleavage#mommy milkers#writing#big tiddy committee
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succession but bruce wayne is 45 and tired of having to attend pointless board meetings when he’d much rather be plotting how to get rid of all the stupid money he has (he’s tried everything, invested all of his funds into gotham, secretly funded the justice league and hid it from his tax returns in hopes that the irs would bust him. spoiler: they don’t, they consider his anonymous donations to be charity AND WRITE HIM TAX BREAKS. he’s even given everyone at WE a living wage, offered free daycare, amazing healthcare, in hopes of making running WE so expensive it drives down profits, but all it does it ramp of productivity and stock prices. he’s in too deep. let one of his children handle it pls).
candidate #1: dick grayson-wayne, bruce wayne’s eldest boy, former cop, circus acrobat, college dropout and style icon (TM). he immediately takes himself out of the running when a pap keeps calling him “richard” and he shouts back “dick.” that’s his name, but no one cares. also his pics from his mullet era resurface. the world is never the same again and the board summarily agrees he’s too divisive.
candidate #2: jason todd-wayne. initially the main contender when alleged footage of him breaking into a very important wayne warehouse leaks. he’s shouting “reclaim the means of production.” wayne enterprise stock falls but the internet is in favor. he’s unfortunately taken out of the running as all legal records indicate—he’s dead? but there’s cute footage of a 13 year old jason todd ardently defending the historical accuracy and superb writing of jane austen’s pride and prejudice. he loudly proclaims he’ll marry mr. darcy at the end. his candidacy remains very popular and the internet starts publishing memes about converting to satanism and practicing necromancy to revive jason todd-wayne.
candidate #3: tim drake. a popular front runner for the old guard of gotham as tim’s also the heir of the drake fortune. unfortunately, he runs away screaming every time someone comes up to him asking about the possibility of taking over WE full time. a major scandal breaks out when he’s caught buying something in a shady alleyway, and people are convinced he’s another partying rich boy. until the full footage leaks and it’s revealed he was buying coffee beans from a barista in the alleyway behind a newly opened coffee shop. multiple coffee shops then make posts online that yes, bruce wayne has called each of them and offered them copious sums of money to NOT serve tim drake or anyone representing tim drake caffeinated drinks after 5pm and before 5pm. many of the videos feature framed photographs of fake wanted posters featuring a very tired looking tim. tim, on a caffeine withdrawal posts a tiktok ranting about the injustice of tyrannical parents think this energy:
and the hashtag save tim wayne trends.
candidate #4: damian wayne. except as a twelve year old he’s not really in the running, except he’s the only wayne by blood so some members of the board are gunning for him. one of them kidnaps him, huge mistake, and footage leaks of him chasing his kidnappers with a katana? appears. he’s officially out of the running but it also fuels calls for bruce to be liberated so he can actually parent his children. joke’s on them, damian’s damianess is 99% thanks to richard grayson.
candidate #5: cassandra cain-wayne. she takes herself out of the running but she’s a dark horse because everyone loves her youtube channel Cass Cayne and her business decisions for brand deals are top tier. bruce makes background appearances and the internet learns cass is def the favorite.
candidate #6: stephanie brown. she’s not a wayne? people think? are 99% sure? but like she’s always there? she dated tim drake? maybe? she calls bruce dad!
#batman#bruce wayne#dc#batman comics#batman characters#richard grayson#jason todd#tim drake#damian wayne#stephanie brown#cassandra cain#batman headcanon#batman fic#fanfic prompt
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The princess told me that she had felt for a long time that the Cohort movements didn't make sense to her. She said what would be most economically productive was intermingling with these people, allowing immigration and absorption into the Nine Houses; that shepherd planets got more costly the further the Houses extended themselves, and that instead of creating long-lasting industry we were doing little more than slash-and-burn trading. Scattershot, she said. Notwithstanding the moral issue.
She said she and her sister had always been interested in the way the Houses were being run, and that lanthe had encouraged her interest. She had always thought we were being wasteful... Afterward she said it was much more than theory. She said she had groomed herself for something and all it had done was make her unfit for the purpose. What purpose?
...
I told her she wouldn't understand. When she asked me why not, I said I was just an administrator; she was a princess. A king.
...
The princess turned to me then and took my hands. I kept my balance. She said, Jody, if I offered you that sword, wouldn't you take it? I know how to use it. I know what it would mean. Lieutenant Dyas is dead. My own necromancer wouldn't have me. Won't you let me be your cavalier? Here, now, at the end of the world? Save me, Jody. Bind me to you, or who knows where I will go? What throne will I mount, if you don’t bind me down?
- As Yet Unsent
“But we’re closer to the goal than ever before.”
“Of course we are, you perfect genius,” said Crown, lovingly, and she took the dead gloved fingers, and she kissed them.
Every single dead soldier’s fingers twitched. Prince Ianthe Naberius raised hers, an involuntary movement almost, and that waxen, handsome face was an expressionless mask, with only the cool grey eyeballs moving in their sockets.
Then Crown said quietly, “We can do good work, Ianthe. I know people who need us.”
-Nona the Ninth
- The Unwanted Guest
Corona recoiled from Gideon and looked up at her, her golden hair smeared to her forehead with sweat and tears. “She took Babs,” she said, which seemed fair enough.
But then Corona started crying again, big tears leaking out of her eyes, her voice thick with misery and self-pity. “And who even cares about Babs? Babs! She could have taken me.”
-Gideon the Ninth
Emphasis mine, excuse my dreadful formatting I'm just excited because every time we learn more about the Tridentarii's schemes I remember again how Coronabeth (Crown) wants to be eaten and knighted and bound, but also possibly be god-king of the universe, allegedly on the grounds that Jod's forever war is morally bankrupt and economically likely to lead to bankruptcies.
#coronabeth tridentarius#tlt spoilers#spoilers#always! everybody's! girl#quick to sympathy and quick to violence#cries over every sob story and her#blood boils at any perceived injustice.#admittedly this is what judith and ianthe have to say about her and they simply cannot be trusted#ianthe isn't ianthe tridentarius anymore she's ianthe naberius#excited to see what will happen as they continue to diverge#not such a matched set now are we
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how about teaching sex with minju as your caring and nurturing senior, where you are shy and awkward but minju sweetly encourages you. minju guides you to cum all over her tummy and abs, and then she teaches you to pleasure her and make her cum, and then she gives you the ultimate lesson: for you to cum inside her. then minju teaches you to admire all the cum you released on her body, and your juices leaking out of her
Careful Noona
Kim Minju
Tags: Raw, breeding. caring Minju Sunbae
Words: 2.9k+ (2,992 so close to being 3k)
Sorry for the long wait. I have some existential crisis going when it comes to this blog)
You look down at your test paper and sigh.
Another low one
You studied hard for the test, trying to memorize every equation on the board. Been practicing all the problem sets. Yet on test day, you forgot everything. Everything the anger boils in you. Why can’t you get a higher grade? During the pandemic when everything is online, things are easier. Well since you can look at your notes during the test. Things were much simpler back then but now you have face-to-face class and you failed the test, failed it hard.
You shuffle your feet out the door. Your other classmates are busy talking inside about their passing scores. You are very jealous of them. But you put up your chin and say to yourself.
You’re going to do better…
Or at least that’s what you hope.
“How did you do?” Someone appears in front of you.
“Fine.. well actually I don’t want to talk about it?” You mumble.
It is your friend Minju. Well, kind of…You really met her since she was delayed. It isn’t because she failed a class. It is because she went on a leave of absence. From what she told you she did, she was very productive. She was in an internship for a sought-after company and maybe they are looking to hire her after when she graduates. But then you are just out there trying to survive college, hoping you’ll graduate one day.
“Jaesung-ah. Put that smile upside down. You can do better next time.”
“Well…” You show your score to Minju. Your heart is beating as you show her your test results.
“Oh…you really need to study. Wanna do some study sesh?”
“Well at this point. I’m willing to do anything.” You stand up and head out of the room. You turn back at Minju. “Noona, want some lunch?”
“Sure!” Minju replies excitedly.
You walk out of the college building. “What do you want?” Minju curiously asks.
“Chicken?”
“You thinking of what I’m thinking?”
“Well, you know where my favorite place is.”
“Come here. Let me buy you lunch.” Minju clings onto your arm and drags you with her.
She brings you to your favorite chicken place to cheer you up. Your favorite is spicy bbq and hers is snowy chicken.
“Which one are you going to get?” You ask Minju.
“Let me treat you. Let’s get the half-pack and share. You want kimchi rice or regular rice.”
“Regular is fine.” You mumble.
“Well suits you. I’m going to have the kimchi rice.” Minju almost shouts and turns around to the counter.
“Fine. If it’s okay with you. I’ll get the kimchi rice.”
“Anything to drink?”
“I’ll just stick with my water.” You pull out your jug.
“Okay. Just reserve a seat for us.”
You go up the stairs to the dining area. There are a lot of people. It is already rush hour what do you expect? You start to think you are going to get taken out. But then in the corner, there is a group of people about to leave. You quickly swoop over and steal the table before anyone else can.
You sit down and wait patiently for Minju and the food. Then you take out your phone to scroll thru Instagram. The first thing you notice is Minju’s photos. She is the first one on your feed. One thing you have noticed is that she is in her bikini. She may have been a bit conservative when it comes to what she wears to school but when she gets out and about she is wild. Her swimsuit leaves little to the imagination. She is such a cute and jolly girl when you meet her but when she is out parting she is a totally different person.
Down there agrees with what you see. The very skimpy clothes already make your cock harden. Even for a bit. It already makes you a bit horny. But that thought is interrupted as she is your friend even if you had a small crush on her. It isn’t much but you wouldn’t mind dating such a beauty like Minju.
“Ya!”
Your mind gets interrupted.
“Food’s here,” Minju announces to you. “I got our favorites half and half. Half spicy bbq and half snow chicken.”
“Thanks, Minju.”
“No problem. Just relax a bit. Forget about things. Okay?”
“Okay…it’s just my score—“
“Shush!”Minju places her finger on your lips. She grabs her chopsticks, pick-up one of the pieces of chicken, and stuffs it in your face.
“Food? Is good?”
You nod your head as you cannot say anything. Minju smiles as you affirm her. You make a thumbs up and smile as you can taste the deliciousness of the food.
Minju chuckles with your cheeks stuffed with food. She takes a bite of a piece with a scoop of rice.
You enjoy the food. It helps you forget about what happened a while ago. Finally what you like is blocking what was your old score.
You eat a bite of chicken with some rice. A perfect combination of simple food.
“Feeling better?” Minju asks.
“Yeah, I guess.” Then you blush.
“Wanna talk about it? Wait are you blushing?” She notices you.
“No. No. No! It’s just hot in here.”
Minju smirks. “Well if you want some help with studying then you can just hit me up.”
Your cheeks blush again, even harder this time. You put your hand on your hot cheek and smile. “Sure. Sure.”
~~
Weeks later.
~~
“Jaesung-ah. The test is next week. Wanna study together?” Minju taps your shoulder after class.
“Sure. I’m kind of more confident now. But anything would help.”
“Later at my place?”
“Oh? Are you sure? I don’t want to intrude.”
“Nah— my roommate isn’t going to be at home tonight. So it will just be the two of us.”
“No problems then.”
“Yippie. Anyway got to go. See ya tonight?” Minju starts to run away.
“Okay.” You wave at her.
Uhhhh dammit. She is so hot.
This is so wrong. I shouldn’t do this.
Is this my chance?
You quickly head home to change, wearing something nice, and put on some cologne. This is your chance to impress her. Well time to impress her with more than a friend.
But you are conflicted. All of a sudden you got this urge. You had a crush for a while but now you have this chance out of the blue. You never thought to yourself that you were going to Minju’s dorm alone.
You try to go up to her dorm with your school material, some books and your notes, and a couple of energy drinks to keep you awake. There is a keypad at the entrance. You press the button on Minju’s apartment.
“Who is it?” Minju’s voice comes out of the speaker.
“It’s me.”
As soon as you say that, the door opens. You step into the building and then ride the elevator to the tenth floor. Down the hall to the twenty-ninth room, you see Minju’s door. You knock on it. Outcomes Minju, she is wearing an oversized shirt all the way down to her upper thighs and you assume she is wearing very short shorts underneath.
“Jaesung-ah. Come in.” She leads you inside her one-bedroom apartment. “Leave your stuff on the table. We can get back to that later. Want something to eat first? I have some ramyeon.”
“Sure that sounds good.”
She quickly goes to her small kitchen and prepares the pots and water and boils the water first.
“How’s the trip was it tricky to find my place?”
“No. Not really.”
“Good.” She dunks the noodles in the water and is shortly followed by the seasoning packet. “Please feel free to sit wherever you want.”
You walk first around her apartment, checking it out then the view. Being up in a big building comes with a nice view then you go back to the dining room and sit at the table. Minju comes over with the pot and a couple of pieces of silverware. She sets it down and sits with you.
“So…” She looks at you for a second then prepares a bowl for you.
“Thanks.” You smile as you take your bowl from her.
She prepares a bowl for herself.
“Argh!” The ramyeon is hot. You burnt your tongue while at it. It is even spicier than what you are normally accustomed to.
Minju just sits there and laughs. After seeing you struggle for a bit, she gets up and prepares a glass of water. She hands it over to you.
You take a sip of the water to extinguish the heat that is in your mouth. It is both because it is hot in terms of temperature and taste. You haven’t gotten the heat tolerance that others have, But you still try to eat spicy food with others some have been more successful than others like Minju’s favorite fried chicken place. She always gets the spiciest flavor. She would always try to feed you some but you have to refuse since you do not want to burn your tongue for the millionth time when she asks you to eat some.
“You done with the noodles?” You ask Minju. “Don’t we have to you know?”
“Oh yeah. What subject do you want to study first?”
“Statics.”
“Okay, then where’s your book?” Minju asks you.
You take out the book and lay it next to the table.
“What topic are you struggling with right now?”
“Trusses really, both with method of joints and sections.”
Minju then dives into how to solve using both methods of joints and sections. She was able to give you the desperate help that you need. You may have been busy looking at Minju’s luscious thighs but when you do pay attention you still can get the topic, surprisingly.
You get dazing off by how Minju is your crush and you wisht that she is your girlfriend.
“Jaesung. Jaesung-ah.” Minju tries to snap you out of your trance.
You can get back to reality and look at Minju.
But she stands up and goes to the kitchen.
“Jaesung-ah, do you like me?”
“Noona, what do you mean?”
“I could tell you have a crush on me.”
“Me? Have a crush on you?!” You deny things.
She looks at you in doubt. The face that says she knows even that you are lying.
“Noona….I just….I—”
“Jaesung-ah.” Minju steps closer. One foot goes after the other. Her long legs touch yours. You stay still as Minju sits on your lap and wraps her arms around your neck. “Just tell me you like me.”
“Noona…I…I li—li—like yo…you.”
“Oh, my Jaesung. I like you too.” Minju leans in for a kiss. It touches your lips. The sweet taste of her plump and soft lips is exciting. Minju pulls back.
“Is this your first kiss?”
“Yes…”
“Then I’m happy I’m your first.”
You lean foreheads. “It would have been you.”
“So I’m assuming you haven’t done…it?”
“It? Oh, sex? Ummmm.”
Minju chuckles. “It isn’t something to be ashamed of. We all had our first time.” She touches your cheek with her hand. “You have a condom?”
“Condom? I don’t have a condom. Why would I have a condom?” You question her and yourself.
“Raw?” Minju thinks to herself then shrugs her shoulders. “Sure.” She goes back returning and kisses you. Her hand gets all over you. Your eyes roll back and your mind wanders off.
Minju’s touch is already getting you aroused. Her hand gets up your shirt. It also goes inside your pants. You are already half hard, now with her hand in your pants, pumping your length. You can feel some pre-cum already leaking.
“Come on Jaesung-ah. Let me make you feel good.” Minju whispers into your ear. The sound tickles your ear canals. She licks your ear lobes and gives a quick nibble. She then undresses you, freeing your cock from its cage.
Minju looks down and chuckles for a bit.
“Don’t laugh! Is it small?”
“No. No. It isn’t.” Minju observes it. She inspects it by stroking it gently, then gives a quick lick. Her hand fondles your balls. Her tongue swirls around your tip. Her eyes are fixated on it. She is memorized at your length.
Minju stands up from squatting on the floor near your crotch.
“Are we done?”
Minju nods a no and removes her oversized shirt. Out comes the perkiest pair of tits you have ever seen. They seem to be perfect. Each one is a handful and one that is suckable.
She gets back down on your crotch and starts sucking on your cock. Slowly and gently at first. Her tongue plays around, going around your shaft. Each taste bud is dragging around your cock. While this, her left hand is playing with your balls. A breath of air can be felt as she is down there at your nether regions.
Your eyes roll back as you can feel your cock being pleasured. You let out moans as you could feel your cock being played with. Your hand strokes her head as she strokes your cock with her right hand.
Then things intensify. Minju goes faster. Things went from slow to fast gently. Things become more and more pleasurable. You can hear the sound of gwak gwak on your cock. Minju takes as much cock as she wants. Your length is getting swallowed whole as she plays with you.
You look down at her. Her eyes look up to check if you are enjoying this and you are. When she sees you looking down she gets up again and grabs the hem of her short shorts.
She starts to remove them as she says. “You know as much as I like you I didn’t expect us to have sex on the first date.” Once her shorts and panties are gone, there you can see a bush on her crotch. “I didn’t shave as you can see.” She tosses her shorts aside and grabs your hand. “I hope that doesn’t change anything.
You nod no as she brings you to her bed. She jumps on the bed and reveals her pussy. “You know what to do?”
“I haven’t done this but I’ll try.”
You align your tip to her entrance. Your cock plays a bit by rubbing its bottom part with the lips. Then you go in. Minju shouts as you enter while you moan as you penetrate her. You have always masturbated on her picture but never have you expected you’ll actually be fucking her. You thrust in and out like a monster. You never experience such pleasure if your life.
You get in and out faster and faster. While this Minju pulls you closer to her and initials a kiss between the both of you. You thrust while her tongue enters your mouth.
You go back thrusting in and out. Thins go intense. The bed starts to shake. You can see that Minju’s breasts are jiggling.
Then suddenly, Minju turns you around. She is on top of you while you are at the bottom. She gives you a deep kiss before sitting up. She is on top of your cock. Then she goes forward, backward, and side to side. A gentle rolling motion. Her hands rest on your chest then her fingers start playing with your nipples.
This switch of pace catches you off guard. But at this rate, she is going to make you cum faster than you would think.
“Come on, Jaesong-ah. You wanna cum for me?”
“Yes, noona.”
“Then cum for me. Cum for me hard.” She goes down and whispers in your ear. “Where do you wanna cum?”
You ponder for a moment. “Where can I?”
“Anywhere you want.”
Your heartbeat rises. Your mind races around, pondering where is an acceptable place to cum. You would expect Minju to make you cum anywhere you want.
“I don’t know where.” You reply.
“You want me to choose.” Minju looks at you while she continues to ride you.
“Yes…” You worry.
She leans forward on your face. “Cum in my, Jaesung-ah. Okay? I’ll ride you until your cum, okay?”
You nod your head. Minju is now in control of the situation. She takes over. All of the motion is set by Minju.
She starts to move faster. Her body jumps up and down. She runs her pussy all over your length. Your cock starts to get lubricated by Minju’s juices. This allows her to move faster and faster. MInju starts to orgasm louder after each minute.
Her bedroom is starting to get filled with her loud moans. You start to groan as well. You breathe faster and faster as your wanted orgasm is getting closer.
Minju is pushing you closer and closer to the edge. Then you can feel it. Your stomach starts to tighten, your leg starts to feel weak.
“Noona! I’m going to cum.”
Minju’s eyes brighten. She runs faster and faster.
Then you shoot your cum. Ropes and ropes of cum run out of your cock. A surge of sticky white liquid exits your body. Minju slows down as you finish. But once she stops she gets off.
There you can see your semen leak out of her pussy.
“Don’t worry. I’m on the pill.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. I won’t get pregnant.” Minju lays beside you.
“So you have been planning this?”
“Sure. Well if I would do anything like this it would be you.”
“What do you mean?”
“I like you Jaesung-ah. I told you that and it’s obvious that you like me. So, it’s perfect. Ain’t it?”
“I guess it is…”
Minju lays beside you and cuddles up against you. “But did you get my lesson with Statics?”
“Uhhhh…..”
“Aigoo, We’ll have to go thru that lesson again? I want you to pass.”
“Okay, I will. I will.”
“Nice. Goodnight Jaesung-ah.”
“Goodnight noona.”
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