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haikyuufanficwriting · 3 months

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Chapter 7: Kuroo (NSFW)

Prompt: Reader working non-stop and (Character) has to ‘tire’ them out. (NSFW) Character: Kuroo

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You’re a workaholic. Anyone who’s ever met you could notice it at first meeting. You’re a typical type A person. You fit the stereotypical mold perfectly. This isn’t really a surprise to you though, you’ve been this way for as long as you could remember.

Ever since you were a little kid, you’ve never been able to take a proper break. You simply didn’t know how to. There always seemed to be something else to do, something to improve on, something to fix…

And while you profited from this trait in your professional life, it did horrendous effects on your personal life.

“Kitten, it’s almost midnight.” You don’t even glance up from your desk, engrossed in the report you’re writing, as your boyfriend curls his arms around you, silently beckoning you to come to bed. You sigh lightly.

“I’ll be there is fifteen minutes Tetsu.” You mutter absentmindedly, and Kuroo snorts, knowing very well that you’re saying anything to sate him.

Truth be told, Kuroo understood where you’re coming from. Becoming the spokesman for a famous a volleyball team has led to many late nights, but the difference between him and you were he knew when and how to take a break. Kuroo could kick back and forget about all his ailments, while you could barely go ten minutes without going into a frenzy about some files you had to go over. He couldn’t really remember a time when you weren’t like this. Even back in high school, you tried to make sure you had perfected every subject, every assignment. When you joined the volleyball team as manager, you stayed back longer than any boy practicing. Doing anything from helping cleaning and maintaining the gym, to help making as many practice matches as you could.

Many times he’d have to force you to eat and to sleep, among other things. Kuroo had gotten so used to it, it became routine to pick up both you and Kenma just to make sure both of you had eaten something. So much so that it’s a favorite pastime for him to recall those memories and watch you cringe.

But, now in your adult life and being in a romantic relationship rather than a platonic one, Kuroo lets you do you. Of course, now you know when to do basic necessities like eat and sleep (Well, sometimes you needed a little help), but mostly because he wouldn’t dare change you. (Maybe because of how amusing it is to see you try to relax). However, there are times where he felt he needed to step in. Just to make sure you wouldn’t burn out or combust.

You were high maintenance but, Kuroo liked maintaining you. Your drive and passion for everything you do is one of the reasons he fell for you in the first place.

Which brings him to his current mission. To get you to sleep. Ever since you were brought on to a new project at your work, he could tell you weren’t sleeping as much as you should be. And while he was usually lenient, it was starting to worry him a little bit. Hence, why this time he wouldn’t take no for an answer.

Kuroo doesn’t respond with words, but only light, feather-like kisses down your neck, just to remind that he really isn’t going to give in. You try to ignore him, but once he begins to suck a light hickey right below your ear, you can’t handle it and let out a heavy sigh of mainly annoyance and just a bit of pleasure. You can feel his smirk from behind you. That jackass.

“Tetsu, I have to focus.”

“You can focus tomorrow, (Name). It’ll still be there when you wake up.” Kuroo says in a teasing tone while moving his hands from your sides to your hands, pulling them away from the work you so desperately want to finish.

“I promised myself I’d finish this today.” You argue, turning around to plead with your eyes, but to no avail.

“When’s the deadline?” You pause, before looking away slightly.

“Next week.” Kuroo doesn’t even need to use words, but just a slight eyebrow raise for you to feel the need to defend yourself. “I-I’m using next week to read it over just to make sure I didn’t forget any-” Your argument is cut off by your yelp as Kuroo picks you up bridal style right from your chair. You flush.

“T-tetsurou!”

He gives you a Cheshire smile. “Bedtime.” Is the only thing he says as he carries you to your shared bedroom. You huff childishly as he sets you down onto the bed and pulls the covers down. He pulls off his shirt and lays down. You’re silently thankful that you were already changed for bed. Your mind can’t even take the imaginary scenarios of what your boyfriend would do. Your noises of disagreement are quieted when he pulls you into his chest. You grumble slightly.

“I’m not a child you know.” You hear Kuroo let out a small chuckle. You feel the vibrations coming from his chest and shiver slightly.

“Sleep, kitten.” He whispers before playfully nipping your ear, which earns him a light smack against his arm. Such a tease. You sigh, before relaxing into your boyfriends’ arms, attempting to sleep.

Maybe this could actually be good for you. Some sleep to feel refreshed in the morning and give you the final push to finish that report…

This was a terrible idea.

Not only could you not fall asleep, but you couldn’t stop thinking about your unfinished report in the other room. It was practically calling you, teasing you, infesting your mind with the fact that it’s sat there, undone. You shift slightly, leaning more against Kuroo as you feel his deep and even breathing. Lucky bastard practically passed out the second his head hit the pillow. While you laid there for about what felt like an eternity. You let out a low agonized whine, before looking at the clock on your bedroom wall. It was 1:35 am.

You definitely couldn’t stay like this. It was going to be the death of you if this continued.

You look from your door to Kuroo. Surely, he wouldn’t notice if you left for half an hour? You were almost finished with your report, so you knew you wouldn’t be gone for long, plus he slept like the dead…

You slowly and cautiously uncurled Kuroo’s arms from your waist, checking his face for the smallest shifts of discomfort, stopping whenever he twitched. After about five minutes, you managed to get him off you, and as quietly as possible, you stood up and tried to make your way to your door. You were about halfway there, when you hear a low grunt. You turn to see your boyfriend’s arms searching threw the empty space of the bed. He was trying to look for you.

If you weren’t focused on the task at hand, you would’ve recorded this for blackmail material. But, afraid of waking him, you silently grabbed your pillow and gave it to his searching hands. And like a child, Kuroo immediately clings onto it, pulling it into him and letting out a satisfied groan. You feel sensations of warmth course through you.

You swear you cannot describe the love you feel for this man. You feel yourself smile, going back and brushing your fingers down his neck, to which he let out a comforted noise.

Wait, stop, (Name) focus!

You snap yourself out of it, reminding yourself of the report sitting outside. With one last glance, you turn and make your way out the door. You feel peace and relief as you sit back down in your desk chair.

Okay time to get to work…

Okay, this might’ve taken a little longer than you’ve anticipated.

You finished writing the report, but when reading over you decided halfway through that you wanted to change a section, but then it intersected with another part and another…

Long story short, you’re rewriting it all over again.

You have no clue what time it is, only knowing the last time you checked it was 2: 45 am, and its felt like forever since you last checked.

But nevertheless, you were convinced that you were going to be done in the next fifteen minutes, so you just had to make sure that it was quiet enough that Kuroo wouldn’t wake. You made sure to check the door every five minutes and not a to make a single sound other the keyboard clacking. You were filled with determination. The next ten minutes flew by, with you getting immersed into your own little bubble.

Which is why you didn’t even hear Kuroo get up.

Granted, he had woken up randomly, but when he stirred and found himself clutching a pillow instead of your body, he knew immediately what you were up to.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” He groaned, before huffing out a laugh, shaking his head at the clock on the wall. It was around 4: 15 am. Kuroo got up and walked out of the room, to find you sitting on your desk, face totally absorbed in your screen. He leans against the wall causally, watching you for a while.

“You know they say the early bird gets the worm,” His voice is rough from sleep, but is still filled with amusement as he watches you jump from his voice. You turn his way like a child getting caught for taking candy from their mothers’ purse.

“But this is a little much don’t you think?” He watches you slide out of your desk, closing your laptop while attempting to figure out a reasonable defense, but ends up watching you open and close your mouth like a gaping fish. He wishes he had his phone with him to catch your expression.

“I… I wasn’t tired. So I just figured I’d finish while it was still on my mind.” You finally say, voice filled with nervousness and a little bit of shame. Kuroo looks from you to your laptop.

“And did you finish?” You look away.

“…Not yet.” There’s silence between you two for little while. You watch Kuroo rub his face, clearly trying figure out what to do with you. You gulp.

“Tetsu, just go back to bed, I’ll be finished in ten minutes. As soon as I’m done, I’ll go to sleep I promise. I just couldn’t rest knowing it wasn’t done-” You’re cut off by Kuroo’s body pressing into yours, pushing you against the wall in a searing kiss, moving against your lips in a slow but bruising pace. You moan in surprise.

How-How did he even get over here so quickly?

Your mind goes blank as his hand travels under your pajama shirt (Which was his old t-shirt, but whatever), rubbing your lower back in ways that leave your skin tingling in its wake. You gasp from the sensation, giving Kuroo the space to slip his tongue in. At this point your body is on auto pilot, with even your arms subconsciously wrapping around his neck at some point of the suddenly heavy make out session.

After what felt like centuries, Kuroo pulls back to let you breathe, before immediately going to attack your neck, not in the lighthearted way he did hours prior. He cycles from sucking on your flesh to lightly biting to kissing, all in places that he knows are sensitive. This all came on so fast that you can barely form coherent sentences.

“T-tetsu… What -ah, are you… Doing?” You pant, and he finally stops and smirks at you, which alone caused your heart to skip a beat.

“What else could I be doing? Taking your mind off work.” With that, he continues that assassination on your neck.

Honestly, the idea came to Kuroo on a whim. He knew that you couldn’t (or wouldn’t) stop working on that stupid report, so at that moment he could only think of one thing that could have a chance at taking your focus off it.

Sex.

Primitive yes, but hey, it worked at the best of times. Plus, it could also help with working off the extra energy you can’t seem to shake.

It’s a win-win in his eyes.

(It also may have to do with the fact that you two haven’t slept together in a week, due to said report, so he could be feeling a little pent up but that’s a different issue.)

After he was satisfied with his work on your neck, which was full of red and purple splotches that he knows you’ll complain about later, he returns to your lips, kissing you with all the strength he had. His hands travel from your back to your chest, thankful that you weren’t wearing a bra. Kuroo starts to knead your breasts, making sure to pinch and pull and your nipples every so often, leaving you to twitch and cry softly in his mouth. He can’t help but think about how the sounds would feel around his cock, and that imagery goes straight to his crotch.

Right no, this was about you. Another thought for another day.

His hands leave your chest, to go to the back of your thighs. He squeezes them to silently tell you to that he’s going to lift you. You help a little, jumping slightly and hooking your legs around his toned hips. Without leaving your lips he takes you to the nearest surface, which was your couch, and lays you down with the upmost care, before pouncing on you immediately. Putting one of his legs between yours.

After five minutes in this new position, Kuroo suddenly leaves your mouth and you quietly whine at the loss, but he doesn’t hear as he motions you to lift your arms off to take off your shirt. You comply, helping him remove the item of clothing, leaving you in just your panties. Kuroo appreciates the fact that you don’t wear pants to bed as he takes a moment to look at you. Your face flushed and red, lips swollen with a bruised neck that goes down to your collar bones. Your chest heaving from your heavy pants that accentuate the curve of your breasts. Kuroo has to real in his self control to stop himself from fucking you immediately. You feel yourself heat up from his dark eyes looking you up and down like you’re a piece of meat.

“St-stop staring, pervert” You mutter, turning even more red from embarrassment. He smiles at your shyness. “Sorry kitten; but you can’t expect me not stare when you’re all laid out for me like this~ Just waiting to be devoured.”

You stutter at his words, refusing to look at him but trying to kick him to get your point across. He catches your leg with ease, and starts to kiss your calf, going up your leg, purposefully avoiding where you want him most. You whine again, this time with Kuroo hearing you and he chuckles lowly.

“Patience is a virtue, you know~” He teases, and before you could say anything, he latches his mouth to one of your nipples, leaving his hand to tease the other, making you speechless. Your only response was a shaky moan as he softly bites your nipple, causing your back to arch just a bit.

Kuroo is relentless, refusing to let your nipple go until its bright red and engorged, making even the lightest touch make you shiver. But he isn’t done in the slightest. Once pleased, he turns to the other one, giving it the exact same treatment. Once he’s done, you’re practically shaking with need.

“Tet-Tetsu… Pl-please.” You moan, as he teasingly pinches your extremely sensitive nipple. He looks at you, acting oblivious.

“Hm? Do you want something?” You glare as hard as you could at the prick, but with your half-lidded eyes and totally red face, it loses all intensity. Kuroo huffs out a laugh, sensual and deep, as he takes his finger and trails it down your abdomen and down to your inner thigh, making you let out gasps as your body twitches at the touch. He traces tiny circles down your inner thigh before grazing the lips of your pussy.

You’re absolutely dripping. His cock twitches. Maybe this week has been hard on you too…

“So needy~” He groans, again not giving you time to respond, as he shoves his finger inside your dripping hole, leaving you writhing. To be honest, he was becoming impatient as well, his cock was becoming so hard it was beginning to hurt, but he ignored it for your sake.

Kuroo starts off slow, pushing his finger in a slow pulse, loving the way your walls would twitch around his finger. After a while he brought his thumb to rub slow tight circles on your clit. You struggle to hold in any noise. Not like you weren’t struggling before.

“Tetsu~” You pant, becoming a literal puddle as he steadily winds the coil forming in your lower abdomen. Your hips start to move on their own accord, pushing against his finger to get it even deeper.

You want more. You need more.

“Still thinking about work?” Kuroo asks slyly, purposefully adding a second finger just to mess and cloud up your thoughts.

Bastard was making you look like a bitch in heat. But in the moment, you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

You didn’t answer, couldn’t answer. Not with all the pleasure muddling your basic communication skills. Kuroo obviously didn’t like that, so he decides to push up into a place that makes you see stars.

“Tetsurou!” You literally gasp, arching your back so far that you lift yourself off the couch. Kuroo groans just from your voice and expression alone. Just watching your eyes roll into the back of head was enough to put him in a frenzy, not even mentioning the way you said his name. He wanted you to scream it. Scream so loud the neighbors file complaints.

So of course, what else was he supposed to do but press and rub against that spot repeatedly.

Kuroo watches hungrily as your gasps and moans pitch higher and higher as his fingers set a brutal pace. Adding a third finger and his palm against your clit once more and you were goner, with him throwing you into climax rather than pushing you to it. He swears your cunt squeezed him so hard his fingers lost circulation for a moment, but it was worth the expression of pure bliss on your face.

It takes you a while to get your breathing under control, winding down from a climax harder than you’ve had in a while. You take a couple minutes resting your eyes, before you remember that Kuroo was still present, now rubbing his cock against your inner thigh.

“I hope you’re not tired yet, kitten~ We still have so much work to do.”

Boy, were you in for a rough night.

#haikyuu #fanfic #drabble #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo x reader #smut #haikyuu smut

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anyaeras · 1 year

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Sugar mommy || E.Olsen

Pairing : Sugar!mommy Elizabeth Olsen x y/n

Summary : Y/n was hanging out with their friends late Friday night, they may have got a little too tipsy and was convinced to sign up for a sugar mommies website...

Warning : Smut (at the end) They/them pronouns, AFAB!reader ,Top!Lizzie , Bottom!Reader, Blow!Job , dick!riding , Pet!names, Alcohol. Legal!age-gap

Masterlist My Server Part 2

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It's been one hell of a week, y/n works hard in their classes while attending NYU, they had to without good grades there was really no point of all of this money and effort they worked so hard for, y/n was far from rich and had to work a lot harder than others to get where they are, yet after a long week of work y/n had no problem going out to relax with some friends.

It's now Friday night, y/n was slipping into a cute comfy outfit, they had received a text from one of the closest friends about an hour ago telling them the plans, which to be honest, it was just a normal Friday University kid night, they didn't plan on clubbing or going out, more so a hangout.

Y/n headed out their door, shutting off the lights in their tiny New York apartment before heading to the dorms on campus to meet up with their friend group.

"Hey guys" y/n made their presence known barging into their friends dorm being met with a few of their friends already there getting a movie ready along with some drinks, most likely for another drinking game.

"Hey y/n" Zack yelled from the living space as he sat down the drinks, they met during and English lecture earlier this year, and since then they just have gotten closer, Zack is the kind of friend that fits the "gay best friend" stereotype, but he rolls with it.

"So movie and drinking game again?" Y/n asked knowingly getting a "of course" from Zack as the others piled into the living space, everyone took their spots, obviously, the couples in the group got "ohhh and Eww" from the others as they tried acting cute, while the single friends all got comfortable on their own.

"so we are going to watch, a stupidly, cheesy romance movie, so if you cringe you take a shot, if you laugh you take a shot, if there's a dramatic, love scene, we all take a shot, and if you laugh you take two shots" Zack explained knowing the last one was completely targeted at Y/n, as y/n could laugh at anything. Plus everyone enjoyed tipsy y/n, even y/n enjoyed themself tipsy.

As the movie went on around 3/4 of the way threw they all stopped watching, more so getting into deep conversations with each other, yet what made it better was they were all tipsy and have had a bit to much to drink.

"Y/n of your so sick of working at that cafe why don't you get like a sugar mommy" Zack blurted out more so as a joke, not expecting y/n to give any thought about it.

"You think they have an app for that?" Y/n responded, thinking aloud before checking their phones App Store.

"Fuck- they do"

With that y/n still tipsy as ever downloaded the app, showing it to the group, causing an uprise in laughter from their friends at this silly behavior, but it didn't stop them. Going threw the click signing up process, and creating a profile with some of their better photos they laughed at themself scrolling on the app, showing profiles to their friends, absolutely oblivious to the fact that they accidentally clicked accept on somebody's profile...

The group started to clear out yet y/n stayed the night, being the only one who didn't live in that dorm building already. They chose to spend the night on Zack's couch, which Zack obviously didn't mind as his roommate was out of town.

(The next day)

Waking up y/n was going straight for the pain killers, the drinks they had last night are definitely hitting them this morning.

Looking on their phone y/n noticed a sticky note, placed on top of it with a message from Zack saying they had went out to meet with a family member for brunch.

Going with it, and moving on y/n grabbed their phone seeing a notification from a sugar mommy's app...that's when last nights events came flooding back.

"What the fuck" y/n butter to them self as they open the app to see a notification and a message from someone named Lizzie, their profile is a bit more private than others, but it was still verified and didn't seem extremely sketchy. It was a simple greeting which y/n made the decision to respond with their own greeting back.

The conversation continued between the two of them, and they agreed to meet at a nearby coffeehouse downtown, it was public, so y/n definitely felt safer with the idea yet they definitely need to head back to their apartment and get ready, I mean, if you're going to meet a sugar mommy you should at least look nice.

Getting dressed, and doing their hair wad when nerves were starting to get to y/n thinking about what the worst that could happened, what came to their mind wasn't about meeting a stranger. It was the idea of rejection. Trying to shake off those ideas y/n slipped on some cute dunks which completely match their outfit before heading towards the coffeehouse in town. Not before sending Zack a sarcastic goodbye message like something awful was about to happen.

Walking into the coffeehouse y/n was a bit early sitting down at a table more secluded in the corner scrolling on their phone for a few moments, it wasn't until a women about 5'8 dirty blonde hair sat down across from them did they look up.

"You must be y/n" The women y/n was meeting with stated, getting a nod from the younger one.

"You must be Lizzie" y/n responded feeling shy now by the older women's appearance, she was dressed nice and definitely held herself strong and confidently.

"Yes I am darling, so tell me about yourself" she asked

"Well I'm a student at NYU, I'm single and I'm a hard worker" y/n responded, starting to feel like this is more of an interview than anything.

"I like that, obviously we're here for a reason, I like having a sugar baby, I like having someone I can spoil and make my own" Lizzie got straight to the point, definitely catching y/n off guard for a moment as they regain their thoughts.

"Oh..yes I'm a college student and honestly I signed up for this because me and my friends were being stupid and made jokes but when I saw your profile, I honestly was deeply interested and now we're here" y/n rambled out getting a laugh from the other person there with them.

"Y/n, I'd like to really get to know you, along with helping you out. Your profile, and your personality right now, match exactly what I'm looking for" Lizzie explains as she pulled a contract out from her purse.

"Due to my line of work we have a privacy contract, of course I'll let you read it over, but y/n I really like you, and really hope you will agree to be my sugar baby" Lizzie explained letting y/n have the contract read over.

"My personal number is on the contract. Feel free to message me whenever you'd like or if you need anything, I'd really like to get closer with you" Lizzie said as a goodbye, not leaving room for y/n to say much, as she got up leaving the information with the younger girl.

Y/n packed up their items and took the contract back to their dorm, sitting down on their bed going over it, honestly they were ready to sign they had nothing to lose, but they wanted to have some fun first, texting Lizzie using the number on contract.

"I've read the contract, I'm wondering what you really want with me" y/n was feeling blood sending this message setting their phone down next to them, not expecting Lizzie to answer so fast.

"I won't someone to be mine, we'd be exclusive in a semi-romantic relationship, do you understand? Was the older women's reply. It was straightforward which was becoming common for the strange women.

Y/n wasn't fully sure what they were signing up for, but that picked up a pen and signed the contract sending a photo of it to Lizzie, more so excited to see if the women would give y/n the satisfaction of a reaction.

"So eager are you" was all Elizabeth responded with.

"Only for you" y/n flirted back getting a demanding message back from Elizabeth, asking for the younger ones cash app, sending y/n some pocket money, well $10,000....

The amount caused a Yelp from y/n, they've never received that much money. Y/n knew they were signing up to be a sugar baby, but they didn't expect it to come this soon.

Y/n texted a thank you to Lizzie getting a "you can pay me back" and a winking emoji from the other one, it took a moment for y/n to realize what Lizzie meant, sending a dumb emoji to reply.

Y/n honestly didn't realize how much they wanted this women, her validation was new for y/n. Which it was odd yet it was now 8pm and y/n sent the message to Lizzie

"Come over" the short message was enough for Lizzie to ask for the address having her personal driver take the women to y/n's off campus student apartment. It was much smaller then Lizzie was used to, but Lizzie wanted to see this girl, she was falling for this young college student ready to make y/n her own.

Waking into the apartment, y/n opened the door for Lizzie, yet she was right on it, Lizzie flipped y/n around pinning them to their own door.

"Did you mean it, you signed the contract?" Lizzie asked, and when she got a nod from y/n Lizzie went straight to kissing the younger one. Holding y/n in the kiss till they both were gasping for air.

"I've wanted you sense I saw your profile baby" Lizzie said almost in a whisper to y/n, pulling y/n to the couch in the center of the living space, sitting down both of them were now facing each other.

"Y/n im not sure if you know who I am, I want you I really do, and now you've signed the privacy contract, I want us to continue a sugar mommy relationship, do you understand that, I need your consent and your cooperation" Lizzie said being completely serious with y/n

"Lizzie, I don't care about all that, I want you, your personality is enough to have anyone on their knees for you oh my and don't get me started on that a-" y/n was cut off by lizzie attacking their lips pushing them onto their back now laying on the sofa. Lizzie moved down keeping her control as she left marks on y/n's neck, Lizzie's hands moved under y/n's shirt making sure to check if everything was alright was y/n. Seeing y/n quickly removing her clothes caused Lizzie to smile, seeing y/n all submissive and ready for her was definitely a turn on.

"Y/n im here to help you, in more then just financial ways, I'm gonna help you let go is that okay honey" Lizzie asked bringing her hand up to cup y/n's cheek rubbing her thumb on their face a way of reassurance

Lizzie sat down pulling y/n on top of her as y/n sat down they felt the bulge under Lizzie's nice pants, cause a light whine to fall from y/n's lips.

"Do you think you could take mommy's cock" lizzie asked softly in y/n's ear watching as y/n responded with rapid nods, being ever so eager for the older women.

Lizzie let her hands roam over y/n stripped body reaching in between her folds collecting the younger girls juices, realizing how needy y/n really was. Lizzie patted y/n's thigh to prompt them to stand up, as the women took her turn stripping down to only her lacy bra and the strap she was packing.

"Come here baby" Lizzie guided y/n to slowly sit down on her decent sized cock, letting the smaller one adjust to the size.

"Look at you so good for me, why don't you give me a show princess" Lizzie praised prompting y/n to ride her cock, and that just what y/n did slowly the college student rose up before pushing themself back down on the fake dick, causing a high pitched moan to slip from their lips. Lizzie started to reach out putting her hands on y/n's hip as she met their trust half way, y/n was screaming out moans as the trust got harder, the sound of sex filled the room, lizzie in attempt to bring y/n closer to their climax she started to suck on the younger ones sweet spot, y/n's reaction made Lizzie moan as y/n jolted backing the other part of the strap to hit Lizzie's clit just right now giving the older women more pleasure.

"Fuck y/n you're doing so good for me, you can let go" Lizzie encouraged as she watched y/n getting closer, their bounces we're getting more sloppy and their moans were more squeaky and like that Y/n had reached their orgasm, as they came hard around Lizzie's cock.

"I-I made a mess" Was the firsts thing y/n pointed out, which gave the older women an idea.

"Clean it up then" lizzie said pulling y/n slowly from the cock as y/n was sensitive still from their orgasm, not giving y/n much time as She pushed them down to their knees in front of herself, wrapping her hand into y/n's now messy hair pushing their mouth down on the cock which was still laced in y/n's cum, watching y/n's head bob on the dick was everything to Lizzie, as the pushes rubbed on her own clit making her moan loudly.

The older women now chasing her own climax was pushing y/n down roughly, watching as tears fell from y/n's face, lizzie reached down with her free hand to pull on y/n's tits a bit, just to pull a vibrating moan from the younger one, yet as y/n continued Lizzie kept getting closer finally snapping as she came herself with a loud groan.

After a moment, lizzie released her hold on y/n standing up to discard the strap she was wearing before laying back on the sofa, pulling y/n into her lap keeping the college student close to her.

"I think this arrangement will work out just fine" Lizzie muttered as she watched y/n slowly drifting off.

....PART TWO?

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A/N - it seems the reader doesn't really know who Lizzie is yet, i'm quite excited to take the story into more depth, with that I have a discord server if any of you guys enjoy the same things I do I'd love to talk about it (15+ please) anyway enjoy my 12am writing.

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star-trekkin-across-theuniverse · 10 months

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Worthy, Pt 16

part 1 & 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12, part 13, part 14, part 15

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tags: @bolontiku, @rampant-salamander, @darkdragonpheonix , @440mxs-wife, @castiels-sunflowers, @peekingsunshine, @alexakeyloveloki, @feelmyroarrrr

word count: 3054 __________

The fabrication shop was noisy and dirty and there was a radio playing metal, blasting as loud as it could through crappy, tinny speakers. The guys were the only thing that wasn’t a walking stereotype of a machine shop. Their coveralls were clean and in good repair and I was willing to lay down money that if I asked to see any of their hands there wouldn’t be a single dirty fingernail in the lot. I was impressed. Everything about the shop was perfection.

I’d sent down the plans for the body for the washer a few days earlier and I’d had a message sitting in my email to come down and check out the work when I’d checked my inbox over morning coffee. One of the guys approached me, a smug smile that made me instantly uneasy spreading across his face. I realized I probably looked a little out of place, in my neat kitten heels and pencil skirt. I was dressed for another afternoon visiting high schools, not in my usual tee and jeans uniform for in the labs. With the outfit and the styled hair and splash of make-up, he probably didn’t recognize me from when I’d been toured around by Markus.

“How can I help you, ma’am?” He was polite at least. The last machine shop I’d stepped into I’d received more lewd comments than competently completed work.

“I got an email from Erik Schiffer this morning that my casing and drum are ready for first proofing,” I explained.

“Ms. Carmichael! I never would have recognized you in that get-up. You clean up good,” he offered an appreciative look and then cringed. “I’m sorry. That was inappropriate. I apologize if I made you uncomfortable.”

I took a step back, a little surprised.

“Nothing wrong with giving a compliment,” I shook my head, regretting that I couldn’t remember his name.

“I’m having a hard time figuring out what is a compliment and what is harassment. I don’t want to offend people. This job is like a dream come true, but I’ve been working in a machine shop in Jersey for a lot of years. It’s a different culture.” I could tell by the way he spoke that he was in earnest and really wanted to be sure he was fitting in with the corporate culture of Stark Industries. And quite frankly, even if that was the only reason he was trying, it was worth it. The rest would come eventually.

“You’re okay so far. I’ll let you know,” I laughed. He led me over to Erik’s office and stopped outside the closed door. Erik was on the phone with someone and it was heated. You could see him through his office door, gesturing wildly with one hand. His face was bright red. We looked at one another awkwardly and didn’t say anything. Erik’s voice got louder and I cleared my throat.

“I’m sorry. I know we were introduced, but I can’t remember your name,” I admitted. He smiled broadly.

“Yeah, you were way more interested in the machines when Markus brought you through. Aaron Smith,” he offered his hand. I shook it. There was something refreshing about the strength of his grip. Like he was proving he had respect for me by not half-assing his handshake.

“Look kid, I don’t care how fucking brilliant you are, everything goes into the queue. When it hits the front of the queue it gets fabricated. That’s how I run this goddamn machine shop, and I run it that way with Pepper’s approval. Your failure to plan ahead does not constitute a fucking emergency in my world!” We both jumped at the sound of the phone slamming into the cradle. My eyes met Aaron’s and widened.

“Holy shit,” I breathed.

“We’ve been having issues with the other intern,” he explained. Erik flung open the door and started ranting without even realizing I was there.

“That fucking prick wants us to bump him through the queue. We’re partway through Carmichael’s project and then Stark has a personal project in the queue, Reid’s department has another project lined up and then Emerson’s project can hit the machines. I’m pretty sure he got the same orientation that the other intern got. She’s not a dipshit, and can follow directions, so what’s his fucking excuse?” His arms were getting a workout, they were emphasizing so many of his words. I bit my lip to hide a smile at being referred to as ‘not a dipshit’. Some compliments come from strange places, in strange ways. I wasn’t foolish enough to not take them where I found them. Aaron coughed and raised an eyebrow, glancing over Erik’s shoulder at me. Erik turned and sighed. “I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have had to hear that.”

“Let’s just proof my parts, and forget about it,” I suggested. He nodded and tilted his head toward the back of the shop before leading me over.

“We have the parts fabbed and ready for powder coating, but I wanted to be sure you were happy with them first. And I thought you might want to have some fun with the colour. You requested white. That’s boring. No one has a white washer and dryer anymore. My wife bought us a purple set. She calls it aubergine but it’s fucking purple. So you can do whatever you like colourwise.” We wove between a couple of machines to get to the powder coat room. I pulled out my tools and double-checked all the measurements against my plans. Everything looked perfect. I wanted to hug the pieces to me, I felt so strangely proud of what I’d accomplished. As I was flicking through plans on my tablet, a message popped up from Pepper asking me to call her.

“I’m sorry, I need to make a quick call, and then we’ll talk colour,” I apologized and took a few steps away from the men as I dialed Pepper. “This is Ella,” I said when she answered.

“Ella, hi! Sorry, our appointment got bumped back until next week. I know you’d blocked this time off, so I want you to take the afternoon and do something fun. Angela tells me you haven’t done anything remotely not-work-related in weeks.” Pepper spoke quickly, like breathing would be a waste of time.

“That’s not true. I went and saw the Statue of Liberty with Bruce just the other day,” I protested.

“That was a week ago. Go out and do something. That’s actually an assignment. From your boss,” Pepper ordered. I laughed.

“Alright,” I agreed. I turned back to Erik and Aaron and checked the last couple of measurements. Everything was perfect. “So, aubergine?” I asked.

“It’s been done,” Erik laughed. I smirked and pulled up a copy of the plans. I did a quick flood-fill of colour on a few parts and showed it to him and Aaron. They both cracked up and nodded. “Done. Just promise me that we can be there when you present it.” Every completed prototype got a presentation to Pepper, Tony and the board of directors at Stark Industries. I nodded.

“Of course! You were instrumental in ensuring this project got made. And you recommended a colour change. I wouldn’t want you to miss the reveal for the world,” I laughed. Erik shook my hand and Aaron clapped me on the shoulder. He walked me back to the shop entrance.

“It was nice to meet you properly, Ella. It’s gonna be good to work with you.” He struck me as a completely genuine person, and I could see that working with both him and Erik was going to be easy. They were fantastic artisans, and anyone who suggested a fabrication shop wasn’t a place where art happened deserved to be shot. The work they had done for me was perfect and beautiful. I’d met a lot of people who complained that the guys only ran the machines, but there was a certain amount of finesse that was required to get excellent results, and from the look of my pieces, I knew I was working with experts.

“Thanks for showing me around.” I stepped onto the elevator and headed back to the lab. There was a bouquet of daisies on my desk. The plain glass vase was tied with a bright pink ribbon. I looked at Jem, the guy whose desk was beside mine. He shrugged wordlessly and went back to whatever it was he was working on. I looked for a card but didn’t find one, but whoever it was had done their research. Daisies were my favourite flower. Simple, plain and perfect. I’d learned about the Fibonacci sequence from daisies when I was a little girl. It had ignited my passion for math and stuck with me ever since.

I secured my desk and took the daisies with me back to my apartment. I placed them on the kitchen island, where I was sure to be able to see them from almost anywhere in my apartment. Once I was happy with how they were arranged, all puffed out like a dandelion cloud, I turned to my fridge and stared into it, willing something to leap out at me and demand to be eaten. Food didn’t work that way, but I held out hope that in a place as advanced and mysterious as Stark Tower could be that someday my food would just know it was time to be eaten and present itself to me.

“Ms. Carmichael, are you finding the ambient temperature in the apartment too high?” J.A.R.V.I.S.’s voice broke me out of the bored contemplation of the contents of my fridge.

“Huh? Why?” I was startled. J.A.R.V.I.S. and I didn’t interact enough for it not to surprise me every time the voice spoke from my ceiling.

“The refrigerator has been open for 3 minutes and 17 seconds, Ms. Carmichael and the heat signature in the apartment puts you directly in front of the door. Are you too warm?” J.A.R.V.I.S. asked. I could feel my cheeks flush and reached blindly for the first thing I saw before slamming the fridge closed.

“No, I’m fine. Just thinking about lunch,” I explained. I’d grabbed sour cream. I sighed and reopened the fridge, replacing the sour cream on the shelf. I resumed staring at the contents of my fridge.

“Ms. Carmichael, as Mr. Stark would say, kindly stop calling penguins,” J.A.R.V.I.S. spoke again. I barked out a laugh. It was the exact thing my father said when I spent too much time glaring into the fridge. I closed the door again and decided I was likely going to head out for lunch when a knock came at my door. I wasn’t expecting anyone, as Angela had to finish her workday. Leif and Thor had both returned to Asgard earlier in the week, the day after my ‘date’ with Bruce, and I’d seen none of them since, although Bruce hadn’t returned to completely avoiding me. He’d texted every morning to let me know he was busy on a project, but would touch base with me again in the afternoon to see about connecting for dinner. I wasn’t quite sure what we were doing. Sort of seeing one another, I suppose.

As I daydreamed about what exactly was happening with Bruce, whoever it was at my door knocked again. I shook my head and walked over to open it.

“Are your ears burning?” I laughed when I saw it was Bruce. He looked confused.

“No?” He touched one of them and scratched his head. I laughed again.

“I was just thinking about you,” I explained. He nodded, understanding. I held open the door and gestured for him to enter. “I was just thinking about what to do for lunch. Maybe we can figure something out together.” I shut the door and followed him toward the kitchen. He put a paper bag up on the counter and started pulling takeaway containers out of it.

“Great minds think alike.” He started popping tops off of containers and the aroma from the freshly delivered Chinese food reached my nose. My mouth started watering.

“Fools seldom differ,” I teased, pulling open a drawer and pulling out cutlery. Bruce let out a short bark of laughter and shook his head. He swept the cutlery back into the drawer and handed me a pair of chopsticks. I looked in the containers he’d laid out. There was some gooey meat and vegetables in one of them. “What is that?”

“You’ve never had moo goo gai pan?” He asked, picking up a piece with the chopsticks. “Open up.” I raised an eyebrow but opened my mouth. He put a piece of what I discovered was chicken in my mouth. It was tender and moist. I nodded as I chewed.

“You win this round, Dr. Banner. Good lunch choice,” I picked up another piece of chicken from the box, and popped it into my mouth. While I chewed, I grabbed a container and walked over to the couch. I flopped into the corner of it and patted the spot beside me. Bruce collected the other containers and dropped them on the coffee table before he sat down beside me. I narrowed my eyes and looked at him. “Did you put Pepper up to this?”

“What do you mean?” He asked.

“Pepper just gave me the afternoon off. Did you arrange that?”

“No, I ran into her this morning shortly after your thing was cancelled. I made an executive decision to bring you lunch,” he responded. I leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.

“Good decision,” I praised him, flushing slightly once I realized how natural it felt to just kiss him. I don’t know that I’d ever felt comfortable enough with a man to just show that level of relaxed affection. He shifted a little closer and we continued eating in silence. I put my empty container on the coffee table when I’d finished and reached for the TV remote.

“Movie?” I asked. He nodded. I opened up Netflix and chose the first recommendation without even looking at it. I leaned back into my spot and Bruce slipped his arm around me. The movie was terrible. I didn’t mind so much because Bruce’s arm was around me and we were snuggled up in the corner of my couch, but it was a horrible film. Lousy plot, terrible acting, and ridiculously unbelievable premise. I handed the remote to Bruce.

“You get to choose this time. I’m fired from this job,” I laughed. Bruce took the remote and leaned across me, dropping his head and brushing his lips against mine while at the same time turning the TV off. He dropped the remote on the carpet and brought his hand to my side. I felt my pulse race and brought a hand to his cheek. His stubble was rough against my palm. His free hand slid down my waist to rest on my hip, his fingers digging into the soft flesh there before sliding down further to pull my thigh against his. I leaned closer and knocked us both off balance and we rolled over the edge of the couch to the carpet. Bruce knocked the coffee table out of the way as we fell, and pulled me against him to cushion my fall. I felt the breath go out of him in a quick burst and giggled, thinking I probably needed to lay off the take-out. He stabilized me against his hip and I rolled onto my back, dragging him against me, pulling him down to me with his shirt collar. His mouth found mine again and I no longer felt self-conscious or inexperienced, I just felt like I wanted whatever was happening.

His fingers dug into my thigh, almost painful, and I gasped, my eyes opening. I could feel Bruce’s heartbeat racing, his chest against mine, and when his eyes met mine, I could see they were taking on a green cast. I felt a hitch of panic, and then pulled my arms from around his neck, cradling his face in my hands. I brought his lips to mine, slowly, deliberately, and gently kissed him, focusing all my energy on relaxing my racing heart, which was beating in sync with his. The pounding in my head became less fierce, but my pulse was still hammering. I took another deep breath and tried to feel the world around me. I had no problem with my own body aligning with Bruce’s, but I was untrained in this strange magic that I owned and was unsure how I’d pushed it into him the last time he’d begun to change. I tried to remember all the connection with the world stuff I’d learned the one time I’d taken a yoga course, and for lack of a better word, followed the connection of my heart with his. I felt his heart, beating heavily, in my own chest, and broke the kiss to take a deep breath. Pulling him back to me, I tangled my lips with his own again, closing my eyes and expelling the long breath through my nose. My fingers and toes tingled, and everywhere that Bruce’s body was touching mine was tight with electricity. Bruce’s hands stilled, and I opened my eyes and met his warm chocolate eyes again. I reached up to run my hand through his hair and shocked him, startling us both. He shook his head and then dipped down to kiss me again.

When we heard the throat clearing above us, we sprang apart. I’m not sure who I was expecting. Thor, or Leif maybe. Perhaps Angela. I wasn’t sure we’d closed the door all the way, and Angela was welcome to come in when the door was cracked. Thor and Leif had a habit of showing up inside whether I wanted to or not. But I wasn’t expecting Loki. I shot to my feet, as did Bruce. I could feel his heart rate rising again and grabbed his hand, pushing all the calming energy I could muster into him through the tenuous connection.

“Unhand my daughter, you foul beast.” Loki spat the words, clearly articulating each syllable.

#bruce banner x ofc

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funkymbtifiction · 2 years

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Hi, sorry to bother you, but I'm going through a type crisis and need your help! I think I may be the reverse version of that trend of INFPs mistyping as INFJ just because they want to be INFJ really bad, but I can't be sure. My brain is just too confused. The types I currently have on the table are INFP, INFJ, INTJ and ISFP which is kind of upsetting because those types are each so different and it feels like I'm practically at square one again.

For reference I think I'm an attachment type on the enneagram which might influence/explain my behaviors as well. Although I love telling people to be themselves and value self-expression myself, I always find myself conforming to the group and am very sensitive to what other people think of me. I love aesthetics and appearance and will dress 'quirky' not just for myself, but if I think people will view me positively for it. I tend to turn to outside sources for validation or information. Even when I'm by myself, free from judgement, I have this internal fear of being 'cringe' that I need to overcome because it makes me feel like a hypocrite.

This is indeed strong attachment and probably a social dominant instinct (so/sp is most likely). Social 6 or 9 would both feel this way, but I lean a little more towards social 9w1. It could also be Fe, yes.

However, I am also very withdrawn from others like a 9 and spend a lot of time in my head fantasizing and daydreaming. I'd rather be drawing or creating something than exhausting myself with other people though I do always end up enjoying it when I leave my comfort zone.

That fits with 9.

But anyway. I say I need help because I've always thought of myself as INFP until recently I realized I might possibly be a Ni-dom. I guess I never considered it before because I'm not a psychic wizard and I don't ponder the meaning of life daily. However, my thought patterns feel like Ni nonetheless.

Most people don't really understand Ni, and it's difficult to wrap your head around it if you don't have it. Have you read my Ni section?

Ever since I was a kid I've loved to create epic plans for my future and make lists of the things I would need. I would come up with these outlandish ideas (for example, I imagined building a swimming pool full of fish like an aquarium!) but still tried to fact-check and make it 'realistic' to be sure I could really do it. Since I've grown up a bit, those far-fetched ideas have been replaced with more reasonable ones, but I still have a tendency to think big and go deep, like when I get struck with an idea at 2AM and meticulously plan it out before I can do it and get no sleep.

The attachment to realism is either a strong sensing function or a strong thinking function. An ISJ would try to be realistic with their future ambitions and so would an ISP. The fact that you imply that your dreams were "far-fetched" and you've now matured out of them might mean you have a strong sensing function. Meticulous planning can be Si-driven if that's about all the details, or Ni-driven, if you are envisioning exactly what you want and trying to see how to get it.

I'm very introspective but mostly of myself (this isn't Fi, is it??) and often get super 'meta' with my thoughts which obviously has made this typing process a hell of a ride, lmao. I can kind of see Ne in my thought process as well but I'm not really 'scatterbrained.'

Ne is more how outside ideas cause you to get more ideas of your own -- it's not really scatterbrained (that's a stereotype), so much as A reminds you of X and that gives you an idea of how to use Y. You may want to read my ENP sections, as well as my IFP sections, on the above mentioned website to get a sense of them, because you are using broad generalities / stereotypes when referring to functions and it's hard for me to give you an objective analysis when I'm not positive you "know" what each function does internally.

[...] I just don't relate to the emotional distance, and definitely not the bluntness, of Te. I'm only emotionally detached when I feel like being heartfelt is too 'cringey', but I find that happens more within close circles without the external validation that it's OK to show empathy. Again, that could be my enneagram softening that up, but I really feel like I'm too considerate of others' feelings to be Te.

Of course you won't relate to it. IFPs can never be emotionally detached unless something is wrong (a Te grip). They filter everything through their feelings and moral judgments about the situation. So you are not going to relate to TJ descriptions.

On the other hand, I don't relate to the 'we' or group mentality of Fe. Even when I want to, I'm not super good at knowing what to say to comfort other people and find listening to people vent to be very draining and not worth my time. <- this is definitely not FJ; eww, don't come at me with your problems is more Fi-dom/9.

Finally, my opinion on the sensing functions. I have a pretty bad memory, and I'm not a traditionalist or super reliant on the past, so I don't think Si. I can sometimes get struck with impulses that I will follow through with if no one's around to judge me for it, and like I mentioned earlier I do enjoy aesthetics, dressing up, making things look pretty, matching and well-coordinated. So that's my argument for Se.

You sound IFP, so dig more into Se/Ni, since you could be ISFP.

#question #mbti

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counterphobes · 2 years

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how did you get into typo + figured out your enneagram?

Got into it in middle school because I was mentally ill and took every personality quiz I could find😭 I would literally spend hours on quizlet. So naturally I just stumbled upon mbti at one point and then got into ennea after getting tumblr at 14. My first type was Intj because thats what the test gave me 💀

I figured out I was an Isfp because I sat down my sisters and made them read through horrid cringe mbti posts and they went "well yea the artist fits you most ofc" (cus im good at drawing) and yea it was right 😭 Sometimes u just gotta go simple and admit to yourself you're a stereotype

With baby's first ennea core I went for cp6w5 actually. I just read through the description and went "yeah this works for me 100%". My first tritype + iv was spsx 648 because I was convinced Im this mean and dark person, also any abused kid identifies with 8 at one point lol.

Then people told me I wasn't aggressive enough, that I was too caring and a doormat, so I typed as 9w8 sxsp. The 9 lasted for a couple of years, turned to 9w1. The spsx became sxsp cus ppl said I wasnt contra. Its funny how people used to tell me I was way too mellow and chill to be contraflow and now they all insist I'm overly aggressive and so so so undeniably contra😭 The only reason I went from sxsp to sxso is because ppl agreed I was very sp-blind (as u can see, I've never changed anything about my type by myself. I usually always asked ppl around me how I come across) and I'm very obviously sp-blind so it was a good call.

I only stopped typing as a 9 like..a bit more than a year ago? I went from 946 to a 2 core 295 tritype. I had always really related to 2 but never typed that way because people insisted I was too much of an edgelord and too selective of ppl to be one. Now I think its just being cp6 + FiSe + sx-dom. So I went with 2 for a bit, but honestly it didn't make much sense and the 5fix was just so I could blame all my obvious headcore behavior on it😭 goofy.

But yeah then I just went with cp6 again a couple months ago, can't believe I typed my core correctly at 14 and then it took me 6 years to type that way again. I think its accurate, the only thing im iffy on is if im a p6 or cp6 (im sxso so its kinda hard to tell for me)

I guess my way of typing myself has always been about getting feedback/relating to others but it wasn't always right. My advice would be (if you're asking for advice) to keep it simple, to not dive into your own traumas or passions or whatever too much. Thats not typology, thats personal. Just think about what makes you you in the most basic way, how do you react to others, what do others see? What actions do you take? I think one can often blind oneself a lot. You only know whats inside your head, not whats subconsciously lying in your brain and you can get very caught up in your own idea of self-image. Other people have a better chance at guessing this. They see your body language, your behavior, your essence much clearer tbh. Just..base it on tangible things in your life.

Hope this long ass answer is what you were looking for😭 (I use this emoji way too much)

#enneagram #instinctual variants #instinct #mine #personality types #mbti #mbti personality types #contraflow #typing #self-typing #ask

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spencer-reid-in-a-pool · 4 years

Text

Guest Speaker

Anon requested: Hi! I saw that your requests are open, so this is oddly specific but, could I get a Reid x reader where she’s a cheerleader kinda prom queen stereotype but she’s like really smart and majoring in criminology (maybe that’s how they meet?) and he’s sorta insecure about dating her, maybe it could be a bit smutty? If not it’s totally cool, thank you sooo much.

Author’s note: First off, I would like to apologize to you anon. I took a rather long hiatus without really planning to due to some personal stuff, so I’m really sorry for that. I hope you still follow me, I hope you see this, and I hope above all else that you like it. Also, I should mention I didn’t add any smut because I didn’t feel like it fit the story. But, if you would like, I could do a smutty part 2! Just let me know.

Part 2

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

Reader’s POV:

Could this class be any more boring? Sure, criminology is my favorite subject. But this professor looked like he had one foot in the grave, with the voice to match. Talk about naptime.

I put my pen down in exasperation and decided that picking at my nail polish was a better way to spend my time.

“Psst,” a voice hissed next to me.

I popped my gum as I looked up at the source of the voice. It was Naomi, my best friend.

“Girl, I didn’t even notice you next to me!”

“I know,” she whispered, trying not to laugh. “You were too enamored with your polish flaking off. Sometimes I wonder how you’re top of the class.”

I stifled a laugh.

“I wonder the same thing sometimes, Naomi. Hey, I think I might dip a little early. What do you think about coming with me?”

No answer. I waited to see if she would respond, but she never did. Glancing up, I saw her staring towards the podium. There was no way she was looking at Dr. Daniels. I followed her gaze and about swallowed my gum in surprise.

Dr. Daniels was up there, but next to him was someone I had never seen before. Quite unfortunate, if I do say so myself, because he had to be the most beautiful man I had ever seen.

I whispered to Naomi out of the corner of my mouth, not breaking my gaze towards the man, “Who… is that?”

“I think Daniels said he works at the FBI. A guest speaker, I guess. Dr. Spencer Reid.”

She hadn’t stopped staring either.

I rested my head in my hands and sighed.

“He doesn’t look much older than us, Nay.”

She tilted her head and blinked slowly, “May the best woman win.”

——————————–

“Alright, so that brings me to the end of my presentation. I have to get back to Quantico soon, but uh- I’ll stick around for some questions if anyone has any.”

Dr. Spencer Reid had to be the most beautiful, awkward, brilliant man I had ever seen.

I glanced around the room as I packed my things. Not many people went up to ask questions. A few did, but only briefly. Their loss.

Naomi nudged me with her elbow. “Gonna ask him a question?”

I took a deep breath, “I don’t think any of my questions have anything to do with criminology.”

Naomi laughed and shouldered her bag. “I’ve gotta get to my next class.”

She began walking down the steps to leave the room, but turned to me at the last second.

She began pointing at him while his back was turned and mouthed the words, “Get his number for me.”

As luck would have it, he turned around and noticed Naomi gesturing towards him. He looked at her and then up to me. A nervous smile graced his lips as he turned back around to pack his things.

I widened my eyes at Naomi and she raised her hands in defeat with a huge grin on her face.

Once she left, only Dr. Reid and I remained. I started my walk up to the podium, trying to come up with any questions that actually related to his presentation. As I slowed down near him, I prayed he couldn’t hear my heart ripping a hole in my chest.

“Um, Dr. Reid.”

He lifted his head and looked towards me, pausing mid-action. His hands were large compared to the papers he was putting in his bag.

“What can I do for you?”

I shifted my weight around, trying to get comfortable. It didn’t work.

“I was just wondering- um, does the FBI take interns? It’s been a dream of mine to work for the FBI.”

He turned all the way towards me and narrowed his eyes slightly. Was he judging me or something?

“Yeah, actually we do. There’s tons of programs you can check out. What’s your major?”

“Criminology,” I said softly.

“Oh wow, really? I would’ve thought maybe it would have been… something else.”

He glanced at my bag where my pom poms were sticking out.

“Ah, yeah because I’m a cheerleader?”

“Uh, no no, that’s not what I meant- I just-”

I shook my head with a small smile. “No, don’t worry about it. I get it a lot. Cheerleading is just a hobby. I’m actually top of the class.”

Dr. Reid raised his eyebrows in surprise. “That’s very impressive! I was top of my class in- well, every class,” he said, laughing quietly.

“I don’t doubt it, but you don’t look much older than us. Are you that much of a genius you skipped so many grades?”

He grabbed his bag and shrugged it on. “I do have an IQ of 187. I’m not sure if that’s what you were looking for.”

He smiled shyly at me. I was confident there was nothing this man couldn’t do.

“Wow. Well, that’s really impressive, too.”

I paused for a second, hoping he didn’t notice my burning red ears.

“Well, um, Dr. Reid, I don’t wanna hold you up. I’m sure you have way more important things to be doing than talking to me.”

He looked down at his feet and shifted his bag.

“Talking to you was important. Here,” he dug in his bag as he spoke, “Take my card. I’ll um- check up on those intern programs for you. Call me- I mean call my office in a few days. I’ll have something for you.”

He handed me his card abruptly. I took it with slightly shaking fingers. Hopefully he wouldn’t notice that either.

“I have to go, but it was nice talking to you. Hope to see you in Quantico some day,” he said as he smiled.

I stood stone still in my spot, still holding his card as if he had just handed it to me. I only broke out of my trance when he cleared his throat at the door as he was leaving.

“You shouldn’t pick your nail polish off. That color looks good on you.”

And then he was gone.

—————————————-

As I walked out of class, I couldn’t seem to make my heart stop fluttering. Dr. Reid wouldn’t flirt with me- right? No way. He was just complimenting me.

Naomi could tell something was up when I got to cheerleading practice. I didn’t want to tell her though; she’d never let me hear the end of it.

“You’re late! What’s up, (Y/N)? Did something happen?”

I shook my head. “Nothing happened, just took the scenic route!”

She narrowed her eyes at me. “Spill. What happened?”

I sighed. I should’ve known she’d start in on me immediately. Guess I’ll save myself the trouble and just tell her now.

“I talked to Dr. Reid and he gave me his card. And…he said I shouldn’t pick at my nail polish because the color looks good on me.”

Naomi’s jaw dropped. “Show me. Card. Now.”

I dug in my pocket and handed her the card. She snatched it from my fingers that still felt tingly.

“Oh my God! What did you say to him to make him give you that?”

I grabbed the card back from her. “I said I was interested in an FBI internship.”

She scoffed. “Well, I don’t know about an internship but you gotta get laid. Call him. And use protection,” she finished, winking at me.

I rolled my eyes and followed Naomi to the sideline before coach started yelling at us.

————————————–

A few days had passed since I talked to Dr. Reid. I didn’t know what to do. Should I really call him or just forget that interaction ever happened?

I tried pushing the thought of him from my mind to focus on tonight. It was Friday night, which meant football. Not just football, but the rival team was playing us tonight. It was a huge game and tons of people are coming. I had to make sure I didn’t fuck anything up.

My makeup was done and my uniform was on, so I made my way to the field.

I was early of course, but there were already herds of people trying to get in. Young and old, students and non-students. Everyone was here. I felt the familiar rush of excitement I get before performing. There was nothing else like it in the world.

Tonight was gonna be a night to remember.

———————————–

Narrator’s POV:

“Tell me why we’re here again?” Derek asked in confusion.

Spencer scratched his head. He was no good at these kinds of things.

“Well, I was really young in college. I- I never got the full college experience as an adult.” He tried not to cringe at his own words.

Derek glaced at Garcia. She shrugged and turned to JJ.

“I’m gonna go grab a hot dog. Wanna come with?”

JJ nodded. “Of course! Want anything boys?”

Spencer shook his head and Derek asked for a drink. The two women walked off.

“Well let’s go find seats then, Pretty Boy.”

Derek took Spencer through the crowd; it wasn’t hard to see he had no clue what was going on.

They found an empty corner in the bottom row of the bleachers. Spencer hesitated as Derek sat down.

“You gonna stand there all night, kid?”

He glanced around before his eyes settled on Derek.

“Do you know how many germs there are on these things?”

Derek rolled his eyes. “You wanted the full college experience. Here it is.”

Spencer groaned internally before sitting down.

“So tell me,” the bigger man said as he leaned forward, “Which one are you here for?” Derek gestured to the cheerleaders lining up on the field.

Spencer shifted in his seat and cut a sideways glance at Derek. “What makes you think I wanted to watch the cheerleaders?”

Derek laughed. “Kid, I might not be a genius like you, but I am a profiler. And I can tell when someone is crushing. You’ve been looking around here for something. My guess is, you saw a pretty girl at your guest lecture the other day and wanna see more of her.”

Spencer began to protest but sank back down in defeat. He looked around at the girls, trying to find the one he came for. After what seemed like forever, he found her.

“That one,” he pointed out, “in the very front with the (your hair color) hair.”

Derek looked at you as you began calling out to the other girls, leading them in a cheer.

“My man,” Derek said as he clapped Spencer on the back with a smile. “You better get to talking to her soon, or I may have to work my magic.”

Spencer sighed, “Go ahead. It’s not like she would like me anyway.”

“What makes you say that, kid?”

“Well, it’s just- I’ve never had much luck with those types of girls. Remember a few years ago with JJ?” Spencer said quietly while looking at his hands.

“That was back then, man. Look at you now! I bet she’d be into you.”

Spencer tried not to smile. “You think so?”

“I know so,” Derek said, patting Spencer’s back once again.

Spencer smiled to himself. He felt a little better about everything.

“What’s her name?”

Spencer looked at Derek and paused. “I- I don’t know. I didn’t ask.”

JJ and Garcia appeared then, hands full of snacks and drinks.

Derek leaned back as the girls sat down behind them.

“He’s here for a girl,”

JJ groaned and set her food down. Garcia smirked and held out her hand expectantly. After a second of digging in her pocket, JJ pulled out some money and slapped it into Garcia’s hand.

“Pleasure doing business with you,” she said as she put the money into her bag.

“Y- you guys took a bet?” Spencer asked in shock.

“All’s fair in love and war, dear doctor.”

“Garcia that doesn’t even- never mind,” Spencer said, shaking his head. He turned his head back to the field.

You were at the top of the formation now, standing on one foot while holding your other leg in the air with one hand, being held up by all the girls underneath you. It took Spencer’s breath away. You were so beautiful.

“OOH, she’s flexible!” Garcia grunted out past mouthfuls of hotdog.

Spencer ignored the comment and continued watching. He didn’t expect you to watch him, though.

You had found him in the crowd and made eye contact for a second. He raised his hand to begin waving, but stopped when he saw the color leave your face.

“Hey, woah- is she okay? She’s wobbling a little,” Derek said, shifting forward like he was going to stand up.

“She looks like she’s gonna-” JJ started. She didn’t get to finish. The group watched in horror as you went limp and fell from the top of the formation.

—————————————-

Reader’s POV:

I loved being up here. There was no other feeling like it, especially when I got to call out the cheers tonight.

We were nearing the end of this cheer, so I held out this position as long as I could, smiling at everyone in the crowd, making eye contact with as many as possible. I wasn’t expecting to make eye contact with Dr. Reid.

What was he doing here?!

I felt my leg begin to wobble, but still held my position. My heart was pounding and I suddenly felt very cold.

“Hey,” one of the girls below me hissed, “You okay?”

“I-” I managed to whisper, “I don’t feel so good…”

I don’t remember falling, so I was a little shocked when I came to, laying on my back. The rest of the squad circled around me, panicked looks on their faces.

“Hey, it’s okay. Stay down there. The AT is coming over to talk to you,” Naomi said, patting my shoulder.

I groaned and tried sitting up, but she pushed me back down. “That’s not a good idea. You just passed out.”

My eyes fluttered shut as I tried to remember what happened.

“Ugh, how embarrassing. I’ve never fallen before.”

Naomi smiled sadly at me. “It happens to the best of us. But what happened? Why did you lose it?”

I rubbed my head and sat up slowly, much to the annoyance of Naomi and the AT.

“I just felt- sick all of a sudden. I don’t know,” I lied quietly.

The AT handed me a bottle of water. “Just nerves, baby. It’s a big game.”

I nodded as she helped me up. “Yeah. Just nerves.”

Naomi went back to the squad and told them I was okay. The AT sat me down on the sideline, leaning me against the fence. “Take a breather, hun. You’ll feel better by halftime.”

I gave her a smile as thanks, and took a sip of water.

A voice behind me called out, “Hey, are you okay?”

Dr. Reid stood on the other side of the fence with a bigger African-American man and two blonde girls, one wearing glasses and one without glasses.

“Oh, yeah I’m fine! It’s just a big game. A lot of nerves, you know?”

I stood up and faced them. “Are these your coworkers?”

“Oh uh, yeah, this is Derek, JJ, and Penelope,” Spencer said, gesturing to each of the people next to him in turn.

I gave them a small smile and a wave.

“So what are you doing here? FBI that boring that you have to come see a random college football game? Maybe I don’t want an internship,” I laughed out to them.

Derek laughed with me. “Nah, Pretty Boy didn’t come for the game-”

Dr. Reid punched him in the arm.

The two women, JJ and Penelope, laughed as Derek raised his hands in defeat. “Alright, alright!”

I smiled and shook my head, looking back out to the field.

“Hey, I never asked you the other day. What’s your name?”

I turned my attention back to Dr. Reid. The other three were no longer in sight.

“(Y/N). My name is (Y/N).”

“Well, nice to officially meet you, (Y/N).”

“So what are you really doing here, Dr. Reid? It doesn’t take a genius to see that you have no interest in football.”

I hopped the fence and stood next to him.

“Hey, be careful. You did just have a pretty big fall.”

I grinned, a burst of confidence erupting in my chest.

“Of course, Doctor.”

He leaned against the fence next to me and looked down to meet my gaze. “Call me Spencer.”

My heart fluttered a bit. He was totally into me.

“Okay. Spencer, then.”

He smiled back at me. “Would you maybe want to get a coffee with me sometime?”

I turned towards him, hoping he didn’t see just how much I was blushing.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

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bookwyrminspiration · 2 years

Note

What would each bodyguard be like as a 12 year old? I remember me and my little friend group as 12 year olds and now we are all much older but it makes me laugh to think about

I feel like Sandor would be a Minecraft kid. You know the kid I’m talking about, the annoying one

Ro would probably be going through an emo phase tbh

Grizel would be a popular mean girl

Anyways yea I would love to hear your take on this

1/19/22

-Mossy

I was right I do have another ask about the bodyguards from you in my inbox! I don't know what about them appeals to you (and what about them being 12yos specifically, as this is not the first time it's been brought up) but it's definitely an interesting perspective to take. (update: turns out I started talking about everyone as students instead of just 12 year olds. hope that's okay)

For Sandor, I'm actually not quite sure what kind of kid you're talking about as I mostly ignored everyone else in class when I was 12, but! The annoying kid does seem accurate--I think he'd get on everyone else's nerves because of his rigidity and strict adherence to something no one else understands. He's the kind of 12 year old who would ask about homework and remind the teacher about turning things in, and everyone else resents him for it. He's just doing his job--I think he'd either be the kind of kid to do an entire project on his own, or to take control and force everyone else to work and report to the teacher when his classmates aren't doing their part. Just a thought.

Then Ro...I think she'd be more punk than emo, and that Bo would be emo. Ro would be the kind of kid who's really loud all the time and who talks during lectures and never shuts up. She doesn't turn in her homework because she just doesn't want to, and she draws graffiti in the bathroom stalls. Oh you know the "cookie monster pajamas hot cheeto girl" stereotype? That kind of energy, if amplified into chaos, feels like Ro. She just doesn't want to do what people tell her to do, and flaunts her defiance in their faces.

Now Bo...Bo feels like the emo kid to me. He's got the really forward hair (like this) and it's always getting in his eyes. Maybe sometimes it has some color in it and it's so straightened it's practically burnt. But he never talks to anyone and he's got the "nobody understands me" kind of vibe. He listens to loud music and refuses to make friends, writes dark poetry (that he will cringe at years later), and is really moody. The general resentment he seems to have against the world feels like it would fit.

And Grizel!! I agree completely with your assessment, she'd be super popular. But she'd probably tease people a lot and not always known when she's crossed the line because she's having fun. She buts into other people's lives and conversations and likes to know what's going on. She's frequently peer pressuring people and making deals with them, like betting with them. No doubt she'd be super well known though, and she's absolutely own it. I do feel like her and Ro would get into a lot of trouble together if they take bets with each other, and they would not spare each other at all when it came to gossip. Ro is good at getting people to talk and about asking the right questions (albeit obnoxiously) and Grizel is good and being sneaky and observing things to get information. Together they'd be unstoppable.

I wonder if any of the bodyguards would have had an anime phase, as that is very popular among people of that age group at the moment. My sister and legit all of her friends watch anime and she's 11, so I think one of them has to have an anime phase, but I'm unsure which one.

(also damn you putting the date of when you sent this and calling me out on how long it takes to respond!! I don't actually mind though)

#though I will say one month is a big improvement from 2 1/2 months #which is what it used to be #consequence of getting a lot of asks #but now!!#mostly caught up!!#wait out of the bodyguards the way I described them I think Bo might have a tumblr account #he'd have one of those aesthetic ones where he only reblogs black and white pictures (mostly black) and really sad quotes #about being lonely and misunderstood and the curse of being alive #oh bo...#kotlc #keeper of the lost cities #quil's queries #kotlc bodyguards #kotlc sandor #kotlc grizel #kotlc ro #kotlc bo #mossy nonsie

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statticscribbles · 3 years

Text

Consequences

Summary: Jughead/Reader, Request: Using the song Consequences by Camila Cabello. Plot wise, maybe reader gets with him after the whole “betty doing the serpent dance” with a happier ending than the song? (minor canon divergence, to say the least)

You’re starting to walk home, but you pause when you notice Betty waiting by a rack of bikes. You’re about to approach her, ask about why she thought doing the Serpent dance had any meaning without the other trials behind her but you pause. Jughead is walking towards her. You don’t start back home, hesitating wanting to see what happens. “What is it, was it the dance?” You listen to Betty question him. Jughead nods and shrugs.

“It was everything Betty, why would you do that?” “I want to be a part of this, of your world, of the serpents.” “Then you should have done the other trails, you should have joined, not gotten up on stage in front of everyone to put on what amounted to a strip tease. The Serpent dance is done as a celebration, a congratulations for finishing the other trials, it’s not meant to be done around anyone other than the serpents, and certianly not my dad and all his friends.” Jughead snaps and Betty puts her hands on his shoulders. ‘We can figure this out together, we can-“ “No.” You cringe at how blunt he is, how he turns away, you panic for a moment, his eyes catching yours and he nods a fraction before he turns back to Betty shaking his head.

“Go back to the Northside, you’re safe there.” He speaks softly nudging her towards her mom’s car. He turns fully from her striding towards the trailer park, you fall into step with him, trying your best to not look back at Betty.

You step past his house, intent on going to yours, farther back, but his hand grips your wrist. “You think I fucked it up too right.” You turn shaking your head. “You’re right, about the trials.” You pat his shoulder awkwardly. “Betty and I, we were never going to work, she’s a Northsider, the perfect girl next door, everything Archie should have, everything Ronnie should get. I’m just trailer white trash in a gang, the stereotypical bad boy she falls for and fixes. It’s just infuriating she doesn’t see it.” “You don’t need to be fixed, it’s just both of you have different worlds you live in, you don’t need to be ‘good’ for her world, and she doesn’t need to ‘go dark’ or whatever she’s said to fit yours. If it’s meant to work it will, and so far it doesn’t seem like it will. There’s no shame in that. Better to break it off now than suffer.” He half smiles at you wiping at his eyes.

“You gonna be okay?” He nods, sighing. “Listen Y/N can I ask you something? You don’t have to answer.” “Of course.” “What do you think Betty saw in me?” You swallow shrugging. “Well I mean you’re attractive, tall, dark, handsome, mysterious.” You nod. “You spend time with her doing things she loves, which is crime solving and reporting; something you enjoy too. Plus you’re the leader of a gang, you drive a motorcycle, and the whole ‘bad boy image’ thing you have going for you probably helps.” You smiles and he huffs. “What? You asked what I thought Betty saw in you, what were you expecting?” “For there to be more substantial things than ‘I look good and do shit she likes” “Well that’s not my fault, besides I’m just saying what I see. It’s an outsider’s perspective on you’re relationship.” “Well what would you see in me?”

“Well you’re the leader of the Serpents, which I’m in so I’d climb rank, kidding, kidding, but you’re incredibly kind, despite how cold you appear, and as much as you say you’re a loner you’re loyal to your friends. You’re the leader so you’re responsible and look out for the community and your family. You stuck by your dad and helped defend him, even with everything going on with the Snake Charmer situation, it’s what you thought was best. You keep everyone in line and listen to everyone’s ideas and opinions, no mater how stupid they are, and lets face it the Serpent’s have a lot of stupid ideas.” He nods smiling at you. “Well did that boost your ego a bit then, oh wise Serpent Leader.” You smile back and he laughs.

“Wouldn’t mind a bit more if you’re up for stroking it.” You blink at him face pinking slightly as he realizes the innuendo. “Should I come in then? Or would you rather continue out here?” He shakes his head. “You should get home.” You nod back to him. “Of course, I hope I at least helped with the Betty situation?” He offers a pained smile. “There’s no situation, can’t be a situation if there’s no relationship.” You nod awkwardly and turn to make your way back to your home.

The tapping on your window wakes you up and you roll over on your bed to prop the window open sticking your head out to look at Jughead’s face. “Coming in then?” You joke as he starts to climb in. You pull back smoothing your blankets down as he sits on your bed. “More about the Betty thing then?” You question when he doesn’t respond. “Jones? You alive in there?” “Can I kiss you?’ He questions as he presses his lips you yours, you pull him in and can tell he wasn’t expecting that with how he stumbles slightly. You don’t say anything when he pulls away, leaning back towards him to return the surprise kiss he’d given you. As your lips press together you let yourself accept that you’re falling in love with Jughead Jones. ———————————————————————————–

You let him bring you to Pop’s you’d taken your Serpent jacket off and have it folded in your arms just in case, you can’t count the number of dirty looks you’d gotten from walking to school with it on. You sit next to him in the booth insisting he can order for you. You eat in mostly silence occasionally answering questions back and forth. He keeps his hand twined with yours as you split a shake.

—————————————————————— You’re draped over his lap as the rest of the Serpent’s argue over pizza. “Seriously that’s the least of our worries, can we focus on the actual issue?” He speaks and Sweet Pea narrows his eyes. “Y/N tell your boyfriend that the pizza toppings are the most important thing right now.” “Well I just pick off whatever I don’t like cause I’m not a whiny bitch.” Jughead high fives you; before pulling you in for a kiss. “Don’t make me use the whole king thing over pizza.” “You’re a shit king, you’re okay with pineapple on pizza.” “Sweets he’s okay with anything on pizza. It’s pizza.” ——————————————————————————–

You’re curled up on his couch, completely on top of him as his hand runs through your hair. You’re falling asleep and he’s talking about some idea Toni had for a better ‘team bonding’ as she put it. You’re letting his voice lull you to sleep, occasionally nodding and humming in agreement, he asks you more direct question, you’ve already forgotten as you look up and smile at him before moving slightly to kiss him slowly. “I love you.” You pull back from the kiss to return to your previous spot on top of him. You smile into his chest but freeze when he tenses, you look up nervously; his face probably as pink as yours as he realizes what you’ve said. “I love you too.” He returns and continues trying to stutter through whatever plan Toni has. —————————————————————————————-

You been about to tell him about the idea for your anniversary, but you stay quiet. He notices when your face falls but you assured him it’ll be fine. You tried your best not to react, not until you could get away. “I just think; well I want to try things with Betty again is all.” He offers you a nod and you return it, biting the inside of your cheek as you plan the best exit strategy from school. It’s easier than you think to skip school; no one bothering you, they almost expect it, a Serpent skipping, what a shock you’re sure is what everyone is thinking.

—————————————————————————————- “I want you to go check on him.” You glare at the others. “But we..” “That’s exactly why. Go.” You glower at the other Serpents but make your way to the trailer, tapping on the window. The door opens and you step into what you weren’t surprised to see. The bottles, the drinks had been cleared away, proof FP was trying to change; now all that lingered was tissues’ and a few unwashed clothes. “You look; different.” His voice is hoarse and you watch as he shoves a small avalanche of tissues away from himself so you sit down next to him. “Different?” He shrugs at your questioning.

“Tired.” He amends and you offer a wry smile, you know you’re probably paler, the circles under your eyes darker. The amount of sleep you’d been getting had been less; you’d be substituting it and meals for too much coffee. “You this upset about you and Betty breaking it off again?” You nudge his shoulder as you sit and he swallows. “We shouldn’t be together, we’re not good for each other like that.” You roll your eyes. “Relationships take work, you can’t expect everything to be wonderful all the time, you can’t keep the rose coloured glasses on forever.” “I missed the red flags cause of those glasses.” You grasp for his hand. “Red Flags? Was it that bad?” “Not like abuse, just, not good. We worked together so well when its life or death; but she’s wary of the Serpent’s; she doesn’t like the violent aspect of the gang unless it suits her needs.”

“Jughead, that’s everyone outside of the gang. That’s pretty much everyone in general. You wouldn’t like it if Betty was violent outside of protecting someone, hell if any of us, the Serpent’s hurt someone for the hell of it you’d be pissed.” “But it’s not the same.” “How?” You arch your eyebrows. “If it’s not for her, she doesn’t like it. And I don’t mean the violence; she seems bothered by me. When I try to be a leader she-“ He cuts himself off shrugging. “She wants the name that comes with you being Serpent King but not the work?”

“No she just, she doesn’t understand; she didn’t grow up like me, like us.” He shrugs again and you smile sadly. “Relationships are hard, I came by cause the rest of them are worried, said you haven’t been out of the house besides school, you barely talk to any of them either. What’s going on? They’re about two hours away from staging an intervention and locking Betty and you in a closet to talk.” “It’s uh, not about Betty.” “Is it about the Serpent’s themselves?” “Do you remember when we went on our first date? Out to Pop’s?” “Yes why?” “Can we do that again?” “Date? Or go to Pop’s?” “Both.” You frown at him.

“You’re not just bummed cause Betty dumped you are you?” “I dumped her, like last time.” You furrow your brow. “Jugs listen, I, I can’t do that again.” His face falls and you swallow shaking slightly. “This is so stupid.” You shake your head sighing. “When you told me you wanted to try things with Betty again, I was going to tell you I was planning a sort of party, mostly the serpent’s just everyone spending time together, all of your favourite foods. I made a cake even.” You laugh bitterly.

“I can’t let you put me through that again. After you dumped me, I didn’t leave my room for two days. Fangs had to drag me out. Like physically carry me. You, you really hurt me Jughead. I love you, that’s never changed but I don’t know if I want to risk that hurt again.” You sniffle and wipe your eyes annoyed at yourself for crying. He pulls your hands toward his. “Y/N, I never wanted to do that, I swear.”

“You still did it.” He nods you can tell he’s about to cry again, or maybe he already was but he rests his forehead against yours and smiles sadly. “I’m so sorry for hurting you, let me prove to you I’ll never do it again, please?” You stare at him for a moment, pulling back still silent, you glance to the clock and chew your lip. “Well I guess it’s a good thing Pop’s is open twenty-four hours then isn’t it?”

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luvknow · 4 years

Text

anything for you | lee felix

genre: rich kid!felix x reader | rich kid au ; friends-to-lovers au ; food ; swearing warning ; alcohol warning ; drinking and driving warning ; abuse warning summary: felix’s family owns the largest restaurant franchise in the country and your family works under them. you two have spent your entire lives together and somehow you’ve turned into mini versions of your parents with a boss and secretary type relationship. it wasn’t until last year on his birthday when he tells you he loves you while drunk that your friendship dynamic dramatically changes, and it’s not for the better when he pretends it never happened. wc: 11.2k

You and Felix were two peas in a pod.

From the moment you two were born until your last months at university, you were tied in this relationship for life. Were you two dating? No, of course not! Were you two friends? Well…

Your friendship with Felix was complicated because it was kind of… bought. There was no way to put it lightly, that was simply the origin of your relationship. It all started when Felix’s rich ass CEO of a Dad hired your Dad to be his right hand man in all decision-making aspects of the company he ran. You thought of your Dad as a Chancellor to the King, which I mean was still a high position in the company, but your peers around you thought otherwise.

You attended all the same schools as Felix (thanks to his Dad’s connections), attended the same after school activities (also thanks to his Dad), and even attended the same overseas summer camps (thanks to his Dad who owned the plane that flew everyone). Even then, after being on the same level as Felix for over twenty years, everyone saw you as Felix’s Secretary who waited on his every word. As a kid, your Dad was transparent about how all the privileges you had were all because of Felix and his family and that you should always treat them with respect. And as an impressionable kid, of course you took that a little too literal.

Your Secretary title started in Pre-School when Felix was crying because he forgot his toy to take a nap with at home, so you offered yours. Those small, kind gestures turned into getting him drinks and snacks whenever he wanted, to tutoring him in subjects he had trouble with, to completing essays he didn’t want to complete, and you did it all without ever complaining.

So despite receiving all the same opportunities as all the other inheritance-dependent kids, you were the bottom-feeder of your entire grade.

“_____ ~” Felix whined while entering your apartment. “I’m hungry.”

You exited your bedroom fixing the last couple buttons on your dress shirt. You’re not surprised to see him in the least, as you’re used to him coming in whenever he pleased since he owned the other copy of the apartment keys. “I have food in the fridge.”

“I don’t want a huge meal before the shareholders meeting.”

“You know where the snacks are, what are you waiting for?”

“I just wanted to ask just in case.”

The excited boy wasted no time invading your pantry and grabbing a handful of fruit snack packets, some he stuffed in his dress pants pockets and some he immediately tore open. He made himself home by flopping on your couch, also known as his second bed, and scrolled through his rotation of dating apps while waiting for his dear friend to finish getting ready.

“Don’t lie down like that!” you nagged. “Your pants are going to get all wrinkly!”

Rolling his eyes, Felix sat up straight, to which you immediately fixed random strands of hair that strayed away from the rest of his slick-back style.

“What are you, my mom?” he mumbled, swatting away your hands.

“Don’t you know how important this meeting is? We could land our internships today.”

“Do you really think I need to worry about that?”

“I guess not… You don’t even want to try out another company for a semester? Scope out your partners?”

“That’s exactly why I shouldn’t be doing that. I’ll look so shady! You probably shouldn’t be thinking about doing that either.”

A small pout emerges from your lips. As much as you owe the Lees and their company your life, you’d like to think the possibility of freeing yourself from their financial shackles was high, even if it was for just one semester. But Felix was right - in order to avoid any spying controversies, it was probably best to not even think about another company. Basically, you were trapped with this company for life.

“Ready to go?” Felix broke the silence. He was the first to leave your couch and head for the door without even bothering to wait for you to catch up.

When you finished locking your front door, you caught Felix looking at your business casual outfit a little too closely. If you weren’t so quick with your reflexes, you would have bumped right into his oddly bulging chest (has he been working out lately?). Still, his foxy eyes scanned you up and down, slowly and intimately.

“Wh-What are you doing…?” you asked nervously. “Is my outfit too bland? It’s ugly, isn’t it? I can’t really glam up for a business meeting, you know.”

“Chill, why are you being hella defensive right now?” he teased. “No, you look good. Honest. Good enough to stand next to me, at least. I wouldn’t stand next to Father if I were you.”

“Thanks, I think.”

“You kind of fit that secretary stereotype you like so much. Especially since you’ll be following me around all day.”

“I do not!”

“Yeah, ok,” Felix tossed you the keys to his expensive black sports car, to which you were also covered as a driver by his insurance. For someone who owns several expensive cars, he sure hates driving them. “Shotty.”

“There’s only two of us…”

The car ride was mostly silent other than the deafening rap music that blared through the subwoofers. Felix could tell you were nervous depending on how talkative you were. If you were blabbering on about how you looked or something arbitrary for at least fifteen minutes, you were probably nervous about a date or maybe a quiz that was coming up in class. If you were silent, he knew that the matter was much more serious. Silence meant that you believed no matter what you did to change yourself or improve upon past mistakes, there was no hope and that whatever was coming was absolute.

“Don’t worry about today,” he reassured after reading your mind. “It’s not like you’re talking in front of hundreds of people at the meeting.”

“Easy for you to say, you’re used to this type of crowd.”

“Are you not? We have class with those good-for-nothing kids of theirs, it’s like the same thing!”

“It is definitely not the same thing! These people have power and they’re smart! The uni is full of idiots who got in with bribes!”

“And you don’t think our shareholders do their fair share of bribing?”

“Of course they do, and that’s what makes them even more terrifying, Felix! They have that kind of power to either buy my entire life or buy out and make sure I never see anyone’s faces again!”

“You say it like you haven’t been shackled to me for over twenty years.”

“That’s different ok, I was a commodity, I couldn’t change anything as a fetus.”

“And now you think you can?”

“I mean, I’d like to think so. Am I crazy?”

“No, not at all.” Gingerly, Felix patted your head like a little kid. “You’ll be just fine ~ I can even introduce you to the ones you want to talk to if you’d like.”

“That’s ok. I’d like to try on my own.”

He understood completely. How he wished he could have that little bit of freedom… To even think about leaving the company behind to work for someone else was blasphemous.

The shareholders meeting was a social event like no other - like, it might as well be a ball with all the people attending and all the press surrounding and being in the building. You pulled up to the normal valet guy who only chuckled at your shocked expression. Felix, on the other hand, wasn’t all that surprised and was rather annoyed at how something as simple as a meeting was getting this much attention.

After dodging all of the press and making it through several thresholds to reach the conference room, you helped Felix prepare for his opening speech.

“You seem more nervous than me,” Felix teased while you quickly smoothed out the wrinkles in his jacket.

“I'm nervous all the damn time.”

“Well, can you quit it before I start sweating? This outfit was expensive. Do you have my speech?”

Searching through your trusty bottomless bag that held everything from tips from your part-time at the cafe to snacks in case Felix got whiny, you pulled out a medium-sized notepad with his opening speech written on it.

“Really, _____? Hand written?”

“My sentences sound better when I write them down instead of typing it!”

“At least it’s legible.” Felix’s Dad announced over the microphone on stage that the meeting will begin shortly. He saw the both of you standing off to the side and waved happily, to which you both could only wave back. The boy in front of you sighed, and it’s the first time today he seemed only slightly nervous. He turned to you. “How do I look?”

How did the most handsome boy you’ve come to know look this morning? Dressed in navy with a white button-down, ears bejeweled and shining in the bright lights, his eyes and his smile sly and foxy, so of course to you he was the only one in the room who you had your eyes on because no one else could ever compare. That’s how it’s always been.

Gentle fingers startled Felix, only for him to realize you were fixing his monogrammed silver tie clip. “You look just fine.”

“‘Just fine’? Not the sexiest man in the entire world?”

“I’d hardly call you a man…”

“Welcome to the YONGBOK Inc. Shareholders Meeting,” greeted your Father while on stage. Felix noticeably cringed at the sound of his birth name slash company name. “We will begin this meeting with an opening remark from Mr. Lee’s son, Felix.”

“Go get ‘em, Tiger,” you whispered with two thumbs up.

A loud round of applause erupted from the audience filled with press and shareholders. Lee Felix was named one of the most influential people under twenty-five this year and has consistently landed spots on Forbes’ 30 Under 30 list so yes, Felix was always highly anticipated as a guest to fashion shows and charity balls and even more so as a speaker for his future company. Though it was only less than a minute ago he was jittery with nerves, the second he stepped on stage in front of the podium, it was as if he was born to be a public speaker.

“Good morning, honored guests,” he began in his deep voice that startled unfamiliar guests..

His speech - your speech - wasn’t that long, since it was a simple welcome to all the rich people who gave the Lee’s their money. Regardless of its length, Felix somehow drifted his gaze towards the right where you stood. You, who always stood by him and was his friend through everything, stood at the sidelines giving him your unwavering support, even through this minor milestone. Despite this huge corporate building being the last place you want to be, still, you were here by his side.

In your eyes though, it looked like maybe his stage fright was worse than you expected, so you gave him two thumbs up again for reassurance. You couldn’t really tell what he was thinking because he seemed totally fine, in fact his execution was quite flawless, it was just… Why wouldn’t he look into the cameras? The stage lights that shined on him showcased the bright grin he gave when he saw how confused you looked.

“We will continue to work hard together so that YONGBOK will continue being the best restaurant franchise in the country,” was the motto of the company and how Felix ended the speech. With a deep bow and a wink for fan service, he exited the stage.

He fell into your arms clutching his heart. “Ugh, that was so scary!”

“You did fine,” you mumbled, quickly pushing him off before any cameras caught you. Still, he swung an arm around your shoulders unapologetically.

“All right, let’s ditch this popsicle stand.”

“You know we can’t do that or our Fathers will kill us.”

“You think I haven’t died and resurrected like a rising phoenix dozens of times?”

“Leave if you want, it’s your suicide.”

“You won’t come with me?” the handsome boy pouted.

“I’m not actually your secretary, you know.”

“I know, but I’ll be so lonely… Did you at least bring a snack?”

Felix decided to stay when he realized you weren’t kidding about wanting to sit through the entire meeting. Your right ear was focused on all the questions shareholders and the press had while your left ear focused on the child you were babysitting playing with the chocolate bar wrapper. Eventually the conflicting sounds merged into one when the lack of caffeine in your veins made it hard to concentrate for long hours.

“Bet you wished you left with me a couple hours ago, huh?” Felix teased once everything was over.

“Whatever. The important thing is that it’s over now.”

“Are you going to go talk with some of the shareholders?”

That was the original plan - to land an internship at a different company and slowly but surely escape the bubble that is the Lees’ world, but what was the use of making life harder on yourself if you’ll just be seen as a spy? What was the use in anything anymore when your life was determined the moment you came out of the womb?

You shook your head tiredly. “Nah, I think I’ll save that for another time.”

Felix linked his arm with yours like you were the gentleman and he was the lady. The warmth of another body so close to yours was only familiar when it was his, and you wished your body was unbiased and rejected anything within a five feet radius. “You wanna hang out with me that much?”

“Who said I’m hanging out with you? I’m driving you home.”

“No come on, let’s hang out today! Neither of us have class and when was the last time it was just the two of us?”

By ‘just the two of you’, he meant when was the last time you and him hung out without any business involved? When was the last time you and him had pizza together after a long week of midterms and studying, or the last time he picked you up from your part time at the cafe to have a cup of coffee, or the last time you talked about anything other than being ordered around by the Prince himself?

The answer to that question was last year on his birthday when he got too wasted and you didn’t have the strength to carry him up his multi-story mansion, so instead you carried him up to your humble apartment and let him crash on your bed the whole weekend (insisted upon staying the whole weekend because all the puking made him ‘weak’ and ‘dehydrated’).

Truth be told, you loved Felix’s company, whether it was business or personal. The hesitation was because you wondered if he truly felt the same way, especially since he never spoke about that night on his birthday. That night, a lot was said, but nothing was ever confirmed, so you were left in limbo while Felix managed to live in ignorant bliss.

It was better this way.

“I guess it’s been a while…” you trailed off.

“It’s been forever, love. Can we go to your cafe? I’m really craving the strawberry milk latte thing.”

“Anything for you, Felix ~”

“That’s what I like to hear.”

“Felix,” the haunting voice of his father echoed from behind. “Come here for a second -”

“That’s our cue!” The wild blond took you by the hand and sprinted out the conference room doors before his dad could catch him.

As if already predicting the time of events for the shareholders meeting, the valet already had the sports call pulled up and tossed you the keys for maximum efficiency.

“Hey, you’re hand-eye coordination is getting better!” Felix teased while hopping in the front seat.

“And your fear for your dad is not.”

“It’s not fear, it’s pure distaste. Completely different.”

The short ride to your cafe was anything but quiet as Felix filled you in on his most recent Tinder match. The story was something along the lines of ‘she was hot, but kind of stupid’, and you weren’t exactly sure what came after that because, well, you didn’t care. Hearing about the guy you were in love with slash your childhood friend slash the guy whose family bought out your family’s current dating app situation wasn’t exactly the most ideal setting, but hey, it beats sitting in that conference room for any longer.

The cafe was surprisingly not as busy around lunch time, even though it was Friday. Other than a few customers, the only other person in the cafe was your coworker Wooyoung who was busy dramatically singing to whatever drama OST was playing over the intercom.

“Are you making it?” Felix asked, referring to his strawberry latte.

“I wasn’t planning on it since I’m not working.”

“... Can you?”

“Are you serious!?”

“The last time someone other than you made my drinks, they tasted watery!”

He wasn’t wrong - a lot of the baristas here were a bit lazy with the job. You and Wooyoung were among the very few who genuinely cared for the cafe, the menu, and its customers. You supposed you could take a moment to step away from Felix - you sort of missed the barista behind the counter, anyways.

“Sit tight,” you told Felix, who obeyed happily at his favorite table.

Wooyoung with his cutesy cheeky grin chucked one of the ugly brown work aprons right at your face, to which you only whipped right back.

“I’m not working and you know that!”

“Can’t a guy dream to have the same shift with his favorite coworker? What are you doing here then?”

“Making a strawberry latte.”

“For yourself or for His Highness over there?”

“Do you even have to ask?”

Wooyoung knew all too well what your relationship was like with Felix and that was because he was also one of the elite, also known as a trust fund son. Wooyoung and Felix were from the same side of a coin, reigning from families whose net worth could buy out entire towns. The circle of the elite had a lot of members, but it was tight-knit, so everyone knew everything about everyone else. You were included in Felix’s dossier.

“You know, _____, you are your own person,” Wooyoung tisked as he hovered over you making the fruity drink. It was as simple as pouring milk over some strawberry compote (Felix liked it when there was extra compote) and shaking vigorously.

“You telling me that whenever I come in with him totally makes it more valid than the last time.”

“You know I’m just looking out for you.” His soft fingers gently pinched your cheeks. “You’re so sour today, I kind of like it.”

“Aren’t you known for liking people who have zero interest in you?”

“Exactly, so you better watch your attitude or I’ll steal you away from Mr. Lee Felix ~”

“You’re so weird!” Even so, Wooyoung stole a kiss on your bruised cheek before helping the customer at the counter. The aftermath left your face burning up, even though you were used to his flirtatiousness by now.

Of course Felix saw the entire interaction. Though he tried to hide behind his phone, he made sure to still have a view of whatever you and that spoiled ‘I-own-a-yacht’ Wooyoung were doing. You were much different around him than you were with that cheeky bastard behind the counter. With Felix, you were strict, quiet, and pouty, but with Wooyoung you were able to smile more and joke around and even laugh when you flicked whipped cream in his hair. In those short five minutes, that was a type of you he hasn’t been able to see since high school.

But now? You were so cold and distant. He could barely hang out with you without it seeming like it was some business meeting. What changed?

Felix watched you walk back to him holding his pink drink with your cheeks to match its color.

“I didn’t know you two were so close,” he said bitterly after you both exited the cafe.

“We work together, of course we’re close. You’re welcome, by the way.”

You’ll take his happy humming as he inhaled the latte as a thank you. “You talk about how much you hate some of your coworkers all the time!”

“I guess I do… but he’s different.”

“Of course he is…”

The handsome and pouty boy beside you did his best to ignore your accusing glare. “Do you have some beef with him, or something.”

“No,” he said simply in between gulps. “I just don’t like him.”

“You don’t like any boy I talk to.”

“Exactly.”

“So what happens when I really like someone? Do they need your ‘Lee Seal of Approval’?”

“Yup.”

You sighed heavily. “Why do you enjoy making my life so hard?”

“Because I love you, that’s why!”

You couldn’t count on all your fingers and toes how many times Felix has said ‘I love you’ since his birthday party. With his special day coming up again, the words hit harder than usual, even when you knew he was joking, but no ‘I love you’ hurt more than the first time he said it last year before he passed out on your bed.

Speaking of which, “Sooo ~ Guess what next week is ~?” Felix sang cheekily after hopping in the car.

“Uh, midterms week?”

“No ~”

“Buy one get one free soju at the karaoke place?”

“No…”

“Oh wait, isn’t it Han’s birthday next week?” He knew you were trying to push his buttons, but it clearly worked by the way he was glaring at you. “Yeah, that must be it.”

“So mean…”

“Are you two throwing a joint party again?”

“Yeah, but I think we’re skipping the club scene and throwing it at his house instead.”

“Wow, the Lee Felix is tired of the club scene?” you scoffed. “Never thought I would see the day.”

“Maybe it’s just my eyesight getting worse - I’d like to see who I’m hitting on for once.” One sharp stab in your heart. “Will you help me plan?”

Did you really have any other choice? “Of course.”

“Yes ~ This’ll totally top last year’s party!”

You sure hoped so, and you hoped you wouldn’t remember a single moment of it.

Planning for the party didn’t start until a couple days before the big date. Since Jisung was hosting, it was Felix’s responsibility to come up with all the decor and the theme and literally all the smaller bits and pieces of the party.

“Honey, I’m home ~” Felix sang as he walked into your apartment. An aroma of fresh spices and cooked meat and roasted vegetables hit his nose upon entering. “Whoa, are you cooking!?”

“We can’t plan on an empty stomach,” you stated the obvious. Immediately, a bowl of rice and the fixings was handed to the grinning boy.

“I love it when you cook. I haven’t eaten your cooking in a while.”

“I didn’t know you liked my cooking,” you blushed. “I haven’t cooked for you that often.”

“It’s because we’re both always so busy or we just eat the restaurant’s food when we’re lazy.” A happy hum came from his lips. “You have a mad talent for this, you know.”

“Do I?”

“Of course! The Boy with the God Tongue himself said so!” Being the future heir of the country’s largest restaurant franchise meant ridiculous chef-related nicknames, to which Felix enjoyed whole-heartedly. “You know this means I’m never going to let you leave YONGBOK.”

“Can you stop, you’re so embarrassing, it’s not that amazing!”

“You stop! Quit undermining your talents.”

“If it’s so good, what do you like about it?”

“For one, there’s tons of balance between the flavors. It’s also not as salty, which is what some of the chefs in some locations are having trouble with lately. But the best part is that it feels like home when I eat your cooking.”

“Like home? Like… as if your in-house chef was cooking it?”

Felix chuckled cutely. “No, I mean it feels like someone who loves me very much made this with lots of care.”

You’re too stunned to say anything right away. It felt as if Felix caught you in his trap and was forcing you to admit something that he knew from the very start. But now was not the time nor was it the place. As a response, you turned away and chugged the rest of your glass of water.

“Right,” you cleared your throat awkwardly. “G-Glad you liked it.”

Felix wondered why you wouldn’t look at him. “S-So, let’s get started?”

You took a bowl of food for yourself and refilled Felix’s before settling down at the table. “Do you have an idea for a theme?”

“Ok, hear me out - casino themed?”

“Isn't that underage gambling? Sounds super illegal to me.”

“Right, right… Ok, how about, uh, a masquerade?”

“Not bad, but a little cliche, no?”

“But it’s so sexy! Classy clothes, bejeweled masks -”

“Choreographed waltzing?”

“Yes! For the first half of course, then we’ll probably bump the real shit after a couple of drinks.”

“Hm, I actually like that.” You entered the theme into your notes. “Cool, we have a theme down. Now for all the decoration…”

That itself took about an hour. Imagine, talking about banners and balloon arches, and personalized masks for a whole hour with the most indecisive human being alive. How he’s expected to make major decisions for a multi-million dollar company one day, you’ll never know.

“Ugh,” you were over it, at least for another hour. You couldn’t take comparing different shades of gold and different grades of champagne anymore. Your couch was supposed to be your safe space away from Felix, but he followed you like a puppy and laid his head on your lap.

“This weekend is going to be so much fun! Did you get me a gift yet ~?”

“Uh, maybe…”

“What is it?”

“It’s a surprise, silly.”

“Can I at least get a hint?”

“Probably the cheapest gift you’ll get.”

“Hey.” Felix silenced any doubt you had about your gift by taking one of your hands in his and holding it over his chest. He closed his eyes, tired from the day, tired by your constant doubts, tired of it all. “You know I don’t care about that kind of stuff when it comes to you.”

“I know, but I do.”

“Well, don’t. My favorite gifts have always been from you.”

“Even more than the diamond chain from Chan?”

“... Your gifts are my favorite after that one.” Your free hand poked his freckled cheek, causing him to laugh and smile brighter than the sun. Lying here with you made him happy. “I miss hanging out with you like this.”

“We hang out all the time!”

“Not like this. We never just chill out together and not worry about anything. We’re always worrying about something, especially since we started uni.”

“Uni sort of defines our future, so of course there’s tons to worry about.”

“Not for me. My life has been predetermined. If you think about it, uni doesn’t define your future, either.”

“I wish you didn’t tell me that,” you groaned. “You’re so right. What’s the point when the two of us are just going to take over our Father’s positions, anyways!?”

“Does our future together sound that miserable to you?” he teased. You wished he didn’t word it that way.

“Not miserable, but doesn’t it suck that we don’t have that sort of freedom? You and I have had our lives predetermined since birth!”

“Perhaps it was fate that you would be my Chancellor and I would be your King,” Felix snickered.

“Call it whatever you want, but where’s the joy we could get from spontaneity and disorder?”

“Good point. But I think you and I will find that joy just fine.”

“You think so?”

“Mhm. Life will always be a joy if I’m with you.” A tired smile spread across his lips. “You and I make a disorderly pair.”

You and him were definitely a disorderly pair. It was like you two were in a modern-day forbidden friendship that was only seen in royal fairy tales. Felix was the Prince, the apple of everyone’s eye, the boy with the highest ranking just below the King. You were the lowly common person who devoted their life to the castle and serving the royal family. Somehow, even with the drastic gap between your social classes, you both found each other and became inseparable.

Through childhood, adolescence, and young adulthood, the time spent together naturally formed your feelings for Felix to nothing less than love. You were the number one witness of seeing him laugh, smile, cry, and scream through all his happiness, sadness, and anger. You were the only one who knew the exact number of freckles that dusted his cheeks. You knew what specific snacks he wanted for certain craving occasions, his favorite orders at every restaurant, how he liked his instant ramen (with egg, American cheese, and green onions), and especially his cafe drink orders. When they say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, you supposed that was especially true for Felix.

After over twenty whole years together, how the fuck were you supposed to avoid falling in love? How were you supposed to look at Felix and feel with your whole chest that you were not madly in love with his beautiful face and his kind heart? When Felix told you he loved you with slurred words on his birthday last year, how were you supposed to let that go and live on like you didn’t cry in the shower for a whole month afterwards?

You put the blame for the disorder in this messed-up friendship all on Felix, but you couldn’t help but clean it up and do your best to keep it together. So when he forgot he said those magic words, you did your best to forget them, too, but the best you could do was bury the memory away and cover it up with work and school. It wasn’t the most ideal way to deal with the issue, you knew that, but the important part was that it was working even if it was just a little bit.

Felix was the first to wake up the next morning. You didn’t move a single muscle and ended up sleeping upright since he used you as a pillow. Still, your hand was in his and the other tangled in his messy blond hair and truly, being here with you was the only place that felt like home.

The day of the party was filled with chaos on your end, as you had to wake up at 6:00 am just to make it to Jisung’s pool house in time to set up the decorations for the joint birthday party. You ended up directing all the crews to where the cocktail tables needed to be set up, where the instagram photobooth should go, and where the Michelin-star chefs were going to set up for dinner. The most important part was the dance floor, which would be clean with nothing but some shoe scuffs for the first couple of hours and probably stained with different colors of liquor by the end of the night.

By noon you were totally wiped out having a stomach full of only coffee and a granola bar. The worst part was that you didn’t get a chance to buy a mask yet and would probably have to settle for some cheap recycled paper with sequins and feathers glued on it from the birthday party store down the block.

But as if the Gods’ translated your feelings telepathically to Felix, your Prince in shining armor came to the rescue with a sandwich, more coffee, and something in a matte black gift bag. The gesture, though small, made your cheeks burn the brightest of pinks. It was your first time seeing and talking with Felix since he left the comfort of your lap a couple of nights ago. Although you were unsure of yourself (as with any situation, am I right?), the Prince didn’t seem so phased.

“I figured you could use a pick-me-up,” he grinned brightly, handing you all the goods.

“You are a blessing,” you sighed, chugging the iced coffee. “What’s in the black bag?”

“It’s a surprise. Open it.”

“I thought today was your birthday?”

“It’s nothing big, I promise!”

You shot him a skeptical look, but opened up the gift regardless. Inside was an intricately bejeweled mask for tonight, colored perfectly to match your outfit.

“I went to your apartment because I thought you’d be there,” Felix began shyly. “I went to your room and saw your entire outfit laid out, but no mask, so I figured you didn’t have one yet. I bought one to match your outfit and to match mine! Mine looks exactly like that, but black.”

“You really didn’t have to,” you pouted, though staring at the shiny jewels adoringly. It was gorgeous and you never thought in your lifetime you could own anything so glamorous. The gesture lifted an extremely loaded weight off your shoulders and you couldn’t help but hug the birthday boy as a thank you. “You’re the best, thank you.”

“Anything for you, love.”

“Also, please stop going into my bedroom.”

“What, afraid I’m going to raid your panties?”

“Yes.”

“That’s fair.”

Felix spent the rest of the day helping you make the pool house perfect since it was also technically his job as the co-host. Holding the ladder while you hung up crystal decor was reminiscent of past Christmas parties that his family hosted. Your two families would come together and prepare the cookies, the eggnog, and the presents for the whole morning before the big party that started around dinner time, and you and Felix were in charge of the Christmas tree. He’s not too big on heights, so he always made you hang the ornaments on the top layer. It was a very adult networking and old people gambling games type of party, so you and Felix would always sneak off into his basement and play video games or watch corny movies with a stolen tray of sugar cookies.

The Christmas before uni was probably the last one where you two felt like kids and didn’t have to worry about what kinds of feelings would get in the way of your beautiful friendship.

“Ugh, my calves are burning,” you whined on your way down from the ladder. Your legs gave out on the second step down and the weight of your tired body pulled you down, causing you to drop to your death from a mere five feet above.

Luckily, your Prince had quick reflexes and caught you bridal style. As kids, it was surprising when Felix could carry anything even half his weight with his twiggy arms, but the fact that he could hold you without struggling or even breaking a sweat was the closest you’ve ever experienced a miracle.

A gentle, handsome smile came from his lips. “You ok?” he asked in his deep voice.

No, you’re definitely not, but lying was ok in this situation. “F-F-Fine! I am fine!”

“Are you sure?”

“Y-Yes! Uh, you can put me down now…!”

“Hm, but I kind of like holding you like this.” You hit his rock-hard chest lightly, to which he recoiled dramatically before placing you down gently. “Is that how you thank your hero!?”

“Thank you, My Hero.”

“That’s more like it.”

It wasn’t until around dinner time when you left Felix alone to be in charge of guiding all the caterers to their cooking spots while you sped home to get ready as fast as you could. You didn’t want to leave Felix in charge for more than an hour, otherwise there would be more room for error.

You must have had such little faith in him because he did as was told without any issues and was done well before the party was going to start. He took the down time to put on his satin black suit and fix his blond hair before putting on the matching mask. While looking in the floor-to-ceiling mirror, of course he admitted to himself that he would be the sexiest one at the party, but something about the view didn’t seem right. He didn’t have you beside him hyping him up like always. The view in the mirror was lonely without you.

“Good job with the chefs!” you called into the dressing room unannounced.

Felix could see you jogging in wearing the full outfit he saw on your bed this morning, now complete with the mask he gifted you in the reflection of the mirror. The view of you was stunning, so much to the point that the Prince himself was too afraid to turn around and look at you with his own eyes. You reminded him of the story of Medusa, who would turn men into stone if they dared to look at you, and Felix thought that he was well past that point, already frozen in place with his jaw dropped and hands fixated on his crooked tie.

Luckily, you didn’t seem to notice as you stepped in between him and the mirror. The feel of your knuckles brushing up against his chest broke him free of his frozen state, causing him to hitch his breath in his throat. It was very un-Felix-like to be this nervous, especially before an event that circled around him, but perhaps it was his sobriety that made him jittery.

“You good?” you reciprocated after a long moment of silence.

Prince Felix cleared his throat before speaking. “Yeah.”

“Nervous?”

“I guess so.”

“What do you have to be nervous about other than being the center of attention in front of hundreds of people?” you teased lightly.

“It’s not like I know everyone, though.”

“What do you mean? You and Han invited all the people you normally party with.”

“Yeah, but it’s not like I’m friends with all of them. I don’t hang out with them before 10:00 pm.”

Even behind the mask, you could tell his nerves were sincere. “Are you having regrets about this party?”

“I wouldn’t say regrets… I don’t know. I’m sorry, I know you put a lot of work into this.”

“Do you not want to go -”

“No! No, I want to go.” To ditch a party you worked on for forty-eight hours would be like slapping you in the face and he knew that. But he also knew if he said yes, you would follow him wherever he’d go in a heartbeat because that’s how much you loved him. He cleared his throat once more. “Will you stay with me?”

You raised a brow, unsure if you heard correctly. “Stay with you?”

“As in, will you stay by my side tonight?”

“You want me by your side the whole night?” Oh, how the tables have turned, in which Felix with his blushing cheeks couldn’t look you in the eyes as he nodded shyly. It was hard to believe what you were seeing with your own eyes and you wondered if you were dreaming. “Ok.”

“Really?”

Softly, you straightened his mask. “Anything for you, birthday boy.”

The anxiety from the claustrophobia of the party was replaced with the thought of being with you the whole night, but this is how he’d rather be. No longer did he want to stay in this room he filled with bad energy, so he took you by the hand and led you back to the main room where guests quickly filled in. Anxiety filled his chest again and you felt it through his hand squeezing yours tightly, as if afraid you would let go and slip away into the crowd where he’d never see you for the rest of the night. You’re not sure what’s gotten into him and you didn’t want to make it worse, so you led him to the tables of food hoping he could fill the emptiness in hopes of loosening up a little.

Even while eating food, Felix refused to let go of your hand, so you had to act as his free hand and feed him gourmet finger foods.

“You’re even more of a baby on your birthday,” you scoffed.

“But you love babying me, right?” he teased.

“I don’t know if ‘love’ is the right answer…”

The beginning of the night was nothing short of energy-draining as every single guest came up to greet Felix on his birthday and greeted you second. It was crazy that even in a room full of hundreds of peers, the crowd was still able to distinguish the birthday boys from everyone else, but you supposed it was easy because who else was blond and this handsome? The same way you looked at Felix, everyone else also had their eyes on him because he was truly that stunning in a crowded room.

It was occasions like these when you felt most out of place. You only ‘belonged’ here because Felix was your ticket in, but you would never become one of the elite. You didn’t have all the luxury of buying a new outfit or new jewels for every occasion like everyone else here. You were a simple person in your humble apartment living your predetermined life and getting by without any conflict, all thanks to him. That was what made you believe for twenty years that you had no right to fall for Felix the way you did - you were nothing more than the King’s hired Chancellor.

Even so, when the whole room was looking at him, he only looked at you.

The next song was a common waltz song that was played at every masquerade party on the planet. With a hop in his step, you found the birthday boy in front of you bowing with his hand still in yours.

“Will you dance with me?” he asked dramatically like he was playing a character.

“Why, of course, Your Highness.”

Waltz dancing was definitely not the first talent you’d think of while wondering what Felix was good at, but to your surprise, it was like he’d been taking classes for years. You knew little-to-nothing about it yourself, but it was easier when your date took the lead and you didn’t have to think, just follow. It was a ride, honestly, and you couldn’t stop yourself from giggling, even when the dance finished with Felix dipping you, faces close and noses barely touching.

You hardly noticed his eyes shift to your lips in the midst of all the giggles. “When did you learn to do that!?”

“Last night,” he admitted sheepishly. “Are you impressed?”

“Very.”

“Then those three hours of Youtube tutorials were worth it.”

Your predicted cycle of food, dancing, alcohol, and back to food was correct. Several rounds lasted several hours to the point where you were at the perfect amount of tipsy, but still able to navigate, although if any more rounds of alcohol were going to happen, you might be in trouble. Keeping up with the birthday boy was so hard!

But you didn’t mind, because the poison made you forget about how much you didn’t belong there and swept any overreaction to Felix’s affection under the rug, though it was getting harder to do the latter, as each shot meant closing the distance between you and him. Somehow, you went from holding his hand to his hand never leaving your waste, with your bodies keeping close contact, a feeling you’ve always been familiar with even when sober, but this time was different.

“So,” he began in the middle of the dance floor. “When do I get my gift?”

“How about after your birthday cake?”

“Birthday cake?”

On cue, the lights dimmed and the music stopped. Jisung found his way next to Felix and all the chefs rolled out a giant tiered cake with candles on it, cueing all the guests to sing happy birthday. You made sure to keep the design simple, but the flavors immaculate and matching the boys’ palates because that was the most important part. Even from afar, you could smell the chocolate.

You tried to step away from him so that he and Jisung could have the spotlight together, but even then he didn’t want you to leave. He squeezed your side a little tighter, a silent gesture that said, ‘please don’t go.’

By now, you were starting to sober up a bit and that was a bad sign because now you were realizing that this whole night would be forgotten tomorrow, just like last year. Still, you stayed by his side because that’s what he wanted.

Why it had to be you, you’ll never know, but the feeling was too right to question it.

At the end of the song, the birthday boys blew out the candles and the cheers deafened your ear drums. What shocked you next was the feeling of soft lips on your cheek.

“Thank you,” Felix whispered with so much adoration. “For everything.”

You’ll never be able to recover from tonight. “Why are you like this all of a sudden? Have you had too much to drink?”

A cute giggle escaped his lips. “No, I’m fine. This day feels extra special, that’s all. You’re the reason.”

Felix was such a smooth honey talker when there was a little something swimming in his bloodstream. You should know better not to take these words to heart, but you can’t help it when they’ve all you’ve ever wanted to hear. A repeat of last year was bound to happen any second.

You did your best to avoid the compliment. “Do you want your gift now?”

“Ooh, yes!”

The gift was hidden in the room you find him in earlier today. You were too embarrassed to set it up next to the gift table that was dressed in bags with brands like Cartier and Gucci, so you stashed it away from the rest. The bouncy and excited boy had the widest grin on his face, impatiently waiting for you to present him with what you had.

“Close your eyes,” you demanded.

Felix held out his hands with his eyes closed and expected something small, like a watch or a cupcake or some plush toy that he could strap on his keychain, but instead nearly stumbled forward holding something as heavy as a textbook.

“Ok, open your eyes.”

He wasn’t too far off, actually. In his hands was a thick, heavy book titled “Felix & _____” that you printed out on an embossed label maker. Inside were infinite pages of pictures, stamps, receipts, travel brochures, foreign currency, movie tickets, anything and everything from most if not all the memories you spent together over the past twenty years. The first few pages were filled with old film pictures and polaroids you had to steal from your parents and the later pages progressively got more crowded with trinkets and things when you two were old enough to hang out on your own.

For a while, Felix was silent as he flipped through all the memories. There wasn’t a smile on his face, no tears streaming down his cheeks, in fact he was emotionless and now you were confused. He told you he didn’t care about money or the cost of gifts when it came to you, but…

“You hate it,” you stated rather than asking.

Felix looked up at you, completely sobered up, with the most incredulous expression. “Of course not,” he reassured softly. “I love it. So much. You saved all of this…?”

“I saved every receipt that wasn’t smudged with barbecue sauce or oil and every movie ticket since the start. I had boxes full of it and I didn’t know what to do, but I knew I didn’t have the heart to throw it away, so I made you a scrapbook. It took forever, but luckily your family’s historian captured a lot of the earlier stuff.” Felix was listening, but his eyes were fixated on the last page, where you pasted a single picture of a selfie you two took just a couple days ago. “Happy birthday, Felix.”

Flipping through the scrapbook made him realize that yes, so much has changed between the two of you. There’s so much growth and care and love in between the pages and the fine lines that isn’t seen unless you look for it. As he looked at you, with your cheeks dusted scarlet and wearing your heart on your sleeve, perhaps him pretending he didn’t tell you he loved you last year was what was slowly drifting you away from him, because how were you going to deny to his face that you didn’t love him, too?

Perhaps it was best you would admit it to him on your own time. For now, he hoped a gentle kiss on your forehead would push you a little bit.

His rose petal lips left your forehead tingling. “You’re the best. Thank you.”

When Felix tried to close the gap in between, you took a large step back. You couldn’t look him in his eyes and now he’s confused and his heart hurts.

“Why do you keep doing that?” you asked.

“Doing what?”

“Holding my hand, holding me, kissing me…”

“Oh, I thought you were ok with all of that.”

You take a deep breath. You can’t let last year repeat itself. “You’re wrong.”

“I’m wrong?”

“You can’t just do that whenever you feel like it.”

“Do what!?”

“Play with my feelings!” You took another breath to calm you down and prevent anymore tears that were about to pool. “I have feelings, Felix. You can’t just use me whenever you feel like it and take it all back like it never happened the next morning!”

“I have feelings, too. How the fuck else was I supposed to deal with the night I told you I love you and you didn’t say it back?”

You’re left stunned and speechless. Felix just admitted to you that he once told you he loved you. He didn’t have to say when for you to know that he was talking about the inebriated self on your bed mumbling those three words as you tucked him in on his birthday last year.

“You didn’t say it back and I thought you didn’t feel the same, so I pretended to forget all about it. But now I know you feel the same,” he begged desperately. “I just know. Tell me I’m wrong, _____. Tell me I’m wrong to think that after all these years together, I think you fell in love with me the same way I fell in love with you.”

You couldn’t say anything. You couldn’t admit that he was right because he was drunk then and he’s still a little intoxicated now. But even if he’s right, even though you both knew how much you loved every cell of Felix, what if all this sweet talk was brewed by the mix of drinks that settled in his core? What if he forgets again tomorrow and you’re left in a worse state than you were last year? What if the alcohol just jogged last year’s memory that was stored deep in his cortex that only tequila was able to unlock?

The more you tried to make an excuse for it, the more ridiculous it sounded...

When you didn’t say anything right away, Felix was sure if he had his ribs broken that it would hurt less than the pain he felt in his chest right now. But that wasn’t your fault - nothing was ever your fault. This was all his doing because that’s what Felix did best - screw everything up.

The blond’s once hurt expression turned to stone before he dropped the scrapbook onto the cushioned chair next to his belongings.

“My mistake then,” he muttered before leaving you alone in the room.

“Felix, wait -” but it was too late, he was already out of the room to do something stupid to forget what just happened.

You ran after him, but the party room was so loud and dark and filled to the brim with guests that you couldn’t find him. In a room full of people, you were always able to find Felix no matter what, but it’s like he changed the makeup of the atmosphere to make sure that wouldn’t happen again for the rest of the night. You tried looking for blond locks from high ground, you tried snaking your way on the dance floor, you even checked the private rooms and men’s bathrooms in the whole house and none of them worked. You were afraid that after all the heartbreak, you wouldn’t see him again for a long while.

You bumped into Jisung in an empty hallway, who seemed out of breath like he was running a marathon just now.

“You have to come with me,” he gasped in urgency.

“What happened?”

“It’s Felix. He’s about to race Wooyoung.”

Those five words sounded like a terrible ad-lib in the newspaper, but when you followed Jisung to the front of the pool house, lo and behold half of the guests were gathered around the two boys who looked like they were about to get into a fist fight. In Felix’s hand, you could see that he was holding the keys to his sports car that was already parked out front.

Wooyoung’s the first to see you run to them from the crowd, with Jisung following behind you. “Hey, _____. Can you tell Prince Charming here that I’m not about to race him and go to jail?”

“That’s because you’re a pus -”

Jisung held Wooyoung back before he could get a swing in and you stepped in between. This was the first time you got a good look at his face, which was tear-stained and flushed red, all because of you.

“What are you doing!?” you muttered harshly.

“Trying to understand what you see in this guy. It’s not his looks, or his brains. Can’t be his car either, but I just wanted to prove my prediction just in case.”

His breath smelled like freshly poured alcohol. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Am I ridiculous, though? I think I might be onto something when I said there’s something that you see in him.”

“There’s nothing, so can you please give me your keys so we can talk inside?”

“I don’t want to talk to you anymore.”

Ouch. “Ok, we won’t talk. Let’s do something else -”

“I don’t want to do something else with you. I want to race and kick his ass.”

“You want to crash and burn that badly?” Wooyoung screamed over Jisung’s shoulders. “Fine, let’s drive!”

The crowd cheering only boosted Felix’s ego more, so he broke free from your wall and walked towards his car.

“Felix, don’t do this!” you cried out desperately, and for a second you could see the hesitation, but it was easily overcome.

“If you don’t want to be here, then go home. I don’t need you.”

The crowd oohed in unison and your left in the middle of the circle humiliated, watching the boy you loved the most get into his car and prepare to race your coworker. There’s a myriad of scenarios that fly through your mind of what could go wrong and you’re not sure if you should stay for the mess of the aftermath. But Felix said it himself that he didn’t need you, so maybe you should follow his advice and go home.

If something were to happen to him and you weren’t there to pick up the pieces and mend them back together, you would never forgive yourself. Your life’s purpose had always been to help Felix mend his pieces together whenever he needed it. But maybe this was his way of telling you that you were no longer needed for that - that you were free of all your duties as his personal fake secretary and since he thought you didn’t love him back that you served no purpose to him anymore.

When Felix said he didn’t need you, he meant that he didn’t need you to be the person you always were. He didn’t need you to be his babysitter trying to stop him from doing something stupid, he needed you as someone who wanted to stop him because you loved him and was afraid that he’d get hurt. And perhaps it was his mistake for saying it so harshly because you didn’t bother to stop him after that. But it hurt him to his core that you believed him when he said he didn’t need you anymore, that after twenty years you so easily believed that he could cut you out of his life, just like that. How many stupid mistakes could Felix make tonight? He was too far into this that he couldn’t back out, so all he had to do was race and make it out alive to see you again.

From the rear view mirror, he saw your distant figure fade away with the night.

It has been a long sixty-eight hours and twenty-four minutes since you arrived home from the birthday party. Hermit crabbing for the first twelves hours was stressful - you couldn’t sleep until 6:00 am, you only slept for a couple hours, you sent mass text messages to multiple people, including Felix, curious about his whereabouts and no one got back to you until twelve hours after that.

han solo [8:43 pm]: sorry darling, i like just woke up. he’s fine i guess.

you [8:44 pm]: what do you mean you ‘guess’!?

han solo [8:44 pm]: i mean they both came out unscathed and his dumbass won so physically he’s fine! but he didn’t seem too happy that he won. i think he’s back home with his parents atm.

That settled your racing heart only a little, but at least you knew he was fine physically, at least. Still, your hundreds of texts sent to him were all left on read, meaning he saw all your desperation and worry and didn’t bother to ease any of it.

You couldn’t eat for those long hours, but now it was getting unbearable and you needed to eat something. You had all the ingredients for Felix’s favorite soup, and as much as you didn’t want to constantly remind yourself of him, you couldn’t help yourself. The process was nice and slow, where you took extra care into washing the vegetables and bringing the broth to a gentle boil before dropping everything in. You could imagine the look on his face if he smelled what you made with your own hands.

Cooking for Felix was a very rare occasion because you were still self conscious about your abilities, especially as someone who was going to work for the country’s largest restaurant franchise. But the times he’s tasted your creations, his reaction was nothing but sincere bliss, cleaning his plate or bowl or several every time. He was the only one who truly believed in your talents and far-off dream when your parents wanted you to follow your Dad’s footsteps. You always cared about what Felix thought about you and your actions and nearly everything, but what he thought about your cooking was one of the most important things and his constant support for your craft was what made you fall for him so much harder than you already did.

The aromas of the soup made you miss him even more. If you didn’t hear back from him today, you were going to take drastic measures and find him yourself.

A quiet, eerie knock came at your door. You hesitated, wondering if you should just pretend you weren’t home, but then a voice spoke up.

“I know you’re home,” Felix said. “I can smell you cooking my favorite soup.”

You dropped your wooden spoon and hurried to open the front door. Behind the door revealed a tired Felix with one bruised up eye and cut up lip. Though the tears quickly fell from your eyes and you covered your gaping mouth, he still gave you a weak smile in hopes of easing any worry you now had.

“I kind of need you,” he admitted softly. “I really need you.”

Speechless, you took Felix by the hand and sat him on your couch before grabbing your massive first aid kit. He’s not surprised that you took him in with open arms without any hesitation because that was the kind of person you were. He loved that about you, but there’s guilt in his heart because he’s the last person who deserves this treatment. He knew you didn’t exactly forgive him yet because you still haven’t said a word, even as you were wetting a cotton swab with isopropyl alcohol.

“Is it going to sting?” he asked. You didn’t bother answering and let him feel the pain for himself. “Motherfucker!”

Through all the cleaning and wincing, though your facial expression didn’t move much, a waterfall of tears fell from your eyes at a constant speed. Since you were kids, Felix’s Dad was big on spanking and physical discipline, but this was a whole different level than you’ve ever seen before - this wasn’t discipline, this was intentional. Even so, Felix still smiled, even through all the stinging.

“Stay still,” you whispered, voice shaking. Your free hand held his face in place by pressing your palm into his nonbruised cheek. The wound still stung, but the wincing at least lessened. When the cotton swab dried up and you weren’t sure what to do, Felix calmed your racing thoughts by placing a hand on top of the one you had on your cheek.

He liked the way your thumb gently brushed across his cheek. Your touch always left tingles in its absence.

“What happened?” you finally asked.

“Dad found out about the racing because it was in the tabloids as ‘Future YONBOK CEO Caught Racing Under the Influence. Is the Future of YONGBOK in Good Hands?’ and, well, you know how that turned out.”

You said nothing while shaking your head. You took your hand back and stood up to get something and the fear of you leaving him again left Felix sweating and tears of his own pooling in his eyes. But you came back with a bag of frozen peas to press against his bruises and swollen lip.

“Are you hungry?” Felix nodded silently. “I made your favorite soup.”

“I know. Did you know that I was coming?”

“No. I guess I’m lucky.”

One of his hands is on top of yours holding the frozen peas and the other grabs hold of your other free hand. Felix wanted to hold you in every way possible, but for now this would have to do until you accepted him.

“You know I love you,” he told you. “And you know I will always need you. I’m sorry I pretended to forget about telling you last year and I’m sorry if that made you think I was insincere the second time. But now you know for sure that I love you. Was I really that wrong to think you felt the same?”

“It seems like you already know my answer.”

“I need to hear you say it.”

You sighed heavily. By now the tears had stopped, but you wouldn’t be surprised if they started up again. This was the first time you would admit aloud that you loved the stupid boy who tried to hide his smile sitting in front of you.

“I love you, Lee Felix. I always have.”

“Knew it ~” he sang. “Tell me when you fell for my handsome looks.”

“Remember Prom night?”

“Prom night!? Seriously?”

“My date standing me up and you offering to dance with me the whole night sounds like the perfect formula to fall in love with you, does it not?”

“I guess! I just thought it’d be longer than that!”

“I’m sure it has been longer than that.”

“Really?”

“Prom night was just the point of no return - that no matter what I did, my feelings were absolute and I couldn’t be in denial anymore. But I didn’t feel any different… And that’s when I assumed I just always loved you.”

“Even when I do stupid shit like this, you still loved me that much, huh?”

“Even with a busted lip, I still think you’re the most handsome.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” he chuckled. “Do you know when I knew?”

“Uh, last year?”

“Nope. On your tenth birthday.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I’m not. When you shared your birthday cake and gave me the corner slice with the most icing flowers on it, I knew you were the one for me.”

“Can you be serious for once!?”

“Baby, I am dead serious! Look me in the eyes - well, my good eye.”

“I hate you.”

“I know.” Felix pressed a long kiss to your forehead and then rested his own up against it. “I’m sorry for worrying you.”

“And being an ass.”

“Yes, and being the biggest ass.”

You dared to kiss his lips, but just enough for them to touch, too worried about hurting his bruise. Felix didn’t care - this was the only time you’d have your first kiss and he wanted it to be long and slow, putting his all into your very first kiss even if it hurt a little. His lips were hungry for yours and so were his hands, making you drop the frozen peas on the floor so he could pull you into his lap to deepen the kiss. Wandering hands traveled your waist and your own in his hair and all your worries about wondering if love was truly real melted away with every second. Even when you broke free to come up for air, Felix refused to loosen his grip on your waist, holding you so close that he buried his face in the nape of your neck. He short breaths tickled your skin and when you giggled, he peppered kisses all over. Your laugh was music to his ears.

“Do you forgive me?” he said in between kisses.

“Mm,” you hummed. “Just don’t leave my side again.”

“Never again. I promise you.”

“Well… Where do we go from here?”

“Hm… I get to eat my favorite soup with the love of my life?”

“I like the sound of that.”

“And then straight to bed.”

“But it’s only 9:00 pm?” A playful, naughty smirk spread across Felix’s lips. “Lee Felix!”

“What!? I won the race, can’t I get a prize!?”

“Stop.”

Soup was always better with your love and a cup of frozen peas.

#lee felix #felix lee #skz #stray kids #skz felix #stray kids felix #felix scenarios #stray kids scenarios #skz scenarios #i wrote this in less than a week so if it sucks that's why #bleh finally a felix fic......................... it's been like a year LOL #ok lemme know how u like it mwah

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notquitetwilight · 3 years

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Would you mind sharing some headcanons for Irish/American Emmett?? 🥺 What do you think is the story of his parents or like what connection does he have with his identity? Both in Cullanos or in canon?

Irish-American culture seems quite different to Irish culture in a lot of ways (when I was in the US I first heard the term “an Irish goodbye”, which apparently means leaving a place without saying goodbye, and that was so bizarre to me because actual Irish people say goodbye about four times and are still there talking an hour after saying their first 💀) so I’m not entirely sure but I’m gonna project as someone who lived in the US for a period of time and wondered how I’d keep my kids close to my culture if I was to settle there!!!!!! Lol

I know that while a lot of plastic Paddys claim heritage without knowing anything about where their ancestors came from, the country itself, or the culture and instead perpetuate cringe stereotypes about The Old Country™️, there are plenty of Irish-Americans who are closer to their roots, especially when their parents or grandparents were Irish and so an actual Irish person from Ireland had a hand in how they were raised. Given the time and place Canon Emmett is from (Tennessee, 1915), he’s probably more likely to be a descendant of immigrants or indentured servants to the Appalachian region in the 18th Century.

But I like to pretend he was born in NYC or Boston to fresh-off-the-boat parents from Cork (where the McCarthy with a T surname hails from). Cities on the coastal East make a lot of sense, given how many Irish construction workers sailed across the Atlantic there for a better life at that time bc of how poverty-stricken Ireland was while under British rule. And his English forename would still make sense bc English would’ve been widely spoken in Ireland by that point, plus many Irish immigrants would’ve given their American-born kids English names for assimilation purposes.

I like to think of first-gen Emmett’s bedtime stories coming from Irish legends and folklore; his mother telling him about Oisín and Niamh in Tír na nÓg, the Children of Lir, the Salmon of Knowledge and so much more. My personal lil headcanon is that Emmett truly respects the wolf pack and is actually happy when the Cullens finally get to work with them, because they remind him of the stories he grew up listening to about shapeshifters who took the form of wolves (this is a really common thing in Irish mythology).

His surname suggests he’s also Irish Catholic so I find the idea of his mother dragging him to mass or confession hilarious. I can literally picture him in the confession box mumbling “bless me Father for I have sinned” and the priest recognising his voice and smelling the stale alcohol and being like “Christ above, Emmett, what have you done this time?”

We know he was into his drinking, gambling and womanising as a human so I’d say he was consistently threatened with this Irish Mammy favourite:

👆🏻This also fits perfectly with the fandom canon that Emmett calls Esme “Ma”, it’s what many Irish people call their mothers (as fans of Derry Girls will know). Irish mothers also worship their first-born son so I’d say he was such a mama’s boy who adored her and that’s why he adores Esme — he loves that maternal dynamic.

The eldest kids in large Irish families also would’ve had quite a few responsibilities when it came to looking after the younger kids (taking them to school, minding them etc) because both parents had to work to make ends meet and/or bc there were so many kids to be looked after! So I imagine Emmett as a loving older brother who was surprisingly responsible in his care-taking duties. With both this and what I hc about his mother, I find it very hard to get on board with the idea that he just took to his new vampire life with no questions or hesitations. I hc him and Rose having a much more slow-burning romance than they were given, and that they bonded while she grieved her humanity and he grieved his family.

I think it’s really sweet to imagine them spending one of their honeymoons in Ireland, given how his parents likely wouldn’t have been able to ever afford going back once they immigrated. So he’d never have seen the country he heard so much about growing up while human, and I think he’d make it his business to do so as a vampire. Plus it’s such a small island that it’d probably take them 5 mins to run from one side of the coast to the other, meaning they’d fit lots of different parts of the country in on their visit!!!! There’s this Celtic wedding tradition called handfasting which symbolises the binding of two lives by tying the couples’ hands together with knots of cloth (it’s actually where the phrase “tie the knot” comes from!), so I also hc them having an extra lil ceremony to do that while they’re there, maybe in Cork as a nod to his parents. 🥺🥰

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chronicasexual · 3 years

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If you wouldn't mind bestie, I'm gonna need that essay on the tdm movie.

inhales

ok here we go

Firstly, the interactions between Ruby and Liam felt so awkward and forced, which was nothing like their very natural bond in the books. It fell into the same problem of many dystopian and/or ya stories which try to force two characters together simply because they exist near each other's vicinity. I still feel mortified watching the scene in the movie where Liam said "iS tHaT wHy yOu dIdn'T wAnT tO kIsS mE." No hate to the actors, it's obvious they weren't given much to work with. Because of this, we never got to see those intimate moments between them felt so raw and comforting. The little things like Ruby instinctively reaching out to touch Liam's face and trying to pull away because she's anxious about her powers, but Liam keeps the hand there and says "Nope, mine now." Or the time she tells him that the space between them is a no-lie area (I can't remember the exact quote but you get the gist). The movie tries to fit their entire love story into an hour and a half and fails to do it effectively, to the point that I can't even understand how they fell in love at all. Oh and bonus cringe moment the scene at East River when everyone's dancing and they compare it to Hogwarts (bestie in what world????? if anything it's similar to camp half-blood) and they call each other Ginny and Harry or something like that before realising that the two end up together felt so unnecessary???? It made them so much more awkward than it needed to be and was obviously set up to make them feel embarrassed but also interested in each other.

Complaint two. Literally, what was the reason for making Chubs a Green? Is it not possible to be smart without a power to make you so? Chubs isn't smart because his ability made him that way, he's just smart because he is and even though he doesn't really admit it because it sounds unrealistic in their situation, he craves a further education. His powers never influenced him as a character, and he only used them two or three times overall. If anything it just played into the stereotype of the kid with glasses being the nerdy character who was also used as comic relief. (also maybe a slight loophole but if Chubs had been a Green wouldn't he had worked out EDO a lot quicker than Ruby did, because there's literally no reason for him not to have done so).

Mini rant but why did the movie make Ruby go back to her parents when she very clearly knew by now that she had erased herself from their memories. She knew they wouldn't recognise her. She had literally no reason to return and basically a waste of like five or ten minutes in the movie. And that small toy?? Maybe it's just me, but I don't get why it was so significant? Was it some sort of advertisement? idk

Also the eyes. The stupid glowing eye thing. Nowhere in the books did it mention them having LED eyes and NO ONE in the movies even brings up the fact that they have glowing eyes when they use their abilities. It's an unnecessary detail. Woudn't you think it would be super easy for PSFs to discover if someone was secretly an Orange hiding as a different colour at Thurmond if they just saw their eyes go orange when they activated and just shoot them🤡. Anyway, not to throw shade but instead of wasting the budget on making their eyes glow they could have actually given Sam a tiny bit more story instead of nothing, or including the bit about Jack and the letter, just saying :)

One final point probably because if I don't stop now I'll be here for ages and it's late but maybe I'll rant some more tomorrow. The movie removed so many compelling plot points that made the story what it is and removed details that were important to explanations. Movie Cate's explanation of "No kids, no economy." isn't accurate because in the book we find out a bunch of other things that happened whilst Ruby was at Thurmond that have led to the collapse of the economy. Sam? Removed. Martin? Removed. Jack? Removed. Ruby's mini argument over almost reading Jack's letter with Liam before having a deep conversation with him? Removed. Alongside a lot of other important thing. The movie feels so empty? It doesn't have much storyline to it, I get that the book was long but they removed so many things that it's an empty shell of what it could have been. The movie is kinda bland ngl. (apologies to anyone who may have enjoyed the movie. although if you did you probably never read the books)

One final final point because I just thought of it on the spot. Chubs saying "I knew you were Orange" very smugly makes no sense. Like. No. You. Didn't? She literally didn't show any signs of being an Orange to them and just existed. I know Greens are smart but he had nothing to infer that from. Actually maybe the glowing eyes gave it away my bad 🤡🤡🤡

#as you can tell im a little pissed #thanks for coming to my ted talk

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beauvibaby · 3 years

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other options – j.benn

requested [x] yes [] no

Request - Hi, can I make a request for with Jamie where you feel insecure because you don’t the WAG model stereotype? Or a Jamie or Tyler where you want to look into surrogates, because you will most likely have a high risk pregnancy(could be PCOS related). Thank you!!!

a/n: tweaked the request just slightly to fit what came to my mind.

warnings: deals with pregnancy loss, infertility–please do not read if these will trigger you.

You didn’t get your hopes up, you couldn’t, not after the last time. You refused, you didn’t even tell Jamie you were sneaking off to take a test. It broke you to your core, when the doctor came into the room, the look on her face, the color drained from your skin and you started crying before she could even take over the ultrasound, the first appointment.

The first appointment – the one where you should be excited, finding out if it was only one baby, how far along you were, all of the exciting new things.

But that’s not what it was for you, it was an apology, a cruel, devastating apology, cold, but you didn’t blame her. She had to keep her professional attitude on, even though through your tears you could see how her own eyes had sadness. “It’s going to be ok. It’s ok, I’m here.” Jamie whispered, keeping his voice steady, despite the tears, despite the way he felt like he could puke as the doctor told you what to expect over the next few days. “No.” You cried, shaking your head, tears falling everywhere.

You stared down at the test, spacing out as you watched the results pop up, one line, again. The movement outside of the bathroom fell on to your deaf ears, all you could focus on was the sound of your heart beating in your chest, telling you that you would be ok, that you would make it eventually. Jamie was there, wrapping you up in his arms as you clutched the countertop for stability. “Hey, shhh, I’m here.” He soothed, throwing the test out so you would stop staring at the negative results. He was always there, but sometimes you felt like he didn’t understand, which made you feel even worse when you thought that, because it wasn’t true, he was hurting just as much as you were. “It hurts, Jam.” You whimpered, turning in his grip, holding onto him tightly. His hands spread flat across your back, holding you tight like you’d all right through his finger tips. “I know, sweetheart.” He mumbled, “I know.” He held in his emotions for you, he knew you needed to let it out without worrying about him as well, even if he knew you’d always be worried for him as well. “I just want to have a baby–our baby, and I can’t.” You spoke into his skin, he held you tighter, “there are other options, we always said we would talk about.” He reminded you, cringing when you cried harder, when you said that, you never thought you’d have to.

***

“Jamie you can’t just expect me to give up, that’s completely ridiculous!” You snapped, both of you at your wits end, IVF was absolutely ravaging your body, it wasn’t going the way you or the doctors had hoped. You refused to give up hope though, despite the torture you were going through, the bruises from the shots, the nausea, the sore breasts, the mood swings. Jamie wanted this as bad as you did but it was killing him to see you so distraught and in pain everyday.

A prime example– the way he was standing by the bed, looking at where you were sitting on the edge of the bed, mini trash can in hand as you dry heaved for the third time in the hour that had passed. It was time for him to give you your shot, but every time you went to lay down on your stomach you shot back up, feeling like you would hurl.

“I’m not asking you to give up, Y/N.” He sighed, stepping towards you, grimacing when you hunched over again, but again nothing happened. “Please, Jamie.” You whispered, looking up at him with tear filled eyes, “I have to try and see this cycle through.” You watched his face soften, “I need you to support me, I need to know you’re on board with this.” You mumbled, reaching for him, and like always, he was there in an instant, careful to not brush against your bruising lower back. “I know, baby, I am on board. I-I just, it kills me to watch you like this, this isn’t you.” He murmured, cupping your face, “don’t cry, don’t cry.” He soothed. “We’ll figure it out, one way or another.” He gave you a gentle kiss, before giving you the shot, tears springing to his own eyes when you hissed at the feeling.

He wanted a family with you, of course he did, he wanted everything with you. He married you after all, but for him, it wasn’t so much the how you had kids, and he knew that you always wanted to adopt too, but he knew ever since you were a little girl, you wanted the whole process, you wanted to be able to feel the baby kicking around inside of you. To find out the gender, to decorate the nursery over the nine months, to lay in bed and listen to him talk to your belly. He wanted it too, but not at the sacrifice of his wife’s mental and physical health.

Eventually, after failed attempts at the IVF, you agreed, and now after over a year, between finding the right surrogate, the process, after everything. You were here with your new baby boy, just two short days old, Jamie walking directly behind you while you showed the baby the house, as if he was even absorbing it, he was simply swaddled in your arms, fading in and out of sleep. Jamie had never been more in love with you than the moment he saw you with his baby, and you the same when you saw the way he cried holding his son for the first time.

You didn’t regret the other options you tried first, it was part of your journey, and it just made having him so much more special…

taglist: @vinceduhn @jackiesquinn @kempe @wtfkie @literarycharleton @vincecdunn

#Jamie benn #Jamie benn imagine #Jamie benn fic #Jamie benn blurb #Dallas stars

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wherevermyway · 3 years

Text

we’re professional. (2/??) // minbin // 18+

❄ part of yuki’s favourites! ❄

we’re professional. chapter two: concealed series navigation: [desktop] [mobile]

pairing: lee minho x seo changbin rating: explicit! 18+ warnings/tags: slow burn, angst, eventual sexual content, age difference, art student changbin, artist minho, fake dating AU. chapter warnings: heavy angst, implied masturbation, alcohol word count: 10,141 also on AO3

originally posted: 21 december 2020

series summary: Lee Minho, or Minho: The Heartless, is a famous artist, which comes with an annoying entourage of paparazzi that are very invested in his life.

Two years ago, a piece at UBC's annual student's exhibit catches Minho's eye: "arranged: in black", a series of greyscale paintings crafted by sophomore Seo Changbin. Minho talks with Changbin at length for hours, then offers to help him financially if they pretend to date for a while, so Minho can please the press. Naturally, a walking exhibit of the "starving artist" stereotype, Changbin accepts the offer wholeheartedly.

There are no strings attached: Changbin can leave at any time. Hell, Minho doesn't even ask him for sex in exchange for the money, just companionship and occasional skinship. Changbin knows that Minho is emotionally damaged from several bad relationships in the past, so to have someone pay him just for providing them company is nice. Sure, he could go off and date someone and work on settling down, but he just doesn't want to. Minho is too interesting, too valuable.

Eventually, something's gotta give. When it does, it could potentially damage their relationship and careers forever.

disclaimer: this is a work of fiction! any reference to persons in this work of fiction are purely coincidental. the characters referenced from Stray Kids are interpretations loosely based on their personalities in the group and do not represent the real people behind the personas. if this, or any of the content included in the warnings above make you uncomfortable, please stop reading now.

chapter summary: Two nights: one containing a lie, the other containing a truth. Both end up changing Changbin's life, but is it for the better?

There were two nights that changed Seo Changbin’s life forever, both involving his best friend, Seungmin. The first night that changed his life was the night of his sophomore showcase.

It was the night where Seungmin lied.

“‘arranged: in black’ is a stupid name for this set, isn’t it?” Changbin stood in front of the bright white wall, his posture slightly askew. He stared at four small square canvases with a silhouette painted in varying shades of black and white oils, trying to convey the varying degrees of grey he felt his life was consumed in. The canvases tilted to the left, he tilted to the right.

Something didn’t fit: was it the art, or the artist?

A young, neon pink-haired man behind him loudly snapped his gum right in Changbin’s ear and hummed loudly as he stared at the paintings. “Sounds pretentious.”

“Oh,” Changbin raised his eyebrows and gave the man a cocky look. “Yeah, and a self portrait painted in watered down red wine with the name ‘Dead Energy’ isn’t pretentious? Come on, Seungmin.”

Seungmin shrugged, turning back around to adjust the aforementioned painting on the wall behind him. “You asked for my opinion, dude.”

Changbin took a step towards his paintings, making the most minute adjustments to how they were situated against the wall. “No, I asked you if it was a stupid name. Not for you to give me your terrible opinion.”

“Okay,” Seungmin drawled out, as if he were about to prove a point, “then, fine, it’s a horrible name and I think you should change it.” To anyone that didn’t know the dynamic between Seungmin and Changbin, the banter may have come off harsh, but this was what worked best for them.

“Well,” Changbin rolled his eyes at his friend as he laughed. “I think your opinion sucks and I’m in too deep to go and fix my placards.”

In all honesty, Changbin had been looking for an excuse to change the name of his set. Seungmin’s reassurance, while masqueraded as an insult, helped give him the small amount of encouragement he needed to believe in the project, name and all.

Later that night, Changbin was aimlessly chatting with Seungmin when two well-dressed men walked past them. One was a blond that dressed in a simple black suit set, similar to the art professors: stylistically flat, but professional. Deliberately plain, so as not to distract from the art on display.

The other, however, caught Changbin’s eye. His aura was distracting Changbin from his conversation. The man, perhaps in his late twenties or early thirties, had dressed like he was a piece on display: everything placed on him was deliberate and purposeful. He was wearing a graphite turtleneck, a single earring that had a shiny silver safety pin and chain dangling from his earlobe, and a rose gold necklace adorned with a skirt-shaped onyx that nestled into the middle of his clavicle. He even wore fake, half-rimmed black glasses. Everything about him screamed out-of-place, yet oddly intriguing and untouchable.

“Wait a sec, Chan,” the intricately decorated man paused, taking a step back as he found himself unable to tear his eyes off of Changbin’s paintings. The strange man approached the canvases, and it made Changbin start to sweat. The way that the brunette pored over his work was different than the way his classmates or professors looked at it.

This strange man was analyzing his work, not just staring beyond it.

“Oh no,” Seungmin muttered, his expression dropping as he watched the two strange men hover in Changbin’s area.

“What?” Changbin nervously rubbed his thumbs into his palms and tried to stay composed. “Why did you say ‘oh no’? Seungmin, dude, what?”

The pink haired man stood in awe and shook his head. “You’re fucked, man,” he turned away, trying to get Changbin to stop staring. “Dude, I think that’s The Heartless.”

The black-haired man squinted in confusion. “‘The Heartless’? What the hell are you talking about? What does that have to do with me?”

Seungmin rolled his eyes with a heavy sigh. He leaned in, trying to make it less obvious that they were staring. “He’s brutal, that’s all I know. He’s a famous artist that’s got a lot of power in every gallery in Vancouver, owns all of the galleries in Victoria, helps manage several in Montréal and Toronto…” His voice tapered off as the both watched the two strange men observe Changbin’s paintings. “He’s really harsh on artists, even those that have work in his galleries. You’re fucked.”

“Shut up,” Changbin grumbled under his breath, digging his elbow into Seungmin’s rib cage. If it were anyone less intriguing, Changbin would never have let his body move on its own, drawn to the stranger like a magnet. Once he had gotten back into his own area, he lost all confidence he had somehow mustered up, the fancy brunette turning around at the sound of footsteps.

“Can I help you?” The brunette’s voice was cold, arrogant. Fitting, based on his appearance.

Changbin froze, trying to stutter out some sort of introduction. He could practically feel Seungmin cringing from a few metres away.

“Oh,” the mysterious man pointed over his shoulder, “you created these, didn’t you?”

It felt like all of the air in the gallery had been sucked through a vacuum. Everything was dreadfully silent. Changbin could only meekly nod twice, swallowing hard as he tried not to show panic on his face.

“Figures. The aura just kind of… fits.” The man turned back around, bringing his index finger between his teeth as he pondered.

The blond man next to the stranger smirked, eyeing the paintings, then the brunette. “You’re not really going to—“

A hand came in between the brunette and the blond, as the well-dressed man haphazardly drew his fingers out towards his compatriot. “Hush.” His gaze on the paintings remained unbroken as his eyes fluttered around each of the four small canvases. “Tell me,” he cleared his throat, looking at the placard stuck up next to the bottom right canvas, “Changbin, why did you pick the name ‘arranged: in black’ for this set?”

Changbin had a habit of being a bit too brash when he was nervous, almost as if it were a coping strategy for stressful situations. “Do you want the fake answer or the real one?”

The blond sucked some air in through his teeth, deliberately looking away from the situation, biting back a smirk.

The brunette with the fake glasses raised an eyebrow, then slowly turned his head to make eye contact with the student, his gaze intimidating and strong, like a criminal investigator. “So, you have two reasons. Interesting.” He licked his bottom lip, then folded his arms across his chest. “I want the boring answer first, then the fun answer. If I can guess the true answer, then I’ll surprise you.”

Despite the fact that Changbin was terrified, he managed to shake his nerves out as he folded his arms, mirroring the strange man in front of him. “The boring answer is that I liked the way it looked on the placards.” The stranger cocked his head to the side, clearly unimpressed with that response.

“The interesting answer is,” Changbin looked past the brunette as he casually walked over to his canvases, adjusting them to be neat and orderly again. “It’s how I arrange myself to best fit the way I blend in during any situation at hand.” He turns his torso a bit towards the brunette, but does not move closer, afraid that the stranger would smell his vulnerability and tear into him like a vulture. “How much white do I need to make my black match the graphite shade of your turtleneck, how much black I need to blend together with white to make the sterling silver shade of your safety pin earring. How much I need to arrange myself to conform. Hence, 'arranged: in black'.”

There is a very long, drawn out pause. The stranger chews on his index finger as he studies Changbin’s face, pondering something, but hiding his true expression. Seungmin takes a step forward, but quickly rescinds it as Changbin looks up at him and squints.

“Cat eyes.” The brunette says with a devious grin.

Changbin makes contact with the stranger again, cocking his head to the side in confusion. “Cat eyes?” He repeats, slowly and carefully.

The stranger takes a step forward and offers his hand out. “My name is Minho, from the Lee Family. I run a few galleries across Canada, but Vancouver and its eclectic artists refuse to relinquish me from its talons.” His face falls for a moment, then he offers a soft, albeit somewhat fake smile. “I want to buy these paintings from you. The character, the brutal honesty behind them is something I don’t see in many people, much less undergraduate artists.”

“Holy shit.” Changbin can hear Seungmin’s quiet interjection from afar. He looks down to Minho’s thin, bony hand, then accepts it without thinking.

Minho’s hand is cold. “Changbin. Seo Changbin, as I’m sure you’ve gathered.” He firmly shakes Minho’s icy hand, then shakes his head. “You seriously want to buy my paintings?”

A wide smile spreads on Minho’s face. “Absolutely.” He pulls out a thin wallet from his back pocket, rifling his fingers around it as he nods at the blond. “Chan, you’ve got a pen, right?”

“Yeah,” the other man reaches inside of his jacket, pulling out a weighty-looking pen. He presents it to the brunette, who accepts it with haste. Minho takes a step towards the wall, pulling a card from his hand, then proceeds to write something on the back of it.

As he turns around, he holds his hand out towards Changbin, card tucked neatly between his index and middle fingers. The younger man takes it, shoving it into his back pocket a bit haphazardly without looking it over. As Changbin fumbles with the card and his pocket, Minho takes a few steps closer, lightly grabbing on to Changbin’s upper arm as he leans into his ear. “Text me in a half hour. We can talk more later.”

As quickly as Changbin registers the words Minho says, the mysterious brunette and blond duo disappear, off beyond a white partition holding up a classmate’s draped canvas. “What the fuck was that?” Seungmin whispers in shock as he approaches Changbin.

“That was Lee Minho,” the black-haired man breathed, a relieved, yet nervous, grin curling up on his face. “He actually wants my paintings. I don’t know why, but I’ll take it as a win.”

As requested, Changbin sends off a text to the number written on the back of Minho’s business card. The young man bites his lip as he moves to tuck his phone into his back pocket, but it vibrates in his hand. “That was fast,” he sighs as he unlocks his phone.

20:46 | Unknown Sender: I’ll be there soon. Alone. 20:46 | Unknown Sender: I’d prefer it if you were alone, too.

Changbin’s heart skipped at the possible intention of Minho’s text message. Should he have shooed Seungmin away, against the younger man’s protests? Probably not, but he figured that it was a public area, and Minho likely wouldn’t do something shady.

Probably.

He aimlessly nibbled at his bottom lip as he stared at some of the mistakes on his paintings, likely imperfections that his mind was hallucinating to keep him busy. Why exactly was such a well-renowned artist interested in such simple paintings, anyways?

“They’re quite lovely,” Minho’s voice crept up, startling Changbin. The brunette didn’t react to Changbin’s visceral response, instead engrossing himself further in the brushstrokes that blended black and white into shades of muted grey.

“You startled me,” Changbin mumbled, regaining his composure. He stared at the same spot that he assumed Minho was looking at, noticing that there was an extra stroke of thin black in a sea of deep grey, somewhere it shouldn’t have been. His brow furrowed in irritation as Minho turned to meet his gaze.

The older man bit back a smile. “You’re looking for every imperfection, aren’t you?”

“Is it that obvious?”

“Not really,” Minho turns away from Changbin, folding his arms as he lets his eyes slowly scan every individual canvas. “I just know from personal experience.” He gingerly reaches his lean fingers out to the corner of one of the canvases, causing Changbin to tense in anticipation. “Pouring your soul into something for hours, days — hell, even weeks, for some projects — only to find everything possibly imperfect with it as soon as it’s presented to the public.” Minho delicately nudges the corner up a bit, evening out the canvas so all four looked even.

Changbin unclenches his fists, feeling sweat bead at his brow as he looks at Minho. The older man turns his head slightly, looking down at the black-haired man, scanning his appearance.

“When was the last time you ate something that wasn’t ramen or something frozen? You’re as grey as your silhouettes.”

The question was jarring. Did Changbin really look that unwell? “I mean,” he awkwardly moved to scratch the back of his head. “I usually have leftovers from the kitchen at work every night, so, last night, probably?”

Minho frowned in response. “Here I thought the ‘starving artist’ trope was just an aesthetic you were going for, match the grungy brushstrokes of your painting.” He dug into his pocket and spun on his heel. “Come on, we can discuss this somewhere a little bit more appropriate.”

Changbin knew all of the things he risked following a stranger — a well-known stranger that likely had many connections — away from the UBC campus, away from the same area of town he had been so familiar with for two years. He threw caution to the wind as he stepped into Minho’s black Tesla.

There was an air of relief that washed over Changbin as he watched Minho input directions towards downtown Vancouver. However, that relief turned into nervousness as he really took in the interior of the car. Everything about it screamed everything that Minho was, and Changbin was not: confident, financially stable, mature.

“What about your friend?” Changbin questioned, just to ease a bit of the awkward silence as they left UBC.

The brunette rolled his neck a bit, adjusting his seatbelt. “Chan? He drove here himself. Nearly subzero temperatures and he still wants to ride his stupid fucking motorcycle.” Minho laughed once, then the awkward silence came back with a vengeance.

Something wasn’t adding up, and it caused an uneasy ball of tension to form in Changbin’s stomach. “Why didn’t you tear into my paintings?” The younger man nervously blurted out as they drove down Fourth Avenue, not thinking before he spoke yet again.

Minho smirked as he looked over his shoulder, merging into a different lane. “So,” he chuckled as he turned back around, “I take it you’ve heard the rumours, then?”

“‘Minho, the Heartless”, yeah.” Changbin intertwined his fingers together, staring down at the way he was rubbing his thumb against his hand. “My friend Seungmin told me a bit about you before I approached you. That you’re brutal towards new artists, and even those that have their works on display in your galleries.”

“Figures,” the brunette tutted, rapping his fingers against the steering wheel. “That’s not…” he pauses, squinting a bit as he takes in a breath, “that’s not the real reason I’m labelled as ‘the heartless’, but it plays a key factor into it all.”

Changbin looks up, taking in the side profile of the man, watching the way passing streetlights would highlight his face in a warm shade of orange, contrasting with the harsh blue lights of the car’s displays.

“Rumour has it,” Minho brought his arm up to the door, then rested his head against his fist, “that I’m too cold to everyone. I’m rude to my clients, to my patrons, hell, that I had to have been brutal to my exes, because they never stuck around.” He tries to stifle s scoff into his fist. “Look, Changbin, I’m going to be honest.”

As they neared Granville Island, the warm yellow street lights turned into cold, blueish white LEDs that matched the lights in the car. The ball of tension in Changbin’s stomach expanded, constricting his lungs and causing his chest to tighten.

Minho tilted his head to the side, just enough to peer at Changbin over his false lenses, then back to the road. “I’m not interested in dating. I don’t do…” he pauses, spinning his fingers into an awkward circle to help him find the right word, “relationships in general: professional, personal, I try to avoid it all. Honestly, I just don’t like people.”

Somehow, Changbin was partially relieved, but that somehow left him with more questions.

“I’ve been burned by too many artists in the past, so don’t take it personally. But,” Minho paused and shrugged his shoulders, “your paintings pulled me in, made me want to get to know you just a little more. Maybe have you as a model for a sketch or two, buy that set of yours, help you out financially a bit. Student and mentor.”

“I couldn’t…” Changbin frantically interrupted, but lost his confidence quickly. Taking on too many shifts at the restaurant was killing him. He couldn’t remember the last time he slept for more than three or four hours a night. There was no way he had it in him to turn down such an opportunity, even if it hurt his pride a bit.

Minho smiled as Changbin went silent. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to ask you for anything weird or sexual. I just have this itching feeling like I’m not giving back to the community that propped me up when I was low. You don’t have to give me an answer tonight or even tomorrow. Let’s just celebrate your talent and get you something that will give you more than just salt and simple carbohydrates.”

They spent their first unofficial date getting to know each other. Minho was 29, had lived in Vancouver for his whole life. He did his first two years of his Bachelor’s of Fine Arts at the University of Toronto, then came back to Vancouver when the vibes of Toronto stopped meshing with him. “It’s a hellhole, really,” Minho kept the prongs of his fork between his teeth as he reminisced. “Clearly, so is Vancouver, but at least Vancouver feels like home.”

Changbin shrugged his shoulders, still a bit tense. He felt like he didn’t fit in at this high-end restaurant. The large plates with small amounts of food distracted him too much, like it was a mockery of how the wealthy always had to over-embellish even the smallest things in their possession.

“You’ve lived here your whole life, right, Changbin?” Minho set his fork down on the tablecloth, then clasped his hands together and rested his chin on the bridge his fingers made. The overhead spotlight illuminated his brown hair, highlighting the undertones of orange and black in certain spots. If Changbin was ever going to be interested in dating again, he would have considered Minho as a potential suitor.

Dating, however, was something Changbin wasn’t sure he’d ever be interested in again. Everyone thought that he and Felix would stay together forever, since that’s what high school sweethearts should do, and Changbin agreed for the longest time. He agreed with the sentiment, until he found one of their classmates in the bed he shared with Felix.

Love was dead, and Changbin believed it should stay that way.

“Vancouver?” He perked up, taking a sip of water from his glass, awkwardly looking away from Minho’s gaze. “Yeah, mostly. Lived in Nanaimo for a couple years until my parents split and my dad moved back here. I missed it too much to stay away.” It was mostly the truth, but that wasn’t relevant. Why bother spilling any more information on someone he barely knew?

“Interesting.” The way that Minho squinted at him, staring him up and down, stayed in Changbin’s mind for too long. There was a methodical, yet mindless way that Minho grazed his teeth against his bottom lip when he listened to Changbin ramble something off. If it really enraptured his attention, he would bring his index finger between his teeth and nod his head a couple of times.

Minho was attractive, not because of his physical features, but because of the way that he drank in the way that Changbin interacted with him. It was one-sided and a bit foolish, but that was the fun of it. He could toy with the idea of it in his head, flirt with the idea of what ifs, with none of the repercussions or demands of an actual relationship.

At the end of the night, when Minho dropped Changbin off at his dorm nearly two hours later, the younger man agreed to see him again the next weekend, where they’d discuss the more technical agreements of their arrangement.

Tonight, however, Changbin would let ideas run through his head, ideas of how Minho’s voice would sound in his ear, how his breath would brush up on his neck, and how his fingers would dance over his body. The black-haired man sighed as he nestled himself in between his sheets, allowing his mind to creatively extrapolate on some details as he hooked his thumbs into his waistband.

Nothing else mattered tonight.

The second night that changed Changbin’s life was the Sunday night after the fake engagement story went live.

It was the night where Seungmin told the truth.

“Look, dude,” Seungmin frowned as he sat on the opposite side of Changbin’s couch. “I wanted to say something a while ago, but I wasn’t sure how to bring it up. I just… I knew. It was obvious. Changbin,” he paused, trying to duck into the bluenette’s line of vision, “you’re in love with Minho. It’s kinda gross, not gonna lie. I haven’t seen you this infatuated over anyone in years. Genuinely thought you were gonna die alone with me or something.”

Changbin brought his knees up to his chest, staring aimlessly at his fingernails, like he could get lost in the sunsets hidden away in his cuticles, anything to avoid actually addressing how he was starting to feel over Minho. He could ignore it, hope that everything would go away, hope that Seungmin was just wrong and overanalyzing.

“Come on, Binnie, it was going to happen eventually,” Seungmin’s voice is quiet, like he was afraid of how Changbin would react. He leaned in, resting a hand on the bluenette’s arm. “Changbin.” The older man sucked his cheek in between his teeth as he pensively looked up at his friend. “This is gonna go one of two ways, probably. You’re either going to keep going through with all of this, say nothing, then end up heartbroken years down the line when he wants nothing to do with you out of the blue. Or…”

“Or?” Changbin tipped his head down, wincing as he looked at the younger man.

Seungmin sighed, shaking his head and closing his eyes. “You can risk it. Tell Minho you care about him, more than you agreed upon initially. See what his reaction is, probably suppress some of the inevitable heartbreak.”

The bluenette stared down at his hands, gaze getting caught in the pinkish groove between two of the diamonds in his new ring. How much distance was there between the gap of ‘friendship’ and ‘lovers’, between ‘casual’ and ‘professional’? “You think it’s a bad idea, don’t you?” He doesn’t look away as he timidly questions Seungmin. The question felt rhetorical as the words left his lips.

Seungmin runs a hand through his auburn hair, then grabs Changbin’s wrist as he softly smiles. “I want you to be happy.”

“So, you definitely think it’s a bad idea,” Changbin laughs as he sinks into the couch.

“Don’t put words in my mouth,” Seungmin laughed, playfully slapping Changbin’s arm. “I think it’d be a bad idea if you didn’t tell him. I don’t know him very well, but Minho does seem to genuinely care about you, from the little I’ve seen, especially over the last year.”

Changbin’s lips flutter as he sighs in frustration. “That’s the worst part. I know he cares, but I don’t have any hard evidence of it. It’s all a gut feeling, and the uncertainty of that just makes me queasy.”

“The ring, though,” the younger man grabs the hand Changbin won’t stop staring at. “You really think that someone that didn’t care about you would have put in that much effort and money for something like this? For it to all be a fluke?”

Seungmin had a point. He always did: he knew people well, especially Changbin and people that interacted with him. He was the first to suggest that his ex wasn’t as innocent as he came off as, and he was the first to offer a shoulder to cry on when Changbin eventually got burned.

“Look, you should tell him. Maybe tell him after the engagement party, since that’s already all planned out and, hey, free publicity if it fails, I guess.” Seungmin suggested, then pulled Changbin into an awkward, but much needed, hug. “If he rejects you, I’ll help you get a crab pot and we can throw him overboard somewhere far past Vancouver Island.”

They both laughed hard enough to cause tears to roll down their faces.

“This is why you’re my best friend, Seung. I don’t know where I’d be without you.”

Seungmin shrugged his shoulders and scoffed. “You’d be bored, but I would be too.”

Neither Changbin nor Minho sent inane texts to the other throughout the day like they used to. There were a few messages here and there, but an obvious rift had developed between the two of them since the last time they spoke.

It was stupid, really. Changbin shouldn’t have gotten upset over how much Minho had dropped on a real engagement ring for a fake relationship.

“That’s almost as much as my tuition!” The bluenette shrieked when he heard how much the ring was worth. “Five and a half thousand dollars? Minho, what the fuck?”

This was the first time that Minho was upset in front of Changbin, the first time where it felt realistic, like there was a passionate drive behind his anger. “Why are you so obsessed with the cost of this? Aren’t you in this for the money, anyways?”

Changbin shook his head a couple of times, physically taken aback by Minho’s wording. The older man stumbled on his words as he tried to form an apology, but the bluenette pulled away, storming off of the bed. He slipped his button-up shirt on from the day prior and continued shaking his head.

“I didn’t—”

“You didn’t mean it, right?” Changbin scoffed, gathering his things as he made his way to the door. “You didn’t mean to indirectly accuse me of just being a whore, right?”

To some extent, though, it was true. He knew it as the realization sank to the bottom of his heart. There was nothing physical going on between the two of them, just a professional mentorship and financial transactions. There were no budding feelings, especially not when Changbin would wake up to Minho’s soft hands on his shoulders. There were no burning feelings, definitely not when Minho would pull Changbin into a soft, tight embrace as he bid him farewell, lingering a moment too long every time they parted.

Strictly professional, Changbin. He had to keep repeating it in his head.

If he repeated it enough, that meant it was true, right?

He consistently reminded himself over the two weeks that had passed, and it felt like it was working, even with the engagement party coming up on Saturday.

“Strictly professional,” the young man sighed under his breath as he stared at his phone, staring down at the reminder that popped up. Tomorrow was the day where they were going to formally announce their engagement at a party downtown in a high-end restaurant that one of Minho’s friends owned.

11:30 | Minho: I’m sending over one of my drivers tonight for your final fitting. He should be there not long after you’re out of class, around 16:20.

Concise. Very professional, just like Changbin would expect from Minho.

11:32 | sent: I assume you’re going to be busy with another arrangement so I’m not going to see you tonight either, am I?

It was a bit bitchy, Changbin had to admit, but at least it felt somewhat cathartic to send off. A few bubbles popped up on screen as Minho typed a response, but they suddenly cut out and he didn’t respond. The bluenette shrugged, sighing heavily as he locked his phone and shoved it in the droopy front pocket of his sweatshirt.

Strictly professional.

He didn’t get another text message until he was halfway through one of his open studio blocks. Black paint had dripped down from the brush in his hand, splattering down on the floor and onto his Converse as he stared at his phone, somehow narrowly avoiding dropping it to the floor as his jaw dropped.

15:02 | Minho: I just rearranged my schedule to make sure I’d go along with you. Might as well make sure that all of the money I’ll drop on a custom fitting for you highlights all of your features in the ways that they deserve. 15:03 | Minho: I want everyone’s eyes on you. It’s as much your night as mine, and you should feel as handsome as you look. 15:04 | Minho: That’s what they say in the movies, right?

Changbin’s eyelids felt heavy and sticky as he blinked rapidly, fully processing Minho’s texts, running them over in his mind, practically hearing his voice whisper in his ear. All of the anger he had harboured over Minho in the past few days dissipated as he set his paintbrush on the side table next to his wooden frame and canvas. He felt like all of the colour faded from his face as he stared at his phone.

The last text was to ease the tension, a bit of an extinguisher to the fire Minho caused in Changbin’s stomach. He had to know what he was saying and what kind of effect it would have on the younger man, right?

15:08 | sent: All of my features? 15:08 | sent: In what ways do they deserve to be highlighted? You’re the master artist, here after all, so I’d love to hear your opinion.

There was a knot in Changbin’s stomach as he sent off the texts. His pulse was elevated, breaths a bit shallower than normal, and he had to lean up against the metal stool that sat behind him. He stared ahead to the painting he was working on, but he wasn’t looking at it as he brought his thumbnail up to his teeth. Yes, he needed to apologize for how he acted the last time they spoke in person, but that seemed so minute right now.

His phone shook in his hand, vibrating twice. With haste, Changbin brought his phone back up, breaking his line of vision to his canvas. His eyes went wide and he slowly sucked his bottom lip in between his teeth as he read over the words several times.

15:11 | Minho: Love, you know I’m more of a tactile feedback person and not a wordsmith, right? 15:12 | Minho: All the time you’ve been spending working out — it shows. I notice it when you’re laying next to me, snoring away into your pillow. It’s very… distracting. 15:14 | Minho: It’s only fair that I, the very well-respected and influential artist, make sure that all of your hard work is accented well. Hidden, but merely enough shown off to get people to wonder: who is Seo Changbin? How did Lee Minho manage to get such a talented, attractive person to carry on his arm? To call him his own forever?

This was breaking the boundaries of their relationship dynamic they came up with initially, but Changbin didn’t care. His toe was in the water, and the promise of its warm embrace was too much to turn away, even if it meant he was potentially selling his soul to the devil, ruining his life for a moment of warmth he hadn’t experienced in years.

15:16 | sent: Oh, so it’s just about arm candy, huh? 15:16 | sent: I’m more interested in why you consider me sleeping as distracting, though. Sounding like a bit of a serial killer. 15:17 | sent: Especially when you say that I’ll be yours forever.

Changbin didn’t bother locking his phone, watching the little text bubbles pop up and disappear several times over, groaning a bit each time that they weren’t followed by an actual message. Less than an hour to go until he was done with this block, and he would see Minho. He would be in his car, able to get close and push the limits of their agreement. A hand on the thigh, which was normal, could slowly creep up and in towards the sensitive skin of Minho’s upper thigh.

He didn’t mean to get distracted, but he couldn’t help letting his mind wander. Minho seemed like the type that would feel his partner up in the back of his car, leave bite marks and imprints from their shoulder, all the way up to the back of their ear. Changbin could practically feel the hairs on the side of his neck stand up in response to what Minho’s warm breath would feel like.

A buzz.

Changbin looked side to side in embarrassment, realizing he was practically having a wet dream out in the middle of his studio. Nervously, he cleared his throat and looked down to his phone as he felt his face warm.

15:20 | Minho: You’re always more than eye candy, I hope you know that. 15:21 | Minho: I can assure you, I am not a serial killer. Sure, that’s what all serial killers say, but when would I have the time for that? Seems like too much labour.

A disgruntled sigh came up from Changbin’s lungs. Naturally, he was looking too far into Minho’s texts, inserting inappropriate context between the words. Perhaps nearly three years without physical attention from another person was having an effect on his body. He thought about responding, but he didn’t have it in him to craft a witty, yet appropriate, response.

As Changbin stood up and awkwardly shuffled his legs around a bit to adjust the distracting erection building between his legs, he checked his phone one last time before reaching out for his paintbrush, but found himself nearly doubled over as he leaned over the side table with a gasp.

15:26 | Minho: Judging by your lack of response, I hope this means you’re being smart and focusing on your studio time, so you’ll ignore this message. 15:27 | Minho: You’re treading water that’s dangerous. I don’t know if you want to dive in and see how deep the water is. Could be cold.

Changbin responded without thinking.

15:28 | sent: I know how to swim. I’m not scared.

His hands were shaking with anticipation as he waited for Minho’s response. There was no way he was going to be able to concentrate on painting, so he gradually started rinsing off his brushes and sorting through his supplies. Every ten seconds or so, Changbin would stare at his phone, waiting for it to light up with another message.

Ten minutes had passed, and he was worried he had fucked up. He had stopped looking at his phone and was, again, staring at his painting. He was just going to leave it up over the weekend, since he would probably just come back to it in the middle of the night on Sunday night, when he normally had a random bout of inspiration hit him.

Unless, of course, the plan of confessing to Minho on Saturday would cause his regular Sunday plans to be pushed back. That would be a worthy sacrifice for his art.

Changbin was about to turn away from his painting when he felt a hand on the small of his back, and a familiar voice creep up into his ear. “I see black is a common theme in your paintings again.”

Minho.

The crafty bastard really showed up early and had the nerve to sneak up on Changbin. Instead of reacting in fright, the younger man leaned into the touch, tilting his head slightly back. “If I recall correctly, you like seeing black in paintings. Greyscale pieces have a history of winning you over.”

“Ah,” Minho sighs, letting his hand slowly move closer and closer to Changbin’s side. “So it’s for me?”

“Engagement present, I think,” Changbin shrugged. “That’s what most couples do, right?”

“Yeah,” Minho whispered, then slowly pulled away from Changbin, “but I don’t think we’re like most couples, hmm?”

Changbin let his eyes flutter shut in frustration. Every two steps forward felt like it was accompanied by one to three steps backward. If he were alone, he would scream into a pillow, but he would just shove it down for now. He turned toward Minho with a fake smile on his face. “So,” he tried to bite back his frustrations, knowing he was coming off as irritated. “Any special reason you showed up early?”

His words sounded innocent enough, but the look on his face fell more along the lines of, ‘perhaps my texts sparked some curiosity?’

Minho’s eyes darted to the side, his lower eyelids squinting up for a split second. “I really didn’t want to be late.” That’s a lie. “Traffic about now can be unpredictable.” Another lie. Inbound downtown traffic was busy on Fridays, but not until after 16:30.

“But you didn’t stay in the car.” Admit you wanted to see me.

“I’ve come up to say hi before.” Minho leaned onto Changbin’s side table, arrogantly running a free hand through his hair. He was posturing, testing Changbin on something, but what?

Changbin took a cautious step forward, seemingly towards his set of paintbrushes on the table, but ready to pivot to Minho at the first sign he was given. He desperately wanted to be bold with his words, but he couldn’t quite get them to come out right. “You left a meeting early to come see me on a day you hadn’t planned to.” He paused, rolling his eyes up to stare down Minho. “It’s been two weeks since you’ve seen me. I think you left and came here because you miss me.”

This would be the part of the movie where they would run off to the grungy public washroom and haphazardly make out with each other, crying over how ignorant and stupid they had been with each other’s feelings. Perhaps Changbin was projecting a bit of his desires into the idea of their movie life, but, regardless, nothing was happening.

“That’s not inaccurate,” Minho shoves away from the counter, his face warming with a reddish tint as he steps away, towards the canvas. He feigns interest as he stares in between the strokes of paint that were slowly coming together to form an image. “I suppose I do miss you. I don’t like waking up without you on a Sunday morning.”

There’s an easy solution to that problem.

“I miss your cups of blonde roast Starbucks on Sunday mornings,” Changbin counters, still too afraid of the words he really wants to say. “You’ve gotten me hooked onto it. I can’t seem to make it the same way you do, and it just doesn’t taste right.”

Minho clears his throat and checks his wristwatch. He sighs, then turns to look at Changbin with a smile. “Are you almost done packing up?” The smile is fake, like he’s hiding something. Again, Minho is hard to read. “I’d like to leave a bit early, beat any traffic into town, yeah?”

They don’t say much as Changbin finishes packing up his supplies. The walk from the studio to the car is without any commentary at all. The driver opens the side door, offering his hand out towards Changbin for his bag of supplies, which he hands off with a bit of a scowl. Minho walks over to the other side of the car, opening the door to his side while the driver is preoccupied helping Changbin.

Within a couple of minutes, they’re going down the usual route down Fourth Avenue again, and Changbin’s scowl grows until he can’t handle the ballooning irritation. He snaps his head over to stare at Minho, shocked to find that the man is already staring at him, albeit a bit distant.

Minho walks his fingers over the empty space between them, then gingerly reaches out to touch Changbin’s arm, softly gripping his forearm. “I’m sorry I’ve been distracted these past two weeks.” His apology feels sincere, albeit stunted. Minho slides his hand down to interlace his fingers in the space between Changbin’s, where everything comes together and feels right. “This whole engagement announcement has been stressful, which I know isn’t an excuse. I should have done better to give you some more attention.”

Changbin leans in a bit closer, perhaps subconsciously being pulled into Minho like a magnet. “It’s alright, Minho, you don’t need to apologize.”

“But I do, love.” Just when Changbin thinks Minho will drop his guard, he turns his head to the side, staring out of the windshield far in front of them. “I just don’t want to fuck this up. Sure, this is a business arrangement, but I value our friendship.”

To anyone else, the word ‘friendship’ probably wouldn’t feel like the way it sounded when a cat scurried across the keys of a piano. It felt discordant, off-key, and wrong. Still, Changbin was tired of trying. He put on a fake smile, then rested his head on Minho’s shoulder, like he always did on their drives into the city. “Our friendship is nice, Minho. There’s nothing else like it.”

“Right,” Minho calmly breathed as he turned his head away, gazing out of the window.

“Well,” the tailor stood upright and smiled up at Changbin, “luckily, I don’t need to make any major alterations. I’ll take in a couple of small things just to accentuate the fit on you, make it look nicer.”

Minho sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees and trying to hide a coy smile. “Thank you.” His gratitude for the tailor was there, but it clearly was not Minho's top priority. Changbin watched Minho take in the sight of him, languidly gliding his gaze up from the floor to the top of Changbin’s blue hair.

The tailor excused himself, humming to himself as he left the room, poring over the notes on his notepad. Changbin arrogantly stuck his hands in his pockets, kicking out one of his legs as he bit his lip. “You look like you wanna eat me, serial killer.”

"Maybe I do," Minho teases as he playfully clacks his teeth together. His expression softened as he stood up, slowly making his way around the small podium that the bluenette stood on top of. “You remind me of an intricately designed wedding cake. So sturdy, but embellished just enough to be draped in delicateness.” He stopped in front of Changbin, looking up to him with a soft smile and offering his hand to help him down the steps. “Most importantly, you look handsome. Everyone’s going to be caught up in you, love.” He may not have been a wordsmith, but Minho had to have had an idea of the effects his words had.

The younger man smiled, then purposefully stumbled a bit on the steps so he could collide his way into an embrace. “Oh,” Changbin sighed, “guess I lost my footing.”

“Guess you did,” Minho smirks, helping reorient the younger man upright. “You should be more careful. I’d hate to see you slip and fall where I’m not around to catch you.”

“Well,” Changbin winks at the older man before he turns around, back to the dressing room, “guess I’m lucky you’re my fiancé and you’ll catch me when I fall, huh?”

The party is a lot more nerve wracking than Changbin expected. Eyes were following him around everywhere, and he was constantly cornered by strangers that didn’t actually care about the questions they were asking him. Several people asked him questions that were clearly digs at just getting to know more intimate details about Minho and his personal life.

Eventually, he finds Seungmin over by the bar. He quickly makes his way over, grabbing a half-empty bottle of champagne off of the counter with one hand, then Seungmin’s arm with the other hand. “Need you.”

Seungmin interjects with a yelp, turning around quickly and following Changbin without spilling his drink. They made their way through the kitchen, through the back of the building, out to where the line cooks and other staff would run and hide for their smoke breaks.

“Why are you freaking out, Bin?” Seungmin knew that something was wrong without even asking. He took a sip of his drink, quietly cursing the cold under his breath.

Changbin took a swig of champagne directly from the bottle, wincing at the carbonation and the sting of the alcohol. He coughed twice, then leaned up against the exterior of the building in exasperation. “This is too fucking much,” he sighed, looking up at the way his breath clouded up, then faded off into the night sky. “He knows a lot of people, and they’re all so goddamn nosy.”

Seungmin scoffs, taking another sip of his drink as he walks over to Changbin, leaning up on the building next to him. “Welcome to the lifestyles of the rich and famous. Kind of a shitty price to pay, if you ask me.”

The older man scoffs, taking another drink from the bottle in his hand. “Yeah, but like, it wouldn’t be so bad if I didn’t like him.”

“Love him,” Seungmin arrogantly corrected him.

“Shut up,” Changbin rolled his eyes and scoffed. “Okay, yeah, so I do love him. Maybe I’ll just keep it hidden.”

He didn’t need to turn his head to know that Seungmin was glaring at him.

“You know that's—”

“—a dumb idea, yeah.” They stared up at the sky for a few more minutes, sipping on their drinks of choice until they started shivering from the cold. Seungmin pushed off of the wall, about to say something, but Changbin couldn’t stop his mouth from spouting off his concerns again. “I’m gonna finally tell him tonight I think. When we go home. I get the feeling he’ll like that.”

“Awfully romantic,” Seungmin shivered as he smiled.

Changbin shrugged his shoulders, bobbing his head back and forth a couple times. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t scared, though.”

“Changbin,” the false redhead placed his free, cold hand on the shoulder of his friend. “If he rejects you, he’s missing out, and that’s on him, not you. You’re my best friend, so yeah, I’m a little biased, but I know you’re a catch.”

The bluenette smiles, then stands up straight. “Where would I be without you, Seung?”

“I dunno, dead maybe?” They both laugh for a moment, before Seungmin loudly shudders as he shivers. “Come on, it’s fucking cold. Let’s go back inside, yeah? I wanna drink more of this rich people shit on your fiancé’s dime.”

Changbin smiled in appreciation. His best friend was truly a gift he didn’t deserve. “Yeah, yeah, let’s go.”

They had been inside for maybe thirty seconds before Minho found Changbin, making a quick beeline towards him, politely excusing himself away from some riveting conversation about how he met Changbin two years ago for the nth time.

“Changbin, love,” he sighed in desperation as he caught up to the two cold men. “I think we should do the toast soon, because this is beyond exhausting.” Seungmin winked at Changbin before he snaked his way out of the conversation.

The bluenette tried to shove Seungmin’s words of encouragement down as he nodded his head. “That’s a great idea, Minho. Let’s go get this over with, so people stop asking us the same ten questions thirty times in a row.”

“Oh my god,” Minho sighed, colliding his forehead against Changbin’s shoulder. “If I have to answer ‘he’s so unlike your usual friends, how’d you meet?’ one more time, I might lose it and actually turn into a serial killer.”

Changbin rubbed his cheek against Minho’s head, then offered him a quick pat on the back. “We’ll get through it, I promise.”

“I know, I know.”

The toast had started off normal, seemingly fine. There were pleasantries, Minho gave a brief introduction about himself and the projects he had been working on, giving some half-true, half-bullshit explanation about how he and Changbin met and fell in love. Some of the details of how they fell in love, including how they were in love in the first place, caused discomfort inside Changbin.

“Binnie, love?” Minho’s hand on Changbin’s back brought the younger man back to focus on the conversation. “Maybe you should introduce yourself?” That wasn’t really the question Minho was asking him. The look that the older man gave him was one of concern, as if he were asking him if he was actually alright.

“Right,” Changbin muttered incoherently, grabbing the microphone from Minho. “As you’ve heard, I’m the Changbin everyone seems to be talking about tonight. Seo Changbin.” He pauses, scanning the room for Seungmin, who is giving him a subtle thumbs up with a wince on his face. “Minho and I met at an art exhibit two years ago, where he told me he valued the honesty and the character behind my paintings.”

A couple of people make some sort of half-assed ‘aww’s and ‘ooh’s.

“I was worried about him, since my friend had just given me a crash-course on how Minho was supposedly some big, scary art critic. He was so scary, in fact, that he was known as The Heartless. A name, to this day, that I disagree with.” Changbin smiles, looking over to Minho, who returns a soft gaze and delicate smile. The younger man reached his hand out, and they interlaced their fingers together, getting close to the other, until they were practically embracing.

“I am very lucky to hopefully spend the rest of my life with a man like Minho. He’s not only very artistically gifted, but he’s kind and I do love him from the bottom of my heart.”

While Changbin meant every word he said, he simply read off the words that Minho asked him to memorize the night prior. It was honest, but its intentions were false, which caused a bit of nausea inside the young man. He passed the microphone back to Minho, letting him wrap up the speech with the same banal, inconsequential words he had probably come up with and memorized beforehand.

The words would sound nice, please the crowd, and get some annoying stragglers off of their backs for the rest of the party. Changbin held his customer service-style smile on his face until he stepped away from the makeshift stage. He made his way towards the kitchen again, trying to rid himself from the people that wanted to insincerely congratulate him. He heard people talking shit about him as he made his way through the crowd, gritting his teeth as certain words like ‘whore’, ‘sellout’, and ‘fake’ seemed magnified and heavier than they were.

Changbin watched a couple of staff members head outside for a break, and he growled in irritation to himself, eventually leaning up against a countertop, pressing his head into his palms. He wasn’t even that upset over one specific thing, it was just a lot of things suddenly compounding, along with the tension of the overall situation.

“Changbin?” Minho’s voice was soft, quiet, as it came through the entrance of the kitchen. “Love, are you alright?”

His brain told him just to say that he wasn’t feeling well, tell some bullshit white lie that they could brush over. His heart, however, spoke up for him. “What are we doing, Minho?”

The brunette shook his head, then brought his hand up, almost sarcastically. “Announcing our engagement. I thought that was obvious.”

“Not that,” Changbin sucks in a quick breath of air through his teeth. “Put all this to the side for a second. What are we doing? How much of your speech was true? A lot of it seemed too hyperbolic and shallow, and it’s not sitting well with me.”

Minho squints in discomfort, a look of disbelief on his face as he looks at Changbin with confusion. “I’m sorry, what? Was I supposed to tell them that our entire relationship is false?”

“Entire relationship?” Changbin scoffed, all of the tension from before compiling together, and that was the final straw. “Fuck that. No, fuck that.” He pushed off of the counter with frustration, making his way through the back door and past the few staff members and through their cloud of nicotine.

“Changbin, wait,” Minho ran after the younger man, nearly sliding as his shoes came into contact with the icy concrete. “What’s gotten into you?”

The bluenette sucks in air through his teeth as he turns, staring down the older man. His face was contorted into a bitter scowl, and he was visibly shaken. “I don’t fucking understand you, you know?”

“What?” Minho panted, clouds of vapourized breath coming from his mouth, travelling past him on a bit of wind. “What did I say, Changbin?”

There’s a scoff that comes from Changbin, one that’s laden with frustration and a bit of sadness. “You’ve been saying a lot lately, Minho, that’s part of the problem.” He brings his hands up to his hair, gently tugging on the strands as he sniffles, partially due to the cold, partially due to his emotions. “I can’t fucking read you.”

“I’m not a book, Changbin,” Minho takes another step closer and rolls his eyes, “you can communicate your problems to me and we can discuss them.”

“You’re right. You’re not a book, and I believe I’m right in assuming that I’m more than a business deal to you.”

Minho shakes his head in disbelief, eyes nervously darting around. “What?” This interjection sounded shocked and breathless, less arrogant and confident than the other interjections came off as.

Changbin knows he shouldn’t ask it, not with how much tension is in the air, and how loaded the question is, but his heart causes him to act irrationally yet again. “Do you love me, Minho?”

There’s a gust of cold air that blows between them, causing Changbin to shiver. Minho tries not to notice, but his voice trembles when he repeats the question. “Do I love you?”

Another useless response.

“God, you’re so fucking dense,” Changbin muttered under his breath, angrily taking a couple of steps closer, centimetres away from the brunette now. “Do you want to know something, Minho?” There’s a pause after Changbin’s rhetorical question; the younger man feels the warmth of Minho feeding into his energy as he takes in a deep breath. “I realized it the morning after the fake proposal. I was upset at how much money you spent on a fake engagement ring, for a fake relationship that was probably going to end within a couple of years, if we’re being optimistic. You put in so much effort for something fake, and I was putting in a lot of emotional investment into someone that I’m supposed to have nothing more than a business deal with.

“I remember talking to Seungmin that night, and he told me straight up. He told me that I was in love with you. Beyond interest, beyond infatuation. Actually in full-fucking-blown love, something I didn’t know I was even capable of doing anymore.” A sarcastic scoff punctuates Changbin’s sentence as he licks his bottom lip, looking away from Minho. “I thought it was stupid, that I could shove it down and ignore it. But the truth is, Minho,” he tilts his head back, looking at Minho with a heavy gaze, like he was teetering on the edge of anger and despair, “I didn’t mean for it to be like this. I meant for it all to stay professional, like we wanted it to be, but I can’t do it. I can’t fucking do that anymore, Minho.”

There’s a stutter as Changbin’s deep inhale gets caught in his throat. He inhales once again, and slowly breathes out, before he lets the words just fall from him. “I really do think I love you. I don’t know where to go from here, and I don’t know if you can understand how terrified I am.”

Minho doesn’t quite know how to respond. He watches a few tears start to roll down Changbin’s face, breaking down the confidence that was there for a fleeting moment. He instinctively reaches up to brush the tears away, causing the younger man to melt into his touch. A couple of rare wintry snowflakes fall in between them, one landing and subsequently melting on Changbin’s nose. “You really think you love me?” Minho softly questions, his voice coming off as soothing, yet anxious.

Changbin takes in a quick breath, shaking his head. “Minho,” his voice cracks as he knits his eyebrows together, “you and me, we…” Perhaps it’s the cold, but Changbin can’t quite get the words in his head to form the sentence he wants to say. That’s when it comes to him: there were some things where actions definitely spoke louder and more effectively than words.

A snowflake fell onto Changbin’s bottom lip right before his lips brushed up against Minho’s with a spark. Everything that felt confusing suddenly became clear. Tonight was the coldest night of winter so far this season, but it was like all of the ice around them had melted. Their kiss was nervous and awkward, but Minho pushed back, grabbing at Changbin’s neck, pulling him in closer and returning his kiss with a sense of urgency.

Changbin suddenly pulled back, taking a step backwards and staring at Minho with wide, terrified eyes. He frantically remembered that if either party developed too deep an emotional connection with the other, that their agreement could be rendered null and void by the other party. An overwhelming panic at the possibility of an upheaval of his life — going back to a life without Minho — overtook him. Not for the loss of financial stability, but the loss of connection, the loss of friendship they had built over the years.

His reaction was irrational, but the potential of heartbreak was so loud. It terrified and overwhelmed him, wrapping him in a bone-chilling embrace.

Minho takes a cautious step forward, staring at Changbin and reaching out to him with a timid hand. “Changbin, love, please…”

“Minho,” Changbin looks up at him, shaking his head and nearly hyperventilating. He takes a few steps backwards, watching a rapidly intensifying flurry of snow start to come between them. “Minho, I’m so sorry. This is all fucked up because of me. I shouldn’t have… Fuck, I’m so sorry.”

His legs move before he can even acknowledge that he’s running. Changbin has no idea where exactly he is, but he’s maneuvering through alleyways and parking lots, backstreets and dead areas of town. He doesn’t consciously know where he is, but he somehow knows where he’s going. He gets far enough away, all the way out to Harbour Green Park. The sight of the ocean calms him down as he finally stops running.

Changbin slides on the slick grass, and he collides into the ground. He starts hyperventilating, then just gives up and lets the inevitable tears fall from his face, down to the chilled ground beneath him. Time passes as he cries, upset with the situation, but mostly angry at himself.

The potential of heartbreak caused him to panic, and he responded by giving into that fear, literally running away from the man he claimed to love. It was stupid, really, throwing everything away just because of the possibility of discomfort, of facing reality. Before, there was a chance that Minho felt the same way. Now? Now Changbin had practically guaranteed that there was no possibility for that anymore. Perhaps knowing that he was the cause of the complete unravelling of two years of emotional connection hurt the most.

No. What hurt the most was that he desperately wanted Minho to catch him as he fell.

#we're professional #skz smut #skz fics #minbin #lee minho x seo changbin #seo changbin x lee minho #minho x changbin #changbin x minho #wherevermyway

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kerikaaria · 4 years

Text

If I Never Met You: Chapter 7

(??? X Reader) Idol!AU, Manager!Reader

Genre: (PG13) Fluff(?)

WC: 2.7k

Warnings: None

Series Masterlist

Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8

I left my acting lesson, about half an hour after it was scheduled to end. These lessons always went past their scheduled time. I didn’t know if I was just an incompetent student, or if the coach was just really bad at keeping and managing time, and I was still trying to figure out what the point of me taking these lessons was.

It had been about 2 months since I started working here, and I’ve just about fully gotten used to balancing everything. Although I did have to admit my grades were suffering a bit from spending more time with the boys in my free time than working on my schoolwork. But I didn’t care all that much at this point. I was putting all the effort I could into training and working here, hoping that I could do well enough to convince Bang PD-nim I should stay.

I made my way to Sejin oppa’s office, passing by the dance studio on the way, where I could see Hoseok helping Seokjin with their current routine. Hoseok was easily the dance “leader” of the group, and Seokjin tended to struggle more than the others with the choreos. But he still worked really hard to keep up, and the others helped him as much as they could. I admired both his determination, and the whole group’s care to make sure the seven of them stuck together.

Sejin oppa looked up from a paper on his desk when I opened his door. “Lesson’s finally over?”

“Sorry it took so long, oppa.” I slightly bowed my head.

“No worries, I’ve come to expect that with the acting coach. It’s not just you he keeps longer than the scheduled time.”

I was somehow relieved to hear that. “So, did they come up with some ideas?” I asked, pointing to the paper he was reading. We had been waiting for a creative team in the company to come up with ideas for what the group’s name would be. Bang PD-nim already knew he wanted them to have a hip-hop genre style, with more outspoken lyrics so there wasn’t a question about that. But their full image hadn’t been decided upon yet.

“Actually, they did. PD-nim gave me just one name, so I guess this is what he’s going with. I was waiting for you so we can gather the boys and talk about it together.”

I felt excited as I nodded and walked out of the room with him. It may seem small, but this one step would be such an important one for them in their journey.

It didn’t take long to get everyone together, and we gathered in the dance studio. It was the biggest room, and therefore the easiest to fit 9 bodies without being crowded.

“So, I spoke with Bang PD-nim today,” Sejin oppa started, “and it looks like he’s decided on a name for your group.”

The boys’ faces lit up in excitement.

“(Y/n), why don’t you tell them what it is?” Sejin handed the folded piece of paper he brought with him to me.

“Oh, okay!” I looked at the boys. “I haven’t seen what it is yet either. Why do I feel so nervous?” I chuckled.

“Just tell us, noona!” an impatient Taehyung said from his spot on the floor. He couldn’t stop fidgeting.

“Okay, okay.” I unfolded the paper. “Bangtan Sonyeondan, or BTS for short.” I tilted my head at the curious name on the paper. The English translation for the name is Bulletproof Boys, and Bulletproof Boy Scouts was written down for the English variant. I thought it sounded a bit peculiar, but it was definitely unique and made more sense than the names of some of the other groups I’ve heard of.

“I don’t know what I was expecting, but I feel like that wasn’t it,” Seokjin said.

“It’s different…” Yoongi chimed in.

Sejin pointed to a paragraph written on the paper underneath the name to bring it to my attention.

“Oh, there’s an explanation,” I said. “It looks like it’s supposed to basically mean that you’ll be the bulletproof armor to block the ‘bullets’ of stereotypes, criticisms, and expectations that are aimed at adolescents.” I thought about the meaning for a minute. “I can see that, especially considering how Bang PD-nim is hoping for your songs to be more outspoken. Like not blindly following the path society sets out for you. It makes sense.”

The boys were all in thought about their new name.

“I get it,” Namjoon said hesitantly. “Not sure if I’m super keen on it though. Are there any other names they’ve suggested?”

Sejin oppa shook his head. “Nope, it seems like Bang PD-nim is pretty set on this one.”

“I guess we’re stuck with it then,” Seokjin shrugged.

The boys in general still seemed to be contemplating on if they really liked the name or not. Not that it mattered very much because if this is the name their boss wants for them, it’s the name they are stuck with.

“On another note,” Sejin continued, “we did also hear back regarding stage names. The ones some of you requested if you could use, and some suggestions too.”

“Oh yeah!” I remembered I had the paper with the list of names and rummaged through my bag to find it. “Here it is.” I walked toward the boys and sat with them on the floor, Sejin following close behind but remaining standing.

“First, Namjoon. You said you liked the sound of Rap Monster.” I had my questions about the name personally, but I kept those thoughts to myself. “You’ve gotten the green light for it.”

“Yes!” the mentioned boy cheered.

“Yoongi, you said you were hoping to go by Gloss like you had been back in Daegu,” I continued. “I’m sorry, but it seems like they don’t think it will suit you and the group too well.” I noticed a disappointed frown on his face, and I felt bad for him. I did try my best to help him out, but there wasn’t that much me or Sejin could do in these matters since this was a realm we weren’t in charge of. “They have a few suggestions for you, though. It seems that PD-nim highlighted this one as his favorite,” I showed him the list of names and pointed to the one I mentioned.

“Suga…” Yoongi contemplated the name. “I definitely don’t like the others. But Suga seems to have a nice ring to it. It reminds me of basketball.”

“How so?” I inquired.

“The position I played was called shooting guard,” Yoongi elaborated. So it’s like the first syllables of the two words combined together. Suga. It’s not bad. I think I can go with that.”

I circled the name to make a note of his choice. “Alright then. Jimin, they got a few suggestions for you.” I tried to not cringe as I looked at the names I showed him.

“Baby G? Kid?” He sighed. “I’m not a little kid, though…” He looked at me with puppy dog eyes, and I couldn’t help but feel like the expression was contradictory to what he just said. “Noona, I really don’t like these names. Can’t I just use my real name?”

“We’ll talk to them,” I replied. “I think your real name definitely sounds better anyway.” I looked at the next on the list. “Um, Jungkook. They have a suggestion for you too…”

“You don’t look very enthused about it, noona,” the maknae eyed me warily.

I responded by just showing him what was written.

“S-Seagull?” Jungkook said. “Like because I’m from Busan?” He was definitely not impressed. “Nope. No way. I just want to stick with my real name too.”

I emphatically nodded. “I will do whatever I can for you, Kookie.” I turned my attention to Taehyung. “So, Taetae. Bang PD-nim wants you to go with a more unique name. Do you like any of these?” I passed him the paper.

“Six, Lex, V…” he repeated what was written. “I don’t know.” He sat in contemplation for quite a while. “Can I get back to you about it, noona? I don’t think I hate any of them, but don’t know which one I would want to go with either. I want some time to think.”

“Alright.” I took the paper back from him. “As for Hoseok and Seokjin, we didn’t receive any suggestions for you guys. What do you think? Got any ideas?”

“I want to go by Jin,” Seokjin said with a smile.

I reciprocated the smile. “Hm, I wonder where you got that one.”

He chuckled. “I really like it. Can you ask if I can go by that name?”

“Of course I will,” I replied, writing a note on my paper. I looked at Hoseok expectantly. “Did you come up with anything?”

He seemed deep in thought. “I’m not sure, noona. I’ve been trying to think about what I want for a stage name but nothing is really coming to mind.”

“Well,” Sejin oppa spoke up from behind me, “it could be based on something really important to you, or something that reflects your personality.”

I thought for a second. None of the boys were one-dimensional, but a huge part of Hoseok’s personality was how bright he was. He could lighten the mood of the room so easily, almost like sunshine coming through on a cloudy day. “If I were to give my opinion, maybe something to do with the happy, energetic portion of your personality? I think you’re really good at lifting people’s spirits, helping them to feel happier.”

We all sat in contemplation for a minute before Hoseok interrupted. “I can take some more time to think of it. We don’t need to figure this out right now.”

Right when he said that, Seokjin had an idea. “Hope would be a good word to use I think.”

(A/N: At this point, they’re saying “hwimang”, which is “hope” in Korean.)

“Hope?” Hoseok contemplated. “Why?”

“Hope just sounds right. A single word to emphasize the feeling of your mood being lifted,” Seokjin elaborated.

“Hwimang… Hope.” I repeated the word in English. “That could be something.”

“Jung Hoseok, hope,” Yoongi said, using the English variant of the word. “J-Hope?”

Hoseok’s eyes lit up. “J-Hope? I kind of like that, hyung!” The others offered sounds of agreement with the name. “I like it. J-Hope sounds nice! Like I can be someone else’s strength, their hope. The more I think about it, the more I like it.”

“Should I put that down then?” I asked. “I think it sounds really nice, too.”

“Yeah! Let’s go with it,” Hoseok confirmed, smiling. “Thanks, guys. I don’t think I could have come up with that on my own.”

“I think it’s a rather fitting name for the sunshine of the group,” I offered him a smile. “Let’s hope you’re allowed to keep it.” I reviewed my notes from the conversation. “Okay, so Namjoon and Yoongi are decided, we’re waiting on Tae to decide which name he’d like, and we’ll see if Seokjin and Hoseok’s ideas will be approved. And of course, I’ll ask if Jimin and Jungkook can use their real names. To be honest, I didn’t like their suggestions either.”

I looked around at all of the boys, and noticed Taehyung looking really deep in thought, brows furrowed and not seeming to pay attention to anything going on. I looked at him curiously, but he didn’t notice. “Taehyung?”

He didn’t budge.

“Taetae,” I sing-songed. Again, nothing. I looked at Sejin oppa, who just shrugged.

Jimin, who was sitting next to him, snapped his fingers a few times in front of his friend’s face. He still didn’t move. It wasn’t until I shrugged my shoulders and started walking away that he finally made a noise.

“I got it!” He yelled, making me jump.

“Holy crap, Taehyung!” I said. “Was it really necessary to yell that loud?”

He looked at me and smiled apologetically. “Sorry, noona. But I figured it out. I know which one I like.”

“Oh, is that what you were thinking about so hard that you were in another world?” Jungkook asked.

“Was I? I didn’t think anyone was talking,” Tae responded.

I chuckled. “Well, what did you decide on?” I asked him.

“Oh! I like V!” he responded, throwing up a V hand sign to match his words. “I like to think it stands for victory. And, I don’t know. I just like how it sounds.”

I nodded. “Yeah, oddly enough it does seem to fit you well. V it is then.” I pulled out my paper one last time to make note of his choice. “I’ll go submit these to Bang PD-nim, see what he thinks.”

I left the practice room as the boys rang out goodbyes behind me. Sejin oppa had asked me to take charge of this once he received it from PD-nim, so it was my job to get back to him on it. I was pretty nervous though; I hadn’t really talked to him much since my interview where I was hired. Of course I’d seen him at the company sometimes, but just in passing.

Sejin oppa said once we got these details finalized, things would start to pick up for the boys. With their group and stage names taken care of, pre-debut promotions could start and we would have to not only watch over the activities they’ll have, but also start to try getting their names out there to companies ourselves.

I made it to the CEO’s office and knocked on the door. His secretary responded for me to enter and when I explained my business, she went into the next room to let him know I was here. She returned, gesturing for me to enter the room.

I slowly walked through the door, carefully bowing as I entered. “Hello, Bang PD-nim.”

“Hello, (Y/n),” he smiled at me. “It’s been a little while since we talked.”

“Yes, it has been.” I tried to hide the nervousness in my voice.

“No need to just stand there, (Y/n). Take a seat,” he gestured to the chair across from him. “So, you have the boys’ choices for their stage names?”

I nodded, opening up the paper with my notes as I sat down. I explained to him each member’s thoughts on names. He nodded along, but I couldn’t tell if he was satisfied with what I was saying. After I finished my explanations he was silent, only making me feel even more nervous.

“PD-nim?” I said after a moment.

“What are your thoughts?” He looked at me.

“I-I’m sorry?” I blinked. I didn’t expect him to ask me that.

“On Jimin, Jungkook, Seokjin, and Hoseok.”

“Oh. Well, we helped come up with the idea of J-Hope for Hoseok, and he’s really fond of it. Seokjin was really enthusiastic about wanting to go by Jin. And Jungkook and Jimin didn’t think any of the suggestions from the creative team were that great-“

“No, (Y/n). Not what they think. Obviously, I know that’s what they want. What do you think about them?”

My heartbeat quickened. I really hoped that I wasn’t in any kind of trouble for not responding correctly. “U-um… Well, I think J-Hope really matches Hoseok well because of his personality and ability to lighten up people’s moods. Jin sounds simple, but I think a single-syllable name fits him really well. It kind of makes him stand out a bit. And I’m not going to lie, I wasn’t fond of the suggestions for Jimin and Jungkook either. And not all of them need to have stage names, right? I can’t really think of anything that would match them better than their real names, so I think it’d be a good idea to stick with them.”

I lowered my head when I finished, feeling shy and nervous about what he would say. After not hearing a response, I lifted my gaze to see him smiling back at me.

“Okay,” he finally said after what felt like an eternity. “I guess their names are decided then. Rap Monster, Jin, Suga, J-Hope, Jimin, V, and Jungkook.”

I felt a smile find its way onto my face. “Thank you,” I said as I bowed my head.

“Why are you thanking me?” he responded.

I was a bit taken aback by the question. “Well, they just seemed happy with those names so I’m grateful that you agreed to them.”

He smiled. “Oh, and what did they think of the group name?”

I laughed nervously. “I’m sure they’ll get used to it.”

Series Masterlist

Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8

Tags: @calling-dips-on-j-hope

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