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puck-luck · 12 days

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wedding crashers | jack hughes

warnings: semi public sex, pining on jack's side, older!reader (jack is 22, she is 26), unprotected p in v (always... do as i do not as i say, wrap it when you tap it), fingering, dirty talk, insinuation of oral (m & f receiving) pairing: jack hughes x fem!reader request: "jack hughes and a slightly older reader (like idk 3 years older maybe), i feel like he’s so sassy and cocky that he would go nuts if he was able to get an older girl hahaha, maybe it could be like a challenge type situation where they were bantering over whether he’d be any good in bed bc he’s “just a baby” or something so he has something to prove.. 🫣" wc: 4167

You’d first met Jack Hughes in 2015. You were at one of the USA Developmental games with Matthew, your best friend at the time, watching his brother play for the last time that year. Since it was Christmas just recently, this was the only time you’d get to see Matthew until who knew when. Even though it involved hockey, which always stole Matthew’s attention from you, you decided to join him anyway. It was Matthew that introduced you to the Hughes family, after you had commented on Quinn’s performance.

Jack was a goof from the get-go. He was fourteen when you met, so all of his attempts to flirt with you went nowhere. Well, they made it to the front seat of Matthew’s car, where you laughed about the younger boy’s boldness. He was a sweet boy, and cute in a way that made you want to pinch his cheeks, and you were able to watch him grow up and come into himself.

Your friendship with Matthew had dwindled since he was drafted in 2016, but you were still close enough with his family to be invited to Brady’s wedding. It was there that Jack cornered you, hitting on you for the umpteenth time. Now, he was 22 years old, overconfident and cocky due to years of praise from not only his coaches and peers, but from every pretty girl that fell into his company. You were 26, mature and happy with the life you had made for yourself.

Jack had never stopped chasing you, though it wasn’t an overbearing and constant chase. He was sure that he would conquer you someday, having never forgotten the way he rubbed himself raw after he had first met you and you had smiled in his direction. What can he say– he was fourteen and a pretty girl, an older girl had smiled at him.

And, pleasantly tipsy, Jack had decided that today was that day.

He tore himself away from Luke, having delivered a new drink to his underage brother, and made his way to you. You were sitting with one of Brady and Matthew’s relatives, making small talk over a glass of white wine. Your legs were crossed in a way that Jack could only describe as dainty, your nails painted a pretty blush color that matched your dress. Jack licked his bottom lip when an image of your hand around his cock, with those painted nails contrasting the color of his member, flashed through his mind.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Jack said, not really feeling sorry at all. He turned to you. “I was wondering if you’d join me for a dance.”

You smiled and shook your head slightly, a small laugh falling from your lips. “Sure, Jack.” To the Tkachuk relative, you excused yourself, standing to take Jack’s extended hand. You took a sip from your wine glass, polishing off the drink.

Jack truly couldn’t have chosen a better moment to ask you to dance, as a new song began and decided for you, due to its pace, that the two of you would engage in a waltz of sorts. Jack wasn’t much of a dancer, but he was able to box step in time with the music and lead you through the dance.

You had given Jack a knowing look when his hand found its way to the small of your back, threatening to dip dangerously onto the curve of your ass. Your hand rested on his shoulder, the other in his hand, held close to your bodies.

Jack pulled you close to him, mere inches between your bodies. You laughed again, your head dipping to fall on his shoulder for a split second.

“What?” Jack asked as you flicked your hair from your eyes with a slight tilt of your head. “You’re supposed to be close when you dance.”

You rolled your eyes. “Whatever you say, Jack.” Your voice was light, almost sing-songy. “Your intentions are nothing if not innocent, isn’t that right?”

“I just want to dance,” Jack deflected, but the smile on his face told you everything you needed to know. His eyes were shining, both from the drinks he had consumed and the charged energy between your bodies.

You raised your eyebrows and pursed your lips, trying to suppress a smile as you and Jack continued to stare at each other. You broke first, looking away and shaking your head.

“What?” Jack said. “You don’t believe me?”

“No, I don’t believe you.”

“Oh, I’m hurt by that.” Jack pouted, his bottom lip jutting out in a way that caught your attention. It was plush and pink and just a little cracked from sun exposure. You knew Jack had spent the beginning of the summer out on the lake, and his skin reflected that– both tan and sunkissed at once.

Though you hated to admit it, Jack had grown up to be very attractive. He glowed, especially in the summer, especially when he had a few drinks in his system and he had grown a little more brash and a little more bold.

“Poor Jacky,” You teased. You tilted your head down and blinked up at him through your lashes, saying in a baby-voice: “I hurt the little baby’s feelings?”

“You did,” Jack agreed, his pout just becoming more exaggerated. “How are you going to make it up to me?”

Your whole body moved with your laugh this time. “I suppose you’re about to ask me to kiss it better.”

“Well, I was hoping for more than just a kiss,” Jack said, chuckling at your laughter. He licked his bottom lip before biting it in a cheeky smile, the apples of his cheeks prominent and pink. His teeth were a sharp white contrast to the red dusting across his cheeks, but you found yourself growing fond of that shameless smile the more you saw it.

“Jack, you’re a baby,” You laughed. “In the real world, you’d have just graduated college. I know things are different because you’re a big, famous hockey player and you’ve been doing this job for years, but the fact of the matter is that you’re just too young for me.”

Jack was unscathed by your rejection, just like he always was. He didn’t even mind that your tone was borderline condescending, like you were talking to a five year old instead of a grown adult.

“Plus, Jacky–” You smiled, itching to hammer the final nail in this coffin. “You can’t handle a grown woman.”

His eyes grew dark at that. “I can handle a grown woman,” He stated, voice definite.

You threw your head back, not quite laughing, but not quite rolling your eyes in exasperation either.

Jack’s hand left yours and found your jaw in a flash, bringing your face back to his. “I can handle a grown woman,” He repeated. His gaze flickered down to your lips. “Let me prove it.”

Your breath caught in your throat, eyes flickering down to his lips to match his motions. “In your dreams,” You denied, bringing your hand to his chest to put some distance between you.

Jack didn’t allow it. If anything, he pulled you closer. He pressed his hips into yours, took your hand off his chest and resumed its original dancing position. He tugged you tight to him, tight enough that you were looking over his shoulder and his mouth hovered right next to your ear.

“I’d be so good to you,” Jack whispered. Your eyes flickered around the room, but no one seemed perturbed by yours and Jack’s positioning. “I’ve had a long time to think about this, Y/N. Let me tell you what I’d do, what I have done in my dreams.”

You didn’t say anything, but the fingertips of the hand on his shoulder found the hair at the nape of Jack’s neck and stayed there.

“I always start by kissing you. Always. I’d start slow– just feeling how these pretty pink lips feel against mine. I’d wait for you to loosen up, to open your mouth and invite me in for more. I’m going to keep going slow, but I’m going to slide my tongue into your mouth and kiss you until I’ve figured out just what you taste like. Today, you’ll taste like your white wine at first, but I’m going to kiss you until I’ve deciphered your taste, Y/N.”

Jack moved his hand to your waist and squeezed gently.

“I’d start with my hands here, but I wouldn’t be able to help myself. I’ll start moving, feeling every inch of you. There’s not a part of your body where my fingerprints won’t be found. You won’t know what to focus on– when one of my hands is tangled up in your hair, the other one is going to squeeze your ass and really feel it out because I’ve been thinking about it for so long. And all the while, darling, I’ll be kissing you and stealing the breath from your lungs.”

You gasped at that, shifting closer to Jack. He smiled, knowing that he was closing in on the moment that he’d been wanting for the past eight years. His hand moved to the curve of your ass and you’re nearly helpless with it, or just unwilling to chide him for venturing that far. Jack made eye contact with Quinn over your shoulder and smirked, showing his teeth in a cheshire way.

He spoke again. “But then I’d bring my fingers down, won’t I? I’ve made you breathless, I’ve made you moan, I’ve got you begging for more– something you thought you’d never do. Yet here we are, and you’re always dripping for me.”

By the end of his sentence, Jack’s voice was barely audible. You were straining to hear him, and his mouth was right next to your ear. You felt a bit breathless already, strung together by terrible stitching. Your resolve snapped when you felt his lips close around your earlobe, his teeth tugging at your skin gently.

You jumped away from him like you’d been electrocuted by his touch. You’re breathing heavily, chest heaving.

Jack fared no better, standing in the same spot. You watch his chest rise and fall, the little bit of his skin you can see between his unbuttoned white shirt glistening. His mouth was slightly open, ready to whisper something else dirty in your ear.

You looked him up and down like you couldn’t decide where to focus, like you were fulfilling a prophecy where Jack made you fumble where you once stood so sure.

In a second, you made your decision. You needed to see how this would end, needed to feel it for yourself.

You grabbed Jack’s hand and dragged him out of the reception hall, down the winding hallways until you’ve deemed that you’re far enough away from the party that no one would be able to find you if they came looking.

You shoved Jack into a closet– a closet, you thought to yourself, wanting to laugh at the absurdity. When you closed the door behind you and turned to find Jack’s eyes, he was waiting with a stoney face, not letting any of his emotions show. You’d have killed to know what he was thinking.

All you could do was nod, mouth opening and closing a few times, but never finding words.

Jack tilted his head, his eyes flashing in the darkness.

“Please,” is the single word that ended up breaking the silence between you.

Jack’s lips were on yours in the blink of an eye. His hands cradled your face and his kiss was insistent, bruising. He was slow, sure, but he was emphatic, unyielding. The kiss reflected the eight years of waiting that had passed before he got this chance.

His hand pulled one of your legs up onto his hip before it circled around you to knead the skin of your ass. Your dress, already short because Brady and Emma had planned for a wedding in the dead of summer, rode up until your behind was barely covered.

All the more for Jack to hold onto as his tongue made its way into your mouth.

You continued to kiss, breaking apart only to take a breath and recover, unbuttoning the rest of Jack’s shirt and pushing it down his arms. Your hands roamed his torso, feeling every muscle that Jack had worked so hard to build.

Jack’s mouth traveled south, sucking along the skin of your neck. He bent down, both of his hands finding your thighs and lifting you. You wrapped your legs around him and ground down against him, finally getting some relieving friction from the sizable bulge that was pressing against his zipper. Jack moaned out loud, gasping at your movements.

“What next?” You asked, grinding down again.

“What?” Jack replied, lost in the moment. His eyes met yours and they seemed cloudy, swirling with lust.

“After you, shit, after you touch me–” Your head tipped back as he pressed a kiss to your collarbone. “What do you do next, in your dreams?”

It took a minute to register for Jack, too caught up in the feeling of your pussy against his cock, even if there were multiple layers separating you.

“I touch you,” Jack said, the obvious next action. “I don’t do anything, I just touch you. I use two fingers and I find every spot that makes you react. Once I’ve got you figured out, I–”

You cut him off. “Do it,” You told him. Your head felt light, almost dizzy, and you nodded like a bobblehead. “Do it.”

Jack let out a pathetic, wanton whimper at your command and walked forward until you were pressed against the wall. He shifted you over to that you were held up by his thigh and he brought one hand down to your panties.

He felt over the skimpy fabric, which was barely doing anything anymore. It was soaked, darkened with your slick, and briefly, Jack thought to take it off of you and pocket it to bring home as a souvenir. How dirty you would feel going back out to the reception… the thought of it nearly made Jack’s knees buckle. It would be a constant reminder that he’d won, that he’d managed to fuck you and satisfy you after thinking about it for so long.

He allowed his fingers to wander up and down the expanse of your pussy, cataloging how you whined when he rubbed over your swollen clit and how you clenched down when he pushed at your entrance through the fabric covering it. He noticed how your stomach tensed as he teased his way across your lips, running his finger over each curve and ridge.

As if inspired by something divine, Jack pulled your panties taut, making them ride up into your cunt and provide some gratifying friction when you next ground down on his hand. Jack watched, eyes wide, as you chased your own pleasure. His hand was the catalyst and you were moving mindlessly, like he had already plucked every thought from your head and replaced it with desire for him.

“Fuck,” Jack choked out, feeling a spark zip up his spine. “Y/N.”

He said your name with such reverence, and flexed his hand against you like an offering.

“Fuck me,” You said. Your hands found Jack’s hair and you pressed your lips to his. “Jack. I need you to fuck me. I need you inside me, I can’t– oh, need you to make me come. Baby, I’m so close already, I need you.”

Jack’s cock was throbbing like he might burst from the slightest breeze. There it was again– “Baby.” It didn’t mean the same thing now, Jack knew it was more of a term of endearment than an insult, but it lit a fire under him nonetheless. He was going to prove to you that he wasn’t a baby, that he was a man and in this moment, you were his. He was going to fuck you hard, like you’d never imagined he was able to do. He was going to make your legs shake, make it so you couldn’t walk or do anything but sit prettily at your table and sip on another glass of wine to cool you off.

He was going to make it so that the next time he saw you, you’d be begging him to make you come again.

Jack let your feet find the floor again, stepping back just far enough to get his hands on his belt. “Strip,” Jack commanded. “I want to see you.” At the same time, he unbuckled his belt and worked to remove his dress pants. He kicked them away, in a crumpled little pile near his dress shirt. His underwear joined shortly after.

You hurried to remove your dress, eyes locked in on Jack’s cock. It was a burning red at the tip, wet and straining. It stood away from his body, solid and you swore you might’ve just felt some drool pool at the corner of your mouth.

His hand fisted his cock, eyes lasered in on your protruding nipples when you dropped your dress to reveal your body.

Jack sighed, stroking himself slowly to keep himself at bay. “You’re better than I dreamed,” He said, causing you to blush.

“Jack,” You whined, aching for him to come closer, to slide inside you.

“Let me.” Jack stepped forward and got to his knees, gently bringing your panties down and helping you out of them. He dropped a kiss on your clit before standing again.

You brought an arm around his neck, your other hand placed solidly on his chest. You could feel his pulse racing wildly beneath your palm and you suddenly remembered that he’d been waiting to do this for years.

“Come on, Jacky,” You voiced. “Prove yourself.”

It was a weak command, a weak insistence, barely any indicator of sureness in your voice now. Jack had turned you inside-out, made you question everything because you never imagined you’d need him the way you do now.

He practically growled and you could feel it rumble in his chest. He captured your lips with his, nibbling on your bottom lip before filling your mouth with his tongue. It was slippery and wet and it felt like magic.

Jack pressed the tip of his cock against your entrance, feeling the head slide in. He stopped there for a minute, breathing deeply into your mouth to ground himself. He couldn’t disappoint you, wouldn’t dare shoot off early and cut short the night that he’d been fantasizing about since he was a teenager.

“So good,” You breathed out, feeding the words to Jack. He dipped his head and inched further into you, moving slowly until your pelvis connected with his.

“Fuck,” Jack whimpered out.

His thrusts started shallow. Jack felt like you were constricting him, squeezing him like a snake in a cartoon. His voice was caught in his throat like an ugly lump and the only noises that could force their way past it were groans and “uh”s that borderline on squeaky. He didn’t care about the noises, he didn’t care that he could be embarrassing himself in front of the girl he’s wanted for so long.

It didn’t matter to you, either– you were too caught up in the feeling of Jack’s cock sheathed inside of you. He was pressing against your most intimate spots and you could feel him throbbing inside of you, dragging delectably along your walls.

His thrusts grew deeper, became longer, harder. Jack’s hair fell into his eyes and you brushed it away. His eyes met yours and the air between you felt thick and charged. You brought your hand to Jack’s jaw and leaned forward, connecting your lips.

This kiss was different. It was soft, intimate. Your tongues slid against each other, licking into each others’ mouths and swallowing each others’ groans and whimpers. You forgot for a few minutes that you were in a closet at the wedding of a man you’d known since you were children, fucking a man that you swore you’d never touch because he’s too young.

That man was quickly proving that he’s one of the best fucks in your whole life.

Here he was, mouthing against your neck after moving away from your lips. He was making these desperate noises, thrusting into you like he’s taking a chance at something he’ll never have again. At the beginning of this night, you might have agreed that he’d never get another chance. Now, you can’t help but look forward to the next time you see him, when you’ll get your mouth on his thick, skillful cock.

You told him such, and Jack fucked you harder as a result. His hands clutched at your waist, fingertips destined to leave bruises.

His cock entering and leaving you caused the closet to fill with wet noises and the sound of the slapping of skin. That, paired with Jack’s pants and whines, pushed you further to the edge. Your climax wound up inside you, tense and heavy in your gut.

“Jack,” You said, voice pleading. “I’m close.”

A moan was ripped from Jack’s chest, sweat beading at his hairline. The look in his eyes was almost animalistic, capturing you in his gaze like you’re the only being that exists in the world.

“Please,” Jack panted out. “Come on my cock.”

The winding coil of your climax unravels as Jack continues to thrust his length into you, drawing himself almost completely out of you and then forcing his cock back into your cunt. Your release leaked down his shaft, coating him completely.

The vice grip of your pussy on his cock made Jack hesitate, made him stutter. He still didn’t want to shoot off, he didn’t want to fill you up with his come, because that meant that this would be over. His dream, journey, his conquest would be complete, and he’d have to find something else to lust after.

He knew in his heart that he was still just Jack, just a younger hockey guy who you’d known when he was pimply and stick-like, one who could never fit into your life the way he wished he could.

He’d almost rather torture himself, deny himself from his release, than have this end.

But end it must, and it ended with a breathy whisper of his name.

“Jack,” You mewled, twitching in oversensitivity.

“Oh,” He groaned as his cock jumped inside you, your walls milking him for everything he has. His eyelashes fluttered as you seemed suddenly re-energized, fucking yourself on his cock as he came inside you. It was like his come brought you to life, something too powerful and symbolic for him, and Jack closed his eyes at the thought.

You came down together, eyes finding each other intermittently in the darkness, only when the other wasn’t looking. Your breaths synched, unknowingly, as you dressed yourselves. You were close enough that your elbows could bump as you pulled your clothes on, but both of you were too conscious of the tension to let it happen.

You finished dressing yourself first and you looked over to Jack, feeling something close to awe as he buttoned his shirt and left some skin exposed. You were drawn to it, wanting to reach out and reveal the curve of his shoulder, the dip of his collarbone, the ridge of his waist again and get your mouth on him, but you couldn’t move.

The tension felt like molasses, thick and heavy. Jack’s eyes met yours and you knew that the emotion in his eyes reflected your own: that you knew everything had changed and you didn’t know if it was for the better or for the worse.

Jack opened his mouth to say something, but you shook your head. You made your way into his space, tilting your head up to meet his lips in a sweet, short kiss. You pressed something soft into his hands, then turned and left the closet, leaving Jack alone in the dark.

He didn’t know how you knew, but you had handed him your ruined panties. He slipped them into the pocket of his pants, mentally noting to find his suit jacket and move the panties to the inside pocket of that garment.

When he saw you again at the reception, almost a half an hour later, you were sipping a new glass of wine. Jack made eye contact with you over the glass and patted his pocket, the small lump of your panties still visible to those who looked closely, and he grinned to himself when he saw you blush.

He’d text you later that night, having bummed your number off of Brady years ago but never used it until now. It was a simple message, teasing and confident, bold like you had come to expect from Jack:

“lmk when u want to see what i can do w my tongue ;)”

note: this might just be my magnum opus. this is my favorite thing that i've written in ages. i had toooo much fun with this. ...will write a part 2 when jack DOES show her what he can do with his tongue... maybe paired with another recent request i got about jack's current injury and what he is or is not able to do with his shoulder.

P.S. I'm not married to the title of this. It was kind of just something I threw out there. They do not crash a wedding. Although their behavior is certainly dramatic & would disrupt the wedding.

#puck luck's fics #jack hughes #jack hughes smut #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes x y/n #jh86 #nhl smut #nhl x reader #nhl fanfiction #nhl x y/n #nhl fic #andy writes anything🍄

457 notes · View notes

oddinary4bts · 1 year

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The Forgotten Spaces | Masterpost (jjk)

☆summary: you've been dancing on the same dance crew since your teenage years, and you finally have an important role in it. It feels like life is taunting you when your rival comes back after disappearing for a year, ready to tease you every chance he gets. Will the teasing turn into more, or are you going to take him down with you?

☆status: completed

☆pairings: photographer and dancer!Jungkook x dancer!female reader, Taehyung x OC (reader in What Was Hidden), Yoongi x OC (barely present in this fic), Jin x OC, Hobi x OC, Jisung x Felix (Stray Kids)

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, some chapters have mature content)

☆genre: slow (SLOW) burn enemies to lovers, college!au, slice of life!au, angst (oop), smut and fluff

☆total word count: 146k

☆a/n: in love with this story. That's it, that's the note. I hope you'll love it just as much as I do <3

☆Special mention to @moonleeai for her work as my beta reader for all chapters of this fic

☆Inspired from What Was Hidden, a @daechwitatamic fic. You might want to read WWH before you read The Forgotten Spaces, as WWH takes place before The Forgotten Spaces

☆Read the sequel, When the End Comes, here!

☆☆☆☆☆

For this meeting of our end of the world

It's with you that I want to sing

On the threshold of the memories the dead of today

Them that breathe for us

The forgotten spaces

Je t'écris - Gaston Miron (rough translation by me)

☆☆☆☆☆

➳Teaser

➳Chapter one: when you meet again after a year (8.5k)

You didn't miss me?

➳Chapter two: when you ask your rival for help (7.7k)

You are as annoying as I remember you to be, Jeon Jungkook.

➳Chapter three: when you learn why Jungkook disappeared (10.2k)

And the worst part is, it hurts. All. The. Fucking. Time.

➳Chapter four: when you finally let go of old animosity (9.6k)

I'm just relieved you haven't changed.

➳Chapter five: when a weekend away changes everything (15.7k)

You've been confusing me all weekend.

➳Chapter six: when you realize you are too late (5.8k)

See, that's exactly why I do not want to talk to you.

➳Chapter seven: when you live with the aftermath of heartbreak (8.7k)

One day it won't hurt anymore, right?

➳Drabble #1

➳Drabble #2

➳Chapter eight: when he realizes what he lost (12.6k)

I care about you.

➳Drabble #3

➳Chapter nine: when the healing starts (7k)

You're a fucking idiot, Jeon Jungkook.

➳Chapter ten: when you start falling, slowly (14.7k)

We start here, right now, and we see where we can go.

➳Chapter eleven: when he shows that he cares (12.5k)

I think we're both still hurt by everything that happened

➳Chapter twelve: when he catches you (8.1k)

I thought then that you weren't supposed to be happy with me

➳Chapter thirteen: when a party brings you even closer (8.9k)

Make sure all I can remember is your name.

➳Chapter fourteen: when you finally make it official (13.1k)

I love you.

☆☆☆☆☆

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madlittlecriminal · 4 months

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[02] Secret Ingredient⥓ Mafia!Miguel O'Hara × Female!Baker!Reader

y'all, im sorry. i was sick. im back now though, so hope you guys enjoy!

Warnings: mention of losing sleep, mentions of dana, mention of brothels, mentions of exotic dancer clubs

series masterlist | miguel o'hara masterlist

Miguel lost sleep that week.

The fact that you were the owner of the bakery he had his eye on was upsetting. Even though he still had to get to know you, he wasn't sure if he could if there was a possibility of falling in love with you and he wasn't sure if he was ready to risk it. Obviously, there were other reasons why his relationship with Dana ended. It was true that he didn't want her to have control over his club, but it stemmed from more than just business partnership.

Dana wanted to be the owner because she wanted to change things and he didn't want that. She wanted to make it into a brothel, but he didn't want that. Not only did he already have exotic dancers at their own clubs that catered to all genders since he preferred being inclusive, but he also hated thinking of how some men are gross and just disrespectful. In his clubs, he had strict rules, and he knew Dana wouldn't have enforced those rules; he didn't want it to come bite him in the ass.

This was different though.

You were different.

He felt weird, going to the club earlier just to get the chance to see you.

He hasn't stepped foot in your bakery since he met you. Lyla and Jess have been on his ass about meeting you again. They couldn't understand why their boss was being weird about a woman, but Peter did.

Miguel had a conversation with Peter which helped him out a little, but he wouldn't admit it to his face; he had to push his shy boy out the way in order to talk to you, but he didn't know how.

So, he decided to pay you a visit on his day off at Alchemax.

You were dealing with a girl who was currently doing cake testing for her quince (sweet 15) which made him smile softly when you gave her a piece of Neapolitan cake since she couldn't decide between chocolate, vanilla and strawberry.

"This is the alternative if you don't want to do separate layers of cake." You say, making Miguel's body tingle with heat as red painted his cheeks.

He quickly concluded that he could listen to you talk for hours.

"It's amazing!" The fourteen-year-old jumped a little after swallowing the piece of cake, making you smile.

"I'm glad you like it." You look up and give Miguel a grin, making his legs shake slightly.

"We'll take this one." Her father said with a grin while ruffling his daughter's hair and pulling out his wallet.

"Great! When do you need it by?" You ask, tilting your head to the side as you look between the mother, the father and the daughter.

"About four months from now. It's the last thing we need."

You nod, giving them the price of the deposit and taking the list of cake ideas from the girl before bidding goodbye.

When they left, your eyes met Miguel's again, making his heart race.

"How can I help you?" You scan him quickly, taking note of his leather jacket, the white shirt that peaked from underneath it along with his black jeans and the same ruby colored sunglasses from your first encounter.

He gives you a shy smile before looking at the desserts, biting the inside of this cheek. "Surprise me."

You raise a brow. "Are you sure about that?"

He nods.

"You hardly know me and you're trusting me to surprise you with a dessert?"

He nods again.

"What if I poison you?" You joke.

"Querida, if you wanted to poison me, you would've done it when we first met." He states. (Darling/Dear)

You blink up at him before opening your mouth to say something, closing it and repeating the process once more before turning your back and grabbing gloves, a wax tissue sheet along with a paper bag and making your way to the kitchen.

His face goes red with embarrassment as he looks at the ground. He makes his foot graze your tiles like a child embarrassed or shy to ask a question. However, he noticed one of your tiles were cracked and another that was actually missing.

"Ah, don't mind the floor. It happened two days ago." You rest the bag on the counter that contained a few pieces of tamriyeh that you just finished preparing.

"How?" He asks, tilting his head to the side.

"A woman stomped her bulky heels on the cracked one and she kicked the other when she saw it was loose." You explain with a shrug before giving him the total.

He raises a brow before giving you $10. "Why did she do that?"

You snicker. "She was annoyed I got her order wrong, telling me I was a fake baker because my treats weren't as good as her mother in law's desserts, but I never advertised them to be better."

He rolls his eyes at the ignorance of the woman and takes the bag. "Thank you. Keep the change and don't worry about the receipt."

You sigh. "Are you ever going to ask for the change or the receipt?"

"Probably not. Have a good day and stay safe." He walks out, leaving you stunned.

"When I catch you, Ruby..." You say softly as you watch his tall figure walk away with a glare before taking the receipt and putting it away and putting the cash in the register.

———

tags:

@deputy-videogamer @barbiecrocs @deepinballs @faimmm @wakeupr41 @bubblegumfanfics @smartyren @kimmis-stuff @latenightcravingz @youcantseem3 @corpsebridenightamare @thedevax @cicithemess @diannana

*if you do not get the notification, i put the link of your blogs because it wasn't allowing me to tag you.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel ohara #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara x y/n #marvel #mcu #marvel universe #reader insert #miguel spiderverse #spider man 2099 #atsv miguel #spiderman 2099 #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman atsv #x reader

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neverinadream · 1 year

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Once Dance, Chérie

Summary: Charles gets you to do the one thing most fail to do: he gets you to dance.

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Fem!Reader // Arthur Leclerc x Fem!Reader (briefly mentioned - strictly platonic)

Requested: Nope.

Song Inspo: Love Grows (Where My Rosemary Goes) - Edison Lighthouse

Warnings: fluff, the reader is technically younger than charles - like arthur's age, not necessarily a friends to lovers but like maybe a hint at it - maybe...

Notes: i don't even know what this is or if i like it but i can't lie, i was listening to the glee cast version of unchained melody and then i got this idea of charles trying to get arthur's best friend to dance with him at a wedding so this happened....yeah....anyway, feedback is always appreciated, it helps a lot

"Say cheese!"

"No, Charles," you shake your head, covering the lens of the cheap, disposable camera. They had been left out on the tables, with people being encouraged to pick them up and take pictures. You had enjoyed watching your baby cousins running and sliding around the ballroom on their knees, avoiding the discipline of their parents, giddy to snap pictures of other guests, plates of food, the wedding cake, and close-ups of each other's faces pulling various funny expressions. What you didn't enjoy was fending off your best friend's older brother trying to take pictures of you. "Charles, please, stop," you pleaded, finally pushing the camera away, "I really don't think Daphne wants an entire camera roll full of blurry images of my face."

"I wouldn't necessarily say that would be a bad thing," he replies, giving up on his mission to snap as many pictures of you as possible. His mouth curls into a smile as he catches you rolling your eyes, mumbling something incoherent under your breath, hiding behind your champagne flute. "Well," he clears his throat and rises from the table, "you'll at least dance with me, won't you?" He watches your eyes travel to his hand extended in front of you, the smaller glimmer of hope he had melting away as you reject him. "Why not?"

"Simple answer," you shrug your shoulders, "I don't dance."

"It's a wedding, chérie," it slipped off his tongue with ease, "everyone dances at weddings."

"Not me," you continue your protest, folding your arms across your chest.

He wiggles his fingers in the air. "Come on," he tries to entice you with a smile, "I know you like this song." You did like the current song playing. It was 'Love Grows' by Edison Lighthouse. It reminded you of Saturday mornings as a child, watching your dad float around the kitchen, twirling your mum around until she was laughing, before doing the same with each of you and your sisters. "Just one dance."

"Arthur won't like it," you tell him, trying to find a new excuse not to dance with him.

He raises his eyebrow, the corners of his mouth dropping and the smile he once had before now disappearing. "Now you're just making up excuses not to dance with, chérie," there it was again, so easily said like it meant nothing at all to him, "Arthur has been telling me to stay away from you since you were both fourteen years old. It hasn't exactly worked, has it? Why don't you really want to dance with me? Hmm?" His arm finally drops, his hands tucking loosely into his pockets. "I'll have you know, I'm an excellent dancer," he boasts, drawing a soft chuckle to spill from your carefully painted lips, "just ask Eloise." Eloise was your baby cousin and someone who had taken a fancy to Charles, tugging his hand and dragging him away to dance as often as Charles would allow it to happen.

"Eloise is seven years old, Charles," you fire back, shaking your head, "she would tell you you're an amazing singer if you were to sing her favourite song to her."

His bottom lip falls away from his top lip. "The little liar!"

"If you must know, I don't dance because I can't dance," you fold your arms, plucking your champagne flute between your fingers, tilting it to take a long sip, "I have two very clumsy left feet."

"I'm going to let you in on a secret," he says, removing his suit jacket in one simple, fluid motion. He leans forward, bending over you as he hangs the jacket over the back of your chair, all an act of his so he could get close enough to you to whisper, "I have two left feet too," into your ear. He swears he could feel the heat that pinched your cheeks, quietly chuckling when you avoided his eye contact as he straightened up.

"I, uh," you take another sip of your champagne, just enough to lubricate your dry mouth, "I thought you just said you were a great dancer?"

"I believe I said an 'excellent' dancer," he corrects you, unbuttoning his cufflinks, proceeding to roll his sleeves up, "and I've been told that my source might be unreliable." Satisfied with his sleeves, he extends his arm, offering you his hand as he attempts, one last time, to ask you to dance. "Doesn't your date deserve at least one dance with you tonight?"

"Your date?" You scoff, repeating his words back to him. He doesn't reply but grins back at you instead. "And how exactly did you end up being my date?" You push for an explanation, "because I thought I came to this wedding without a date."

He gestures his hand between the both of you, like he was trying to mime out his answer. "I have no date," he continues to wave his hand back and forth from his body, "you have no date." You failed to see an ounce of logic in his answer.

"And neither does my sixteen-year-old cousin," you fire back, pointing to the dance floor, "I'm sure he would love to have Charles Leclerc as his date tonight."

"One dance, chérie."

A sigh pushes past your lips. You knew Charles could be persistent, but you didn't think he would be this persistent. "You won't stop pestering me until I say yes, will you?" He shakes his head, grinning with a playful glint in his eyes. "If I say yes, will you promise that you will never ask me to dance ever again?"

"I pro-"

"And you'll promise to stop trying to take pictures of me?"

He rests his hand over his heart. "I promise never to ask you to dance ever again," he tells you, his face softening as you finally take his hand, "except on our wedding day." You look off to the side, biting back the urge to laugh or smile. "We'll have to dance at our wedding, chérie," he chuckles, offering you his other hand and helping you to your feet, "or did you think I forgot about it?"

When both you and Arthur were four, your mothers made a joke about the two of you being so attached to the hip that you would one day get married to each other. They were met with a chorus of disgust, the two of you shaking your heads and Arthur pretending to be sick. Charles, however, announced that he would marry you instead, because if Arthur wasn't going to marry the prettiest princess in all of Monaco, then he would instead.

"You're still the prettiest princess in Monaco, chérie."

"Five," you count, unable to ignore the flutter in your belly as he repeats it, "that's five times you've now called 'chérie' tonight. Some might say you've used it over excessively tonight. Enough times to last a lifetime."

"Would you like me to call it you again?" He asks, tilting his head to the side. He takes a second to study your face, painting an image of your beauty in his mind to remember you by until the next time he saw you. "Or, perhaps you want me to call you something else?"

"Perhaps I just want us to dance."

He nods, releasing one of your hands, and interlocking his fingers with the other. "Then lead the way, chérie," he feigns a gasp, the corners of his lips tugging into a smile, "that was number six."

TAGLIST:

@lovelynikol16 @bracedes @chelseagirl98

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc blurb #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x reader

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asahicore · 1 year

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enhypen masterlist

lee heeseung.

*how to get back at your ex - f2l, coworkers au, fluff, smut (mdni) - 19.9k

When you catch your boyfriend of four years cheating on you on the day of your anniversary, your first reflex is to get black-out drunk by yourself at a bar near your place. There, you run into your colleague and close friend Heeseung, and together, you come up with a plan to get back at Sunghoon for what he did. But as you carry out your pranks with Heeseung, you realize that maybe, what they say about love is true - sometimes, it is right there in front of you, patiently waiting for you to recognize to it.

hey, heeseung! - best friend's brother au, fluff, angst and smut (mdni) - completed series [3/3]

Your longstanding crush on Heeseung only quadruples in size when he comes home from his first year of university, looking better than he's ever had - and in your eyes, that's saying something. Tension builds between the two of you over the summer, until it inevitably explodes. The catch? He's your best friend's brother.

park jongseong.

*all i see is gold - academic rivals to lovers au, fake dating au, college au, fluff, slight angst and smut (mdni) - 27.1k

Pretending to be your number one rival's girlfriend to please his parents isn't how you would usually spend a Thursday night, but you really owe Jay a big one this time. You'd sworn this was just a one-time thing - and yet when his parents ask you to come again, the word 'yes' is out before you can stop it. Before you know it and much to your dismay, your feelings for Jay start to change, and you're in too deep to backtrack.

sim jaeyun.

kiwi and layla - high school au, s2f2l, fluff, angst - part of the unexpected collab - 26.3k

After a test, you mistake Jake’s backpack for your own and you each go home with the other’s bag. Both of you are too curious for your own good, so you quickly find out that you excel in the subject the other is failing - ensues a mutual tutoring agreement that turns into much more than what you expected.

bad news first - college au, childhood f2l, fluff, smut (mdni) - 23k

From the moment you'd met at eight to the day he moved to South Korea at fourteen, you and Jake were inseparable. But after years of being apart, you've come to terms with the fact that at twenty, you and Jake just aren't what you used to be. That is until you get a text from him, and all of a sudden, he's back by your side, doing his year abroad at the university you study at, and all your feelings for him float back up to the surface.

park sunghoon.

moonlight - dirty dancing au, s2l, fluff, angst, smut (mdni) - 32.2k

In August 1963, your monotonous summer vacation becomes a lot more exciting when you meet a group of dancers that work as the entertainment staff of the resort you and your family are staying at. Your fascination with them, and particularly dancers and close friends Sunghoon and Chaewon, pushes you to help them out by taking Chaewon's place at another hotel's show when she's unable to dance. The week you spend with Sunghoon as he teaches you to dance and the events thereafter give you a lot more than the ability to mambo.

*we'll always have this summer - summer au, s2f2l, fluff, angst, smut (mdni) - 25.9k

Your mom ruins your summer plans by sending you to the equestrian center your grandmother owns in the south of France, wanting you to spend some time away from the city and take a break from your med studies. Although you’d been determined to spend the worst time ever there, you soon find out that maybe the cold but cute horse nerd next door who doesn’t want to talk to you might actually turn this summer into the best one of your life.

*cherry pits - dilf!hoon, s2l, neighbors au, summer au, smut (mdni) - 12.9k

Your alarmingly empty bank account forces you to find a last-minute summer job so that you can afford a trip with your friends. The extremely handsome customer that comes into the store just happens to be a young single dad who’s renovating the old house next to yours. The tension that settles between the two of you as you start helping him fix up his house soon becomes unbearable, but it’s all one-sided anyway, right? (Spoiler: wrong.)

*real me, real you - fake dating, high school au, slight e2l, slight love triangle, fluff, angst - 22.9k

You’re your school’s popular pretty smart girl, but with a twist - you lead a completely different life at home, where you are messy, lazy and foul-mouthed. Only your family and best friend Sumin know about this, until Park Sunghoon, of all people, finds out. The resident cold and arrogant heartbreaker of your school decides to blackmail you into doing his biddings - but you can’t say no, not even when he asks you to be his fake girlfriend, otherwise he’ll ruin your reputation. But as you and Sunghoon get closer, you realize that maybe he’s not so bad after all, and you may be more similar than you'd originally though - all while your old childhood friend Jay watches from the sidelines.

ot7.

their favorite form of skinship - bf!enha, fluff - 1.5k hiding in plain sight - sh, js, jy, jw - fluff - 1.7k 100 kisses event - prompt masterlist

#asahicore navigation

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sokkagatekeeper · 2 years

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hi for the love of god hello every kid in atla is the loneliest in the world . aang is not just the last air nomad left he is also the avatar and his responsibility to do his duty as such while not allowing his culture to be forgotten and extinct sets him apart from everyone else in the entire world its not just one aspect that singles him out is his entire existence aang IS a hallow he IS the only piece left he IS the legacy he IS the loneliest person in the world the only one who can make his choices for himself the ship and the compass the arrow and the bow the history and the person responsible for any future at all. katara is the last southern waterbender she has made a promise to herself to remember that every day of her life even when her brother could never truly understand what that means to her nobody understands what any of her values mean she lives for the hope in something hopeless and faith in a better world she is the first one willing to get her hands hurt for her cause she has no female friends for fourteen years of her life. sokka has made it his mission to utilize every single piece of knowledge he can get his hands on as a weapon he understands the realities of war better than everyone else he IS the leader the brain the community big brother the father his life of self-made misery is but a side effect of all that knowledge and pessimism he actively chooses to carry for everyone else he hates being the man the brother the father the soldier but it is his job he can take on this enormous fire nation ship all on his own he can die for redemption he can sell his childhood to war for the war to have its heroes as unharmed as possible. zuko has no friends of his own he is the heir the disgrace the world's loneliest dancer he searches for the company of his family all over the world in the shape of a twelve year old simultaneously he runs away from the company his uncle offers but he will never truly get that company he's looking for because ozai just won't care and because azula is as alone as zuko is. azula has two friends who are her friends for survival for aristocrat etiquette for boredom and mocking even she is a child prodigy obsessed with an older brother of hers who keeps abandoning her to the father she is also obsessed with azula wants to please she wants to control she gets to a point where she has literally. no one left on her side. ty lee only ever lets go of her stupid girl mask when mai does they are both the loneliest girls in the world together they see each other better than the rest of the world but its still not enough they HAVE to let go of the masks for company they have to keep the masks for survival they are a mirror of each other but the glass is a cage they can't get out without cutting themselves with the shattered pieces of that reality. toph is rooted to her garden like another pretty flower of her parents she wants to be a weed she wants to be a rock crush the flowers she is a secret blind child her parents are ashamed of she looks for company in the wildest hardest creatures she refuses vulnerability when it knocks on her door she runs away and away and away because the ground is all the real sincere true company she's ever known and understood. yue is the princess trapped in the tower and the dragon is her duty her place her family herself her emotions overflow but as big as they are even they cannot create a bridge large enough to escape it she literally dies to duty her first love is as lonely as she was and the most company she gets now are stars and other strange spirits she was never made to be a girl but that is what she was. suki was imprisoned in the worst jail in the world at sixteen years old because duty because leadership because sacrifice because there are no more soldiers to fight this war she is a community creature completely isolated. every child in atla is the loneliest in the world

#ever think abt that?? do you???? !!!#n #*#im not even gonna send it to drafts lmao if theres any typos or grammar mistakes and the like dw abt it It Was On Purpose #gaang #i Guess #aang #katara #sokka #zuko #azula #mai #ty lee #toph #yue #suki

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ijustwanttoreadfanfiction · 1 year

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Candyland

Rockstar! (ish) Eddie Munson x AFAB! Bar Dancer Reader

Cherry Pie is always the inspiration for some absolute filth. Reader works at a Coyote Ugly type bar - you'll find out, it's hard for me to describe this one. Because I suck.

Warnings: Explicit language, explicit sexual content, oral sex (m receiving), p in v sex, suggestive content with the dancing?

The R-Bar, Chicago - 1991

Eddie is sweating his nutsack off, fingers red raw from shredding for almost two hours, voice sore and crackling. The mediocre applause that follows him off the small stage with the rest of the band hardly seems worth the pain. He snags a water bottle from a beat up trestle table, chugging it in relief as their manager Lambshank approaches; so named because he got shanked in prison with a lamb bone, true story.

“That was a killer set guys, great work, the crowd loved you!” He hails with so much bravado it verges on sarcasm.

“Yeah, all fourteen of them.” Eddie deadpans.

“I counted seventeen.” Jeff wryly supplies with a rough croak, finishing off his own bottle of water.

“Alright, it wasn’t the biggest crowd, granted, but everyone has to start somewhere.” Lambshank reasons.

“Yeah, but we started this group eleven years ago, Shank.” Eddie huffs, he knew the rockstar dream wouldn’t be an easy one to achieve but he thought after graduating and being able to pour all his time and what little money he had into the band they’d be playing bigger and better venues by now.

He was fed up, every place was like The Hideout back home, filled with drunks, and sticky floors. They did have a couple of genuine fans, who they appreciated even if they were slightly over-zealous in their affections; Gareth had never quite been the same since Luann, the forty-seven year old divorcee, threw her FF bra directly at his face mid-show.

“You fellas need a fun night out, get yourselves pumped up again and I know just the place.” Lambshank says bracingly, working his fists back and forth like a Rock ‘Em Sock ‘Em Robot. Eddie scrubs at his tired sweaty face, pushing his hair out of his eyes, wanting nothing more than to shower and go to bed, god he was getting old.

“Shank I don’t need a night out, I need to get some sleep.”

“Eddie, I promise you, you’ll enjoy it - and the first round of drinks are on me.” Shank offers teasingly.

_______________________________________________

“Candyland?” Gareth asks, reading the pink neon sign aloud as they all stand outside a rather nondescript looking building, the loud heavy bass thumping of music the only indicator there might be something going on inside.

“Candyland.” Lambshank affirms with a grin, gesturing towards the heavy door in front of them, a burly and surly looking doorman giving Lambshank a curt nod letting the group in.

It’s a cacophony of noise, and flashing lights, the place is packed to the rafters, the smell of stale beer and sweat heavy in the air. But it’s the movement from the bar area that catches Eddie’s eye, a group of women all around his age in various states of undress, dancing and grinding along to No Sleep Till Brooklyn - Beastie Boys, they also appear to be serving drinks.

“Welcome to Candyland boys!” Lambshank laughs, patting Eddie heavily on the back.

It’s certainly a show, the girls are laughing and screaming things out, men and women on the floor crowded up to the raised surface cheering loudly, throwing money, and generally having the time of their lives.

The song finishes up, and the bar girls all jump down to be replaced by an older looking blonde woman with a microphone in her hand.

“Candyland, how are we doing tonight?!” She yells, to a deafening cheer. “C’mon I know you can do better than that, I said HOW ARE WE DOING TONIGHT?” She corrals with a fist to the air.

The bar shouts back in unison, even Eddie finds himself wanting to join in.

“That’s what I like to hear.” She laughs throatily. “Now I want you to give it up, and by that I mean your hard earned dollars, for our girl JETT!”

I Love Rock ‘N Roll - Joan Jett starts up, along with a raucous cheer from the crowd as girl jumps up onto the bar in black PVC booty shorts, a ripped white crop top, black bra visible underneath and black high-top converse, her back is to everyone as she claps her hands and stamps along to the beat, Eddie tears his eyes away trying to work out the best route to the bar in order to actually get a drink when Gareth starts tugging hard on his arm.

“Jeez man what?” Eddie huffs in irritation, Gareth points dumbly back towards the bar, mouth hanging open, Eddie looks again and feels his own jaw drop.

“Holy shit it’s -” Jeff breathes, the girl is finally facing the crowd, throwing her body back and forth, a huge smile plastered across her pretty face.

“Y/n -” Eddie finishes his sentence with a gulp.

Eddie hadn’t seen you since graduation, but it was definitely you, despite your get up and apparent new found sense of confidence there was no mistaking your face. You had been something of a shrinking violet at High School, choosing to hang out with Eddie and the gang as they didn’t mind that you were painfully shy and preferred books to conversation, and whilst you had never been a fully fledged member of Hellfire you sometimes took part in the occasional campaign if they were short and Eddie coaxed you enough.

It didn’t seem you needed to be coaxed into doing anything anymore though as you gyrated on the platform, hooking your leg and arm around a pole between the bar top and ceiling, spinning about seductively. You headbang slightly, before dropping low to grab a handful of dollars from a howling man, one of the girls behind the bar passes you up a bottle of vodka and you expertly pour a shot into the man’s open mouth. As the song fades out, some of the other girls jump back up to join you, the vodka bottle in your hand being swapped for the microphone.

“Good evening Candyland.” You purr slightly out of breath, laughing loudly at the tumultuous response. “Life is sweet, but you know what? It could be a little sweeter, so how about we pour a little sugar on you?” You ask suggestively, throwing your arms up as Pour Some Sugar On Me - Def Leppard rings out.

Eddie doesn’t know where to look, well he knows exactly where he wants to look but he doesn’t know if he should. You’re back to back with one of the other girls, both winding down to your knees, you crawl across the bar and Eddie finds himself standing tiptoes to follow your progress. You lay on your back, arching upwards, so your chest is on display, while a redhead girl in Daisy dukes wets your body with the seltzer tap. You screech wildly, shaking your head allowing the liquid to splash the front row, Eddie thinks he might pass out as the blood thunders down from his brain to his cock.

You move back up into a kneel, taking the tap and spraying it into the raucous crowd, whilst necking a beer you’ve taken off of someone. You and the rest of the girls line up, all bending sideways so you’re grabbing the ass of the other, spanking in time to the music, before shaking your legs so the muscles bounce and jiggle.

“This is insane.” Gareth says weakly next to Eddie, and he has to agree. You straighten up, spinning around the pole once again until you’re head on staring at Eddie and the group, a wide beaming smile of recognition breaking across your face. You seem to be dancing with even more enthusiasm now you’ve clocked your old school friends, hands running over your own form, as you strut up and down the platform. The redhead from before has a bottle of whiskey in her hand which she pours on her chest with a subtle nod to you, you lean in and lick the gold liquid from her skin, to rapturous hoots and hollers, tracing your tongue up her neck until you meet her mouth; Eddie notices more dollar bills clutched in your hands as you pull away.

The song comes to an end, and you instantly jump down into the crowd, pushing patrons out of your way, practically racing towards the band.

“OH MY GOD, HI!” You shout excitedly, barrelling straight into Eddie first, he barely has time to snap out of his funk and embrace you back before you're pulling away to address the others. You’re flushed with exertion, but to him you’ve never looked prettier.

“Gareth, Jeff!” You hail, bringing each of them in for their own hug, Eddie having to fight down a sudden surge of jealousy.

“Y/n! What the hell man?!” Gareth greets you with a laugh, gesturing to the hive of activity still taking place on the bar behind you.

“Girl’s gotta make a living, ya know.” You tease, punching him lightly in the arm. “It’s my Aunt’s place, she’s the blonde one up there.” You point to the older woman who revved up the crowd earlier, she’s currently pouring a row of shots, but all the while keeping an eye on her girls, including you.

“What are you guys doing here?” You ask casually, like you’re not standing in front of them scantily clad, and the source of their awkward crotch covered stances.

“We’re on tour.” Jeff supplies.

“Holy shit - that’s so cool, where are you playing?” Eddie wants to answer you, but your devastating smile is making his brain short circuit.

“They played the R-Bar tonight. Lambshank, manager extraordinaire and long time patron of Candyland.” Lambshank butts in, offering his hand in greeting, you shake it and Eddie sees a slight wariness enter your expression.

“The R-Bar huh? I’d thought with how good you guys were in High School, you’d be playing bigger venues than that.” You don't say it maliciously, you seem genuinely concerned, and it sparks Eddie's brain and mouth back to life.

“We’ve been trying to but it’s not been going so well.” Eddie says quietly, and you nod in understanding.

“Where are you guys playing next?” You ask with interest.

“We’re at the R-Bar again tomorrow night.” Gareth says, unable to keep the dismay out of his voice.

“Ok, cool, leave it with me. Drinks on the house by the way, just go see my aunt. Catch up properly at close?” You ask quickly, already backing up towards the bar, slipping under the gap and whispering in your aunt's ear as you service the clamouring groups.

Eddie's gaze is firmly fixed on your retreating form, he always had a soft spot for you through school, ok maybe crush was more accurate, although he'd play it off as a brotherly protective vibe when people had asked but what he was feeling now was far from brotherly.

"I'll get us some beers." He says not caring if the others are listening, purposely ignoring Lambshank's request for a double JD, as he makes his way through the thronging horde, with a little elbowing he eventually gets to the front.

“What can I get you handsome?” Your aunt asks him, leaning across the bar.

“Uh - four Coors Dry please.” He responds absentmindedly watching the way you’re shaking a drink at the other end of the bar, clearly flirting with every customer and doing a damn good judging by your overflowing tip jar.

“Would you prefer for my niece to serve you?” Your aunt says with a wry smile.

“Oh - uh - no sorry, just haven't seen her in a while.” Eddie stammers, slipping across a $20 bill.

“You’re Eddie right?” He nods, she smiles and it’s not too dissimilar to your own. “I'm Paula. It’s nice to finally put a face to the name. She never used to shut up about you when she was a teenager, Eddie this, Eddie that.” She laughs, pouring the beers.

“She liked me?” Eddie asks in shock, the thought makes his head spin.

“I don’t think you need to put it in the past tense hunny.” Paula grins, sliding his $20 back across the bar. “You break her heart, I’ll get Doug the Doorman to break your fingers.”

Before Eddie can respond, your voice cuts across the noise once more, you’re up on the bar again, microphone in hand.

“Alright Candylanders, it’s come to our attention that we have some very, very special guests here with us tonight -” The seductive lilt in your tone is back, commanding the attention of everyone in the room, but none more so than Eddie. “- all the way from my hometown of Hawkins, Indiana, they are the next generation of rockstars, the one, the only CORRODED COFFIN!” You bellow pointing towards where Gareth, Jeff and Lambshank are still standing.

“They’re the real deal, and they’re playing at the R-Bar tomorrow, I know - I know it's a fucking shithole." You argue back to the murmured complaints. "But here's the deal, you all go and I will reveal my very secret, very intimate tattoo at the end of their show -” You teasingly pull at the waistline of your booty shorts, before stroking your hand down over your covered mound, the crowd going wild. “- Alright you bunch of horn dogs, save it for tomorrow, now let’s get this fucking party started!” You scream, throwing the microphone down to Paula, who gives you a huge wink.

Cherry Pie - Warrant blares out of the speakers, the girls clambering up to join you once more, pitchers of water in their hands.

“ANYONE ELSE FEELING WET?” Paula shouts into the mic, as you and the rest of the girls pour the pitchers over yourselves, Eddie watches completely enthralled as the water cascades over your chest and down your legs, barely noticing how Gareth and Jeff have joined him.

You stomp over towards them, a huge smile on your face again, dropping into an impressive front split, water droplets glistening over your flushed skin.

“Hey Eddie, you want a blowjob?” You ask loudly over the music.

“Do I want a what?!” Eddie asks incredulously, half laughing, half choking on his beer.

You jump down, grabbing a shot glass, and two bottles of liquor, topping it off with some whipped cream.

“A blow job.” You present to him with a devious smirk.

Eddie throws his head back in a proper laugh, the kind of laugh you used to savour hearing through school, he moves to take the shot but you slap his hand anyway.

“Oh that’s not for you big boy, it’s for me. You need to sit right here.” You say patting the bar top, Eddie looks at you warily but hoists himself up regardless with a smile, you wink and then move to the other end of the bar, whispering something to Paula as you pass.

“Ohhhhh! Ladies and gentlemen, it looks like Jett is about to give some lucky guy a blowjob!” Paula shouts through the mic, stopping mid pour to ring a bell, Eddie’s ears hurt from the wolf whistles and stamping of feet.

Two girls, the redhead and a brunette, help get him in the correct position, legs spread with the shot in between, you get lifted onto the bar by Doug blowing a kiss to him and the gathered crowd. Sinking to your knees you stalk towards him in a slow crawl, he would never be able to listen to Smooth up in ya in the same way ever again. When you reach him, you lean in close to his ear so only he can hear you, his arm automatically coming up to steady you as you hover.

“When I touch your knee, put your hand on the back of my head, and when I touch it again let go.”

You move back, grinning from ear to ear, running your hands over his chest, down and down, fingers brushing his thighs, until you reach his knees; Eddie lifts a shaking a hand to run through your hair at the crown of your head, you wink again before arching low, ass in the air, he can see your lips wrap around the glass; he knows you must notice his raging hard on.

“SHOT, SHOT, SHOT!” The bar screams and Eddie suddenly remembers there are a hundred people watching your antics. Once you have the drink secure, you run your hands back up his legs, tapping his knee once, he lets his hand drop from your head albeit reluctantly. You throw your whole body back, chest jutting out, swallowing the shot to ear splitting cheers and clapping, letting a carefully choreographed bit of liquid spill from the side of your mouth, using your thumb to seductively chase it back to your mouth with a firm suck.

You press a quick kiss to Eddie’s lips, before standing abruptly, taking a bow.

“Can I get one of those? Please?” Gareth asks, voice strained.

_______________________________________________

The rest of the night passes in a blur of girls dancing, pounding music and alcohol but Eddie only has eyes for you. Even when Gareth gets his ‘blowjob’ from the redhead, Cherry, you’re still his focus, the way you move, how openly you laugh with the girls sharing private jokes, the way you handle yourself; fearless and so sexy.

The bar finally closes at 2am, it’s oddly quiet now the sound system is off, only the chink of glasses being collected and general chit-shit fills the air. Lambshank is chewing Paula’s ear off about management opportunities, which she seems to be responding to with good humour. Gareth is following Cherry about like a lost puppy, helping her with clearing tables, and Jeff is asleep in one of the booths, a cocktail umbrella tucked behind his ear.

You’re wiping down the bar top, a shy smile on your face, the one Eddie remembered from school, it seems the shrinking violet is still there once the music is off.

“So Eddie Munson the rockstar huh?” You say, voice a little croaky from a night of shouting and singing.

“I wouldn’t say rockstar.” Eddie murmurs, sipping at his drink.

“Is the band your only job?” You ask pointedly, spraying at a stubborn sticky spot.

“Yeah.” Eddie says, rubbing at his neck feeling self conscious.

“Well then, you’re a rockstar.” You grin softly.

“Alright ladies, you can all head home, Mr Shank here is going to help me finish up.” Paula calls, meeting your raised eyebrows with a sheepish shrug of her shoulders.

Eddie watches as Gareth attempts to rouse Jeff from his deep drunken stupor, wondering if he can manage to get him back to the hotel by himself, not quite ready to leave your side, evidently you are thinking along the same lines as you place a delicate hand on his arm.

“Shall we help get the guys back to your hotel?” You suggest gently, trying not to laugh as Jeff sinks lower into the seat trying to pull Gareth in for a spooning.

“You want to come back with me?” Eddie asks, surprised, not believing his luck.

“Yes, if that’s ok.” You say blushing profusely. “Unless you don’t want me to.” You add quickly feeling unsure of yourself.

“No! - I uh, I mean I would love for you to come back with me.” Eddie stammers, his face burning likely matching the same reddened shade as your own.

“Ok, just lemme go get changed.” You smile breathlessly.

The hotel isn’t far from the bar, and the thirty minute walk allows you and Eddie to catch up some more, sharing lingering looks and touches where you can, in between half carrying, half dragging Jeff. Gareth being absolutely no help, floating along behind slowly, waxing lyrical about how he is in love with Cherry.

“Should I tell him she’s a lesbian?” You whisper to Eddie, stifling a giggle.

“Let him have his moment whilst he’s still hammered.” Eddie laughs. “I’ll break it to him in the morning, assuming he remembers.”

Your head is swimming with all kinds of Eddie related thoughts as you try your best to concentrate on the task at hand, helping Gareth into bed, he passes out as soon as his face hits the mattress in the double room. Eddie situates a now entirely unconscious Jeff with some difficulty, before making sure they both have glasses of water and Tylenol on the bedside table ready for their no doubt horrendous hangovers.

You’re bubbling with nerves as he closes the door, but they abruptly disappear when he takes your hand, leading you down the corridor to his own room. It's small and basic but at least it’s clean.

“So - uh do you want a drink?” Eddie asks, rooting about in a plastic bag on the side. “I have slightly warm Coke or slightly warm Mountain Dew.”

“Such variety! I’ll take a slightly warm Mountain Dew please.” You laugh, perching on the end of his bed, rubbing your hands over your leggings.

“For Madame.” He passes you a can with a silly little French accent, sitting next to you with a can of Coke. “Gotta say it was one hell of a show you put on tonight sweetheart.”

You’re blushing again, shaking your head in embarrassed disagreement.

“It’s nothing special, just silly little dances and tricks, but it pays the bills, and it helps Paula out.” You say dismissively.

“I think it was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.” Eddie mutters, his leg jiggling with nerves or pent up energy, you couldn’t tell.

“C’mon Eddie, it wasn’t that good.” You mumble, thinking if your cheeks got any warmer the sprinkler system would go off.

“When you did that thing with the shot, I nearly came in my pants.” He says honestly, laughing at his own admission, it sparks something within you, the same feeling of fearlessness you experience when you’re up on the bar. You stand up, taking his drink from his hand and placing it on the windowsill with yours, kicking off your shoes and pulling down your leggings so you’re left in your panties and pink Candyland sweater.

“It would be a waste if you came in your pants Eddie, when my mouth is right here.” You whisper, sinking to your knees in front of him, praying you hadn’t misread the signals.

Eddie doesn’t give you long to worry, grabbing your face in his hands, leaning down to kiss you hard, tongue stroking into your mouth making you moan softly.

“Jesus Christ, I can’t believe this is happening.” Eddie murmurs against your lips as you unbuckle his belt, lifting his hips to help you tug his pants and boxers down. His cock slaps against his belly, long and hard, making your mouth water, you wrap your lips around him eagerly, tongue flat against the shaft as you bob up and down.

“Oh - f-fuck.” Eddie groans, hands back in your hair just like at the bar, gently guiding your movements. The room is filled with the sounds of your choking and sucking, the wet slide of your mouth over his throbbing dick, and Eddie’s whimpering gasps.

“Yes! Oh baby, your mouth feels - shit - so fucking good. Used to dream about you - fuck - used to dream about you doing t-this.” He moans, hips pistoning up to meet your open throat as you move quicker. “Can I - ah! Can I fuck you? Please sweetheart?” He begs, and it sends a surge or arousal through you.

You pull off him with a broken gasp, lips swollen and wet.

“Yes please.” You say sweetly, slightly out of breath.

Eddie’s hands are everywhere as he hauls you up from the floor, peeling your panties down, fingers tracing through your wetness whilst he kisses you deeply again.

“Condom - where the fuck did I put the fucking condoms?!” He hisses, stretching back down to retrieve his pants, you laugh peppering his neck with licks and nips.

You’re practically dripping, hovering over his cock, waiting with baited breath as he rolls the condom on, angling the hard tip to your slick opening. Both of you letting out loud moans as you sink down inch by inch, walls hugging him tightly, spasming with the stretch.

“Eddie - oh my god!” You whimper, nails biting into his shoulder, rocking against each other, his balls hitting your ass.

“Yesss, you feel like fucking heaven.” Eddie growls, using his strength to hammer up into you, both knowing the other wasn’t going to last long, the entire evening serving as foreplay. You bring your fingers down to rub roughly at your clit, whining into his mouth through messy kisses, each thrust of his cock bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

“Eddie, babe, I’m gonna cum.” You gasp, pussy tightening almost to the point of pain, vision going blurry as you climax hard.

“Oh god - baby! Fuck -” Eddie chokes out, arms holding you in a bruising grasp, head against your neck as he jerks his hips at a brutal pace, hurtling into his own release with a loud cry.

Eddie continues to pump gently into you, drawing out your orgasms, lazy kisses, and stroking touches bringing you back down.

“Goddamn, why didn’t we do this years ago?” He asks breathlessly, as you laugh with exhilaration, he lays back on the bed pulling you with him, thundering heartbeats steadily slowing.

“Y/n?” Eddie asks quietly after a time, fingers stroking up and down your thighs.

“Mmm?” You murmur sleepily.

“I know I was a little distracted back there, but - uh - I didn’t see any kind of tattoo.”

You laugh again, pushing off the bed, rummaging through your bag, throwing a small packet at Eddie.

“Candy cigarettes?” He queries in confusion.

“Yep, with a free Batman rub-on tattoo.” You grin, jumping back onto the bed straddling him once more, shoving one of the candy sticks into your mouth.

“Those are a filthy habit, sweetheart.” Eddie teases grinning widely up at you.

“Care to do the honours?” You smirk devilishly, waving the temporary tattoo at him.

_______________________________________________

#eddie munson x reader #eddie stranger things #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x afab reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fic #eddie munson smut #stranger things #eddie munson x y/n #eddie x reader #eddie x y/n #eddie munson 18+#strangers things eddie munson #reader insert #eddie munson x afab!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fandom #eddie munson fanfic

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weirdly-specific-but-ok · 4 months

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The Cishet 1990s American Father-Son Movie, Good Omens triggered.

For those who are confused, @howmanyholesinswisscheese made a heartbreaking Good Omens post. Read it and weep.

The reblogs however degenerated into a Cishet Father-Son saga, since you maggots are all my adoptive parents. Here is a more polished version of my latest contribution to the hellsite.

[Opening credits play over highly saturated, sundrenched midwest farmland. Bob Dylan's Sara plays and the title appears as the camera slows to a halt in front of a sprawling house.]

[TITLE: Farewell, Iowa, We'll Meet Again, a Gus Van Sant film]

Art 'Greeny' Matthews, a man who does an honest day's work in the farm and is pretty darn proud of it, wanders through his house. His wife Darlene just left him (hence the opening song), and he is faced with the prospect of raising his only son, a ten year old lad Asmond 'Mond' Matthews, on his own.

Greeny takes Mond along with him as he works in the farm on holidays, riding in the tractor. Mond cries about Darlene, who didn't even leave a note, the hussy, and Greeny comforts him as much as he can. "It'll be alright, son," Greeny says on Mond's eleventh birthday, as they sit in the stable with a badly made cake on the wobbly stool. "Just you and me, eh? Not bad!"

"I hate chocolate," Mond whispers miserably, and the birthday party ends in more tears.

When Mond is thirteen, he starts to grow more closed with his emotions, just helping his dad around the farm. They're making a huge profit, and Greeny has business deals and free time, and makes an effort to bring Mond along to golf games and such. Mond is being bullied in school for being caught writing poetry, but he refuses to tell his dad why he comes home with a black eye every other week.

"I'm always here if you want to talk over a game of catch, son," Greeny tries one day. "No thanks, dad," Mond says, and wanders away into the stable. At fourteen, Greeny tries to bring him on fishing trips to discuss his feelings, as they used to do back when Darlene lived with them. Mond swallows, but shakes his head.

Finally, Mond can't keep it from him anymore, and when Greeny finds out, he goes into a rare fit of temper. "Just like your mother, boy!" he says, hand rattling his mug of ale. "A wanderer and a careless fool, that's what you'll turn out to be! There ain't no place in this world for people livin' in their heads."

Mond doesn't write poetry anymore.

As Mond grows, though, he helps out more with the farm, and they bond over hopes for future profit, and joking about golf, which they both find pretentious. "C'mon, champ, let's go play golf," Greeny says while they watch suited businessmen make their way to the house, out of place amidst the yellow-green farmland. "What's your favourite golf club?"

"That a literal club, or the thing they whack the ball with, dad?" Mond responds, and Greeny chortles. "I taught you better than that, son."

He has high hopes for Mond, he will take over the farm. Greeny is growing weary of his duties, he married late and had Mond even later.

[Montages of sunlight days ensue, intercut with shots of Mond, who always has a melancholic air about him. His mother was a dancer, and that rebellious spirit, so long dormant, is beginning to stir as he enters his twenties.]

On his twenty-first birthday, Greeny has baked him a cake, not chocolate. Mond barely sees it. His father doesn't know him. Not really. Not at all. When Greeny says he is handing over the farm to him, and starts to give him instructions about the responsibilities, Mond has had it.

He picks up the rucksack he's been storing by the umbrella stand for weeks, and shoulders it as Greeny pauses mid-lecture. "I'm sorry, dad," Mond says. "I'm going away to be my own man. This was your dream. Not mine."

Greeny is too frozen to stop him.

[Knockin' on Heaven's Door by Bob Dylan plays with another montage]

Mond travels the States, far from home and Iowa, and after a year of struggle finally publishes his first anthology of poetry. Hoping to make his dad proud, he sends a letter home asking if it imperative he return, since he's too ashamed to say he wants to. The reply is a brief but polite no from the housekeeper, saying his father wishes him well but does not require that he return. Assuming Greeny wants nothing to do with him, Mond stays away, bitter and homesick.

He is called home a few months later, and when he arrives, he is met not with Greeny, but with the housemaids and farmhands in black, and the housekeeper teary-eyed as she guides him to the back garden and a lonely gravestone. Greeny, heartbroken by his son leaving the same way Darlene his wife did all those years ago, declined in health, but he kept up the farm till the end, all ready for Mond should he want it after all, and for the head farmer if he didn't.

Mond, still carrying his book hoping to have shown his dad at last, stares in shock at the gravestone. He thinks even at the end Greeny did not know him, thought he would want the farm. Until he reads the inscription. Art 'Greeny' Matthews, friend to all, loyal husband, and most of all, proud father of a poet.

His father knew, Mond realised. His father knew what he'd been doing.

"Are ya proud, dad?" Mond whispers, dropping the book and kneeling down before the stone. "Are ya proud? It was all for you."

[The camera pulls back to show the farmland, scattered with people in black going about their work because business stops for no one, and a solitary figure by the gravestone. Bob Dylan's Blowin' in the Wind plays as the end credits roll.]

"How many roads must a man walk down, before you call him a man?

How many seas must a white dove sail, before she sleeps in the sand?"

The end.

@howmanyholesinswisscheese The challenge has been issued.

#good omens mascot #90s movies #cinema #cinema parody #gus van sant #good will hunting #my own private idaho #weirdly specific but ok #asmi #creative writing #writing #film writing #film parody #maggots #bob dylan #blowin in the wind #sara #father and son

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audreyhepburninblackandwhite · 9 months

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Audrey Hepburn's cover story for Illustrated's 2 June 1951 issue.

Carefree, off and on duty.

Audrey — The Other Hepburn

Photography by Joseph McKeown Story by Charles Hammlett

After four years of theatres, cabarets, and films, a young dancer takes a day off from career building

The Sphinx of Hollywood, otherwise Katharine Hepburn, actress and movie performer, recently spent a few days in this country wrapped in rain and mystery, and wearing an old pair of eye-catching, publicity-snatching slacks. As one of the country’s legends, Miss Hepburn has earned the right to flinch at the rustle of a reporter’s notebook, or to duck at the sound of a photographer’s footfall.

Even as pressmen determinedly pounded the Hepburn beat, a few miles away at Ealing Studios another Hepburn was quietly performing in front of the camera—as yet blissfully unaware of the hysterical mobs and frustrated fanatics who often make the lives of Hepburns, Stanwycks, Gables, or Turners unendurable.

This other Hepburn was Audrey—Britain’s answer to every filmgoer’s hungry dreams. Twenty-two, brainy, beautiful, tantalizing, and talented, she is a girl of simple tastes to travel to Ealing by Underground from Marble Arch, takes Sunday afternoon strolls in Hyde Park, and stops to listen to the geniuses of Orator’s Corner.

Restful spirit at Rottingdean . . .

Over a gate for home . . .

She rides on buses or browses in the Charing Cross Road bookshops. Visits to cinemas and theatres are still fun for her. Given a day off, she will rush to the coast and join countless other holidaymakers. Audrey Hepburn is also a hard and fast worker. Just over two years ago, Jack Hylton selected her from 2,000 other girls to dance in High Button Shoes. After this “break,” Audrey tripped into the chorus of Sauce Tartare. There she caugh the eye of producer Cecil Landeaus sufficiently to be given a solo part in his sequel Sauce Piquante. This, in turn, caught the attention of the theatre critics and the public.

Among the regulars who went to see Audrey’s performance was film producer Mario Zampi. He went fourteen times. Like many pretty showgirls, Audrey had frequently been told she ought to be in films. Zampi not only said it, he gave her a small part in Alastair Sim’s Laughter in Paradise. Other “meatier” parts followed in The Lavender Hill Mob and Young Wives’ Tale. She obtained a contract with Associated British Pictures and a leading part in Ealing’s The Secret People—before her first three pictures were released. During the next few months, filmgoers will be able to make up their own minds about Audrey. They will see a lithe, dark-hair, large-eyed girl who slightly resembles Jean Simmons. Unlike Jean, however, Audrey has a cosmopolitan and somber background.

Secret performances for members of Dutch Resistance were some of Audrey’s experiences during the war. Now, at twenty-two, she takes the part of a refugee dancer in the film The Secret People.

A mixture of Scots, Belgian, and Dutch, she was in Belgium at the outbreak of war. After the Belgian capitulation, the family moved to Arnhem. Their house there was shelled during the airborne landing.

It was at Arnhem that she made her first public appearance as an entertainer. Black, or secret, concerts were given in private houses by performers who had refused to join the German sponsored “Chamber of Culture.” Audrey, then fifteen, was invited to appear at one of these concerts. Her mother helped her to make costumes from old curtains and chair covers. Later, conditions became so bad that cothes and jewellery were sold to provide food for the family.

Looked at from the Mayfair flat where she now lives with her mother, these days seem unreal. Though she entered show business as a dancer, Audrey is rapidly developing as an actress. Unusually tall for films—she is 5'7"—she has passed the stage where producers can brush her off by telling her she is “too lofty for camera work.” A girl with her potential star value can be as tall as a giraffe and still get by.

Audrey Hepburn could gracefully occupy a star’s chair in Britain’s studios. She might even attract some of the international attention now lavished on “Katie” Hepburn, and enable that much harassed star to pursue her life far from the madding crowd.

#audrey hepburn #vintage #classic #style #photography #fashion #old hollywood #old hollywood glamour #1950s #1951 #readings #audrey hepburn readings #magazines #vintage magazines

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vxmpswxn · 10 months

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⠀ ⠀

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ‹⠀𓄿:⠀𝒾n the 𝓈hadows of dance and death, 𝓁aena morberg weaves her tale, a faint reflection of tragedies that dance 𝒾n the twilight, where art and agony converge 𝒾n an ethereal 𝒷allet of grace and darkness.

⠀ ⠀

⠀ ⠀IMPORTANT. hi, german is not my first ⠀ ⠀language but I try; low activity, 21+ only ⠀ ⠀selective ♡. wire: vxmpswxn. ⠀ ⠀_________________________________　❞ ⠀ ⠀keep reading for info in english.

⠀ ⠀

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ─── 𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐂 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐀.

Complete name: Laena Indra Kennedy (née Morberg).

Short names: Lena, Miss Morberg, little bird (just for Rajko), kitty (just for Cailan) & Ms. Kennedy.

Species: Human.

Age: 22 years.

Born: June 16.

Nationality: Swedish.

Parents: Diederik Morberg & Sasha Dupond ( † ).

Relationship: Married to @american-satan

Eyes: Gray blue.

Hair: Long, straight and black.

Physical characeristic: Has a scar on each wrist from a suicide attempt at age fourteen.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ─── 𝐃𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐓.

ᅠ◗ᅠCurrent occupation: Ballet dancer and student of fine arts. Works part-time restoring tombstones in a cemetery.

ᅠ◗ᅠInterests: History (specially the norse & slavic culture), ballet, art in general (paint, writting, dance, orchestras, etc.), witchcraft & rituals, alcohol (specially wine), criminal documentations and old books.

ᅠ◗ᅠLikes: Sundays. Smell of coffee in the morning. Evenings. Children. Piano. Painting. Noise of the city. Fire. Sweet wine. Anatomy books. Dancing. Order. Candles. Sweet things. Caresses in the hair. Cemeteries. Her boyfriend.

ᅠ◗ᅠDislikes: Illuminated places. Mornings. Sleep. Gaudy colors. Storms. People who are too cheerful. Funerals. Dirt. Physical contact without her permission. Lies. Loud noises. Shadows. Cold food. High temperatures. Her birthday.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ─── 𝐄𝐗𝐓𝐑𝐀 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐀.

ᅠ›ᅠLaena keeps a secret diary where she pens down her most intimate thoughts and reflections. She often carries it with her while working on gravestone restoration in the cemetery.

ᅠ›ᅠHer mother died when she was born and, since then, has always felt guilty about it. As grows, the physical likeness becomes more pronounced, causing discomfort and further distancing from her father.

ᅠ›ᅠIn her adolescence, Laena silently suffered at the hands of her ex-boyfriend, Aksel. This dark chapter in her life plunged her into the depths of drugs and abuse. Her brother, Rajko, acted as her secret defender, liberating Laena from torment by eliminating the source of her suffering, though this heroic act remains buried in the shadows.

ᅠ›ᅠEvery time prepares for a ballet performance, she engages in a peculiar ritual: placing a small flower on the lapel of her costume as a silent tribute to her mother. It's a private gesture that allows her to feel the connection between her art and her maternal legacy.

ᅠ›ᅠWhen comes into contact with the shadows of death, she not only perceives their presence but also gains fleeting visions of how and when someone will meet their end. This additional burden of knowledge has led her to carry the weight of others' secrets, often grappling with the morality of interfering in the destinies of others.

ᅠ›ᅠFrom a young age, no one ever believed in Lena's abilities. Consequently, throughout her life, she has been subjected to a series of psychiatrists, all attempting to silence her gift with medication. Rather than calming her torment, these pills plunged her into a haze of disconnection and despair.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Greetings spiders! ⠀⠀⠀Stay hydrated & be respectful

#witch rp #horror rp #nsfwrp #crime rp #supernatural rp #fantasy rp #mature themes #userfakevz

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greatideas-badwriter · 5 months

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SasuSaku: Sacrificed To The Banished Prince Chapter 1

Sixteen. That's the age that a person reaches adulthood in Konoha. It's also the age when most sons and daughters get paired up for arranged marriages. The same can't be said for Sakura, though. No, at twenty-two years old, she's never received a single offer, largely due to the fact that her existence isn't known by many. As the illegitimate child of Baron Haruno and a traveling dancer, the poor young woman was brought up as little more than a slave. Most maids are treated with more care.

Sakura is the eldest of the Baron's four children. Just three years younger than her is Hihara, the family heir and only son. With blood-red hair, emerald green eyes, and tan skin, he received nearly thirty marriage proposals on the morning of his sixteenth birthday. He married Duke Hyuga's second daughter, Hanabi, though he remains in the Haruno estate while she stays at the castle. Apparently, their dislike of one another is mutual.

Next, there's Haruka, the most beautiful Haruno daughter. She has the family's red hair, long and flowing down her back, sparkling blue eyes, and a figure others can only dream of having. Her sixteenth birthday was two months ago, and she's been taking her time selecting a husband out of the many proposals.

In reality, Sakura knows Haruka's only holding out because when she's been wed, she'll have to move in with her new husband, and it's likely she won't be as coddled as she is at home. Haruka is a daddy's girl through and through. She's spoiled and mean but does a great job of appearing charming in front of others.

Finally, there's Hana, the youngest daughter. Unlike Hihara and Haruka, Hana is sweet and kind. At fourteen, she's soft-spoken and intelligent. She's the only sibling who doesn't mistreat Sakura. The two share a love for reading novels and often bond by discussing them.

After twenty-two years of being treated awfully, Sakura's spirit is beyond broken. With dull green eyes and an ever-present solemn expression on her pale face, the woman does what she's told and tries not to draw attention to herself. Any personality she had to speak of was squandered long ago.

"You should be thanking me. My father allowed you to stay here even after your slut mother ran off and got herself killed," Haruka shoved Sakura to the ground. The pinkette didn't try to defend herself because she knew by now it would only make things worse.

The middle siblings often find reasons to bully her, even if they have to make something up. This time, Haruka insisted the woman glared at her. It didn't happen, obviously.

"Here," the redhead lifted her flowing dress enough that her feet were visible and pointed one out toward Sakura, "Kiss it. Tell me how grateful you are."

Tears threatened to rise in Sakura's eyes, but she blinked them back. Gritting her teeth, she crawled closer to do as ordered, only to freeze when their father's voice rang through the long hallway, "Girls, quit playing and come to my office."

A tiny cry escaped Sakura when her hand was suddenly stomped on by Haruka's heel. She snatched it away to her chest when able and struggled to her feet with a low gaze. It was bleeding. She quietly followed her younger sister.

"What do you need this trash for?"

They stood before the Baron's desk, Hihara and Hana already present and waiting. The stern man held up a piece of parchment with an unfamiliar seal in dark blue, "There has been a proposal that cannot be declined." He set it on the desk before him and interlaced his fingers with his elbows resting, "The second Uchiha heir demands a wife from us."

Sakura expected Haruka to be excited because, as far as she was aware, none of her other suitors had a name even close to as powerful as "Uchiha". To her surprise, she wasn't. "No, Daddy, please! Don't make me!"

"This is outrageous! How many women has he gone through already, Father? Surely there's something you can do?" Hihara added.

The Baron lifted a hand to silence the room, "Sakura."

Sakura's eyes lifted in surprise, only to drop quickly down again, "Yes, Father?"

"You'll go."

Haruka gasped before laughing loudly, "That's perfect! Send the garbage to her death in my place. Thank you, Daddy!"

The pinkette couldn't help but ask, despite knowing it'd upset at least her siblings, "To my death…?"

Hihara responded, "Countless women have been sacrificed as wives to him already. Receiving a proposal means certain death by the monster's hand." When Sakura met her brother's eye in disbelief, he smirked, "Thank you for your sacrifice, dear sister."

After being raised under the idea that she was nothing, Sakura didn't argue. She didn't fight back when Haruka visited her bedroom later that night to beat and mock her. She didn't even shed a tear upon being bathed and dolled up like some kind of princess the next morning, only to be put into a carriage and immediately sent to the most northern part of Konoha, where snow covered the ground, and the air was cold enough to hurt bare skin.

'If only I wasn't about to be killed, I'd be so relieved to finally be away from everyone,' Sakura mused while watching the trees pass outside. 'Wait, why aren't we going East, toward the castle?' This was the first time she'd been permitted to leave the estate, so she was still happy regardless.

She looked at her hands with a grimace. Her nails were trimmed and painted a soft white, but there's no hiding the scars and callouses from the hard work she'd been forced to do.

'Will he kill me immediately, or will he want to consummate the marriage beforehand?' To say she was frightened is putting it lightly. Sakura didn't know what consummate meant, but Father told her before she left to expect it and that it was her duty as a wife.

"We're here, Lady Haruno," the driver interrupted the woman's train of thought. Sakura's spine straightened as the door to the carriage opened. She was helped outside by the frowning man. He removed her luggage and sat it by her feet, tipped his hat, and left her there on the side of the dirt road.

"W-Wait!" It was futile. She was alone.

The confused woman looked behind her, only to swallow hard. There, at the end of the lengthy trail she'd been left at, stood a mansion. It was black as night and gothic in style. Every window was dark and covered with curtains. The grass and garden were dead, the leaves from the bare trees lying unraked and messily mixed into the snow to make it a dirty brown color.

'Is this really the home of a member of the royal family?'

She carried her heavy suitcase, struggling all the while, up the path until she reached the door, where she hesitated. Before she could decide what to do, the door opened to reveal a pale-skinned man with dull eyes and a tense smile, "You're trespassing. State your business or leave the premises."

'What? Is this not the right place?'

"I'm the eldest daughter of Baron Haruno." Sakura bowed politely as the maids instructed her last night.

The man's eyes widened, and he cocked his head to the side, "You're Lady Haruno?"

She nodded, attempting to remain composed under his watchful gaze.

He studied her in silence for a moment before holding the door open and gesturing inside, "Follow me. Don't touch anything."

A second man wordlessly approached, took her suitcase, and followed the duo into the large home. The floors were bright white, the tile shiny enough to reflect the lights even though they were dim. Dark violet wallpaper with an elegant black design covered the walls. Expensive-looking vases and ornaments decorated the hallway, each one probably worth more than everything Sakura owns combined. "

Wait here." The young woman nods, bowing her head politely when the pale man spares her a glance.

It was silent between her and the second butler for the entirety of their wait, almost ten minutes. The pinkette begins to feel lightheaded. She wasn't offered any food before being sent off by her family, and her body has always been weak due to the neglect and abuse she suffered all these years.

Just as she began worrying she'd have to ask the silent man nearby to show her somewhere to sit, the original butler reappeared.

He held out a thin black envelope. "Usotsuki will show you to your room."

'What is this? A letter? Where is the prince? Will he not come out to kill me now?'

The confusion must've been obvious because he curtly explained, "Lord Uchiha forbids you from visiting the third floor of the estate, where his quarters are located. Until further notice, you'll begin planning the wedding. That letter contains an official greeting."

The next thing Sakura knew, she was alone in a massive, dark bedroom. It took mere minutes to hang the three dresses she owned in the wardrobe. Inwardly, the woman was terrified the murderous prince would come to kill her in the middle of the night, but she was also wondering if maybe things would be better that way. If he did it while she was asleep, then at least she wouldn't have to suffer anymore.

Lighting a candle at the desk near the bed, Sakura sat in the large chair and opened the letter from her soon-to-be husband. Intricate, neat handwriting met her gaze. Tears welled in her eyes as she read it.

"Lady Haruno, thank you for agreeing to travel to my home without an escort. Your cooperation is greatly appreciated. As for our engagement, allow me to clearly explain my intentions. We will not be married. His Royal Highness has demanded I search for a fiance, which is why you've been summoned. However, I do not agree with his demands."

"While I am certain your stay here will be temporary, please inform any of the staff of your needs, and I will see to it that they are met. I ask for your patience as I devise a plan to return you to your family. Please allow me one month to remedy the situation. In the meantime, you will need to act as though our wedding is inevitable. I understand that I'm asking a lot, but it's for both of our sakes. I do not wish to be married, and you likely do not wish to be married to a man like me."

A signature at the bottom of the letter read "Sasuke Uchiha".

Sakura's heartbeat soared in a panic.

'No! No, this can't be happening!'

If she returned home in a month, unwed, her family would be enraged. With shaking hands, the woman fumbled through the desk for a pen and paper, quickly writing a response.

"My Lord, your honesty is appreciated in this stressful situation. Please allow me to return the gesture with unsullied words. While I'm sure you have personal reasons as to why you wish to remain a bachelor, I beg your reconsideration. For my own reasons, I cannot allow this marriage to fail. Let us be wed as His Highness requests. Use me as a defense against further such demands. Whether you discard of me or not, I am fine with whatever outcome so long as our families are fooled."

Sakura would rather be brutally murdered by this mysterious prince than return home. She was sent here to die, and if she didn't do that, the punishment would certainly have her begging for death.

Hesitantly, the woman opened the door to her room and tiptoed into the hallway until she saw two maids passing by, "Excuse me, but can you please deliver this to Lord Uchiha?"

The maids looked at her with wide eyes. One of them gingerly accepted the letter, "As you wish, Ma'am." The pair bowed politely before scampering off, whispering excitedly to one another.

Sakura watched them for a moment before returning to her room with a sigh.

That was the nicest any staff had ever treated her. She fully expected them to hit or at least yell at her. Her body trembled with fright as she climbed into the comfortable bed and curled into a ball. One way or another, her life would soon be over.

#naruto #naruto fanfiction #narutofanfic #narutofanfiction #sakura #naruto shippuden #sakura uchiha #haruno sakura #sasusaku fic #sasusaku fanfiction #uchiha sasuke #sasuke #sasusaku #sakura haruno

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princesssarisa · 5 months

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As I do every December, I've been watching videos of The Nutcracker, and I've been struck by the different ways that different productions cast the roles of the little girl (whom some productions call Marie, others Clara) and the Nutcracker Prince (both his living toy form and his human prince form) are cast.

The casting I grew up with, which seems to be the standard way in American productions, was to cast real children in both roles. A girl and boy between ten and fourteen years old. In these productions they do as much dancing as their beginner status allows, but by necessity they're more pantomime roles than heavy dance roles. In Act 2 they typically just sit and watch the dances in the Land of Sweets, while the principle dancers who perform the pas de deux and subsequent solos are the Sugar Plum Fairy and her Cavalier.

Then there's the alternative that seems more popular in Russian and European stagings: to cast adults, with a ballerina in her twenties playing Clara/Marie as a girl in her early teens, and to make them the ballet's principle dancers. In these productions, there typically is no Sugar Plum Fairy or Cavalier. Instead, Clara/Marie and the Prince perform the pas de deux and the solo dances in Act 2.

Then there's the alternative that choreographer Peter Wright used in his production for the Royal Ballet in London. To have the roles played by young adult dancers, and give them more extensive dancing than productions with children do, but to also include the Sugar Plum Fairy and Cavalier as separate characters and to still have the latter two perform the iconic pas de deux and solo dances.

Another choice, which I've only seen done once so far but read that several productions do, is to have children play the roles at first, but then have adult dancers take their place. After the Mouse King's defeat, Drosselmeyer or some other magical power transforms them both, so the child Nutcracker becomes an adult Prince and little Clara/Marie becomes a beautiful maiden. Thus they perform the iconic Act 2 dances, and only when Clara/Marie wakes up at the end does she become a little girl again.

Yet another choice, which I've read about but haven't seen yet, is to cast a child as Clara/Marie but an adult as the Nutcracker Prince, and to include the Sugar Plum Fairy, but have the Nutcracker Prince take the place of her Cavalier. In this casting, the Prince is a kindly older brother figure to little Clara/Marie instead of the traditional crush/love interest, while the Sugar Plum Fairy becomes his romantic partner with whom Clara/Marie helps him to reunite.

I could analyze the pros and cons of each choice in detail, but this post is already long enough. Which casting do you prefer?

#poll #ballet #the nutcracker #casting #dancers #dance #choreography #pyotr ilyich tchaikovsky #nutcracker

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sweetsungie · 2 years

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the silence between two special songs | h.j | part 2

pairing: souncloud! jisung x reader (ft. dancer! hyunjin)

genre: college au, childhood friends to lovers, fluff, angst, mature content, fwb, mutual pining, unrequited love, rapper jisung, english major reader

series: the silence between two special songs

word count: 17k

warnings: cursing, fluff, angst, smoking, marijuana use, making out, attempt of a fake relationship, suggestive (if you squint), jisung is going through a lot, yn is oblivious, feels upon feels

synopsis:

falling in love with someone was one of the best and worst things a person could do. you’d remember the first time your heart skipped a beat at the sound of their voice and how perfectly their lips fit into yours. you’d remember how they encapsulated every single fiber being within you that you could no longer breathe when you were around them; likewise, you didn’t want to.

you’d remember all the good things about them.

but then you’d remember the first time it ached knowing that they cared about you, but not enough. how they loved you, but not the way you wanted them to.

not the way you wanted hyunjin to.

and not the way jisung wanted you to.

•°. *࿐

a/n: i spent way too much time writing this haha. i really liked the end product tho so a win is a winnnnn ;)

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

comment to be a part of the taglist <3

masterlist

series playlist

It all started out as a crush.

You know, the kind where you like like someone. Sometimes, if you were lucky, you’d get a kiss on the cheek on the playground. It’d start out with a sweet, innocent, slightly awkward crush. Playgrounds eventually became basements and games of spin the bottle.

Jisung hoped to land on you. Eventually, it did, but he didn’t get anywhere near your lips. He’d laugh it off, the both of you saying, “Gross, spin it again.” He would put on a facade even though he wanted to give you one of the sloppiest kisses ever, not knowing where to place his hands right in front of everyone.

In the mind of a fourteen-year-old, fresh into high school, he’d hoped that after the sloppy kiss, you’d both confess that you had liked each other a lot. He’d expect the two of you to grow nervous and not do anything about it, though.

By grade ten, he’d properly ask you out. He’d bring you orange tulips from his mother’s garden one morning because those were your favorite. He’d hold your hand, hug you, and tell you that you were so pretty that sometimes he needed to look away. And soon after you’d got together, the both of you would’ve started to get an understanding of the whole kissing thing.

By grade eleven, he’d figured out where to place his hands, and he would hold you gently like you were his world, and he didn't want to break you. Then you’d look at him smiling and laughing, your heart filled with love, thinking, “Yes, I choose him. He is my person."

By senior year, you’d begun to love each other, and it was gentle, almost artful, like a flower blooming. Aside from himself, you knew everything about him as he did you. What you both liked, what you both hated, what you both loved. You found comfort in each other for so many years. It felt right.

And by the end of college, you’d both gotten so used to each other that it was crazy. It was crazy how you’d become one person in two separate bodies. You were his world. Kisses became more passionate, and your love became an unstoppable fire.

In the mind of a fourteen-year-old, fresh into high school, Jisung started imagining his whole life with you.

Once the weekend ended, you found yourself already dreading the start of the next week.

Waking up in the mornings had to be one of the top ten worst parts of your days, and although you were well into the semester by now, it didn't make it any easier. You couldn't help yourself that you just weren't a morning person.

Your day consisted of everything you were used to normally… except the fact that you flunked your literature quiz. You were pretty bummed about that. But, despite your disappointment, the day had gone by fast, and soon you found yourself walking beside Hyunjin and Felix toward the dance studio.

As ridiculous as it sounded, you’d hoped that Minho would take it easy today because you felt so mentally drained, but he didn't. Today really proved itself to be a shitty day.

Throughout practice, you couldn't understand why it felt like you had two left feet. Nothing was sticking, you kept zoning out, and your memory and coordination sucked. Why were you struggling so much? Your mind felt so cloudy.

You kept repeating the conversation with Jisung. There was no way he took everything seriously, right? You saw each other throughout the rest of the weekend, and yeah, maybe you both made a few jokes about it randomly. But that was it.

A joke.

It was all a big joke and you were waiting for him to tell you that too. You waited and waited for him to knock on your bedroom door—even to just burst right through it and tell you how absolutely crazy that plan was. But he never came, so you kept telling yourself instead, until it suddenly didn't feel like one anymore.

By now, dance practice had ended fifteen minutes ago, and nearly everybody had cleared out of the studio. After your lackluster performance, you decided to stay a little longer.

Were you really going to get intimately involved with your best friend?

“Fuck-” you huffed out. You were missing all the beats, which was starting to aggravate you.

After knowing Jisung for all your life, you couldn't believe that you were just now having a conversation about intimacy with each other… and agreeing on it. It sounded fake.

You shook your thoughts away. “Focus.”

"Y/N?" A voice called out. It didn’t take you too long to realize whose it was. Nobody else sounded the way he did. "I thought you left already for the day." He walked up to you and, as he got closer, noticed your attempt to conceal your annoyance with yourself.

You gave him a soft smile, hoping that it was, at the very least, believable. “Hi, Jinnie."

He looked really good today. His duffle was slung over his shoulder, a sweatband around his wrist. Your eyes trailed up his exposed arm, the slight definition of his muscles. And then you followed to his lips. It wore the same shade of pink that you loved. He looked really fucking good and you just wanted to scream. Scream because of your situation– scream because of him.

Instead of doing so, Hyunjin frowned, taking into account your gloomy expression. "Are you okay? What happened?"

"Nothing happened."

He sighed, setting his duffle down on the floor beside yours. "Has anybody ever called you a bad liar?"

Too many times to count. You shook your head, "Nothing happened! Seriously! I'm just kind of emotional today– it's whatever."

As soon as you said that, he crossed his arms and simply looked down at you quizzically. He didn't believe a single thing you’d just said. It was intimidating, the way he looked at you. Although you were stressed and could’ve easily broken down just by his gaze, you tried your best to keep your composure.

The room was silent, and you couldn't help but feel your cheeks redden at his firm stare. His look alone excited every inch of you, and you couldn't help it. You were covered in goosebumps.

"Why do you always do that," you groaned, hugging your legs into your chest to hide your face as you were pretty embarrassed by your rosy cheeks.

He quirked an eyebrow, "Do what?"

You looked at him and muttered, "You know what you are doing, Hyunjin."

He titled his head. "Hmm... I'm not too sure I do?" He was aware that he often stared at people too much, but he couldn't help it as it was out of pure curiosity.

In your case, he had put two and two together within a span of a few seconds. He recalled your constant sighs and mumbles to yourself throughout the practice. You were beating yourself up too harshly. He knew what upset you, but he wanted you to tell him when you were comfortable enough.

You didn't respond.

A few moments passed before he slowly crouched in front of you, a soft smile plastered on his lips. You sucked in a breath as your faces were now roughly inches apart.

"If you're not going to tell me what's wrong, at least let me help you. Let's take it from the top,” he spoke kindly.

It was the worst torture ever.

Having him there, crouched in front of you and inches apart. Smiling and handsome–but not being allowed to do everything your hands had been dreaming of since you’d met him. He made you feel many extraordinary things, and it was never an issue despite you knowing he’d probably never feel the same.

You loved everything about him enough to fill the missing piece in your heart. Your love for him would be sufficient for both of you. You were so sure of it.

The sweet scent of strawberry lingered in your nose. It warmed your skin. It warmed your soul. You always loved the smell of strawberries and how they tasted.

It was horribly clear that it was unbearable to just be his friend. Your throat ran dry, and you swallowed. "And what if I don’t want to?" you whispered; it was just enough for him to hear. Your eyes never broke away from his, although your heart was ready to burst out of your chest.

You were being bold. A little too bold. Usually, you didn't mind expressing yourself. It was one of your many most honorable traits. But this wasn't anything you would've typically done to the boy you were so head over heels for.

Maybe your emotions were all too distorted right now, but the look in his eyes made you ignore all your doubts. Your failed quiz, your horrible dancing, Jisung. It all suddenly disappeared, and all that was left was someone as beautiful as Hwang Hyunjin.

Silence filled the room once more as he bit down on the side of his cheek, charmed by your striking response. He attempted to speak before he caught himself, lightly chuckling. His eyes trailed down your face before looking back up to meet your eyes again, "...I never knew you were this stubborn Y/N."

You shrugged in response, making him analyze you for a moment, thinking. You were interesting to him. Finally, he stood up, recreating the distance between you both. Suddenly the scent of strawberries disappeared, and you felt colder.

Without a word, he lent his hand for you to grab, and you just simply stared at it, "If you don't want to dance, that's okay. At least just take my hand–it makes me upset seeing you like this."

Although you wanted to continue moping around at your leisure, his lent-out hand was too irresistible to ignore. You took his hand in yours and stood up.

He brought his lips up into a proud grin, dimples exposed. "Good. Now we are going to have a quick dance lesson."

"Hyunjin!"

He laughed loudly, "Yes, darling."

You almost choked on your words. Pausing for a moment, you tried to forget what he just called you. "Um… I’m not going to intrude on the rest of your day. I can practice alone."

Giving you a sympathetic look, he noticed that you tended to let things get to your head. He couldn't blame you; he was the same way. He was always so hard on himself. It was something he was working on.

He could tell that you were upset with your performance today. And if he really wanted to, he could’ve continued to make the situation lighthearted and witty, but instead, he pulled you into his chest, his arms wrapping around your neck.

And suddenly, just like that, the smell of strawberries came rushing back. Except for this time, it hit ten times harder.

You froze into place. When was the last time you hugged him? Last year before he went abroad? No, you just gave him a wave of goodbye. Maybe it was when you both won that beer pong game together at some random party freshman year.

You hesitantly wrapped your arms around his waist, and suddenly your skin began to burn. It burned so much that it began to glow.

His chin rested on your head and he sighed, "Don't let today’s little slip-up get to your head." He firmly reassured you, "I've watched you all this time, and you have been doing amazing–you are amazing."

Your knees felt weak as the world around you was in slow motion. While you stood engulfed by his touch, you continued to fall for him in silence because, in silence, you felt no rejection.

And at that moment, it felt like you were the only ones that existed. That was, until your phone rang with a video call.

The both of you parted at the sound and you internally groaned, reading the contact. Yeah, you felt somewhat better from Hyunjin’s consolation but seeing Jisung’s name on your screen kind of frustrated you once more.

Inevitably enough, you answered the call. “Yes?”

“Oh, sorry, are you still at practice? I thought you finished.” His eyes widened cutely as he noticed the familiar dance studio ceiling.

You shook your head. “It’s done. I just stayed to practice some more,” you clarified. Soon enough, Hyunjin popped his head in the frame, and Jisung’s eyebrows rose in curiosity. It was clear he was definitely thinking things.

Hyunjin waved, “Hey Hannie.”

A sly smile formed on Jisung’s lips, “What’s up man? I was going to ask if Y/N wanted to grab food, but she has company.”

You rolled your eyes, but the boy beside you didn't notice. Instead, he laughed at Jisung’s comment. “It’s not like we have dance together or anything…” you butted in. “Besides, I’m in the middle of cleaning up some moves, so I can’t make it to dinner.”

Hyunjin looked at you, slightly concerned. “You should eat something.”

“I’ll eat later. You both should go!” you forced a smile. If it were any other day, you would’ve agreed, but you really needed to practice some more.

Jisung spoke up, “How about we all grab some pizza later?” He asked, heavily emphasizing the word all, which made you glare at him slightly through your screen. He hid a mischievous smile.

“That sounds fair, right Y/N?” Hyunjin asked. His eyes hadn't left you. “We can practice together first. If you’re okay with that, of course.”

“Yeah Y/N, sounds good?” Jisung sheepishly asked, and you wanted to hang up on him so badly just by hearing his smug tone.

But instead, you pitifully caved. “Yeah, sounds good.”

You didn't really have much to say to Hyunjin during the walk to the pizza parlor.

It was evident that you were an overthinker. For the rest of your self-made practice, Hyunjin had helped you relearn everything from earlier but your mind constantly overflooded, recalling everything that had just happened between the two of you. You wanted to hug him again.

As for the boy beside you, he enjoyed the comfortable silence. It was therapeutic and calming. And it was quite ironic because your mind was far from quiet.

“What are you doing this Saturday?” Hyunjin abruptly asked. The both of you had come to a stop at a crosswalk. He pouted, “I have two tickets to this new art exhibit that had just opened, and my friend canceled on me.”

Your gaze fell on him and he gave you a half smile, shaking his head like he found himself ridiculous.

“I’m not sure if art is really your thing but, would you like to go with me?” he added.

A moment passed before the light of the crosswalk signaled for everyone to walk. “I’m down to go if you want me to,” you stated as the two of you followed behind other pedestrians.

“Of course I do. I just hope it won’t bore you to death.”

Nothing would ever bore you when it came to him. He was the most interesting and fascinating person you’d ever met.

You shook your head, smiling at him. “I won’t get bored, trust me.”

He grinned adorably. “It’s this Saturday at noon. Does that work for you?” You pondered for a few moments, recalling if you had any other appointments near that hour. He mistook the silence as you being busy. “We could go later—”

You cut him off, “No, noon is perfect.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, of course! I can't wait Jinnie!”

He gave you a dimpled smile and your heart nearly melted at the sight.

Before you both knew it, you had arrived at the pizza parlor. You always found it so offputting how quiet the parlor was during the weekday. It was a hotspot during the weekend, filled with vibrant students, both drunk and sober, with top hits blaring through the speakers. Now it just looked like a regular pizza shop.

Hyunjin spotted Jisung leaned against the brick wall near the entrance. His frame was engulfed, like usual, with his favorite hoodie you got him, the hood over his head. If you weren't still icky from your conversation on Friday, you would’ve run into his warm arms because of how stressed you were today. He gave really good hugs—the best ones.

He was too busy with his phone to notice the two of you until walking up to him.

“Hey Ji,” you greeted.

He looked up, instantly a smile forming on his lips as he saw you. “Oh, hey guys.” His eyes trailed over to Hyunjin and he stood up from against the wall, his weight now balanced on both his feet. He proceeded to then give Hyunjin a quick wave before turning to you, suddenly encapsulating you into a deep hug.

Your eyes widened suddenly until you felt his familiar arms soak in. You let him hug you.

Seeing how his hug lasted more than five seconds already, you glanced at Hyunjin. He stood silently, almost uncomfortably, as he waited for the both of you to finish. Then, he caught your gaze, and his eyebrows rose.

“Alright Ji, you can let go now,’ you lightly chuckled as you felt uneasy with the physical display in front of Hyunjin. Plus, it was 7 pm and you were standing in front of an almost dead pizza parlor embraced by your best friend for no reason at all.

Jisung finally pulled away, “Sorry. I just missed you that’s all…” He dramatically sighed out loud which made you give him a suspicious look. You were confused as to why he was acting like that. He peered over to Hyunjin who was now attempting to entertain himself with his phone and gave you a quick wink.

Was he attempting to make Hyunjin jealous? You felt the blood run through your cheeks.

Noticing the quietness, Hyunjin looked up from his device. “Oh, are you guys ready to head in?” He put his phone in his pocket. Jisung nodded and followed behind him as he began to walk inside.

You were still hung up on Jisung’s wink. What exactly was he pulling, especially on his own? Jisung sucked at making anything remotely believable. He sucked at pranks, at lying (no matter how much he attempted to drag you in this), and practically anything else along the lines of improvising.

Since Hyunjin had walked in first and was in front, he couldn't see what happened next but you nearly flicked Jisung right in the forehead. There was no way in hell Hyunjin would get jealous of Jisung. There was no way in hell Hyunjin would get jealous point blank period. He didn't like you.

Jisung pulled your arm, bringing you closer. “Y/N, you need to play along,” he harshly whispered.

You furrowed your eyebrows and scoffed at his words. Maybe a couple of days ago when the plan was still fresh you would've, but now you really weren't in the mood to play fake girlfriend and boyfriend. Especially after the day you just had.

“Well, you're coming on too strong.”

He shook his head, “No, I just don't think you're doing enough.”

You rolled your eyes, hitting the back of his head. “How’s that for enough?” He winced, holding it.

Hyunjin heard the commotion and turned to find Jisung giving you the biggest glare. He awkwardly cleared his throat, looking in between the both of you. “Uh, everything okay?”

You caught up to him, leaving Jisung behind with a smile. “Yep!”

Soon enough you all began to enjoy your slices of pizza, talking about weekday plans and small life updates. Of course, Jisung didn't let you rest though. After the little incident earlier, he made it his dying wish to make you annoyed.

You insisted he sit beside Hyunjin in the booth but he demanded to sit beside you. Usually, you didn't mind but after knowing his intentions with this dinner, you wanted to be far from him. But since you didn't want to cause a scene and confuse Hyunjin more than he already seemed to be, you let him be.

Hyunjin took a sip of his cola as you nearly shoved Jisung out of the booth like it was the most normal thing ever. The boy across from you lightly chuckled to himself, “You guys are arguing a lot more than usual.”

“Well, Jisung tried to kiss your cheek,” you told yourself. “You’d always let him kiss your cheek, though,” you responded. “Yes, but he was getting on your nerves on purpose. He didn’t deserve to kiss your cheek.”

You nearly laughed hysterically at the conversation you just had with yourself. You were losing your mind, seriously.

Jisung fully sat back in the booth and waved his hand, shaking his head at Hyunjin. He was acting like his life didn't flash before his eyes just a moment ago. “It’s all good. Right Y/N?”

It took a lot for you to not say anything incriminating. “Yeah, I guess it is,” you gritted.

The boy across from you was slightly amused by the interaction, “If I didn't know that you guys were best friends, I would've guessed you liked each other.”

The both of you turned to Hyunjin almost immediately, like it was instinct. It was a saying that was conditioned in both your and Jisung’s mind. Much so that the boy beside you forgot the role he was supposed to be playing.

“What? Ew!”

Some time had passed since you and Jisung came from dinner and you had spent the rest of your evening finishing up a paper that was due later that night. Senior year was already kicking your ass and you needed to get your priorities straight.

There was a knock at your door.

“You can come in,” you called out. The door swung open and Minho appeared. You flashed him a smile from where you were seated at your desk. “Hey, Lino. Thanks for finally using the knocking system.”

You recalled a few weeks ago when you scolded him for barging into your room.

He gave you a sarcastic smile, taking a seat at the bottom of your bed, “Ha ha. Very funny. What are you up to?”

He had on the cutest mushroom print pajama set that you had gotten him as a joke for Christmas three years ago. Although it was all for shits and giggles, he surprisingly liked it. You laughed as you thought about his unexpected initial reaction.

“I know what you're thinking, and all I can say is I will wear this for the rest of my life,” he proudly stated.

You brought your hands up in surrender, “Fine.” He looked cute anyway. You calmed yourself down before rolling in your desk chair to face him, “What's up?”

“Nothing. I was just wondering if you were doing alright. I noticed that something was on your mind during practice,” he began spinning your chair side to side with his legs.

Minho was a really attentive person. Nothing could ever get past him.

“Oh, yeah. I'm fine. Just bummed because I failed my quiz, that's all,” you informed.

“You sure?”

You lightly smiled, “Of course! I’m almost done with my paper for that stupid class right now. I need to redeem myself.”

He slowly nodded, not sure if you were completely telling the truth. “...Ahh, okay. Let me not hold you then.” He stood up from your bed to hug you from behind as you still sat. “Goodnight,” he hummed before walking out of your room.

It kind of struck a nerve knowing that you were keeping the arrangement with Jisung a secret from Minho. He totally wouldn't have agreed with the plan—in fact, you were clearly seeing why he wouldn't.

You nearly bit Jisung’s head off for simply trying anything on you earlier. Everything felt so forced and unnatural, and you hated it.

You sighed, pushing away all your thoughts so you could quickly finish up whatever was left of your paper. You were easily distracted and that needed to stop.

Once the clock struck a quarter til midnight, you were able to successfully finish and submit your paper. Excitement rushed through your veins as you were finally able to get some rest. Your brain was beginning to ache.

After cleaning up for the night, you hopped into bed. It was always so rewarding when you entered your cold sheets after a long day. Usually, you would've continued on to the next chapter of a book you were currently reading for class, but quite frankly, you were tired of looking at words.

Not only were you exhausted of words, but the lack of interest you had using your phone was immense. You had hoped for your slumber to whisk you away as soon as possible to cure your boredom.

But then again, you never really got what you wanted so of course, you were wide awake.

You stared at your ceiling pondering on what you could do to pass time until you got tired. You could watch a movie with Minho… No, he probably was busy watching his own thing. So that left you texting your other best friend even though you were still annoyed with him.

you: hey

It didn't take long for him to respond. Expected, but very much so appreciated.

jisung: oh am i finally set free from my unjust timeout?

You rolled your eyes.

you: yes and no

jisung: :)

jisung: tonights a good night then

jisung: what’s up baby

you: i can't sleep, wanna smoke?

jisung: on the roof?

jisung: um no

jisung: i’m scared you might push me off

you: 😐

jisung: lmao kidding

jisung: i’m down

Getting up from your bed, you threw on whatever random university hoodie you could find from the pile of clothes you had laying around. You should probably clean that this weekend. A few moments later, a knock sounded at your door before Jisung peeked his head through.

He was busy finishing up a text, “You ready?”

You nodded, retrieving your phone before following Jisung out of the apartment. The both of you entered the elevator of your building to head up to the rooftop. The boys and you always enjoyed going up there during the summer as it had a pool and many other aspects that made it appealing.

Finally arriving, you were glad it was empty. It was midnight on a Monday night, but other tenants usually came up here to smoke a lot of the time so you both lucked out.

Jisung huffed, plopping down on the faux grass that your landlord installed earlier that year. “Now why are we out here in the middle of the night.” He opened his arms so you could sit in his embrace but you squinted at him still slightly suspicious of his actions from earlier. “Fine, I’ll just be best friend-less.”

Nonetheless, you plopped down beside him, sitting closely as he wanted. He smiled to himself.

“Just bored,” you answered his question. He took out a baggy and rolling paper from his sweater, and you watched as he began to roll a joint. “Bored and stressed.”

“I’m sure of it. You looked rough today,” he responded.

“Ouch.”

He gave you a quick wink, licking the paper close. “Kidding. Here.” You leaned in and he placed the joint in between your lips before lighting it for you.

“Thanks,” you took a drab.

He laid down, letting his back hit the ground with an exhale. “The fresh air is nice.”

You hummed agreeing as you passed him the blunt. He took a long hit from where he was laid.

“Sorry if I was a bitch today,” you abruptly mentioned. “I thought about it in the shower and I shouldn't have tried to shove you out of your seat.”

He took another hit before passing it back to you. “You thought about me in the shower?”

You rolled your eyes although you weren't really annoyed. Laying down beside him, you sighed, “Do you want an apology yes or no?”

He played with the faux grass, pulling and stroking it unknowingly. Weed always made him fidgety. “I’ve known you my entire life. I don't need an apology Y/N.”

He had a point. But why did you still feel instigated to somewhat apologize for being meaner than usual to him today? He was always the sweetest to you in his own way.

Still, you continued. “I think it’s because you were doing all that stuff in front of Hyunjin and I don't know… I got a little flustered,” you released smoke out into the air. “Here, I’m done.”

He lightly chuckled taking the remainder, “I get it. I was probably coming on too strong like you said—” He abruptly pointed up at the sky. “Yo, look at that constellation. It kinda looks like Minho!”

Your eyes followed to where he was pointing. “Wait, you're kinda right.” It looked like a bunny.

A few moments of silence passed before he spoke. “Is it just me or is this weed hitting a bit too hard?” He sat up leaning to hit the bud of the joint onto a nearby metal chair, “I’m fucking high as shit.”

You laughed loudly at his reaction. He laid back down beside you again, his eyes observing the plethora of stars overtop.

Turning your body in his direction, you pouted, “But, I think you’re right. Maybe I wasn't doing enough.” You referred to what he said in the diner earlier.

“I was just joking. We really don't have to do anything that makes you uncomfortable Y/N,” he said firmly, his eyes still tracing the constellations. “Besides this is yours and Hyunjin’s business. I shouldn't get involved.”

You shook your head, “No, we agreed and I think I might actually need your help.” You cleared your throat, swallowing the lump that grew. “He asked me to go to an art exhibit with him on Saturday and I said yes.”

Jisung finally turned his head slightly to look at you. “But you don't care about art.”

“Yeah, but I care about Hyunjin so—” you stopped yourself, cringing at the words that just exited your mouth. The boy beside you fake gagged and you hid your face in your hands, embarrassed. “Okay, regardless- what I’m trying to say is I need your help,” you muttered past your hands.

He gently pulled your hands away from your face. “Well, you're going to need to tell me what you need me to do because obviously, I suck at improvising.”

You thought for a moment before your heart suddenly began to pound slightly faster than usual. You were definitely high now. There were one of two ways that this could potentially go, and both of them could result in Jisung laughing in your face.

You exhaled, “Ji.” He hummed in response telling you to go on, suddenly too tired to speak. He began to lazily fidget with the grass again. Sighing, you continued, “Do you remember when we were younger? You used to chase me around at recess, trying to get a kiss. The teachers all laughed, and said you'd grow out of it.”

He paused. His body tensed and instantaneously the world around him froze.

You continued, softly laughing. “I remember it so clearly and it’s so crazy to think about now.” He didn’t say a word. He didn't even dare look in your direction, afraid he would ruin it for himself somehow, someway. But, you looked at him, grabbing his chin to turn his head at you. “Isn't it?”

He swallowed, unable to form a coherent sentence as memories flooded through his head. Memories he desperately worked so hard to forget.

“I need a favor Sungie,” you nervously bit lightly on the bottom of your lip. His eyes did all the speaking for him as he waited for you to carry on. “Can we kiss?”

“Kis—” He suddenly coughed, nearly choking on his spit, “You want to actually kiss?”

He didn't laugh like you expected.

“I know we spoke about it a couple of days ago and I took it as a joke just like you—but Hyunjin asked me to go out and now…” He never took it as a joke. He just didn’t think you’d follow through. The lack of words on his end was eating you alive. You shook your head, “Oh forget it. Never mind.”

Without a word, he pulled you close into his chest. “We can do it,” he confirmed.

You titled your head up, surprised. “What?” You realized maybe you were being a little selfish for asking him to kiss you. “Are you sure?”

He nodded reassuringly. “Yeah, fuck it. It’s just a kiss anyways.” For a moment, he reminisced on your words. He had pushed the idea of you far, far back into his mind that he was convinced it never existed. So there was no need to act as if it did. He quickly shook the intrusive thoughts away.

“It’s just a simple kiss, grow up Jisung,” he silently told himself.

You gave him a look hoping he was telling the truth but something just didn't feel right. “I feel like you're lying… Jisung it’s okay if you do—”

He brought a finger up to his chin, rambling, “I mean technically this would be great practice if you think about it. You haven’t kissed anybody and it’s been a while for me too. Might as well get it out of the way, right?”

Pondering it for a few moments, you hesitantly nodded. “Well, okay.”

The both of you were laid on the rooftop as the illuminated night sky encircled you and made you feel tiny. Today was supposed to be an ordinary Monday but you found yourself leaning into the embrace of your best friend who you were about to kiss.

Your very first kiss.

And as you both leaned in, he suddenly stopped right as your lips were about to meet.

“What?” you asked.

His mouth parted a little, “Huh what? Oh, nothing.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. You knew him too well. “No. Something is wrong, what is it?”

He sighed, groaning, “Ughhh.” It was his turn to cover his face with his hands. Was he getting shy? You lightheartedly giggled as you pulled his hands away, just as he did to you. He exhaled once more, “Probably nerves?”

You chuckled, "I mean you’re not losing your lip virginity, are you?“

“Can you stop calling it that?”

“Never.”

He laughed at your determination to keep the word alive. Soon his laughter died out and he continued his case. “But yeah, it’s just-“ he paused. He was unsure of how to tell you that he was afraid of kissing you. Afraid because he was scared of falling again. “I don’t know… maybe it is kinda weird kissing your best friend you basically knew your entire life,” he breathily half-chuckled.

You raised an eyebrow. Logically speaking, he had a point. This was your best friend, of course, it was odd. It was fucking odd to you too. But you were growing slightly impatient that if not now, soon enough you weren’t going to want to kiss him. You had to keep reminding yourself that it was for Hyunjin. In the most selfish way possible, it was for him.

“Sungie, remember what you just said? It’s just a kiss. Stop making it weird.”

He sighed, not saying a word because you were right. He did say that. The both of you technically did discuss it before also, so he needed to just man up. It was his idea too; this entire scheme that he offered to help you with. Why did he do that? He was starting to really regret it now.

But what was said, was said. There was no going back.

So instead of refuting, he grabbed you around the waist with trembling fingers, pulling you even closer to his body. He was gentle, scared of hurting you.

You laughed and it was suddenly a melody of a song he could listen to for the rest of his life. It would distract him from what he was about to do.

"You know I'm not going to break, right?" You smugly responded, a smile creeping onto your lips.

"I still feel like I'm going to break you. Fuck- I can't believe I'm doing this, never in my wildest dreams did I think I would be-" He began to panic again.

You put a finger to his lips, silencing him, "Ji, just shut up and kiss me."

And so he did. Gosh, you were really going to fuck his head up.

He pressed his lips onto yours and although the both of you had absolutely no idea how to move forward or how to proceed, you continued. You both just laid there, entangled, taking in the warmth of having each other's lips and bodies pressed against one another.

It took him a couple of seconds before pulling away slightly. He was really high. But so were you. So you closed the space between your lips once more, this time with force and anticipation. Your fingers found their way into his hair, his lips molding against yours lips perfectly. You followed his movements until your lips finally began to move in sync.

You didn’t think it registered to you yet that you were making out with Jisung. Poor Minho was probably sound asleep.

Moments later, you felt his hands slowly creep down your waist.

You grabbed it to bring it back up. “Not a chance buddy,” you mumbled against his lips. He chuckled. That was his chance to slip his tongue in. You kissed him back, your lips tentative, your tongue hesitant as you mirrored his movements. He groaned, pushing you gently so he could hover over your body.

He was getting too ahead of himself that all he could think about were your lips. How they moved against his, how your tongue began exploring his, as did his—the both of you fighting for dominance. Despite knowing you for so long, your lips were one of the very few things he was unfamiliar about with you.

And maybe you wanted to lie to the world and say how unturned you were in that moment when Jisung got on top just to prove it, but that was the hardest thing you could do now. There was just so much that a person could bare to ignore and he wasn't one of them.

You moaned into his mouth and your eyes opened out of shock.

Hoping that he didn't hear you, you attempted to continue before you heard him mutter something against your lips. You weren't able to make sense of it until he pulled away. His lips were swollen and glistening with you. Fucking Han Jisung.

“Are you okay?” His eyes which were low and half-lidded found yours.

“Yes, I just…” you couldn't find the right words.

“Were you turned on?” he abruptly asked.

Your mouth gaped, “Never ever say that again. I was not turned on—“

He wiped your residue off his lips, “Yeah, sure.” He didn't believe you one bit.

“Han Jisung, I was not turned on,” you reaffirmed. Your cheeks heated up and you hoped he couldn't see it past the darkness. “Stop saying that.”

He could sense your insecurity and raised his hands in defense, “Okay, okay, you weren’t turned on. I get it, sometimes noises just come out—”

“No, you don’t get it… you’re being sarcastic.” You were still beneath him and despite his comments, you grew slightly upset that he wasn't closer.

He was about to continue the remarks that would’ve eventually made you heated and flustered, but he decided against it.

It all lasted for a couple of seconds.

Words vanished from his mind as he forgot the purpose of air, admiring your appearance. You were between his arms, and all he had was a couple of seconds before he knew you both had to go your separate ways.

It all lasted for a couple of seconds before you slipped through his fingers cutting off the enchanting sensation he had always desired.

Saturday had come much quicker than expected.

You had just finished your makeup after spending a little longer on it than usual. Today was important to you and maybe you were losing your mind a little about the entire thing, but you wouldn't trade it in for anything else in the world.

Your phone rang and a slight smile grew on your face as you read the contact.

"Hey Jinnie.”

"Hi, are you almost ready? I’ll be on my way," he asked.

You paced around your room and shook your head although he couldn't see, "Oh—uh… almost! I just have to get changed." You quickly grabbed the dress you planned on wearing.

"Well, hurry up," he dragged out, laughing. His tone was rather whiney and you nearly crumbled. "Seungmin keeps nagging me to play Uno with him but I'd rather hang out with you right now."

You giggled as you played with the bottom of your loose shirt. It took you a few moments before realizing how love-struck you were. This boy had you giggling over every interaction. If anybody saw the way you were smiling at literally nothing you would be so embarrassed.

"Okay, come now. I’ll be ready in ten!”

After ending the call, you quickly unbuttoned the dress in your hands. You weren't too sure if it would look good on you. It’s been a couple of years since you had last worn it. But your mind kept blanking as you thought about your other alternatives.

You were wasting time.

There was a knock at your door as you slipped into the original dress. “Yeah?”

The door opened and Jisung’s head poked through, “Yo.”

“Oh hey, I thought you were out.”

He shook his head, plopping down onto your unmade bed. “I was in my room working on a song.”

It had been a couple of days since you shared that night with Jisung on the rooftop. The both of you didn't speak much about it afterward. And it wasn't like it needed to be discussed either, you both were fine with brushing it away.

You were thankful about that as you felt tensed the morning after. You had to keep reminding yourself that it was only just Jisung and he would never think of you indifferently, but you kept recoiling at the memory.

You simply made out with each other for the sole purpose of gaining experience.

“You should wear your yellow dress,” Jisung commented, briefly watching you as he played with the disheveled fabric from your comforter.

You pouted, looking in the mirror to observe the one you had on. “Why? What’s wrong with this one?”

“Because the yellow one has flowers and compliments your skin more,” he shrugged. He was trying to tell you in his own way that it was because it was his favorite dress. Ever since you wore it to the park last summer, he found it to be the most ravishing thing you possessed.

You studied your appearance a little longer to understand what he was talking about. Yeah, maybe the dress you had on was a little too dark for the event.

Your phone suddenly dinged indicating that you had received a text. Jisung automatically grabbed your phone so he could read it out loud. You silently thanked him in your mind as you were too busy now scavenging your closet for the yellow dress.

hyunjin: 5 min away

“Hyun said that he’s five minutes away,” he informed before setting your phone back down.

Your eyes widened slightly at his update, still rummaging to locate the dress. You had five minutes, maybe even less, to change again, pack your bag, and do some last-minute touch-ups. Finally spotting the yellow dress, you quickly slipped out of the current one you had on and into the new one.

The boy on your bed laughed as he noticed how franticly fast you were moving, "Woah, slow down."

You panicked, struggling to zip up the back of your dress. "Hyunjin’s like four minutes away now! Why does a stupid dress have a zipper?!"

Jisung stood up from your bed and walked over to you. He turned you around by your shoulders so he could help you. “This zipper is to secure everything.” You could feel his cold fingers brush against your back as he began to zip you up. “You should appreciate it.”

He ached to compliment your appearance but he noticed you were too much in a rush to care. “You look so ethereal.” “I wished you were going out with me instead—wearing this for me.” But that wasn't plausible in his situation, so instead, he kept silent. After all, he knew that it wasn't his opinion that you cared for. He had to remind himself of that a million times.

Despite his remark, you flashed him a quick smile, “Thank you.” You quickly rushed around your room, throwing stuff into your purse. You hated being like this, it always felt like you were going to forget something important.

"You know,” he began, he leaned his head against the wall watching your actions. You didn't bother looking at him as you had more dire things to focus on. “You never told me why.”

You were in the middle of reapplying your lipstick, and you caught Jisung’s eyes studying you through the mirror. “Why what?”

He pressed his lips together to draw a line and you could’ve almost sworn you almost saw him frown, “Why him?”

It was a good question. Why not?

Hyunjin was the guy with the good grades and warm smile and perfect manners. Why wouldn’t you? He was soft to the touch and words flowed out of his mouth like silk. He challenged you. He made you question everything.

You were about to answer but the doorbell of the apartment rang.

Standing up from your vanity, you left Jisung behind as you ran out of your room to open the front door. His heart felt a familiar pain as you disappeared leaving him with his thoughts. Maybe it was for the best you didn't answer.

As you opened the door, your mouth slightly fell apart as you looked at the sight in front of you. The boy in front of you looked absolutely stunning. His light blue button-up that complimented his skin so beautifully was cuffed at the arms. His hair which almost reached its former state now was pinned back neatly. He was the most radiant—the most exquisite entity in human form.

You truly didn't have enough words.

Hyunjin looked at you and smiled warmly. “Hi.”

Finally closing the gap between your lips, you swallowed, “Hi.”

He noticed how your cheeks became a very familiar shade of crimson. “You ready to go?” he asked and you nodded.

You headed back into your room to grab your bag. But as soon as you walked in, Jisung was already two steps ahead of you. He was about to walk out and pass it to you himself.

“Oh—here,” he extended his arm and passed it to you. He looked at you for a few moments before scoffing to himself lightly. He leaned into you, to whisper, “Your face is red as hell.”

You felt your cheek with the back of your hand and gasped at how warm it was.

It was inevitably clear that you were getting closer to Hyunjin. Jisung knew that, and maybe he was being a bit cynical when he heard of your plans with the boy. He scolded himself for thinking it was a bluff. But seeing you and Hyunjin in one frame, all dolled up right in front of him, spoke volumes.

“Do I look okay?” you whispered, still unsure of your appearance. You hoped your cheeks had lessened in color but after seeing Hyunjin, you were more worried about how you presented yourself.

He nodded, shrugging slightly. “It’s less red, yeah.”

“No, do I look okay?”

“Oh, you meant it in that way.”

Of course, you looked okay—more than okay. You looked so heavenly that he almost had to pinch himself to make sure he wasn't dreaming. Of course, you fucking looked good. You were beautiful.

In fact, he found you the most beautiful not when you were all fancied up, but when you weren’t. When you were lying on the carpet, your hair all a mess, laughing about something that had happened years ago. When you weren't trying to impress anyone and taken down that wall that you had built for most people. That's when he couldn't take his eyes off of you.

It was an odd sight for him to see you get anxious over a boy.

Suddenly you cared about how you looked, how you dressed, and how you acted. Growing up, you never really cared much for them. Seeing you frantic, in general, was sort of hard to believe for Jisung. Yet, it was something he told himself to get used to.

Jisung cleared his throat, swallowing the lump that grew. “You look great.”

Hyunjin and you arrived at the art exhibit on time. The weather proved itself to be much warmer than you envisioned so the both of you opted to walk. Luckily it didn't take too long as the building was only a few blocks away.

You didn't know much about art before aside from the fact that it was one of the very few things Hyunjin held close to his heart.

You remembered a few years back when he came to dance practice with a huge canvas. Minho and Felix both joked about how it was nearly his size but Hyunjin just laughed it off and told them he was working on a solo project. You never saw the end product, and at the time, you didn't really care much to.

But right now, you wished you did.

As the both of you walked into the building, there were already people walking around the gallery. Hyunjin gave the two tickets to the lady by the door and soon enough the two of you were granted access to the entire building.

It was serene. Something you’ve never seen before in your life. The walls were covered with art from all around the country. Different splashes of colors and shapes.

“It’s beautiful, right?” the boy beside you asked, taking into account your reaction. He had no idea where to start. “Sometimes I like to just stand and take it all in.”

You turned to the breathing work of art beside you, your eyes watching him as his eyes trailed his surroundings. “How do you know where to start?”

He tenderly curved his lips into a smile, “It’s just a feeling that I can’t really describe.”

He was smart. But not the kind of smart that made you feel intimidated. He was the kind of smart that made you want to learn things just to keep up a conversation with him. And he was beautiful, so beautiful that you had to look up at the sky to make sure that the world was still turning. The kind of beautiful that made you forget how to breathe. Yeah, you forgot how to breathe.

He grabbed your hand, gently. His soft palm was pressed against yours but you wanted them even closer. And suddenly the world stilled around you as he guided you to his chosen piece from the entire gallery.

It was a simple flower. A violet.

You grew envious of a piece of art as if captivated his heart before you could.

“Why this one?” Genuine curiosity washed over you.

He let go of your hand. His attention was captivated by the single purple flower floating in oblivion. “I suppose I enjoy the story it’s telling.” Your gaze followed the way his eyes studied everything. The placement of the flower, the shading, and the background. It was much more than you could understand. “Sometimes the most simplest things were the most beautiful, Y/N.”

Then it started. The constant fear that you were never going to forget him began.

The way his brown eyes pierced through the canvas made your heart beat ten times faster. You fell hopelessly in love with him watching a flower. So much so you wanted to run into the world it was in and steal it for him.

You’d put it behind his ear, in between his lips, or in his hands. Whichever way he’d want it—you would’ve done it.

You couldn't forget the way he looked at it. It would be something that would be engraved in your memory forever. It would be painful, yet the most gorgeous form of pain you’d experience.

You wanted him so badly. It certainly wasn't a new sensation for you. But you never pined for anybody before like this in your life. In every book you read, you seemed to find a parallel to you and him. You hoped that he thought the same when he saw art.

“I mean, you probably understand,” he spoke again. He hadn't realized that your eyes never fell off him. “It’s very similar to the books you read.” You appreciated his presence once more before he finally caught your stare and smiled. "What?" he said jokingly.

"Oh, sorry.”

He chuckled, “Why are you sorry?”

You blushed and shrugged your shoulders. “I can't help it. With the way you speak, and view the world—you're just so perfect."

“No, you are,” he laughed, not taking you as seriously.

“I’m telling you the truth.”

"I'm far from it," he shook his head and sighed. He was always the hardest with himself and it upset you to see him so discouraged. Since he had come back, you could tell that he has been struggling a lot to get back to where he was. “Nowadays, I find it hard to connect with anything. But, you make my days just a little easier. Thank you.”

You knew you were never the greatest and you were never near beautiful. Your hair was always a mess. Your eyes had bags under them. Your lips were sometimes chapped, and your skin was dull. You’d admit that some days you wore too much makeup, but other days you didn't wear enough.

You were covered in these flaws that affected your personality and your mood for the day.

When you met him years ago, you weren't as happy as you could've been. But when he told you that you were perfect now, that you made his days better, you realized that maybe you could believe him. Believe that you were the greatest and you were perfect to him.

And you hated it. You hated seeing him think of himself as nothing. You hated how you believed him but it was so hard for him to believe you.

He was so bewitching and captivating. He may not be perfect to someone else, or even himself, but he was perfect in your eyes.

You wanted to make the light shine in his eyes again.

It wasn't about what he did or didn't do. It was about who he was and how much you loved the boy before you with dreaming eyes that screamed with a burning passion.

It suddenly was all about the beauty of finding meaning that he shared with you. It wasn't little or short-lived. It wasn't hurtful or apologetic.

The beauty he shared with you was pure and full. It was the beauty you heard about in songs and books. It was all-consuming, igniting, passionate, and alluring beauty. It was every wonderful dream brought into your reality. It was yours forever.

Your forever, in the form of your prince.

After your escapades at the art exhibit last month, you had grown to establish a solid friendship with Hyunjin. You reminisced on how amazing hanging out with him was and you wanted to do it over and over again until you both ran out of things to do.

So, you found yourself spending nearly every Saturday with him doing whatever your hearts desired. Watching dance recitals, going to book readings, more exhibits… you did them all together. Just last week the both of you went to a pottery shop to decorate mugs.

The two of you made your way into the car. Hyunjin had borrowed Seungmin’s car for the day as you both had quite the drive ahead of you. As you both buckled, he pressed play on the song he had been playing before you came.

“Ready?” he toothlessly smiled and you nodded excitingly.

The car ride was filled with laughter and music. You forgot about the silence that once was a part of your friendship with him. In a perfect world, Hyunjin would feel the same about you. You hoped that somehow you both were playing dumb in front of each other but knew exactly what you were doing.

And you had slightly hoped that he too could see in your eyes that with him, everything was just painfully different. The way you smiled at him? Friends didn't smile like that.

You wanted him to know that friends didn't look at each other the way that you did with him.

He watched you from the driver's seat while you laughed uncontrollably over a joke he just told.

“Oh my gosh, you’re so cute,” he said, hitting his brakes to stop the car at the stop sign.

Yet the two of you were just friends.

As much as you had wanted more and desired to be more, whatever you had with him seemed to be enough for you at the moment.

“Are you ready?” Jisung called out from the hallway.

According to him, you hadn’t been a very good friend lately. You had to blow some of your weekend plans with him for Hyunjin. Of course, he understood—with good reason, he had to. But you could tell it was starting to annoy him a little. So today, you were all his.

You walked to him, “Yeah, let’s go.”

His eyebrows rose as he took in the sight of you. He understood why you had taken a little longer than usual to get ready today. Did you change something? Your usual eyeshadow? Maybe your lips were covered in a different shade of pink. Or maybe he had to pinch himself to wake himself from the sudden daze he was in because for some reason he couldn't bring himself to communicate.

“Is it my special day?” He finally said. You laughed which made his chest warm a little at the noise. He really did miss you more than you could imagine. “Why are you so dressed up? We’re just going to the park.”

No seriously, he couldn't put a finger on what had changed.

You pursed your lips, playfully pushing his shoulder. “Can’t I look good when going to the park?”

He found it odd. You’d normally wear sweats and one of his baggy shirts or sweatshirts to the park—to anywhere really. You had dolled yourself up and he couldn't help but feel his cheek warm up, thinking it was for him.

Then it hit him. “Wait,” he paused, squinting curiously. “You’re seeing Hyunjin later, aren't you?”

Your mouth dropped dramatically in disbelief like what he said was the most unbelievable thing ever. “W-What! No! How could you say that!” Tough crowd. He wasn't amused. “Fine… I may or may not have plans with him later tonight,” you said quickly in a low tone.

You prayed it wasn’t loud enough for him to hear properly but it was more than enough.

Jisung scoffed, “Wow… and just when I thought I would have you for an entire Saturday.”

“Hey, you have me literally every day of the school week.”

“And so does Hyunjin,” he counterargued. “Why do I have to share a best friend with him?” He sighed. You could tell he was upset but wasn’t trying to be too demanding.

You furrowed your eyebrows, “There’s no need to be jealous, Sungie.”

Hearing you call him jealous struck a nerve which annoyed him. But he really didn't want to argue with you over this. “I just miss you, that’s all.”

You hummed for a moment thinking of a way to lighten the mood. You knew you were in the wrong and frankly being a bad friend. But because you were so stubborn, you didn’t want to admit it.

So you brought a hand up to the side of his face, bringing your lips towards his ear. “If it makes you feel better, you’re the only best friend I’ve kissed,” you whispered teasingly.

His eyes widened slightly and he coughed. He was caught off guard. A few seconds passed before he let out a breath, “You’re evil, you know that?”

“Then stop being jelly,” you giggled, poking his cheek cutely. “You already know that you’re the most important person to me in the world.”

He believed you. “Fine,” he surrendered, grabbing the picnic basket he prepared earlier while you were getting ready. “Is Lino going to meet us there?” he asked.

“He texted saying that he was still stuck in dance committee,” you informed before raising an eyebrow. “Wait, did you mute the group chat or…?”

He nodded with no hesitation, nonchalantly holding the front door open for you. “Yeah, you guys keep spamming it and I just wanna use my phone without it malfunctioning.”

“Maybe it’s time to get a new phone.”

“Buy it for me then, baby,” he sheepishly teased, making you roll your eyes with a smile.

Once arriving at the usual park near your apartment, the both of you laid out the blanket and began to indulge yourselves in snacks and yet another conversation.

The weather was perfect, especially for the time of year it was. Of course, it was no summer, but you found yourself appreciating the cool breeze that lingered throughout the air.

There was music playing softly from the small stereo he had brought. “How's book club?” Jisung asked, popping a grape into his mouth. He stretched himself onto the blanket.

You looked up from your book, “Pretty good. We have an event next Thursday, remember?”

“Oh yeah, I’ll see if I can come. I might be in the studio,” he informed before snatching the book out of your hands.

“Hey!”

He read the title and looked at you with amusement, “What’s this about anyway? The Silence Between Two Special Songs.” You reached over to grab it back from him. “Since when did you become so poetic?”

You rolled your eyes, hitting the book on his head. “Since when did you become such a headass?”

“Sorry, I just want attention.”

“You always want attention.”

He smiled cutely, “Only from you.”

You laughed euphorically, flipping back to the page you were last on. “You’re so needy, Sungie.” You continued reading.

He pouted, tossing another grape into his mouth. “I hate that book.”

“Well I love it,” you stuck your tongue out at him and he stuck one back. “Jinnie got it for me when he was away,” you proudly stated.

“Hyunjin… He got it for you?” He repeated you in a rather question. You didn’t realize how much Jisung’s face fell at the name. Instead, you nodded silently, your eyes busy scanning the page you were on. He shifted in his position, “Minho and I never got a gift.”

You tilted your head slightly confused. “Oh, that’s weird. He said he brought everyone a gift back.” You turned the page.

“Well, I guess I’m still waiting for mine.”

“You’ll get it soon hopefully.”

He drew a thin line with his mouth, disappointed with your lack of interest in talking to him. “Hopefully,” he flatly said.

It was silent for a bit, the sound of birds chirping, faded music, and children's laughter flowing through his ears. It resembled to when you both played outside as kids.

He sighed, “You guys should just date.”

Everything felt off. He felt some type of way towards hearing Hyunjin’s name. He was supposed to be his friend, but he was really starting to resent hearing it exit your mouth so many times.

You briefly looked at the boy and scoffed humorously, “Isn’t that the plan?”

A few moments passed and he didn't respond. He didn’t know how to respond. Should he make a snarky remark? Should he say something positive, or maybe negative? No, he’d sound bitter. Too bitter.

You waited a few seconds before abruptly closing your book, startling him. “Oh, speaking of! Since I’m seeing him later today… I feel like—I don’t know…” You sat up more, biting onto the bottom of your lip. “Maybe Hyunjin and I could finally have our first kiss?”

“Huh?” Jisung's eyes widened and he hoped that you didn't notice.

“I’m probably reading into things too much, but I think it could happen today,” you confirmed, nodding convincingly to yourself like you needed it. “So can I ask you for a favor?”

He could never say no to you.

His eyebrows rose slightly as a way of agreeing, “Of course, what is it?”

You began to feel quite ridiculous upon hearing your request repeat itself over and over again in your head. “Can we kiss again? I just want to make sure I remember it correctly before y’know… I make a fool out of myself.”

The palms of your hands were pressed together as you looked at him with hopeful eyes. Jisung looked at you too. Except he was unable to form any wave of expression at your statement.

Part of it was because he only paid attention to the first half of your proposal, and the other was because he was once again lost, exploring, and trying to figure out what about you changed to make you look the way you did today.

“Ji?” You waved your hand in front of his face, “Earth to Han Jisung.”

His eyes lit up. He finally got it.

“You dyed your hair!”

You blinked a few times, confused. “Wha—”

“Your hair used to be slightly darker… It’s a little lighter now,” he continued.

You lightly chuckled, touching the ends of your hair, and looked at it yourself. “How did you even notice that? I dyed it last night but I thought it didn't work too well because it barely made any difference,” you explained. “Like even Minho couldn't tell. I didn’t expect you to either.”

No, he could tell. Of course, he could tell. Was it weird that he did?

He changed the subject. “Uh anyways- what was your question again?”

Your phone dinged, interrupting the conversation.

“Gimme a sec.” You lifted your phone to see who it was.

Jisung expected it to be Minho saying that he’d actually make it to the picnic, but it wasn't. It was evident by the way he saw the way your eyes lit up as you read the message.

And as he looked over at you, it suddenly struck him how beautiful you were.

Your hair, which he was so proud of deciphering, was blowing carelessly in the wind, rich but light in the sunlight. He had the oddest impulse to touch it, to reach out, to see if it was as soft as it looked.

Your lips were curved into a slight smile that seemed to radiate warmth as you continued to grow busy with your phone.

He wondered who or what you were thinking of, and suddenly felt his heartbeat skip when he imagined you smiling for him. Smiling how you usually did, but with a bit more love—the type he longed for in his younger years.

And then you laughed.

You were happy and free and every part of your being seemed to be you. He found it crazy how despite everything, he never tried to forget how your eyes were just the right shade or how your laughter sounded like the summertime.

You both had been friends for so long. And it was all great until he fell, messing it up for himself.

He found himself staring, desperate to remember more.

You finally looked up, setting your phone down. “What are you looking at?” You pulled him out of his daze.

He was at a loss for words. Why did you suddenly make him nervous again? You’d been best friends for so long. Best friends weren't supposed to make you nervous.

“Um… you… you have a bug in your hair,” he stuttered. He reached out but stopped himself. Should he do that? Did best friends do that?

“Of course, they did Jisung. You’ve done this before millions of times. This was the same girl you shared a bathtub with when you were kids.”

Best friends helped each other, right? He pondered. He suddenly did not know.

You shook your head in an attempt for the bug to fly away but it only just made his heart speed up. “Is it gone now?” You asked so casually, going back on your phone as if everything hadn't suddenly changed.

“Yeah,” he replied, aware of how his voice sounded. “Yeah, it's all good now.”

He knew you all too well to notice the slightest bit of happiness that spread across your face when you saw whatever it was that was on your phone. Of course, it was him. Jisung wasn't naive.

But, did Jisung dare tell you that you looked beautiful regardless? No, that could ruin everything. Everything that he worked so hard for these past few years to forget.

He decided that maybe this feeling would pass again, that maybe tomorrow you would go back to being his best friend, and not the girl that made it so fucking hard to breathe.

Maybe this epiphany was temporary; that maybe, he would forget again.

"You really like painting stars, huh?" Your voice filled the silent air.

It was a cloudy Wednesday afternoon and you believed that it would rain later that evening. Though, it wasn't like you minded. You enjoyed the rain as much as you enjoyed the sun and the many things that came along with it.

Hyunjin didn’t look away from his artwork, his masterpiece, "I admire them because they are constant. Even when the city burns to its knees and the ground crumbles right before our eyes, they will continue to light up the world.” He dipped his brush into the black paint, “And they will watch over us forever."

You weren't looking at his art anymore. You swallowed the lump in your throat.

He finally turned to look at you, his hair blew in the breeze softly and his pink lips curled up into a gentle smile, "I sound crazy, don’t I?" He lightly giggled, crescents forming in his eyes as he noticed the absent-minded look on your face.

“No, you’re not crazy,” you thought.

You were completely dazed, struggling to comprehend the beauty that was his mind, the universes that resided inside of him. With your heart pounding roughly in your chest, you gazed into his deep eyes and realized that maybe stars had been trapped in them all along.

You began to fall harder for him than you could’ve possibly imagined.

His heart shined through his orbs ever so clearly. And when he spoke you couldn't help but gape in awe at the galaxies that seemed to thrive in them. You truly believed that one day they would consume you completely and you would fall under his tempting spell forever.

The stars lined up and surrounded you with warmth. Those eyes, oh those eyes, they could hold the whole universe and it still wouldn't be enough. The reflection of you in them treasured the word forever.

“You wanna try?” He asked, drawing you out from your captivation. He didn’t wait for your answer and instead stood up from his stool so you could sit in his place. Your gaze trailed up to adjust to his height. “Here,” he guided you to sit and pointed to an empty spot on the canvas.

You swallowed thickly, looking over at the white abyss. “What if I ruin it?” You voiced your concerns quietly, clearing your throat.

He shook his head, “That’s not possible.” He picked up the paintbrush that was already dripping with black watercolor and handed it to you.

Taking it from his hold, you lifted it over the canvas, still hesitant. Were you ready to make your mark? “Jinnie, I really think I’ll mess it up…”

Suddenly, you felt his warmth as he leaned in from behind you. His chest was pressed against your back, “Let me help you.” His voice was laced with sweetness and his aura was so soft that it warmed your entire body.

Your former fingers that were once encompassed by the coldness were now hugged by long, slender ones. His fingers interlocked over yours that were gripped tightly onto the brush. You could feel the coldness of his rings transfer to you.

And you struggled. You struggled so badly as you felt his fingers move from against you, guiding you in delicate strokes.

As you sat there, still as a statue, you wanted to curse him out because he was teasing you in the worst way possible. And it was bad because you wanted to feel his fingers do other things to you. You wanted them to unravel the last thread of decency you possessed.

Yes, it was wrong but you couldn't care less anymore. He chose the sweetest words to get to your heart, and the most poisonous actions to make it explode. It was clear how you shifted and shuttered so easily under his touch. It had to be, right? You grew unapologetic and wanted your efforts to be known.

He began to grow amused by you. “Is everything okay?” He asked you the question although deep down he knew the answer.

You nodded, unable to spew out enough words to form a cognitive sentence. Your mind had been overclocking since you had entered the art studio and you were about to shut down. You couldn't even remember the words that you said that made him smile with his unforgettable grin.

His hand continued to guide yours across the canvas.

“Does it look good?” you stuttered out. You felt his hair feather your shoulder as he nodded. It sent a wave of chills down your back. He moved in closer. The breathiness of his chuckles against your neck as he felt your fingers tense up made you turn your head in his direction.

You were slowly losing all self-control.

This was going to be either one of the best things you’ve ever done or the biggest mistake that you found yourself in.

The both of your lips were inches apart, silence overtaking the room as your fingers came to a stop. His eyes were locked onto yours and his smile slightly faded.

“Hyunjin,” you whispered.

You were trying your hardest to not tell him that you loved him. You were trying to choke down the feeling, and you were trembling, but he reached over and he touched you, like a prayer for which no words existed, and you felt your heart taking root in your body like you've discovered something you didn't even have a name for.

He was confused about how the two of you ended up in the position you were currently in. It was as if calling out for him brought him back to reality. He hummed in response as his eyes now flickered down to your lips.

His dark eyes took you in, and you wondered what they would look like if he fell in love.

You wanted to tell him that you cared about him so deeply but you were scared. You were scared that he would walk away from you, scared that you’d come home crying on your bed for hours wondering why you were such a failure, scared that you would become hurt; so you just kept it to yourself, hoping that he’d love you.

"You know…” you began, your teeth pressing down against the bottom of your lip. “I dreamt about you last night.”

His lips pulled into a soft smile, tilting his head slightly. “Oh?” His eyes were still focused on the way your lips moved. “Well, I’m glad because that means you’re thinking about me.”

You smiled because of course you thought about him. You’d been thinking about him ever since you saw him on that cloudy night freshman year. You didn't know how, you didn't know why but your heart just kind of went, oh my gosh, and suddenly there was no way of getting him out of your mind.

And honestly, you didn't even want to.

He let out a breath and you felt his minty breath hit you. “What did you dream about?” His hand found its way to tuck the strands of hair that fell over your face, behind your ear.

You always thought of him before you fell asleep. The words he said, the way he looked. The things you laughed about, the silent moments you shared. But if you spoke again, your voice would have broken down. So you decided to stay quiet.

Before Hyunjin, you never used to understand what it meant to crave something, to yearn for someone's attention. Just the thought of his fingertips tracing your body made your skin ignite in fire.

You recalled the first dream you had of him three years ago.

In your dream that you didn't tell anyone, he held you close when you were alone. He made you feel loved and safe. You could almost physically feel his arms wrapped around you in more than just your dream. You thought the ghost of him had entered your room that night. The warmth was the only thing that kept you tethered in the world.

And that’s when you knew you were in love with him.

In the dream you didn't tell anyone, the one that you had kept tucked away just for him, it was just you and him and books and coffee… There might've been more, but all you could remember was the faint pink in his cheeks when you read poems for him.

He inched himself closer to your lips. Close enough until you could smell the strawberry scent you’d always loved. You let it linger in your nose selfishly. "Did I kiss you in your dream?" he asked quietly.

You looked up at him, eyes wide. You couldn't stop yourself from looking at his eyes, then to his lips, and then back again. You did. You had kissed him everywhere.

So, you nodded.

He exhaled like it was the answer he was looking for. “Can I now?”

It was quite ironic. For a resilient person like yourself, you couldn't bring yourself to move an inch or say another word. The cat had gotten your tongue, and you found yourself quickly realizing that you couldn't ever be resilient when it came to him. You were quite choked with tenderness for him, it made you feel a bit pathetic to love him so much.

Nonetheless, you sat there, under his will, and nodded again. This was everything you had ever wanted. You wanted to taste his lips, you wanted to feel him against your arms.

While fireworks filled the air around the room, he leaned forward, stopping himself at your lips. His thumb traced your jaw before gently grabbing ahold of it, and holding you close.

You watched his lips part as he moved in closer. When his mouth closed over yours, he moaned quietly. The sound was soft, just like the feel of his lips.

Everything about him was soft. His hold on you, the material of his apron that was splattered with many different colors, the palm of his hand that stroked your cheek.

You placed your hand on the back of his neck. You pulled him toward you even closer, and kissed him. You kissed him. And you kissed him. And you kissed him. And you kissed him.

And he kept kissing you back.

Your mouth opened at his gentle insistence, allowing him in. You lost yourself, drowning in his sweet softness. It felt as though the entire universe was right there in between your lips.

And as he let go, and the fireworks died, you knew that you had landed yourself in a bad case of love.

It took you a little longer to get home later that evening.

Not because anything more happened between you and Hyunjin, but because you took your time reminiscing the feeling of his lips against yours.

You told yourself that nobody would ever taste like the way he did. He tasted full of colors and aromas. He tasted like everything that gave you life.

He was the breath of fresh air that you needed.

Pushing your thoughts aside, you pressed play on the next episode of a show you were currently watching—well, the show that you and Jisung were supposed to be watching, together.

The both of you started a horror anime earlier that week and were nearly done with it. But he had been busy these past few nights with his music so you hadn't been able to watch it with him in a while.

Maybe you were a bad friend but after the day you had, you felt like you deserved to watch and feed into your desires. So you fell into temptation and pressed play on the episode.

But of course, in life, all good things came with consequences. And it proved itself so because ten minutes later, Jisung came home.

"Hey Ji," you nonchalantly greeted. You looked up from the television for a split second before you sucked in a breath in realization.

You were in fact about to be caught.

He nudged his chin up in greeting, luckily not noticing your demeanor just quite yet. "I just finished up at Chan’s. What are you up to?" he sighed as he plopped down onto the couch beside you.

“Hmm… nothing.”

He turned to look at you, giving you a confused look. “Everything okay?”

You slowly nodded in response, slyly trying to change the current display on the TV. You didn't have enough time to fully close out of the tab.

He furrowed his eyebrows in suspicion, "Why are you acting weird?"

"Hm?" you repeated. He looked at you for a couple of seconds quizzically before deciding to just let you be. He knew you all too well to push your buttons because he had done it far too many times in his lifetime.

Continuing with random conversations you both usually had, he couldn't help but notice that you were spam-clicking a button on the remote. It wasn't working properly. Ultimately, you opted to quickly turn it off instead.

"You're hiding something," he suddenly had the urge to grab the remote from your hand, and that's what he did.

You gasped, "Jisung!" You attempted to reach for the remote.

He quickly stood up from where he was sitting, his height added to the height of the couch. He held the remote above his head. You attempted to grab it but he was quick to change positions.

You sighed defeatedly, crossing your arms before plopping back down on the couch. "Fine. Go ahead.” You didn't have the energy to deal with him.

“Aw, that’s it?” he teased, lowering the remote and nudging your leg. He was expecting much more from you. Sitting back down beside you, he turned the TV back on and saw the recently opened applications.

"Now before you get mad, you were taking too long—"

He immediately glared in your direction. "We missed two nights only!" He groaned, lightly tossing the remote back at you, "You suck bro."

You dramatically frowned and threw your legs over him. “I’m sorry Sungie!” He attempted to push you off but ultimately gave up once you began to squish his cheeks.

He loved the way you’d crinkle your nose when you laughed really hard and the way you gave instant puppy dog eyes when you noticed he was upset with you.

“I hate you.”

"Stop lying. You love me.”

He swatted your hand away from his cheeks, "Nah."

You stifled a laugh, "You look me in the eyes for a little too long to not love me."

There it was again. His heart sped up randomly.

You opened his arms so you could cuddle up against him. He was always so warm and smelled of the sweetest of cinnamon. And despite his annoyance with you, he still wrapped his arms around the small of your back.

“Oh!” You abruptly exclaimed in remembrance, your head turning to face him. “Guess what…”

He pursed his lips, “You realized that you’re the lamest person ever?”

You rolled your eyes at him and he chuckled lightheartedly. “No Jisung.” You raised an index finger, “Hyunjin and I kissed.” You felt goosebumps build up your arms as you heard the words that escaped your mouth. You still couldn't believe it.

As for Jisung, his smile fell and he felt his heart sink. You were joking, right? But why would you joke about something like this? He contemplated for a moment.

It had to be the truth but why did he expect you to laugh afterward and tell him that it was just all one harmless joke? That you were just trolling.

You nudged his shoulder, “Did you hear me?”

He knew there was a problem when his initial reaction wasn't to jump up in down in happiness for you.

His eyes widened and he awoke from his mind daze. He put forth a fake smile. “No way?! I told you… he must really like you.” You hid your face behind your hands unable to contain your smile. He forced a laugh, removing your hand away from your face. “What? He has to.”

“I guess,” you mumbled, still feeling shy towards everything.

It took a lot of courage for you to open about up about your feelings to anyone. It wasn't like you to act so lovey-dovey in front of someone. You had been keeping your feelings for Hyunjin a secret for the past three years and being able to talk to your best friend about it now- it felt different.

It felt nice.

“Did our lesson pay off?” His mind traveled back to when he had you all to himself for that one night. It hurt him now knowing that the trace of him was gone from your lips.

You nodded, “Definitely. He’s such a great kisser.”

“Damn.”

You leaned your body even closer to the boy, smiling adorably. “You’re also a great kisser Sungie.”

“But who was better,” he thought. He was starting to grow annoyed with his pitiful mind.

You interrupted his thoughts. “You might say no to this but…” you began, falling short when his eyes looked into yours, waiting for you to finish. You chickened out. “Um…” you tried again before shaking your head, a groan leaving your mouth.

“What is it?”

You tried to shake your sudden nerves. “I wanted to ask if you—never mind I can’t.”

He sighed impatiently, “You can’t just say never mind after you brought it up.” That was one of his biggest pet peeves. You used to do it a lot in high school which caused him to give you the silent treatment for a day or two. Now, you’d sometimes just do it unknowingly out of habit.

It was a bold claim. You even knew it. “Uh, is it wrong if I asked you to have sex with me?” You ripped the band-aid.

His jaw nearly dropped to the ground. Quite literally. He sat up, causing your body to separate from his embrace. “Are you high?” He dumbfoundedly asked before shaking his head. He didn't wait for your response, “No… you're definitely high…”

You sat up as well. “I’m not!” He looked at you in disbelief. “All I did was ask a simple questi-”

“That’s not a simple question Y/N. You just asked me to fuck you,” he reiterated slowly. “You haven't even—you’re getting carried away.”

The tone he spoke was slightly belittling and you weren't sure if you should've been offended or not by it. But before you could respond, the front door suddenly opened.

“Hey guys,” Minho greeted, taking off his shoes by the door. He noticed Jisung’s staggered expression and chuckled. He looked over at you, “What's up with Hanji? He looks like he just saw a ghost.”

You awkwardly laughed, “Oh, he found out I watched the next episode of our show.”

If you were being honest, it felt wrong to lie to Minho the way you did. About Hyunjin. About Jisung. Despite his tough and opinionated personality, he would've supported your feelings in the end. But you couldn't bring yourself to talk about it with anyone else besides Jisung. Maybe it was because he understood you better than anybody else.

Jisung didn't respond or refute your lie.

Minho chuckled, “Poor guy.” He walked over to his room, “I’m going to take a shower and pass out. I’m tired as hell.”

You flashed him a quick smile, “Okay, night Lino.”

As soon as Minho left, Jisung snapped over to you, “Were you actually being serious?” He didn't even let you respond before sighing, running his hands down his face. He never expected you to ask him this question in a million years. Not even when you both made that pact. A kiss, sure. But to have sex with each other? He just couldn't do that to himself.

Noticing how distressed he looked, you awkwardly sat up, removing your legs from his lap. “You seem upset, so never mind I asked.”

Hearing your tone, he scoffed, “You can't be mad right now Y/N.”

“Who said I was mad?”

“I can tell by your voice—”

You interrupted him. “Jisung, if I really needed to fuck someone so badly for practice I can just ask someone else.”

You believed that he was beginning to start an argument over something so little and you didn't want to ruin the rest of your perfect day. So, you walked off into your room.

Of course, he was entitled to his own opinion and decision about this. Besides, he wasn't the type to just sleep around. But he could've just straight up said no instead of making you feel so deranged for asking.

You huffed, sitting down on your bed with your arms crossed. Somehow you felt like a little kid that was sent to their room for bad behavior. Okay, maybe you were rashly acting out.

You needed to be the bigger person here. He did more than enough to help you with Hyunjin. You got your kiss as discussed originally, and that was all you needed. You felt very selfish.

As soon as you stood up to apologize, the door knocked. You opened it revealing Jisung. You didn't even need to hear him say a word before opening the door wider. He followed you into your room silently.

He breathed out, “I’m sorry about what just happened. I didn't need to be like that, it was rude.”

You shook your head, sitting back down on your bed. “No Ji, I'm sorry. You were right, I’m getting carried away.” You reached out for his hand and you pulled him onto your bed. “I know I'm always being so annoying and difficult, especially nowadays—”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. I’ve never asked you once how you felt about all of this and I’m sorry about that,” you continued to apologize.

He chuckled softly, at your reaction. You were being too harsh on yourself.

You looked over at him in confusion, “Why are you laughing?”

“Because…” He ruffled your hair slightly, giving you a soft, sad smile. “You don't get it do you?” He pulled you into his arms again, “I'd rather argue with you than laugh with anyone else.”

Nowadays, in the middle of the night when everything was quiet and everyone was asleep he’d think about you. Even if he didn't realize it, you found your way back into his memory to the point where it made him sick to his stomach.

He didn't want to love you in that way anymore. He couldn't breathe because of it. And it sucked because he thought he was finally forgetting that part of you. He was finally happy to just be your best friend.

But then the memory of you came back.

It took you a few moments to be able to respond again. He always did this. He was always too nice whenever came to you. He was the most sweetest yet aggravating person you had ever met.

“Well that’s a relief,” you sighed.

He looked down at you even though all he could see was the top of your head. There was a problem here. That problem was, he didn't know what he wanted from you. He had so many things he wanted to say but to what end, he didn't know. In fact, he didn't even know where to start. There was just a problem and it was slowly driving him insane.

So instead, he simply kept looking at you trying to put the pieces together. You broke the silence. “What?”

He hummed, shaking his head, “Nothing. I was just looking.” You raised an eyebrow at him, not falling for whatever act he was pulling. He mocked you childishly, “What?”

“Whatever fuck off,” you playfully rolled your eyes.

He lightly chuckled to himself.

You were different. You were different from the rest. Of course, you were his best friend but it didn't take a lot to figure out how insanely raw you were. You were real and unfiltered and unguarded. You were different because you were unafraid—unafraid to put yourself out there and show the world who you truly were.

To him, you were original and unique and authentic. You mixed craziness with class and confidence with vulnerability. Both wild and funny—and because you were free, you were unbothered and unaffected—not caring about anyone's opinion.

And suddenly, you gave him a whole different perspective on life again.

He was falling for something that wasn't real. Before, he had wanted it to be real. He wasn't too sure now. He remembered how he used to daydream every day of what you two could’ve been. Even though you were not his, you didn't see how happy you made him just by being you.

He thought about how he loved it when he would look over and you were already staring. He knew he was on your mind for a second, but did it mean something?

If it was meant to be, something would have happened by now. He just wanted you to want him.

When he was younger, he wondered if he was the problem. He wondered if he was good enough for you. He tried to make himself someone who would attract your attention.

He wasn't the type of guy girls usually fell in love with. And he knew that you didn't feel the way that he did, and it broke his heart knowing that you were constantly on his mind all the time regardless.

You would never think of him the way he thought of you and it killed him. And it hurt him to know you would never look at him the way he looked at you.

He was younger then, but he cried over you and you didn't even know. You would never know. He wished he could ask you what you thought of him now, after all these years.

Maybe he could still have a little hope even if Hyunjin was in the picture.

Everything about you made him feel on top of the world, your laugh, your smile, the way you talked— it gave him butterflies every time. He kept waiting for something that was never going to happen.

His brain was telling him, no, but his heart was telling him yes.

“I'll do it.”

Confusion washed over you. “Do what?”

“Whatever you wanted me to do, I'll do it.”

He loved you not because of anything you had, but because of that feeling whenever he was near you. He always wanted to talk to you.

He’d smile every time he thought of you. He remembered how he got so shy around you when his feelings started to develop. He used to love going to school to just see you. Just seeing you made his day. He really liked you more than he’d liked himself.

Suddenly all the mediocre love songs he made in his old small room that you were all too familiar with, were about you. In his own dreams, you both were everything he wanted it to be, like in the books you’ve read. He had a hopeless crush on you, someone he have no chance with.

You really didn't have the slightest idea of how much he liked you.

Your eyes widened slightly before you shook your head. “No, no it’s okay Ji. What I said earlier—it was dumb. You don't have to have sex with me…”

He hushed you, “No, I want to—I mean…” he stopped himself as he heard the sudden desperation lace through his voice. “I mean, I’m down to.” He gave you a faint smile, “I really am.”

It took you a few moments before being able to look him in the eyes. You weren't being irrational, were you? The two of you had known each other for so long and unarguably enough, you knew everything about each other.

But this?

Growing up and seeing both the beauty and madness behind sex, you weren't too sure about how you felt about it. But when you entered college and you were surrounded by it, you realized you didn't just want meaningless hookups. If you were being completely honest, you couldn't even grasp the idea of being with anyone else besides Hyunjin. It used to feel so wrong.

But this was an entirely different story.

This was Jisung you were talking about. The boy you knew in and out. The boy who knew exactly how to make you laugh and what to do to make you mad. He wasn't a stranger. He was you in another form.

This shouldn't be wrong, right? You kept repeating it to yourself until you believed it.

And as you hesitantly pondered, he couldn't control his feelings anymore. He just want to tell you right then and there but he was scared. He was scared of you not ever reciprocating the feelings he had.

What would make him happy then?

let me know your thoughts about this chapter! i’m interested to hear your opinions :) stay healthy <3

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taglist: (pls lmk if i missed you or if ur interested!)

@hyynee @keilykat @chxrry-holland @sikebishes @soobin-chois

#stray kids #skz han jisung #skz fanfic #skz imagines #skz #han jisung #han jisung fanfic #han jisung smut #han jisung imagines #han jisung x reader #hyunjin fanfic #hyunjin imagines #series #friends to lovers #chapter 2

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