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dovveri · 29 days

Text

strangers

synopsis: trainee life is a lot tougher than you thought, but with three other trainees you met along the way, you have a little more hope that it’ll all be worth it in the end.

warnings: bad eating habits, mentions of vomiting and self-induced vomiting, swearing, suggestive, TOE-SUCKING, alcohol and parties, lots of feelings and trainee life angst

w/c: 19.2k !!!!! why is this like half of my entire bachelorette series jeezus

a/n: requested!! i actually dont fill reqs this quick but i had the idea alr and i lwk love writing poly i just think its so much messier and more confusing and FUN so writing this came a lot easier than writing other reqs do. also u lwk only have to read half of this and be happy yippee happily ever after OR u can potentially hurt urself and enjoy the angst but idk it’s not THAT bad so 🤗

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ⋅ᡣ𐭩 ་༘࿐

“y/n?”

you blink, tilting your head up from your hiding spot under the table in the recording studio. it’s nayeon, one of the korean trainees. you hurriedly wipe your eyes on your sleeve, stumbling upwards and almost knocking your head on the bottom of the table.

“s-sorry. were you using this room? i’ll get out now-“

“no no! it’s okay i was just going to get some practice in and i saw you. are you… are you okay?” you appreciate her speaking slower for you, your grasp of korean still wasn’t the best.

“y-yeah i’m fine. i’ll just- leave you to it- sorry again-“

“are you sure? today’s actually my day off so i don’t have to be doing anything. i’m happy to just listen if you want…?”

you gulp, avoiding her gaze, nayeon was one of the trainees that everyone knew would most likely make it. you didn’t see much of her because she was always off on side jobs filming as a background dancer for music videos, booking small modelling gigs, and she was generally in more advanced classes than yours and was even set to debut in a group with a few others before the idea was scrapped. she was steadily making a name for herself even before the public knew her, something you couldn’t help but be envious of. but here she was, offering to listen to you of all people.

“i- um-“

“it’s okay. you can take your time.” she smiles sweetly, “i tried to take a few english classes but it’s a lot more difficult than i thought it’d be. so i can understand how hard it must be to come to a different country and learn a whole new language.”

“t-thank you. i was just um- i was actually just thinking about calling home and… and quitting.”

she nods, eyes filled with empathy, waiting for you to continue.

“i just- don’t think i can make it. there’s so many talented people here and this has always been my dream but i’m just not good enough and i don’t even- it doesn’t even make sense for me to be here when i could be back home getting an education or i don’t know- doing something with my life.”

“you don’t think what you’re doing now is something?”

you sigh, gripping your arm firmly, "it- it is but i don't know if it's all going to work out in the end."

"and you think going back home and going to school will guarantee things working out for you?"

"well- i- no, not for certain but-"

"so isn't the only difference that you actually want to do this? you don't want to end up working an office job for the rest of your life right?"

"but- like i'm more likely to get an office job than i am to debut-"

"i'm sure the office jobs will wait for you. idol life won't. if you don't make it, then the office job will always be there right? it's up to you though, i'm not trying to convince you to stay or leave, i just think it's a shame when you have a real chance at getting what you've dreamt of your whole life. you were scouted weren't you? did you know i auditioned to get in? and i had to hide it from my family because they didn't think this was a realistic job prospect, not when i was still in high school. so if you think you don't belong here, just remember you beat out other auditionees to get your spot as a trainee here, so you were good enough for that." she smiles brightly, her two protruding front teeth proudly on display, giving her the adorable likeability to a rabbit.

her words bring you back from the edge of panic, you've always looked at her through a lens of jealousy, wishing you had as much natural talent and star power as she did, but right now, you could see she was so much more than that, and you respected her for it, admired her for it.

"thank you nayeon." you finally meet the older girl's eyes, and her smile grows even brighter.

"of course. do you have any training schedules to get to right now? or do you want to stay here and practice some vocal chords with me?"

"would that be okay?" your eyes widen at her offer.

"yes! don't be silly y/n i know we're all meant to be competing or whatever but we're most likely going to debut in a group right? we can't just be out for each other's throats all the time."

you smile, finding her attitude refreshing, most of the trainees you had met were exactly like that, and you felt even more isolated when it was obvious they made no effort to get to know you because of the language barrier, to them, it was just another advantage they had over you.

"c'mon. let's see what you got."

your motivation reinvigorated, you spend the rest of the afternoon cooped up in the recording studio with nayeon, practicing together but also joking around and laughing, being the kids you were in an industry that stripped you of that freedom.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ⋅ᡣ𐭩 ་༘࿐

"これの読み方を知っていますか?"

"いいえ、私は愚かです."

you shuffle uncomfortably in your seat, unable to shake the insecurity that they were talking about you. you were currently in your intensive korean class, waiting for the teacher to appear. the class was mostly quiet, except for the two girls sitting a table away from you, whispering and laughing, pushing each other around playfully.

when you glance towards them again, one of them meets your eye. you panic, whipping your head back down to your open textbook.

the girl who saw you whispers something to her seatmate, nodding towards you, bringing the other girl's attention to you as well.

you strain to see what they're doing in your peripheral vision, but the little giggles and whispers have you shrinking in even more on yourself, thinking they were making fun of you for whatever reason.

you don't notice when the one who spotted you first is suddenly standing next to you. she waits for you to acknowledge her, but when you don't she giggles again, leaning down and tilting her head so you had to look at her.

"hi. my name sana. you?"

"y-y/n."

"y/n? nice to meet you! that momo." she steps back a little and points at the other girl who waves shyly at you. you stare back at her, dumbfounded, reciprocating her wave.

"you... korean good?"

you blink, unsure of what to say, "umm... it's okay i guess."

sana grins, all teeth, almost blinding you, running back to her seat and picking up her textbook, skipping back towards you and plopping down in the empty seat next to you. she points at the page, "how to do?"

you look down to the question she has circled, it was part of the homework set from the last lesson. you flick back to that page in your own textbook, showing her and trying to explain with gestures what it was asking.

when it clicks, that blinding smile graces her features again, her eyes lighting up and quickly scribbling down the answer. then she turns to momo who seemed to be doodling little drawings all over her workbook instead of studying.

"モモリ馬鹿野郎 ! これがあなたのやり方です."

you shrink back into your seat, thinking she was done with you, only needing you to help her with her homework, and now that she was done, she could go back to making fun of you.

but instead, momo looks over curiously, standing up and hovering over the two of you. sana starts talking in rapid japanese, her hands flailing around excitedly.

momo nods along, and then she seems to get a moment of realisation, her eyebrows raising and mouth opening in the shape of an o, an "ahh!" escaping her.

sana looks back to you, "thank you! you so smart!"

you still don't really follow their conversation but you nod, shyly rubbing the back of your neck, "it's okay."

"we sit here?"

"sorry?"

sana frowns, an adorable pout forming on her lips, thinking over how to say what she wants. then she grabs momo's hand, gesturing between the both of them, "friends!", then she grabs your hand, gesturing between the three of you now, "friends?"

your hand is sweaty against sana's, you take note of how soft it feels against yours, heart stumbling a little over itself. you nod sheepishly, not expecting sana to grin, pulling you into a hug immediately.

momo goes to grab her things, and then settles into the seat on your other side, "sorry for her. she very huggy."

sana pouts, flicking momo's forehead playfully after she pulls away from you, "you like it too."

momo giggles, rolling her eyes.

things were moving so fast your brain was playing catch up. you knew the people here were a lot more affectionate than back home, but you still felt your heart racing from being in such close proximity with sana, and now momo too, the both of them squeezed against you and conversing lightly in broken korean and japanese while waiting for the teacher. it wasn't unwelcome though, this was the first time someone had asked you in such a straightforward way to become friends, it was refreshing, definitely better than the trainees in your vocal and dance classes who refused to interact with you at all.

when the teacher finally comes, he looks a little surprised at the change in seating, but doesn't comment on it, diving straight into the lesson.

sana and momo both try their best to keep up, sana remains fully engaged in the lesson, asking plenty of questions, while momo is the opposite. she's easily distracted, when the teacher goes on one of his off topic rants, she starts doodling in her textbook again, you repress a laugh at the stick men she drew frolicking around in fields with rainbows and stars. you can't help yourself but bring your pen to her page, adding a little deranged dog to her drawing.

she looks at you in surprise, but lets you finish, giggling at the result and drawing in some fur for the dog, fixing up your sorry attempt at a puppy.

the class finishes uneventfully after that. momo yawns, closing her book with relief while sana stretches, standing up and grinning down at the both of you.

momo looks at her warily, squinting, "what?"

"what?"

"you have not good look on your face. what you do?"

"what do you mean momoring?" sana's grin only grows wider.

"i don't want to get in trouble again."

"you woooon't. what you think y/n? want to sneak out get fried chicken and beer?"

momo groans, slumping down on her desk, muttering to herself in japanese while sana laughs at her reaction.

you look between the both of them, raising an eyebrow. you knew you shouldn't, but you hadn't had real food in so long, the company's strict diet and weight requirements always on all of your minds. and you hadn't really gone out and explored korea since you arrived. you'd pretty much been confined to the dorms and the company building, eating cafeteria food and living the same routine everyday, you knew the korean trainees would often get together after late night practices and have small gatherings the company wouldn't know about, but you were never invited to those.

you grin cheekily, "you have a plan?"

sana laughs, pulling you up to stand, hugging you once again in glee, "yay!! i knew we good friends! of course, it's not the first time momoring and i have snuck out." she pulls away with a wink.

momo grumbles behind you, slowly standing up as well, "last time you got us caught you said we were helping 'clean the streets'. stupid. we had extra exercise requirements for two weeks."

"we won't get caught this time! i promise! and if we do i pay for all our food."

momo perks up at that, eyeing sana, then holding out her pinky.

sana giggles, linking their pinkies and then dragging momo by their pinkies, and you by your hand out of the classroom and back towards the dorms to get ready.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ⋅ᡣ𐭩 ་༘࿐

"sana- move!" momo grunts, shuffling around in clothes too big for her, a cap that dipped over her eyes, and a mask to hide her face.

"shh! you're gonna get us caught!"

"no you are!"

"okay they're gone let's go." sana slinks forward in similar attire, careful to avoid the security cameras, flapping a sleeve behind her frantically to gesture the both of you to follow. momo glances at you, rolling her eyes but smiling, tiptoeing forward and following sana.

you're body is surging with adrenaline. you had always been a 'good' kid. you've never tried sneaking out of anywhere before. you were also trying to hold in your laughter at how stupid the three of you must look, the sunglasses covering your eyes while indoors and at 9pm at night glazing your vision.

you make it halfway across the main entrance, almost to the exit, hands shoved in your pockets.

"... y/n?"

you pause, heart pounding. the two in front of you stop as well, sana looks back at you in alarm.

you decide the best course of action is to pretend you didn't hear them. after all, they couldn't be sure you were yourself right now right? the absurd disguises made sure of that. you take another step forward.

"y/n what are you wearing? you look like vector from despicable me."

curse sana for lending you that naruto cosplay. you forgot how visible your disguise was.

you turn on your heel slowly, terribly embarrassed to have been discovered like this, mind scrambling to come up with an excuse for what the three of you were doing.

but you're stopped in your tracks when you realise who was teasing you with a wide grin, two front teeth on display. she laughs when she finally sees you, it's loud and bright, it'd scare you away if you hadn't already heard it plenty of times from her when she had found you in the practice room that day.

"you look so stupid. wait-" she whips out her phone, and before you can protest, she snaps a quick picture, laughing at her phone after checking the result.

"nayeonn!"

"i can't believe you tried to sneak out wearing that."

you pout, crossing your arms protectively over yourself, "i wasn't trying to sneak out!"

she raises an eyebrow, "yeah and i'm not gorgeous." she jokes sarcastically, before peeking over your shoulder and nodding behind you, "and who are those two losers behind you?"

you turn, taking off your ridiculous sunglasses and waving to let them know you were fine and to join you. sana tilts her head curiously, moving back towards you, tugging along momo who takes off her cap, blowing her hair out of her face.

"oh! you're the japanese duo that came here on the same day! i'm sorry i don't remember your names but i saw you dance and you were incredible." she directs the last part at momo, who blushes at the compliment, nodding and hiding behind her hair. sana grins though, bowing down and bringing momo down with her.

"i'm sana! this is momo!"

"nayeon. it's nice to meet you both." nayeon smiles sweetly, bowing as well and gesturing for them to stand up. "where were you guys headed?"

"chicken and beer! you want to come?" sana quips happily, excited to meet anyone new.

"how were you guys going to get beer?" nayeon jokes with a smirk.

sana tilts her head confusedly, she looks adorable in the clothes that drown her.

"you're all underage right?"

sana looks to you in confusion, not seeming to understand what underage meant.

"ah- none of us are 18..." you gesture to the three of you.

sana makes a sound of exclamation, not having thought about that particular detail.

nayeon laughs brightly, finding the japanese girl's antiques endearing. "good thing you have me then! c'mon. i know the best place as well, and no one from the company will go around there so we won't get caught." she winks, pulling a mask and cap out of her jacket pocket and slipping it on.

you blink, surprised at the change in events.

nayeon shrugs, "always gotta be ready if we're training to be idols right?" you can see the smirk in her eyes, before she charges forward without an answer and leads the four of you into the night.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ⋅ᡣ𐭩 ་༘࿐

your shoulder hurt.

there's another bout of laughter, you flinch, preparing yourself.

sure enough, nayeon's large hands come clapping down on your arm, you wince, trying to smile your way through the sting of each slap.

it doesn't help when sana realises why you look constipated, cracking up even more pointing at you with a hand over her mouth, which makes nayeon laugh again for absolutely no other reason than that you were all wasted.

"nayeonnie calm down- you're going to kill y/n-" sana chokes out between giggles.

nayeon blinks, looking at you, face brightly flushed. she pouts, leaning in close, "what did i do?"

you flush even brighter, blaming the alcohol and not the way nayeon's eyes are glued to your lips, squinting and trying to focus on one part of your face only with her wobbly vision. you push her off of you gently, rubbing at your shoulder with a grimace, "you hit people when you're drunk.""

nayeon coos, chasing after you, "awwwwwh did i hurt you? poor baby. here lemme kiss it better." nayeon purses her lips together, pushing her face towards you while you whine and laugh, trying to push her away.

sana pipes up at the word, "kiss? who are we kissing? i wanna kiss!"

momo snorts, playing around with the bottle cap of the soju you had gotten to after you had all decided the beer wasn't enough. her face is probably the most flushed of you all, but she was also probably the most sane of you all currently. "don't you kiss enough?"

sana whines, poking momo's cheek, "no! you don't let me! c'mere-" she leans forward, tickling momo's sides, trying to get her to let her defenses down and land one on her. momo laughs, pushing sana off, scrambling away in urgency.

you aren't faring much better, but then you get an idea, "sanaaa! kiss nayeon! she's trying to get me!"

sana turns to you both, and she's never one to turn down a kiss so she leans across the table, yanking nayeon's head towards her and pulling her away from you. but what surprises you is when she plants a sloppy kiss right on the eldest's lips.

you look at momo, expecting to see a similar look reflected, but she rolls her eyes, calmly picking up the bottle and bringing it to her lips again to take a sip.

they break away with a smack, exaggerated on sana's end who giggles and licks her lips, grabbing the bottle from momo and taking a sip as well.

nayeon blinks, her brain seeming to catch up with her body 2 seconds late. when she realises what happens, she stands up abruptly with a screech, her metal chair scraping against the floor in pain. you wince at the sound, but laugh when you catch her face, now brighter than momo's, hand over her mouth in shock. sana and momo easily join you, cackling as nayeon flails around, sounds coming out of her mouth in incoherent phrases.

it seems the shop owner has had enough of the four of you though.

"yah! out! all of you! bedtime! 2am now! go go!" you all continue laughing as you're ushered out of your seats. you're all too drunk to notice the way the shop owner has fondly been watching you for the last few hours, cleaning around and keeping her shop open later than she normally opens, recalling the days she was young and stupid as well. she shouts at you while she pushes you out the door, but she also shoves a plastic bag of takeaway chicken into your hands as she pushes you out, telling you all to go home and not to cause too much trouble at this time of night.

you all laugh and thank her, sana even goes to kiss her cheek, cooing at how adorable she was in her apron and wrinkles.

when you've finally calmed down and take in the chill air of the night sky, you shiver a little, the alcohol sloshing around in your body not enough to keep you warm.

momo sidles up next to you, linking your hands together easily and pulling you against her.

you grin at her, tightening your grip around her hand that she's shoved into the warm pocket of her jacket pocket.

the peace is quickly disrupted when nayeon sends a stumbled kick your way from behind you. she misses though, tripping over herself and almost falling face-flat onto the ground save for sana hooking onto her waist quickly, pulling her back up with a laugh.

nayeon wraps an arm around sana's shoulder, thanking her for the support. "yah. you two. kiss. i can't be the only one who had to kiss someone today."

sana pouts, "why do you say that like you didn't like it?"

nayeon sputters, squinting up at sana from her slouched position, her weight almost entirely leaning on sana, "no i didn't- i didn't mean it like- no but- ugh-"

sana giggles, shuffling around so she can accommodate nayeon better.

momo turns her head, "no way loser. you two only kissed because you're both so kissy."

"what does that even mean?!"

"sana kisses everyone when she's drunk. and you're just as bad nayeon. i don't know how you can go drinking with just one person. you need at least 2 or 3 to hold you up when you get drunk." momo teases, sticking out her tongue.

"respect your elders you little shit!"

you all laugh at that, nayeon may have gotten you all drinks but she wasn't that much older than you. and she looks hilarious bringing a fist up in the air and waving it around like a little angry old lady, too much spite in too little a body, it was cute.

"wait... so the only one i haven't kissed yet is y/n?"

you freeze, ready to make a run for it at the earliest sign of danger.

nayeon grins, pushing sana off of her and towards you, "let's change that!"

your eyes widen, legs tensing up, ready to rush forward, you pull your intertwined hands out of momo's pocket. but right as you're about to take off, momo smirks, yanking you backwards and spinning you around until you're met with the soft, ready lips sana has wating for you.

"mmf-!"

your eyes are squeezed shut when momo spun you, terrified of falling onto your face, but now all you can feel is her hand still holding yours, sana's coming up to steady your hips, her lips pressing against yours gently.

all too quickly, she breaks away with a giggle, licking her lips again. it must be a habit.

you stare at her dumbly, mouth hanging open, lips tingling with the faint taste of strawberry soju.

nayeon has ended up on the floor without anyone supporting her, cackling loudly and pointing at your dumbfounded look.

momo stifles a few chuckles as well, her hand still wrapped tightly around yours.

sana simply smiles, closing your mouth with her hand, brushing a thumb over your jaw in the process, then tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

you flush up immediately, whipping around and staring at the floor, the tips of your ears bright red.

sana laughs, cooing, "awwwwh! you're so cute! look at her guys! she's blushing!"

"no!" you speak up indignantly, voice squeaky, "i'm just drunk!"

"you're more red than me!" momo joins in, trying to get a look at your face better with a laugh, her nose scrunching up in glee.

you whine, trying to pull away from her, but she doesn't let your hand go, so you end up pulling her along with you as you stomp forward, eager to get home and away from your teasing new friends.

sana laughs, running after you both.

that left nayeon, still on the floor in the middle of the street at 3am. "guys! hey guys! don't forget me! come back! hey- wait!"

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ⋅ᡣ𐭩 ་༘࿐

the four of you grow easily close after that night. and it helps that by chance, you're all allocated into the same dorm room for the new year. it's definitely a surprise since nayeon was one of the company's top trainees, and the rest of you were foreigners and had only been around for about 2 months. you'd heard it was meant to help the three of you get better at korean, having to converse in korean daily with a korean roommate so that existing friends like sana and momo couldn't get away with just talking in japanese when they were in the comfort of their dorms. plus, it seemed both sana and momo were making a name for themselves amongst the trainees as well for their bubbly idol personality and raw talent respectively.

"how's this?" nayeon comes out of the bathroom and does a little twirl, her hair already curled and makeup applied dazzlingly. she's wearing a pretty silk white dress with little blue bows decorating it, matching the blue ribbons she's used in her hair.

sana squeals, immediately bounding upwards and poking at her. "it's so cute! when did you get this?!"

"the last family trip i went on! are you sure it's okay?" nayeon pouts.

but then momo yells out from behind her, still doing her eyeliner in your shared bathroom mirror, "you look fine stop digging for compliments."

sana laughs cheerily when nayeon sputters back at her, latching onto the older girl and pecking her cheek, "it's okay nayeonnie i don't mind. i'll praise you anytime you want." there's a slight lilt to her voice, she finishes with a wink.

nayeon blushes immediately, but tries to cover for it by turning to you. "y/n? what do you think?"

you roll your eyes from your spot on sana's bed, more focused on applying the dark blue nail polish on your hands. "it's pretty."

"just pretty?" you can hear the pout in her voice.

you sigh exasperatedly, looking up at her in mock annoyance. "you're gorgeous, beautiful, stunning, exquisite, glamorous, everyone at the party will have their eyes on you."

you can hear momo fake gag from the bathroom, and sana bursting into giggles. but nayeon crosses her arms, frowning, "you see when you list it out like that it makes it a little harder to believe."

"ugh nayeon! you look good! what more do you want from me!"

she laughs, leaning down to squish your cheeks together affectionately, "thanks darling, i love my little thesaurus."

you grumble, careful not to get the drying nail polish onto sana's sheets. sana comes back to her position next to you, grabbing your hands and starting to blow on your fingers.

"what time does the party start again?" momo yells out from the bathroom, slipping into her outfit for the night.

"like... 10 minutes ago but it's fine. no one interesting is gonna get there on time." nayeon squeezes in next to you as well, leaning her head on your shoulder.

"that's because you're only interested in yourself."

"hey! i can revoke my invite to all of you!"

"you wanted us to go because you'd be, quote, bored out of your mind with all those mindless prepubescent boys trying to get in your pants! besides, we all got our own invites anyway."

"what?! why didn't you tell me?!"

"you were so cute thinking you were doing us all a solid or something for inviting us." sana speaks up with a giggle, "we couldn't break that!"

"you couldn't sana! i wanted to tell her and shove it up her proud ass but you just love to watch cute girls fumble around don't you?"

sana giggles again, going back to blowing on your nails.

but then momo steps out of the bathroom, clad in a very short bodycon dress, her makeup and hair fully done, the dress cutting open at her midriff showing off toned abs, pretty gold necklace decorating her neck, outlining her collarbones and the plunging neckline that pretty much ended at her belly button, tying together the cutout.

the three of you all stare at her, eyes roaming over the mass of skin, mouths open in... shock.

sana licks her lips slowly, eyes not bothering to meet her best friend's again, "you look... good."

momo smirks, imitating what's meant to be nayeon, "just good?"

nayeon bristles then, snapping out of her stupor, "shut up momo. don't you think you're... showing a bit too much skin?"

momo starts looking around for her shoes, bending over criminally with her back to you all, it's almost comedic how all three of your gazes lock onto her ass immediately. "this is nothing compared to some of the outfits they put us in when we do our showcases. besides, it's not like you can talk." she snorts, turning back around with heels in hand, her smirk never leaving her face as she watches the three of you, knowing exactly what you were doing.

"yeah but you'll... get cold."

"it's an indoor party."

"shut up!"

she laughs, standing back up after slipping into her shoes, "okay! ready to go?"

you gulp, standing up shakily, forcing you to look at her face and not ogle your friend's very attractive body. "y-yeah. took you all long enough."

"you finished practice earlier than us, you had more time to get ready. now let's go losers."

she leads the charge out your tiny shared room, nayeon gets up and follows grumpily. you look back down to sana who's still got her gaze locked on the way both girls' hips sway with each step. you roll your eyes, poking sana and dragging her up with a laugh. sana lets you, her brain short-circuiting, only able to be tugged along.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ⋅ᡣ𐭩 ་༘࿐

you honestly had no idea how a party of this scale went unnoticed by the company. there were so many trainees you recognised, and even a few idols that were lesser known to the public. it was at someone's house, you don't remember who's, but there was no way you could've gotten away with a party this size back at the dorms.

music was blasting, drinks were being circulated, people were dancing and grinding up against each other. it wasn't a surprise to see the amount of rowdiness going on, that's what happened when you force a bunch of teenagers to undergo strict training and diet regimes, and forbid anything that could get anyone into any sorts of controversies in the future in case you made it and got famous.

the four of you had naturally split up when you arrived, being pulled away by different friends and people wanting to greet you. you spot momo on the dance floor already, not that it was difficult to seperate her from everyone else. sure you were all trainees and went through mandatory dance class, but everyone knew momo was something else when it came to dance. she had an aura about her, one that made people back up and give her space, circling her on the crowded floor and watching in awe of her moves.

you can hear nayeon before you spot her. she's with jihyo and jeongyeon, two other trainees that she was set to debut with, and granted, was naturally close with. they were all top-notch trainees at the company, everyone knew of them, knew that the next group coming out of jyp would most likely include the three of them.

that left sana, someone people naturally gravitated towards. her adorable happy-go-lucky energy was infectious, it was impossible not to fall in love with her at first sight. she was currently surrounded by a crowd of people, laughing and smiling, face tinged with the pink of alcohol.

eventually, someone gets people together for a game of spin the bottle. you're all sitting in a big circle in a room away from the rest of the party, chattering excitedly with the buzz of liquors, an empty soju bottle laying in the middle of you all.

"okay party people! game time!" the original host of the party, jackson wang, saunters in with a charming grin, plopping himself down between mark and jeongyeon. "so i'm gonna assume we all know how spin the bottle works. and if you don't... well you'll find out! who wants to go first!"

everyone looks around at everyone, antsy, unwilling to go first. jackson rolls his eyes, "alright losers. guess it's me." he bends forward and spins the bottle. everyone watches with anticipation, breaths held.

it lands on one of the younger trainees, ryujin. she makes a face of disgust, cringing, but jackson ignores it, quickly swooping in and kissing her.

when they break away, ryujin quickly downs her cup of whatever concoction of alcohol she has, wiping at her lips and pushing him off of her playfully. jackson laughs, backing away and returning to his seat. ryujin goes forward, places her fingers on the bottle, then spins it.

again, you all wait in anticipation, eyes locked on the dizzying movement, until it slowly lands on bambam.

ryujin groans again, bambam looks like he just won the lottery. "nope! i'm not kissing one of you gross guys again, jackson tasted like he doesn't know what a toothbrush is. gimme a dare."

there are shouts of disapproval, but ryujin ignores them all, sitting on her haunches, unmoving.

"okay just because you made that totally untrue comment about my breath, i'll give you one worse than kissing bam." jackson looks around the room, thinking to himself, mark whispers something in his ear and they both snicker, "alright. suck someone's toes for 10 seconds."

"pfft is that meant to be a dare?" ryujin easily leans forward, pulling yeji's sock off and immediately wrapping her lips around her toe. yeji squeals, trying to pull her foot away but ryujin is persistent amongst everyone's hollering and cheering, counting down the seconds.

she finally breaks away with a laugh, making a show of licking her lips while yeji blushes, yelling at her and slapping her arm, shoving her drink into her hand and making her rinse out her mouth.

bambam shyly goes forward next, he spins the bottle, and it lands on nayeon. his eyebrows almost get lost in his hairline with how far up they go, his head shooting up and looking at nayeon who was leaning on jihyo heavily, still laughing at the whole ryujin-yeji situation.

his boys clap him on the back with a cheer, pushing him forward towards the older girl. nayeon blinks, turning her attention to him, realising he had spun her.

her eyes meet yours for a second, and then they flit around the room, landing on sana and momo respectively, it's so quick you wouldn't have noticed if you weren't already locked on her gaze.

bambam moves forward shyly, kneeling in front of her, unsure of what to do. she leans back a little as he comes closer, putting on an encouraging smile, looking up at him.

he takes a breath, then dives down, you can hear their teeth clacking as he accidentally goes in too aggressively, nayeon cringes, but tries to make up for it by tilting her head, pressing her lips against his, trying to urge him to slow down, but bambam moves almost too eagerly, like he's eating her up. in the end, nayeon has to gently push him off of her to get him to stop, he looks dazed as he collapses back in his spot, bright blush on his face all the way down to his neck. nayeon tries to look polite and laughs it off, moving forward and quickly spinning the bottle to move everyone along.

only for it land on momo.

"oh hell no." they both say simultaneously, blushing furiously and gaping at each other from across the circle. you catch sana's eye, supressing a laugh as you look between the two of them.

"dare! i pick dare!"

sana perks up, taking the opportunity immediately, "okay i dare you to kiss momo!"

the boys around the circle all laugh, agreeing with her energetically, starting up a chant. momo sends a death glare towards sana, who just sticks out her tongue at her, making an exaggerated kissy face mimicking momo and nayeon kissing.

with no choice, nayeon shuffles forward, crouching down in front of momo who can't look her in the eye.

"don't fall in love with me or anything hirai."

that gets momo to snort, meeting nayeon's equally nervous gaze, "as if i'll be able to think about anything other than getting rid of the taste of you-" she's cut off, nayeon leaning down to plant her lips on her in haste.

momo blinks at first in confusion, then she's closing her eyes and circling a hand around nayeon's neck, pulling her in just a little closer and returning the kiss. they ignore the roar of the crowd, nayeon thinks to herself how much better momo's lips felt against her own than bambam's teeth did.

that thought quickly rips her away though, scrambling backwards and wiping at her lips in mock disgust, laughing breathily with a pretty blush adorning her face.

momo looks on after her, her expression unreadable. after things settle down again, momo leans forward, spinning the bottle.

sana doesn't even give anyone the chance to think, sliding forward and into momo's lap, cupping her cheek and bringing their lips together. momo reacts automatically, hands circling sana's hips and slotting them together, like they've done this countless times in the past.

watching nayeon and momo kiss was silly, fun, but this, this was something different. you glance at nayeon, who has a hand at her lips, staring at sana and momo make out in front of everyone, eyebrows furrowed slightly. you look back, swearing you can see the hint of a pink tongue poke out from sana, momo's hands tightening around the other girl's hips in reaction, before sana finally breaks away. she stands up, sauntering back to her spot with a proud grin, people are cheering, throwing confetti, bowing down to her as if she just brought rain down in a drought. she thrives in the attention. momo on the other hand is breathing heavily, expression shielded behind her hair, biting her lip and clenching her thighs together.

sana does a round around the inside of the circle, giggling and skipping along in her little pink slip. she finally arrives back to her original spot, bending down and spinning the bottle.

it lands on one of the younger trainees, dahyun. sana smiles sweetly, crawling forward. she whispers a few words to dahyun, who nods shyly, breath picking up, then sana leans in, just pecking her before pulling away again. nothing like the kiss she shared with momo.

you decide you need a drink.

at this point in the night, the kitchen is thankfully much less chaotic. most people are playing the game, on the dance floor, or passed out around the house.

you spoon a ladle of the jungle juice that probably has ludicrous amounts of liquor in it into your cup, gulping it down thirstily. you don't know why you suddenly felt so stifled in that room, feeling hot even in the little cropped top and skirt you're wearing.

"y/n?"

you turn, of course it's your three roommates, all looking very concerned for you.

"hey. you okay?" sana comes up to you first, cupping your cheeks, placing the back of her hand on the front of your forehead.

you wave her off with a chuckle, "yeah i'm fine guys. why did you leave the game?"

"because you left." momo says simply, taking the cup you're still holding in your hand away from you, sniffing the contents.

"you didn't have to do that. i was just taking a water break."

"riiiight. water." momo raises an eyebrow unimpressively, pouring the rest of your drink down the sink nearby.

"i'm fine though seriously! you guys should get back to the game."

"you're not coming?" sana pouts.

"not really feeling it anymore."

"do you wanna go home?" nayeon speaks up then, coming forward to lean on sana's back, her face resting on sana's shoulder, looking up at you with wide eyes.

"what? no! you guys have fun. seriously, stop worrying about me i'm fine!"

"we can't have fun without you."

"i'm sure you can."

"no. we're not the four of us without you. we're just... the three of us." sana tilts her head like a confused puppy, her proximity to you making you dizzy, you're not sure if it's the alcohol, or the fact that she was so close, but you can only focus on her lips, which then remind you of the way her lips had been on momo's lips, that had been on nayeon's lips. yeah you were definitely a little more than dizzy.

"wooahh- too much to drink i think." momo sidles up next to you, catching your waist, and holding you up against her. she jokes, "didn't think you'd be the same kinda drunk as nayeon y/n. i don't know if we have enough personnel to take care of the both of you."

you groan, pushing yourself back onto your own two feet, leaning back against the kitchen bench, "don't compare me to that trainwreck."

"hey!"

you all laugh, sana's hands coming down to squeeze nayeon's that are around her waist, turning to peck her cheek.

"i'm getting tired anyway. let's go home."

"what? guys no- you don't have to do this for me- you can stay-"

"we're not doing this for you idiot. i wanna sleep too. i'm gonna be grumpy tomorrow morning if we don't get enough sleep and i have dance practice with jyp."

"you're always grumpy in the mornings momoring."

"no i'm not!"

"yes you are." nayeon quips.

"shut up or i'll kiss you again im."

that makes everyone pause, processing the words in their head. momo doesn't even seem to realise what she's said, staring fiercely back at nayeon, only focused on winning their little bouts of banter.

you all stand in the kitchen in awkward silence, looking nervously at each other, unsure of what to say.

eventually sana speaks up, laughing edgily. "are y/n and i interrupting something orr...?"

"what?! no?!" they both speak up, protesting loudly.

you laugh, trying to ease the tension that seems to have come out of nowhere. "i could've said that about you and momo sana. that was some kiss." that was probably not the right thing to say to ease the tension.

"that's nothing. sana and i kiss all the time." momo brushes you off, shrugging, but sana looks hurt at the her words.

"nothing?"

"wait what do you mean all the time?"

momo blushes, looking between sana and nayeon. but sana's easily emotional feelings, amplified by her intoxication, have her eyes watering, sending momo straight into panic mode. "wait no- that's not what i meant satang-"

"then what did you mean?" sana frowns, you weren't sure if she was genuinely angry now or still playing around.

"i don't- satang i'm stupid we know this i just say stupid shit- things just come out of my mouth i didn't mean it like that-"

"then in what way did you mean it momoring?" her tone is clipped, throat scratchy.

"satang this isn't fair-"

"what isn't?"

"c'mon- satang please-"

all of a sudden, sana lurches forward, pressing her lips against momo's, trapping her against the kitchen counter. nayeon falls onto you without sana holding her up, you quickly grab her waist, supporting her, but both your eyes move back to sana and momo quickly.

they're kissing for real this time, not like when they were putting on a show for everyone else during the game. and you're both close enough you can hear the wet smacks of lips against lips, the little gasps and whimpers, every breath they take in between each kiss. momo's hands have come up to tangle in sana's hair, pulling her closer, their bodies meeting and moving against each other like they were made for each other.

you squirm slightly under nayeon, hands gripping her waist tighter at the sight, the dizzy feeling from earlier returning full force. you try and force yourself to focus on something else, it was probably a bit weird, to be so close, staring as your two closest friends made out, but you couldn't bring yourself to look away, your gaze lidded at the rushed pace, tongues clashing and being sucked into mouths.

you can tell nayeon is feeling very similarly, her hot breath hitting your lips at a faster pace than normal, laboured with excitement.

there's a crashing sound from upstairs where they were playing the game, followed by loud whooping and cheering. it pops the bubble that's formed between the four of you. sana breaks away from momo, panting, hands having come in to hold onto the other girl's hips, pushing her into the bench further having squeezed their bodies together as close as possible.

"w-was that- nothing?" her voice comes out hoarse and in a whisper, still catching her breath.

momo can't speak, her eyes still tightly shut, shaking her head in response.

"then what was it?"

momo groans, knocking her forehead against sana's gently, "don't ask me that sana." her voice is also laced with shaky breaths.

"why not?"

"it's confusing. you know i can't handle thinking about that much."

"am i confusing?"

she shakes her head again, but then points to you and nayeon, drawing a circle between the four of you, "this is confusing."

that gives sana pause, thinking over the possible implications of momo's words, taking the chance to catch her breath. then she looks up to the both of you, her eyes dragging up from the way you're still clutching nayeon's waist tightly, before meeting yours. the eye contact sends shivers down your spine, even when her eyes leave yours to stare into nayeon's, you can still feel all your senses on alert, breath held, tensions at an all time high.

sana's head tilts again, considering the both of you. then, she seems to come to a decision, and she's just as quick as she always is.

before you realise it, her lips are on yours, hand cupping your cheek, the other wrapped around nayeon to keep her there.

it's nothing like that first kiss you shared weeks ago. that was a simple peck, there and gone. this time, sana's moving her lips against yours, fingers caressing your cheek, down to your neck, lips soft and wet, panting directly into your mouth.

momo forces her eyes open, staring at you and sana kiss with hooded eyes. hands coming back down to grip the bench behind her, knuckles almost turning white from how hard she was holding onto it.

sana breaks away from you, but without taking a breath, turns her head, and starts kissing nayeon.

nayeon is only slightly surprised, almost all her weight leaning on you, gripping the back of your top tightly, reciprocating sana's kiss with as much vigor as sana gives.

when they finally break apart, you're all still breathing heavily, looking between each other, tension surmounting, thousands of words unsaid.

it's nayeon that speaks up first this time. she whistles lowly, letting out a small chuckle, "so... that wasn't... nothing."

"no." momo agrees. their eyes meet.

sana rolls her eyes, getting impatient, "so do you two wanna fuck or do you wanna fight?"

neither of them protest this time, they don't even laugh it off, you can all feel the very real pressure in the air.

"dunno. i think i need a..." momo licks her lips, "another taste to know." then she leans forward, capturing nayeon's lips with her own, straight up moaning at the contact. your thighs clench together at the sound. all of this was getting too much for your dumb little drunk brain. you had been spectating more than you had been involved, and it'd be a lie if you said you weren't turned on by it all.

nayeon and momo's kiss is different from sana's kisses. they're both aggressive, fighting for dominance, their natural banter translated onto their lips, grunts and gasps, trying to one-up each other.

eventually, they break away, but momo transitions straight over to you.

"need to compare." she mumbles lowly before attaching her lips to yours. she's much more gentle with you, teasing your mouth open before dipping her tongue inside, you whine against her, hips moving of their own accord when they grind up into nayeon who's still leaning on you for support.

you hear nayeon swear under her breath, regaining some of her drunk-addled consciousness to grip your hips roughly to stop you from doing that again. but that's the end of her control, she leans in, close enough so momo and you can both hear her, just inches away from your mouths moving against each other.

"my turn."

momo obliges, breaking away from you, only for nayeon to latch on. you can still hear momo's rough breathing next to your ear while your lips start moving against nayeon's, once again, with a completely different kissing style to momo and sana. she's slow and languid, pressed against your lips until you're just about to be out of breath, before breaking away and coming back in. she finishes with a little kitten lick on your upper lip, you whine, pushing your hips against her hands as she growls, pushing you back into the counter.

sana's spent the entire time watching all of you, having enough time to even pour herself another much needed drink. she swirls around the contents of her cup, downing it and speaking up again. "home?"

"home." you all unanimously agree.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ⋅ᡣ𐭩 ་༘࿐

you wake up hazily with a pounding headache, vision blurred, mouth dry.

you squeeze your eyes shut again, the dim brightness of the room too much for you. you reach blindly for your glasses that should be next to your pillow on the top bunk of the bunk bed you share with sana. instead, your palm comes colliding with something that most definitely was not your glasses.

your eyes shoot open, squinting and trying to focus, as the person you've hit groans.

"10 more minutes."

"...momo?"

momo groans again, burying her face into the pillow you're sharing, hair messily coming to cover her eyes and furrowed eyebrows.

suddenly, memories of last night come flying back to you. you look down alarmingly, lifting the blanket slightly to find yourself very naked, with an equally naked momo curled around you, arm thrown lazily over your side, legs intertwined.

you also realise that this was not your bed. you were on the bottom bunk of the bunk bed opposite the one you shared with sana, this was nayeon's bed. now even more confused, you slowly turn your body, trying your best to not disturb momo who mumbles something while you shuffle around the bed, before pulling you closer into her.

the sudden feeling of her chest now pressed against your bare back surprises you, even though you knew you were both naked. you try your best to not think about it, squinting to look around the room for where nayeon could be if you were in her bed.

you didn't have to look far though, cuddled up on sana's bed right opposite you, is sana and nayeon. and you'd bet they were in the same state of undress you and momo were.

your heart rate picks up as you recall the events of last night. you hadn't exactly done a lot of talking. as soon as you got home, you were all over each other, somehow, you had made the limited space, and the fact that not all four of you could fit on one little bunk bed work for all of you. your thighs tingle with the memory, a blush adorning your face.

eventually, it's sana that wakes up first, turning in her bed and blinking at you slowly.

you let her come to her senses, your eyes drifting down to where the blanket has fallen in her movement, breath catching at the sight of her pretty naked chest moving up and down slowly with each breath.

sana doesn't mind the attention, she never has, she yawns, stretching unabashedly, revealing more of herself, sitting up and letting the blanket fall to her waist. "morning." she grumbles out, her voice scratchy and deep with fatigue.

you gulp, unable to tear your eyes away from her, "morning."

nayeon whines as sana moves, slowly waking up as well, her arm curled around sana's thighs, trying to keep her still.

sana reaches around and pulls an oversized shirt on, patting her hair down. you're not sure if you're thankful or mournful she's covered up.

"what time is it?" nayeon's voice speaks up, laced with the same hoarse tiredness you're sure you all have right now.

sana picks up her phone on the bedside table next to her bed, you're not sure where yours is. "6."

"too early. come back to bed."

sana giggles then, putting her phone back down and running a hand through nayeon's hair. "don't you have a schedule to get to later?"

"yeah later."

"... we should talk anyway." she's strangely serious, normally the most energetic of you all, even in the mornings. it gets nayeon to look up, hair messy, squinting, placing her chin on sana's thigh.

sana smiles at the sight, you find nayeon's glasses next to her bed, reaching to hand it over.

sana murmurs her thanks, stretching out to grab it from you and gently placing it over the eldest's eyes. she looks adorable.

"how long have you been awake?" nayeon directs the question to you, finally able to see you were awake and looking at the two of them.

you smile, "not that long."

"is momo...?"

"still asleep."

"should we wake her?"

"she's not gonna like that."

"she needs to get up in a bit anyway. she has practice with jyp later remember?"

in agreement, you turn in your spot again, smiling at the sight of momo, mouth hanging open slightly, black hair framing her face. hesitantly, you nudge her shoulder. there's no response, so you nudge her again, a little harder. she groans, grabbing your hand and interlacing your fingers, "10 more minutes."

you giggle, "you said that 10 minutes ago."

she mumbles incoherently, drifting back into sleep.

you roll your eyes, nudging her again, except she doesn't respond. so you resort to different measures, your other hand that isn't being held captive by her, sneaks down between the two of you, and you start tickling her sides.

she squirms, blinking, waking up, whiny and giggly.

"s-stop- stop y/n- stop- i'm up i'm up!"

there's laughter from behind you as well, and momo sits up, pushing your hands away to stop you from your attack. not that she needed to, you're eyes focused on something else as soon as the covers left her body. but of course, she bumps her head on the bunk, yelping, and cradling the top of her head, her hangover only worsening.

"okay okay guys- before we talk- i'm gonna need all of you to put on some clothes." you speak up, eyes still staring at momo's chest, almost drooling over her.

momo raises an eyebrow, before she shoves her chest into your face, rolling on top of you and squishing you.

"wha- momo- hey! no- mmf-"

you can hear everyone laughing as momo gets her revenge, pulling on the back of your neck while pushing out her chest, squeezing your face in between her breasts.

she finally breaks away once she's had enough, grinning and plucking a shirt down from her bunk on the top bed, pulling it loosely over her body.

"there. better?" she's kneeling on top of you, legs on both sides of your torso, shirt just long enough to reach past her top thighs. you gulp, eyes trained on the skin of her legs. momo rolls her eyes, pulling her shirt down a little more, coughing to get your attention.

your eyes snap back up to her with a blush.

she grins, leaning down easily and pecking you, rolling off of you again with one leg still thrown over your legs and cuddling into your side.

"morning losers."

"you're inconceivable momo."

"where'd you learn that word from? my ass?"

nayeon blushes, digging into sana's thighs. "throw me a shirt you little gremlin."

"get it yourself."

"you're on my bed!"

momo blinks, looking down at herself, finally coming to realise her surroundings. "oh."

sana laughs, pulls a shirt from under her bed and hands it to nayeon, "just borrow one of mine for now."

"sana i just got one for her!"

"give it to y/n."

"you just wanted to see her in your clothes."

"so?"

momo grumbles, handing the shirt she had grabbed for nayeon to you, helping you pull it on, hand skimming over the skin of your side and stomach.

“so…” you cough awkwardly, squirming under momo’s fingers that have stayed beneath your shirt, drawing random shapes into your skin.

“wait why do we need to talk?” she speaks up, leaning on her elbow, face on her palm looking across the room.

sana laughs, “is it simple for you now momoring?”

“is what simple?”

“i love your brain you idiot.”

“huh?” momo looks as confused as ever, too early to be thinking about anything.

sana takes a breath, gripping nayeon’s hand, “i like you. all of you.”

momo blinks, “we like you too.”

“i don’t want to kiss mina the way i kiss you momoring.”

“oh.” momo looks at sana, thinking, “but don’t you kiss everyone?”

sana laughs again, “is that what you think of me?”

she shrugs, “we kiss all the time.” she quickly corrects herself, not wanting to make the same mistake as last night, “and it doesn’t mean nothing. i’m sorry for saying that last night.”

the younger smiles, appreciates the effort, “you’re right. i kiss you all the time. no one else. i think you just get too dazed to notice anything else after we kiss.”

nayeon snorts, laughing loudly.

“what about dahyun last night?” you speak up, recalling the whispered words sana said to the younger trainee.

“we were playing spin the bottle. nayeonnie doesn’t like bambam even though she kissed him right?”

nayeon’s laughs turn into coughs very quickly, “absolutely the fuck not.”

“i was just making sure dahyunnie was okay with me kissing her, i told her it’d be really quick and i wouldn’t kiss her like i did momo. you don’t have to be jealous y/n.” she teases.

you whine, “i wasn’t!! i was just curious…”

“wait… is that why you left the game early last night?”

you feel your cheeks heat up, refusing to acknowledge the question.

“y/n!”

“what!”

“you should’ve told us! or me.”

“no way. i didn't even know what i was feeling. i just needed to get some air."

"will you tell us next time?"

"next time what?"

"next time you feel anything. even if you don't know what the feeling is."

you smile, pulling momo's hand that was creeping dangerously higher out from under your shirt, and interlocking your fingers, "yes. i will. i like you all too."

"blegh."

you and sana both look at nayeon with a frown.

"what?" she asks simply, crunching her nose up.

"nerd." sana pushes nayeon off her thigh, rolling her eyes.

"i'm not good with feelings!"

"get better with them then because i'm not dating an emotionless narcissist."

nayeon perks up, ignoring the insult, "we're dating?"

sana blushes, "i don't know. do you guys want to?"

"i do." you offer sana a reassuring smile, she's been leading the conversation this whole time and it took a lot of courage to do that. "momo, nayeon?"

"i don't think anything changes between us. except we all get to kiss and have sex whenever we want right?"

"momo!" you slap her hand lightly, she snickers.

"yeah. i'm pretty happy with that."

you all turn your gazes to nayeon.

she rolls her eyes, "as long as i get to top momo."

"just try it!"

"i will!"

you spend the rest of the morning, laughing, cuddling, doing things you'd always do together, but now with more freedom and less confusion.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ⋅ᡣ𐭩 ་༘࿐

sometimes, you wish you had a different dream. a lot of the time really.

it hasn't been a good week. monthly trainee evaluations were coming up, and everyone could feel the pressure. there were rumours running around that jyp was preparing a survival show to debut the next girl group, and he was in the midst of picking trainees to participate, so everyone was on edge more than ever.

the one who had it the worst was momo.

you wince, curling in on yourself, knees to your chest, head resting on your knees, while you listen to your girlfriend dry heave in the bathroom.

nayeon's pacing around the room, obviously agitated, wishing she could do something to help. sana was in practice, you knew how hard she was working recently, she didn't need to worry about anything more right now.

"-stupid fucking trainers. they're all fucking blind she doesn't need to lose weight. they're gonna fucking kill her fuck-"

the bathroom door creaks open. both you and nayeon's heads snap towards it immediately.

nayeon rushes forward, holding momo up, caressing her cheek, brushing hair out of her face.

momo looks pale as a ghost. she's trembling, exhausted, you can barely stand to look at her without breaking down in tears. she knows. she knows how you all felt about her. so even when she's suffering the most, she still manages to crack a joke, "you care about me now im?"

"shut up momo. this isn't the time for that. you should lie down."

momo groans weakly, "can't. need to go to the gym."

nayeon explodes then, "what?! you are not going to the fucking gym right now momo. look at yourself! you're dying!"

"you still think i'm hot though right?" she grins. it has none of her usual sparkle, no mischief, just white teeth and lips.

"shut up or i'll kill you before you kill yourself."

the younger girl shrugs, you can see her bones with the movement.

"don't go to the gym. you already haven't eaten anything for the last five days. you haven't even drunk water for the last five days."

"yeah and i've still got 2 and a half kilos to lose."

"you don't- you shouldn't have to do that! you're skinny enough! you're going to die before you lose that weight!"

momo takes a shaky breath, you're surprised when a tear escapes her eye. even the fact that her body still has enough water to cry, and her not being the type of person to cry much in the first place, especially in front of other people, is shocking enough. she can't hold herself up any longer, collapsing onto the bed next to you. you open your arms immediately, lowering your legs, adjusting so she can lean all her weight on you. the feeling of her body against yours is terrifying. she's all bones. you can feel each rib, every pointy bone in her joints.

"i know. i'm so scared of dying." she whispers out eventually, still crying silently.

nayeon squeezes in as well, holding one of momo's hands, bringing it up to her lips to kiss it softly.

"i don't want to sleep. i'm terrified i won't wake up again. that i won't be able to see you guys again."

there are tears streaming down yours and nayeon's faces as well now.

"then eat. please darling. you need to eat." nayeon begs, wiping at her eyes furiously.

momo looks up at her weakly, smiling even now, "you know i can't. you'd both be doing the same thing if you were in my position right now."

you hold back choked sobs, burying your face into her neck. she can feel the tears staining it.

"it's okay. i'm gonna be okay. we're all going to be okay." her hand finds yours, squeezes both your hand and nayeon's.

"it's not fair. you're pretty much the same weight as me. why are they making you do this?"

she shrugs again, her sharp shoulders dig into your chest, "maybe they're testing me."

"for what?" nayeon says incredulously.

"dunno. if i have the willpower. if i'm ready to die for my dream. who knows."

"it's not willpower. it's fucking starvation. you're not even- you're all muscle. there's nothing to lose. the number on that scale is only higher because muscle is heavier than fat. and you wouldn't have all that muscle if you weren't the best dancer in this fucking company."

"you think i'm the best dancer?"

nayeon sighs frustratedly, "i know you are. darling... please. please just- some water- anything-"

"i can't. i'm sorry."

you've been talking in circles for days. the same thing, over and over again, begging her to eat, drink some water, rest. she's persistent though, hasn't broken once. when she first told you all the news, you were aghast, angry, but not surprised. you all thought you knew what it meant to lose 7 kilograms in a week, it was terrible, but it wouldn't be impossible. they wouldn't set you an impossible task. there has always been importance placed on your weight in this industry. they weighed you every morning before classes, tracked your progress, what you ate, how often you worked out, made sure you were kept consistently underweight, just how the public liked you. if they said momo needed to lose 7 kilograms to be attractive, to get a chance to debut, then she needed to lose 7 kilograms.

it wasn't until around the third day that you realised just what that meant though.

she collapsed in dance class. it wasn't an out of the ordinary experience, they put all of you on the edge of malnutrition, so there were always girls fainting left and right. but it was the first time for momo. and unlike the other girls who were instructed to eat better, momo was encouraged to keep doing what she was doing. because it was working, she was losing a kilogram everyday, more than that at the time because all her water weight was gone first.

so she came home that night proud that she had collapsed. they'd brainwashed her.

and so she kept on going. when all the trainees were off enjoying lunch, she had two fingers down her throat in the company bathrooms. when everyone retired to go home for the night and rest, she'd be running 10 miles an hour on the treadmill at the gym. naturally, her body started shutting down. she was losing too much weight too quickly, she wasn't getting the nutrients she needed to function as a human being, her body was in a state of panic, it was retaining as much weight as it could, it thought momo was in trouble, that it needed to protect her from all of these sudden changes, so it's natural she stopped losing weight at such a fast rate.

she didn't care if it was natural. all that mattered was that that number on the scale was 7 kilograms less than it was when she was first told to lose the weight.

on the outside, you could see how much it was affecting her, not just physically, but mentally as well. you were so confused what to do, you wanted to support her, and as a trainee who had the same dream as her, you understood why she was doing what she was doing, but you also didn't want her to die. you wanted your momo back, the one that smiled and laughed and played around with sana, secretly loving how affectionate sana was despite her outwardly 'cool girl' persona. you wanted the momo that teased and fought with nayeon, the only one that could bring nayeon back down to earth when she was getting too much in her head. you wanted the momo that kissed and pulled you into her whenever you shared a bed, that clung to you in the morning when you had to get up, whiny and pouty and sleepy. she was a shell of herself now. they had ripped the life out of one of your favourite people on the planet.

the door to your dorm clicks open softly.

you're all still cuddled up on the bed, squeezed against one another.

sana walks in, a tired smile on her face. it immediately disappears once she sees the tear streaks on all of your faces.

she rushes forward, cupping momo's cheeks, checking her pulse.

"i'm alive satang don't worry."

"did you eat?"

"you know i haven't."

sana's the most emotional of you all. just seeing her favourite people crying has her own tears welling up.

"oh satang not you too-"

"i can't help it. look at you momoring. why didn't you guys tell me?" she directs that to you and nayeon, frowning.

"you were at practice. we didn't want you to worry."

"momo is more important than practice."

"no satang. monthly evaluations are in two days. you're gonna make that lineup."

"i don't care if i make it if you die momo!"

"stop it. all this talk about- i'm not going to die guys. i'm fine, don't give up on me yet. i'm still here. if you all think i'm not going to make it then how am i supposed to think i'm going to make it?"

"that's not fair momo." you speak up, still cuddled into her neck. "this isn't- this isn't a daily worry. we live in the fucking twenty first century it's not normal to worry about whether or not you're going to live to see tomorrow."

"please momoring. here-" sana starts scrambling around in her bag, pulling out a thermos. "just one please-" she shakes out an ice cube, holds it out to momo in her palm.

momo stares at it, watches it melt, her mouth open, lips dry.

"please it's just one-"

"i-i... i can't-"

sana sobs, head falling into her elbow, crouched on the floor.

nayeon gently takes the ice cube from her, holds it in her palm, watching momo's gaze follow it.

"momo..."

"don't make me nayeon. please. i can't."

"i'm not. i won't." nayeon makes sure momo is still watching her, then she slowly takes the ice cube into her own mouth. she sucks on it, her cheeks hollowing out, melts it in her mouth slowly. when she's done, she opens her mouth, showing she's swallowed it all, then she asks, "do i look different?"

momo looks at her confused, "no?"

"if i went on that scale, how much do you think my weight will change?"

momo gets it, her face darkening again, "don't do this nayeon."

"just answer the question."

"...it probably wouldn't."

"right. look, here, y/n, have one." she reaches for sana's thermos, you hold out your hand, accepting the cold cube, then you pop it in your mouth, burying yourself back to your position in her neck, kissing the skin there gently with your cool lips.

she sighs on top of you.

nayeon's shaking another one out, popping it in her mouth, then she's giving one to sana who has her hand out, staring at momo with wide, hopeful eyes.

momo looks between the three of you, you all had so much love for her, you all just wanted the best for her. it was one ice cube. her body was screaming for it.

slowly, she holds her palm out.

you all stare at her with bated breath, almost in disbelief.

she smiles, "i've probably cried out enough for an ice cube right?"

sana lets out a broken laugh, nayeon's quick to shake out an ice cube into momo's palm.

momo stares down at it, brings it up to her mouth, takes a breath, then encloses her lips around it.

she sighs again, closing her eyes, reveling in the coolness of it, leaning back against you more.

you let her, leaning back fully until you're laid on the bed, spooning her. nayeon comes in behind you, squeezing herself against the wall, an arm coming up to rest on your midriff, her hand able to reach momo's side. sana clambers up as well, kissing momo's forehead and sniffling, looping an arm around her waist and snuggling in. after you had started dating you ended up pushing the two bunk beds in your room together so you could all share the bottom bunk, and so you could use the top bunks for storage space. it was still a little bit of a squeeze but the four of you didn't mind. you liked being as close as you all possibly could.

momo couldn't shake the thought that the ice cube melting down her throat would add on another kilogram or two, but she tried to focus on the feeling of her loved ones curled around her instead, falling into a restless sleep, praying she would be able to wake up and feel like this again.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ⋅ᡣ𐭩 ་༘࿐

you grip your fork tightly, stabbing into your bland salad.

sana sits next to you, just as stiff, staring daggers across the cafeteria.

momo doesn't seem to mind though. she's happily munching away at her leaves. your heart softens a little at the sight, remembering how far she pushed herself last month, at least she was eating better now.

but then nayeon's laugh breaks through again, loud and bright. your jaw tightens at the sound.

"that's it." sana goes to stand but you tug on her hand, pulling her back down.

"don't."

"why not?" she spits, you've never seen her so livid. she was the happy charm of the company, people forget she could feel other emotions too.

"you'll cause a scene."

"good. then maybe he'll get his fucking baby hands off her."

"we can't. everyone will wonder why."

"why what?" she's still seething.

"why you have an issue with them. at worst they’ll think there’s something going on between you and nayeon. at best they’ll think you have a crush on him."

sana blanches, flicking her gaze over to you, “what?!”

“i don’t like it either. but we just have to trust her right?” you offer a smile, it’s a bit wonky and forced and sana sees straight through it, but it does get her to calm down a bit, taking a breath and slumping down in her seat.

“fine.”

“she loves you.”

“whatever.”

you smile genuinely at momo who looks at you in confusion, her mouth still full of lettuce. you shake your head, gesturing for her to keep eating and not to worry.

it’s not until later in the day when you have combined level dance practice that the issue comes up again. normally, he wouldn’t be near your class, sana and momo were naturally gifted dancers, so they were in higher level classes, and nayeon was an all-rounder, she was always in every top class to ensure she was around other people her level.

“they’d be cute wouldn’t they?” jihyo makes light conversation while you’re all stretching.

jeongyeon scoffs, “are you serious? he’s like… a baby.”

“he won’t be for that much longer.”

“gross dude!”

jihyo laughs.

“who are you guys talking about?” momo moves towards your group, mina in tow behind her.

“bambam and nayeon.”

“oh.” she drops down in a stretch, “what about them?”

jeongyeon snickers, teasing momo, “of course you didn’t know you airhead. bambam has a crush on her.”

“really?”

“yeah. did you see him almost wet himself when he got her during spin the bottle at jackson’s party?”

“it was so funny! and then when he went in to kiss her, that was so awkward! poor kid, i almost felt bad for him.”

“i don’t.” sana speaks up then, her teeth gritted, eyebrows furrowed, not even bothering to hide her gaze, staring at bambam and nayeon playing around in the mirror.

jihyo and jeongyeon exchange glances, confused.

“uhh… you okay sana?”

her eyes snap back up to meet jeongyeon’s, “yeah. fine, why?”

“you just seem a little… edgy.”

sana huffs, standing up again, “just tired.” she doesn’t say anything else, turning on her heel and leaving the training room.

momo catches your eye, tilts her head in question.

you shake your head, speaking up, “i’ll check on her.”

you jog outside, finding her near the water fountain.

“hey.”

“if you’re gonna lecture me again i don’t want to hear it.”

“no i wasn’t- i didn’t mean to lecture you at lunch. i just wanted to check on you.”

she sighs, sinking down into the cushion next to the fountain. you carefully sit next to her.

“i’m sorry. i just- i do trust her i just- i don’t trust him.”

“he’s just a kid sweetie.”

she scoffs, “yeah a hormonal pubescent teenage boy. they’re soo innocent, not like they don’t watch porn and jack off to every woman who even breathes near them.”

you’re about to reply when the door to the dance studio opens again, it’s nayeon.

she pokes her head out, looks up and down the hallway, and spots you, grinning. she jogs down to the both of you.

“hey! what are you guys doing here? class is about to start!”

sana doesn’t bother meeting her gaze, “oh so now you care about us?”

nayeon frowns, looks at you in confusion, you feel incredibly awkward, avoiding her eyes as well, “what’s going on?”

“nothing. go back to your boyfriend.”

“what?”

“you heard me.”

“i don’t know what you’re talking about sana. c’mon, let’s go to practice.”

“you don’t? is it that natural for you to drape yourself all over him?”

“what?”

sana finally looks up, eyes red and angry, “bambam. you know he likes you. why do you entertain him?”

“what? sana he’s just a kid-“

sana stands then, throwing her hands up in frustration, you keep your gaze locked on your shoes, “a kid! i’m sick of hearing that! so what if he’s a fucking kid? we’re fucking kids. you all think it’s so impossible that the im nayeon would ever like someone like him so it shouldn’t be anything to worry about right?! you know what sounds more impossible?! that im nayeon is in a polyamorous relationship with three other girls. three other kids!”

“sana! calm down don’t be so loud-“

“no don’t you tell me to fucking calm down. you see? we have to hide this. us. we can’t even talk about us in public. i was okay with that! because i still had you all. you were all worth it! but you could get with bambam right now and people wouldn’t even bat an eye. they’d celebrate it, congratulate him for pulling the girl, all while we can’t even hold hands in public without people looking at us weird!”

“but i- i don’t want to be with him! i want to be with all of you!”

“then don’t fucking laugh at his jokes, touch his biceps, compliment his fucking hair!”

“but- honey that’s all harmless-“

“you still don’t get it! you-"

the door opens once again, and this time it's momo's head that pops out. she frowns when she sees all of you, walking up, tilting her head in question.

sana huffs, "whatever. i'm not feeling like practice today. tell the instructors i'm sick please."

"wait sana-"

she turns on her heel and struts briskly away.

nayeon sighs in frustration, running a hand through her hair, "what is going on with her?" she mutters to herself.

you frown, the events of the day culminating, you wish nayeon could see where you were coming from, "she told you. i think it was pretty obvious." you didn't mean to sound so clipped, your tone just slipped out that way.

nayeon looks down at you, you were never one to talk back, you'd kept more of your emotions to yourself. "are you angry with me too then?"

"that's not it nayeon. look i don't want to fight. let's just go to practice."

you stand up, brushing past her, unable to look her in the eye. you can hear momo questioning nayeon behind you before you open the door to the practice room again, thinking over sana's words that left a heavy feeling in your stomach.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ⋅ᡣ𐭩 ་༘࿐

after practice, you and momo go and grab dinner while nayeon has to go to another vocal lesson.

momo's still blissfully unaware, talking about how the dance practice was and how much fun she had in such a big class with everybody. you listen to her ramble with a smile, not wanting to burst her bubble.

it's unavoidable when you go home later that night and find nayeon alone in your dorm, freshly showered and typing away at her phone.

momo skips in first, kissing nayeon and grabbing some clothes to shower into, heading into the bathroom right after.

nayeon looks at you then, putting her phone down, "hey."

"hi." you shrug off your bag, taking off your shoes.

"where's sana?"

"i thought she'd be home by now."

she frowns, "i haven't seen her since..."

you bite your lip, growing slightly concerned, "should we call her?"

"i don't know if she would pick up for me..."

"right..." you take out your phone, scrolling to sana's contact and pressing dial. it rings for a little, and just before you're about to give up, she picks up, giggly and breathy.

"y/n!! i miss you! what's up!"

you squint, there was a lot of background noise, "sana where are you?"

"out! i'm having fun!"

"where?"

"i don't really know but i'll be home soon! i promise! i love you!" she blows a kiss through the phone and then she hangs up.

you stare down at her contact picture, it was of her and a hamster plushie momo had won for her when you had gone on a date to the carnival. you had all agreed it looked like her and she had hated it because she thought you were saying her chubby cheeks were the resemblance point.

"is she okay?" nayeon speaks up again, barefaced with her thick glasses on.

"i think so. she sounded... she said she'd be home soon."

"oh."

"yeah."

it's oddly quiet, awkward. you start shuffling out of your day clothes, picking out pyjamas for your turn to shower after momo.

"are we okay?" nayeon breaks the silence suddenly, eyes seemingly even bigger behind her glasses. she fiddles with her fingers nervously.

you sigh, moving around the small room to clean up a little, if only to give your hands something to do, so you had an excuse not to look at her. "i don't know. i think sana's less okay than me."

"but you're still... not okay?"

"i feel silly. momo doesn't even feel anything about it. i wish i was the same. i know you'd never cheat on us or whatever, i just- it's still hard y'know? watching you be like that with him. like- you wouldn't want to see me all over another guy right?"

"but he doesn't mean anything to me. he's just- he's like my little brother."

"i know that's why i feel silly. i know realistically you'd never leave us for him. but it still hurts sometimes- like- like you're dangling the fact that you can in front of our faces."

she's quiet for a bit. you risk it to sneak a glance at her. she has her eyebrows furrowed, thinking.

you sigh again, moving forward and standing next to the bed. you place your hand on her head, then start running your fingers through her hair.

"i'm sorry. i don't want to be- i'm not trying to be clingy or jealous or whatever i just can't help it. i- i- i love you."

she looks up at you, surprised. your hands move down to cup her cheeks, smoothing out the skin, there.

you lean down, pressing your forehead against hers, breathing softly, closing your eyes, appreciating her presence. then, you move the extra inch to press your lips together, just slowly, softly, only for a second or two.

when you break away, she doesn't let you go, holding onto your wrist and tugging you down gently, asking you to hug her. and you oblige. kneeling on the bed, letting her wrap her arms around you, and place another kiss on the crown of your head.

"i love you too. i'm sorry i didn't- i wasn't aware of how it looked on the outside. i never- because he doesn't mean anything to me like that, i didn't think anything of it. i didn't realise you guys may have taken it differently. thank you for telling me."

you peck the side of her hand that's right next to your face, holding yours. "it's because you're a T isn't it?" you joke.

she chuckles behind you, "yeah and all my girlfriends are Fs. emotional losers."

"repressed freak."

she rolls her eyes, brings you in closer, "i love you."

"you said that already."

"i wanted you to know again."

"looks like our F is rubbing off on you."

she whines, "are you not going to say it back?"

you smile, "i love you too."

when momo comes out of her shower, she curls into bed immediately with you all, tired from her day and wanting no more than to sleep with her girlfriends. she hopes you've all made up and the fighting can stop tomorrow.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ⋅ᡣ𐭩 ་༘࿐

"did she come home last night?"

"it doesn't look like it."

"fuck she's not picking up her phone either."

"where could she be?"

"what are we going to tell the company?"

"she can't just have gone missing right?"

you're all stressing, nayeon's pacing around the room like she does when she's agitated, momo's trying to call sana's cell, and you're checking her socials and her friends to see if anyone knows where she is.

"what did she say when you called her again yesterday?"

"that she'd come home soon. there was a lot of background noise though, she said she didn't know where she was."

"you don't think she's in trouble right?"

"i don't know..."

"fuck! i never should've fought with her yesterday!"

"don't- no nayeon this isn't your fault at all don't blame yourself. we're going to find her." you step up, halting her pacing, grabbing her hands and squeezing.

she sighs, gritting her teeth, "fine. c'mon. let's go to class, we're late. maybe someone there has seen her.”

before she moves to leave, you cup her cheek, turning her back to you and kiss her in reassurance. she offers a smile when you break away, but it doesn't quite reach her eyes.

momo keeps trying sana's phone while you walk to the company building. by now, you were all relatively well known in the company, and the tension could be felt by newer trainees, they cleared the way as you walked past, not wanting to get caught up in anything.

you push open the door to the dance studio hurriedly, not in the mood for another scolding from the trainers.

but you freeze, spotting sana on the floor, stretching and getting ready.

"y/n? what's wrong?" momo tries peeking over your shoulder to see why you've stopped, and then she spots her as well.

"satang!"

sana looks up, there are obvious bags under her eyes, she's sluggish in her movements. momo pushes past you, dumping her bag down and rushing over.

"where were you?! we've been calling you all morning!"

sana squints, backing away from momo who was speaking too loud for her, "phone died."

"we were worried satang! why didn't you come home last night?" she says the last part in a whisper, not wanting to get sana in trouble with the watchful trainers.

you and nayeon have both entered now as well, nayeon stands behind you a little awkwardly, unsure of how to approach.

"i was out." sana says simply.

"but where?"

"doesn't matter. i'm here now right?"

"sana we were really worried." you speak up now, crouching down into a stretch.

she looks at you, her eyes are lifeless. "and now there's nothing to be worried about. i'm fine."

"what happened to you last night? you said you'd come home and then you didn't. where did you sleep? did you sleep? you look terrible."

she cringes, "gee thanks."

"you know i didn't mean it like that. what aren't you telling us?"

at that moment, bambam chooses to come over and greet you all.

"morning nayeon!"

nayeon is still focused on sana, frowning, but she greets him offhandedly anyway, "morning bam."

"what? no morning for us bambam?" sana speaks up with a teasing smile, it's anything but harmless.

"o-oh! sorry. good morning sana, momo, y/n." he bows to each of you.

"i get it. it's your crush on nayeonnie isn't it? she's so pretty right? and born to be an idol. i can see why you like her."

bambam sputters, completely unprepared, blushing bright red.

sana's smile is sinister.

"sana stop."

she looks at you innocently, blinking, "stop what? i'm not doing anything."

"sana!" behind you, mark suddenly appears, clapping bambam on the back. "last night was fun. you should invite your roomies next time! i'm sure bam would appreciate that wouldn't he?" mark elbows bambam with a snicker.

"oh i'm sure he would. i don't know though, i kinda liked it when it was just us y'know?" she sports a smirk, the one she uses when she wants sex.

mark blushes, muttering something and then dragging bambam away.

"what the fuck sana?" nayeon finally speaks up, glowering.

"what?" she blinks up.

"you were out with mark last night?"

"so what if i was?"

"we were fucking worried."

"and i told you i'm fine now. there was no reason to worry."

"we thought something bad could've happened."

"yeah well obviously nothing did right!? i don't get why you guys are so pressed. i just had a little fun, i needed it, and it was good for me."

"you mean he was good for you?"

"better for me than you were."

nayeon falters at that, hurt flashing across her face, "i'm sorry."

"what for?"

"i didn't listen to you yesterday."

sana shrugs, "it's fine. i get why you like it. i tried it. it's the attention right? it's nice to know someone else is in love with you."

"that's not- that's not what i was doing sana-"

"then what were you doing? you're with us right? so why are you flirting with other people? worried we won't last? backup options? attention?"

"sana- please- can we talk about this i don't-"

"we are talking about this."

"not here. alone."

"you ashamed of me?"

"no! sana what-"

"mark can hold my hand in public. he can kiss me in public. he can call me his."

nayeon clenches her fist, "does he?"

sana shrugs again, not bothering to answer, moving into another stretch. you can't believe her, what you're hearing, you've never seen her like this. never thought she could be like this. momo looks to be in shock too, sitting on her haunches, staring at sana with hurt written all over her face. sana ignores you all.

class starts.

you keep sana in the corner of your eye. she fools around with mark, teasing him, playfighting with him, and ignores the three of you completely. you try and understand where she's coming from, why she was purposely trying to hurt you. she just told you she loved you last night, this wasn't real. she was just doing this as her own personal form of revenge. she didn't mean any of this.

you had to keep telling yourself that.

as class ends, sana looks like she’s about to go out with mark again, but you quickly run out the door, tugging on her arm, “can we talk?”

her eyes soften when she realises it’s you, but she still looks unsure.

that is, until momo links her arm with yours, pleading with sana as well.

“alright.”

you quickly lead her into one of the empty recording studios, gesturing for nayeon to come follow before sana can change her mind. as soon as you’re all inside, you stand against the door, blocking any routes of escape.

sana scoffs when she sees nayeon enter the room as well, but with you in the way, there’s nowhere to run.

“what did you want to talk about?” her tone is cutting, she rubs in between her eyebrows, pushing out the tension there.

“you.”

“what about me?”

“how could you do that to us satang?”

sana sighs, glancing at momo, “you notice now momoring? how come you didn’t have an issue when it was nayeon?”

“w-what?”

“you knew bambam liked nayeon. why didn’t you have a problem when nayeon was hanging all over him?”

nayeon tries to protest but momo replies quickly, wide-eyed, “what do you mean? nayeon doesn’t like bambam though.”

“and i don’t like mark. so what’s the difference?”

“you went after him.” you interject.

“no i didn’t.”

“then how did you end up hanging out with him last night?”

“he saw me crying outside the company. he offered to listen and then to distract me afterwards. i had fun. he didn’t make me cry.”

“sana…” nayeon’s lower lip is wobbly.

“what?”

“…i’m sorry. for not listening to you. i should’ve given you a chance to explain yourself and understand where you were coming from.”

sana’s quiet for a bit, staring at nayeon, turning the words over in her head slowly. and then her own lip starts wobbling, throat constricting, tears welling up.

nayeon panics, “fuck- no i didn’t want to make you cry i didn’t- i’m sorry i made you cry the first time i didn’t- i’m sorry-“ she desperately wants to comfort her but she’s not sure if she can, still in an awkward sort of limbo.

sana closes it though, almost leaping into nayeon’s arms, burrowing her face into her neck and breathing out shakily, sniffling.

“…i’m sorry too. i knew what i was doing- i was being petty and stupid and jealous and i hurt all of you doing that.” she whispers into nayeon’s neck, but it’s quiet enough in the room that you can all hear her.

you breathe a sigh of relief, internal turmoil calmed for the moment. you walk forwards, wrapping your arms around the both of them, feeling momo do so as well on the other side.

“i don’t like him. i didn’t kiss or hold hands or do whatever else i said in there. i just- it really didn’t bother me before. that we had to keep this to ourselves. but then seeing nayeonnie with bambam acting so carefree and- and- everything, i just wished i could grab her and kiss her in front of him, so that everyone knew you were all mine, and that i’m all yours.”

“one day we’ll be able to sana. i promise. and i won’t- i’m not going to act like i’m not already spoken for anymore. i am all yours and i always will be.”

sana sniffles again, you’re close enough you can lean over nayeon’s shoulder and kiss her forehead.

“and i’m sorry for making you guys worry. my phone really did die though if that’s any solace.” she chuckles wetly.

“i have a portable!” momo quickly breaks away, running to her bag and pulling it out, handing it to sana with a proud smile.

sana returns it, thanking her and kissing her cheek, plugging in her phone.

“you were wrong about one thing you know.” nayeon speaks up again, the hint of a smile on her face.

sana stiffens, ready to argue again but not wanting to.

“korea is so homophobic that we can actually hold hands in public without people thinking we’re anything. we could probably get away with kissing on a few rare occasions too and people would still think we’re just really good friends. especially if we’re all kissing each other, they’ll just think we’re… all very friendly with each other and kiss as a sign of affection or something.”

sana laughs out loud, wiping away her tears with the back of her hand, “you’re right. i don’t necessarily have to hide how affectionate i am with you all.”

“and you’re very affectionate satang.”

sana rolls her eyes, hitting momo lightly. but then, her phone lights up, and she seems to read over something. she takes a few seconds, and then she’s blinking up, fresh tears in her eyes, launching forward into nayeon’s arms again.

nayeon grunts, catching her and squeezing back, “i take it you saw my message.”

“mmsorry- i lov- too.” her voice is muffled, but it’s obvious what she’s saying.

you don’t know what nayeon’s text said, and sana refuses to share with you afterwards, saying “nayeonnie’s words are for me only, tell her to do it again for you.” knowing nayeon hates expressing too much, which makes it all the more special to sana, but you’re just happy everything is okay between the four of you again.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ⋅ᡣ𐭩 ་༘࿐

there was something going on and everyone knew it. the rumoured survival show for a new debut group was apparently set to start filming soon. select trainees were being pulled out of practice and given the news, although they were instructed not to say anything about it in order to not cause discouragement amongst other trainees and to minimise media leakage.

your girlfriends had all been called up and informed that they would be participating. now you were all waiting in anticipation for your own name to be called out.

after the monthly trainee showcase, JYP himself comes to make the announcement.

"i'm sure you've all heard the rumours going around about the new group we're planning to debut. it's going to be televised nationally in a reality-type fashion, so even if you don't make it to the final lineup, making it onto the show itself will be a big deal already, getting your name out there for potential future plans. the name of this show will be..." he pauses for effect, "sixteen!"

there's thundering applause, but you can barely hear it, anticipating, praying he would be announcing the lineup and that your name would be there.

"it's sixteen for the chosen sixteen exemplary trainees that the staff have recognised and recommended. they will be competing for seven spots in this new group. all sixteen trainees have now been notified of their involvement, but if you haven't received any news, don't worry! i always have all of you in my mind, like god, your time will come! so please cheer on and support your fellow trainees in their journeys!"

did you hear that right? everyone chosen had been notified already? so you weren't chosen? you weren't good enough? all that training... all those hours slaving away... all those tears, doubts, connections you've lost, all for what?

you look around, other people are cheering, some are crying, some are in disbelief like you.

your feet move before you can think, pushing to the front of the crowd, grabbing JYP.

"sir- why- why didn't i make it?" you're desperate, huffing, on the verge of breakdown.

he looks you up and down, a frown appearing on his usually smiley face, "what was your name again?"

your heart sinks. he didn't even know your name.

and then a look of realisation comes across him, "oh! you're that girl that's always with nayeon, momo, and sana! you should be happy for them! they're all fantastic trainees, they'll make wonderful idols."

you blink, dumbfounded, mouth agape.

"b-but- i- what was it? was i not a good enough singer? dancer? am i not pretty enough?" you're grasping for straws, anything to help you cling on to the possibility of your dream.

he tilts his head, crossing his arms, "ah- you... perhaps it's because you're always with those three. you just don't... stand out. nayeon has natural star power, her voice is one of the strongest in the company. momo is the best dancer we have, probably one of the best dancers in your generation. and sana has a personality people gravitate towards, she can keep group morale up and maintain public image. let me ask you.. what do you have? because aside from being friends with genuinely talented people, you just seem... average."

your hand falls, head drooping, the words hitting you hard.

"don't take this too personal though! perhaps with them out of the way, you can really find your own light to shine now! i believe in you!" he smiles again, then he's off with a flourish, being guided away by busy assistants.

you stare after him in shock, a flashback of sorts playing through your head, of the hardships you've been through to get to this point, of the tears and sweat you've dripped, it was too much. you needed out.

again, your feet move before you have control over them. mind moving at miles a minute, body on autopilot.

you're back in you're dorm room before you know it, and then your suitcase is being pulled off the top bunk, laid on the floor, and you're stumbling around throwing things in haphazardly. you don't even register when the door opens and three sets of footsteps tread in, too focused on thinking about how to get out, whether you could get to the airport in time, what you would say to your parents, your family, the people standing at the door in surprise, watching you clumsily shove things into your suitcase.

"...y/n? what are you doing?"

you barely look at them to reply, voice light and distracted, "packing."

"where are you going?"

"home."

"what?"

you head into the bathroom, starting to pick off the things you needed, you could leave some things, not everything was going to fit anyway and some things you could throw away.

"y/n wait- stop- just wait-"

you ignore them, clattering makeup items falling out of order into toiletry bags.

"y/n!" it's nayeon, her hands gripping your wrists firmly, not too firm to hurt, but enough to get you to stop. you finally look up at them, the break allows you to really feel your emotions, tears welling up immediately.

"oh sweetheart." nayeon tugs you into a hug, running a hand through your hair comfortingly. you feel sana and momo surround you, placing their arms around you as well. the dams break open then, and you're sobbing into their arms, all of your emotions finally catching up.

you stay there for a few minutes, just crying it out, the girls hushing and soothing you, letting you babble nonsense and cry into their shoulders.

when you finally calm down, you're exhausted, slumping down into nayeon. she supports you immediately, and tries to peek at you from your position in her neck, but you refuse to look at her, your eyes puffy and nose red.

"do you want to talk about it?"

you shake your head.

"do you... still want to leave?"

you take a breath, unsure. "i don't know." you whisper honestly, "what do i have to do here if i stay?"

"you have us." sana says quietly.

you chuckle wetly, "you don't get it. you guys all made it. i'm never going to. i don't- i'm happy for you all i am but- my dream-"

"shhh- it's okay. we... we do get it my love. we were all on this journey together weren't we? we've all had thoughts we wouldn't make it. even nayeon." momo tries to lighten the mood a little.

"but- you've all made it now. i don't even- why would you still want to be with me? i'm not good enough. you all got through. i'm the only one who didn't. doesn't that- don't you think i'm just pathetic? how could you still like me?"

"what?! what are you talking about y/n?! we don't like you for your talent we're not some talent recruiters. we like you because you're you, you're sweet and funny and caring. i know it's hard because we're in this industry so it feels like we're all competing, but you can't- it's not like that for us. don't ever doubt our love for you again."

you sob quietly, emotions still a wreck.

"please don't leave. this doesn't mean anything. there will be other opportunities. your dream is still possible. we might not be able to debut all together like we always wanted to but- but you still have a chance y/n. don't give up on it."

you sigh, too tired to argue, letting them bring you to bed, giving you one of the coveted middle spoon spots and cuddling into you until you fell into a restless sleep.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ⋅ᡣ𐭩 ་༘࿐

the next few weeks are absolutely hectic. for your girlfriends. you spent most of your time moping around, giving only about 50% in all your classes, motivation completely shot. it didn't help that the three of them started spending a lot more time together, as is expected when they have to prepare filming for the same thing. often you'd find yourself coming home after a long day of practice, and find them giggling and laughing about things you have no idea about, sharing inside jokes and talking about things that happened during their day that you'd be too tired or jealous to ask about.

they tried to include you of course, but you couldn't bring yourself to join in.

internally, you felt terrible. you knew you should be proud, happy, enthusiastic that all three of them were in the process of having their dreams come true. they had worked harder than all of you, they certainly deserved this opportunity, and they deserved you to be in their corner, supporting them and loving them like any other partner would do in this situation.

but you couldn't do it. jyp's words continue to ping around your head like an endless pinball machine. how you had always been in their shadow, how he never saw your worth because of them. a small, petty part of you blamed them. you hated that part of yourself, tried to squash it down as much as you could. but sometimes when you're laid in between them at night, their light breaths deep in sleep, those thoughts come back, and you can't help but be envious of their position, wondering why them and not you.

naturally, you started drifting from them, especially when filming actually started.

they were moved out to different dorms during the filming, split into major and minor dorms so that the film crew could get some reality content. they still texted you often though, asking how your day was every night, they still made every effort to make it work. it was you who really started moving away when they were no longer physically there to remind you they loved you.

you'd cry most nights. cuddling into sheets that smelled like them, watching episodes of sixteen, wishing you were there with them. you missed them.

and then momo gets eliminated.

it's brutal. you're confused when she shuffles into your dorm room, hood over her head, dark circles under her eyes, still red from crying.

you had no idea what happened, the episode hadn't aired yet.

but your heart breaks seeing your girlfriend. you immediately squeeze her in your arms, she bursts into tears again, sobbing, clinging to you, unable to make any words.

she tells you later when you're curled up in bed, what happened and how she got eliminated. when she drifts off to bed, you stare at her sleeping face, now devoid of tears, she looked peaceful. and those sick thoughts come back.

you felt grateful she was eliminated. she was brought down to your level again. she was just another trainee now. it was terrible, but you had her again, you weren't going to lose her. you should've felt angry, sad, disappointed her dreams were just ripped away from her after getting so close. but you felt relieved instead. what a terrible person you were.

soon enough, it's the finals.

momo's dyed her hair a light blonde colour and cut bangs. you went with her and helped her pick it out the day after she came home. she needed a fresh start, needed to forget the pain it felt to be back at square 1.

now you stood with her in the crowd with the other eliminated trainees. you nod at them politely, but you have your hand tightly gripped with momo's anxiously looking up at the stage waiting for your other two girlfriends to appear. you hadn't seen them in months and you'd missed them.

momo had talked your ear off about everything that happened while she was on the show. updated you on everything. it felt nice, to be included again, to feel needed, wanted.

and momo wasn't shy about how supportive she was of nayeon and sana. constantly bringing them up during the day, wondering how they were doing, if they'd eaten yet, if they were getting enough sleep, hoping they weren't thinking about her getting eliminated too much, praying they'll both make the final group.

you agreed with her each time, but she made you feel like a terrible girlfriend. she was what you were meant to be when she was still on the show. you try and make up for it in the last few weeks, making signs and pasting pictures of nayeon and sana on posters, making some for both you and momo to bring to the finals. she grins and kisses you on the head when she sees them, saying how sweet you were, how considerate you were. you smile guiltily, knowing that was far from the truth.

finally, the lineup starts to be announced.

you spot sana on the majors side already, nayeon still on the minors side. you have your fingers crossed, anxiously watching, momo's hand is white from how hard she's gripping yours, just as anxious.

nayeon's name is announced first.

momo bursts into tears, smiling, crying. she's so proud. you are too. she made it. you always knew she would. im nayeon was born to be a star.

and then, after the first seven are confirmed, sana's spot also secured, jyp makes the surprise announcement. it was going to be a nine member group. he announces tzuyu first, as the fan favourite.

and then, momo's name is read out.

momo is in shock at first, but trainees around you start clapping her on the back, congratulating her, and she starts sobbing again, covering her face as the camera pans to her. you quickly let go of her hand, not wanting to arouse any suspicions. she tries and looks at you but she's pushed up on stage before she knows it.

you can see nayeon and sana in the back, crying, in shock as well.

you can't even listen to momo's speech.

you feel like you're the only person in the entire venue again. it was quiet. you were alone. again.

your feet start to move on autopilot again. dissociating.

you manage to slip through the crowd, back turned, not realising the girls were searching the crowd, looking for you. wanting to share one of the most important parts of their lives with you. you were too selfish to let them.

you're at the dorms again, the suitcase is out, already half-packed from the last time you'd thought about doing this. this time though, they wouldn't be able to stop you. there'd be an afterparty, you were sure, they'll probably expect to see you there, they won't. then they'll come home, worried, and find all your things gone. the only remnant of your existence, a letter placed carefully on the bed.

dear nayeon, momo, sana,

firstly, congratulations. if anyone deserved those spots, it was you three. you've all worked so hard to get here, and i'm so proud of you all. your dreams are coming true. everything you've ever thought was out of reach, is about to become reality. you deserve all the fame, money, love, everything, and i know it's going to come your way, because i fell for you too.

i'm sorry. i'm not who you thought i was. i'm not a good person. and you deserve to be with good people. i'm leaving. for good this time. i'm sorry that i chose tonight to do this, when you three should be on top of the world, in a way, it's my own sort of revenge i guess. selfishly making you feel a little of what i've felt the last few months. it's why i can't be with you anymore. i'll only bring you down more. i loved you all. i didn't want to start hating you for being better than me, i wanted to keep the memories of our love pure and joyful. if i stayed, i'd grow to despise you for having what i've wanted for all my life. i didn't want that. i'm a terrible person, i could never ask for your forgiveness, only that you forget about me. forget me and continue living your lives under the spotlight, don't let me drag you back into the shadows. don't try and find me.

i'm sorry.

when they try and call you, you'll be on the flight home, your phone unable to receive any of their messages. you throw away your phone as soon as you arrive, buying a new one and starting your new life.

they barely have time to chase after you. you'd be grateful for that. they're thrown straight into schedules and planning for their debut.

eventually, you become a distant memory for them, as they do for you.

when you're older, you'll find a box you sealed away, filled with pictures of the four of you, young and in love. you'll sit there, thumbing through them, crying, wondering how you could possibly have let them go. you'll think back to your actions, appalled at the person you were, hating the industry for pitting you against them, and then realising it was your fault the entire time. you were young, stupid, greedy, you thought your dream mattered more to you than the girls did. now that you’re older, you realise you were so wrong. the girls were your dream.

you'll buy a ticket for their concert while they’re on tour, and you'll quietly cry to yourself again, seeing them in person, grown up, smiling, singing, doing what they loved in front of crowds of people who loved them as much as they loved you all those years ago. you'll think about making yourself known to them, but you'd hurt them enough. they seemed happy now, you had no place intruding on that anymore.

you were just another stranger now. you have been for years. and you had no one to blame but yourself.

#namosa #samoyeon #twice x reader #nayeon x reader #momo x reader #sana x reader #twice nayeon x reader #twice momo x reader #twice sana x reader #sana #momo #nayeon #minatozaki sana #hirai momo #im nayeon #twice sana #twice momo #twice nayeon #dovveri

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missnxthingg · 7 months

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𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐄 - 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 - Lando Norris x Actress!Reader (Enemies to Lovers & Fake Dating AU) 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 - Lando Norris really messed up on the first time meeting one of Hollywood's newest and hottest stars, Y/N L/N. But when his reputation gets too bad, she might be the only one who can save his career from being completely doomed. 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 - 2.2K | 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 - Swearing 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 - My first Lando series! And this time, I promised to finish it all because it's been already mostly written. I was just in need for some cliché shit, and I just threw in some of my favourite tropes together. Hope you have as much fun reading it as I did as writing it!

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𝐎𝐍𝐄 - 𝐌𝐘 𝐑𝐄𝐏𝐔𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍'𝐒 𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐒𝐄

In a world of celebrities, reputation matters. It doesn’t matter if you’re a singer filling up stadiums, actors earning big awards or a famous race driver, how you are perceived by the public eye is extremely important for your career. Lando Norris knew that. Yet, he continues to fuck things up day after day. The nightclubs, the girls, and the lack of winning on the tracks weren’t doing him any good. It got to the point where it didn’t matter if he did good on the race, climbing from P13 to P2, because, in the end, all everyone talked about was how his personal life was getting in the way of his professional one.

“He’ll never get a win if he continues to party like a teenage boy”, said a comment on one of his Instagram posts.

His PR team wanted to pull their hairs, bending backwards trying to clean off his image and making everyone forget about all of those bad things. As much as Lando tried to keep everything very private, things get leaked when you’re a public person. No secret stays hidden for long, especially if you’re not trying too hard to keep it hidden. But there was an old trick under their sleeves that would probably work, although the McLaren golden boy wouldn’t be very trilled with their drastic decision.

“No fucking way”, he shot once the idea was put on the table during a meeting scheduled at the McLaren Technology Centre, where he was spending the weekend to discuss new strategies for next week’s race. “You realize what you’re asking me?”

“Lando, your reputation is completely fucked. We quite literally have nothing else we could do to clean up the mess”, one of the members of the team said. “And we know lying isn’t easy, but this doesn’t have to last forever. We promise that by the end of the year, you can put off this bullshit silently”.

“It’s not the idea that is bad. Is the person you assigned me to lie with”, he crossed his arms and looked away. The head of his team sighed, knowing it would be too hard to make him break and cave into their idea.

Fake dating has been a good old trick in the celebrity world for a very long time, and it almost always works out. When the team came up with the idea, it looked almost flawless. All he needed was a girlfriend, making him look all fluffy and cute for the media once again, making everyone forget about the life he had before. Of course, it would coast a lot of sacrifices for Lando. It would require quitting the DMs slidings and now his parties would all be accompanied by the same girl. He probably would’ve accepted it in the end. Unfortunately, his team did poorly on the choice of who he would be doing this with.

“We know that you and Y/N aren’t exactly best friends, but her PR agency is close to ours, so it was easy to make an agreement with her. Also, she’s quite literally the sweetest person in the world, and everyone on the internet loves her. She’s everything your reputation needs”.

Y/N Y/L/N is the newest actress to arrive in Hollywood. Last year, she made her debut as a supporting actress on a Netflix movie. But recently, she scored a leading role on an HBO show that had everyone obsessed over her. Everyone except Lando, who already had a bad encounter with her a year prior.

“I can prove them I’m serious on the tracks, doing my own job. I don’t need a girlfriend to do that”, he leaned back into his seat and crossed his arms.

“Lando, you know that your reputation is fucked. Everybody thinks you're childish and unserious about your job. We want to change that”, his manager stepped into the conversation, pulling his attention back.

“But why her? Why the person who hates me the most in this universe?”

“Because she’s the only one who accepted this challenge”.

Y/N was very good at her job, and she most definitely wouldn’t need any relationship to get to new places. But the publicity of dating a Formula 1 driver would be very good, since the sport is doing so good on social media. Hollywood is a game, and she’s just now learning how to play it.

Before he could even ask why she agreed into that idea, Y/N shyly opened the door, opening a small smile to everyone on the table. With his blood already boiling under his skin, Lando chuckled before getting up from the table to exit the room. He passed right through her, shoulder bumping into hers on his way out.

“I guess you already told him”, she sighed, resting her bag over a seat at the meeting table. Y/N looked at his PR agent, who she had a meeting a few days ago, and that shook her head, pointing out the disaster of a meeting they just had. “He didn’t like it at all, did he?”

“He’s not very pleased with the idea”.

“Of course”, she nodded. “I’ll talk to Norris”.

Y/N walked around the entire place, only to find Lando sitting alone in another meeting room, facing a window that had a view to the lake outside. As usual, it was a gray day in England, making the atmosphere even more heavy than he wished for it to be. Without saying a word, she sat next to him and he pretended she wasn’t there by not acknowledging her presence in the room.

“Are you really going to pretend I’m not here?”, Y/N broke the silence and Lando sighed.

“I don’t want to see you right now”, he admitted, making her roll her eyes. Could he be any more childish?

“Norris, I know it seems like the end of the world, but it’s not a big deal. We just have to pretend to be together for a while and have a quiet breakup by the end of the year”, she said, making him finally look at her. “It’s not that hard”.

“But it is, Y/N”, he grunted. “Do you know how does it feel to not be trusted? Not being trusted with your work and, most importantly, not being trusted with your actions as a human. They think that alone I cannot put out the negativity around my name”.

“It’s just for a few months. And after this is done, we won’t ever need to see each other again, you know?”, she said.

“You realize that we’re going to be together almost all the time through an entire year, right? Not to mention that we cannot be seeing with anyone else until this deal is done. It will drive both of us insane.”

“We have to make it work”, she shot, making Lando chuckle.

“Why, Y/N?”, he crossed his arms and frowned. “Why did you accept this propose?”

“The publicity is good”, she admitted. “And you know, acting is my passion, but people need to know my name, so I can climb my way up in this industry. I’ve been trying so hard to be successful, but no new roles are offered to me. If fake dating you is a way to go, then I’m doing it”.

“You hate me”, Lando stated, making Y/N roll her eyes once again.

“We hate each other”.

“No, YOU hate me. You’ve hated me since the very first time we met”, he said, making Y/N’s mouth fall agape.

“Well, I had a pretty damn good reason to hate you, didn’t I?”

The first time they met each other was at a gala event in Monaco. Lando was required to appear by his PR team, thinking that having him appearing looking pretty as all hell would be good publicity for him. The same thing happened for Y/N, who had just come out with her first big film and needed to be seen by the public eye. But unfortunately, their first encounter wasn’t what they would consider to be nice.

Her stylist chose a beautiful white dress designed by Oscar de la Renta, with feathers at the bottom, making the dress have movement and her look absolutely fantastic as she walked through that amazingly fancy party. But just as she was starting to enjoy the party, someone bumped into her, spilling their red whine all over her. Before she could say anything, the person that bumped into her spoke up.

“Watch where you’re going, doll”, he laughed after he collided with her body, passing his hand through his shirt, checking if there were any drops on his clothes. “You nearly spilt wine on my shirt”.

He was clearly very drunk, and anyone could see it in his eyes. But Y/N didn’t care. Her perfect and amazing dress was ruined, and the person who trashed it didn’t even fucking care. It made her want to burst into flames.

“You fucking idiot! Look what you’ve done!” Y/N cried, looking down at her dress, now painted pink with the splash of wine. When she looked up, Lando was laughing, mostly because he was so out of himself, that he just couldn’t filter whatever happened a few seconds ago. “Aren’t you going to apologize?”

“Sorry”, he said, but proceeded to burp right on her face. Then, the man laughed again. Without any power to continue arguing with him, Y/N left the event and went straight home, not wanting to face another second of that event.

But, it seemed like fate was against her. A week later, after spending some marvellous few days in Monaco, Y/N was invited to watch the Formula 1 Grand Prix by her team. And even though her weekend was going amazing so far, the whole thing went down the drain when she met the same man who ruined her dress a few days ago. Only this time, he wasn’t drunk and he was wearing a racing suit, getting all ready to perform at the track later that day.

“You have got to be fucking joking”, Y/N muttered, low enough so no one could listen to it. Soon, she felt an arm around her, making her turn around and meet her agent, Clara.

“I want you to meet Lando Norris. He’s part of our PR agency as well”, she said, making Y/N walk towards the driver, who was listening to music as the mechanics around him worked at the car.

Lando didn’t remember meeting Y/N on the gala. He had been so out of himself that night, with all the bad races he was coming from, that he did everything in his will to get out of that reality. So when a beautiful girl crossed paths with him and shot him an angry look, he didn’t understand what he did wrong to deserve such a hateful glance.

“You don’t remember me?” She frowned once they were introduced again. “Oh, alright. You were so shitfaced that you forgot that you spilt wine over me and didn’t bother to apologize on that gala in Monaco. And then, proceeded to burp right in my face”.

He just couldn’t contain himself, and he laughed once again with the story. “I’m so sorry, baby. But this is actually very funny, sorry”.

Laughing at her face again didn’t do much on making Lando earn points with Y/N. Instead, she proceeded to hate him and make it all crystal clear every time they met on future events. And unfortunately, it happened more times than they enjoyed. After all, having their publicity teams so close to each other, they were often assigned to attend the same events; all of them filled with banters and fights that led them into a lifetime of hatred for each other. Which led them to this very important decision to take.

“Are you actually willing to put everything between us aside for this stunt?”, Lando frowned, not understanding why she would accept that challenge. Y/N took a deep breath and her lips curved into a sad, weak smile.

“I am willing to do anything for my career, Lando. Even pretending to love you”, that was the first time she ever called him Lando since they met. That definitely caught his attention. It definitely made his heart soften.

He knew the feeling of caring so much about your dream to the point of doing anything required to be done in order to achieve it. And for a second, Lando found something that connected Y/N to him: their passion for their jobs. Suddenly, what used to be an angry and confused look, turned soft and understanding just with a few words.

“I’ll do it”, he said, making Y/N breath normally again in relief.

“Okay”, she got up from his seat. But before she could exit the room, Y/N turned around and laughed. “This isn’t going to work, right?”

“Probably not”, Lando laughed too. “But if you feel like this is worthy, I trust you”.

It was one of those rare moments where he would fail on hating Y/N. The moments where his human side spoke louder. And she saw it; this time genuinely smiling to him.

“Let’s do this, Norris”.

⋘ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 // 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 ⋙

⤳ 𝐚𝐝𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 - @celestialams @lizaschronicles @kapsylia @igotnorrrizz @hiireadstuff @bishhhitsaurion @mrsmaybank13 @bborra @sltwins @riccdannyf1 @kapsylia @67-angelofthelordme-67 @ctrlyomomma @lan4cha16 @alltoomaples @ellen3101 @hellyesjaehyun @tastebaldwin @sweate-r-weathe-r @carmenita122 @m0cha-bunny

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#lando norris #lando norris fanfic #lando norris fic #lando norris imagine #lando norris series #lando norris angst #lando norris fake dating #lando norris enemies to lovers #lando norris x you #lando norris x reader #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x actress!reader #ln4 #ln4 imagine #ln4 fic #ln4 x reader #f1 #formula 1 #formula 1 fanfic

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fanaticsnail · 9 months

Text

Chapter 1

Masterlist here, Mood Board here.

Sapsorrow Masterlist

Word Count: 6,020+

Song Accompaniment: La Petite fille de la mer

This is the first part to a multi-chaptered series. Thank you @feral-artistry for brainstorming with me and shepherding me into the right direction.

Themes: enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, forced proximity, lord and subordinate, one bed trope, apprehension, mutual pining, obligation, slow burn, eventual love, protective, "where is my wife" trope.

The cobblestone steps greeted your eyes with an iron and intimidating intensity, your future as uncertain as the words that were addressed to you regarding your newest undertaking. Two wards under the care of the Lord of Kuraigana were allegedly in dire need of training in the art of navigation as they began interacting with the upper classes. At risk of embarrassment, Lord Dracule Mihawk had humbled himself with his carefully and hastily composed words and sent them through to meet your eyes only.

Clasping firm the address within your fingertips, you reopened the rolled scroll to once again read over the words Dracule Mihawk had written to you. You smoothed over your formal title with the pads of your fingertips, reading the carefully crafted words beneath to ensure you did not misunderstand any minor detail:

“I hope this letter finds you well.

I will not dance around the issue at hand with formalities and fluttery words. I need use of your abilities as a trainer and governess.

Your resume speaks volumes, and your many debutants and young lords you have presented under your guiding hands have captured my attention with their attuned supremacy in handling all manner of circumstances. Although my wards are not of debutant age: both much older than the appropriate age of presentation, I find myself out of depths in training them to handle the upper class as fluidly as I know you are capable of doing so.

Two young adults: one young unrefined gentleman in need of carving down to size, and one young lady who I cannot donate my time to attune to her femininity.

I simply can’t - I cannot handle it. - Please can you – I need -

Should you desire to undertake such a challenge, I would humbly request – I expect you could – please find the disclosed location for my castle at Kuraigana.

To run the risk of sounding desperate, I once again reiterate: I need you, Governess.

I look forward to hearing your reply, and should you accept the position, I shall adjust wings accordingly for your stay along with discussing wages.

Kindest regards,

Lord Dracule Mihawk of Castle Kuraigana.”

Rereading his honest words, and smiling at his scratched and stricken notation, you began your ascension up the towering steps towards the large double doors of the keep. Having met the ex-warlord a handful of times at events held by the world government, you had never assumed he had paid heed to many of your accomplishments as a finishing instructor and governess to the upper class. Always professional, never swaying your gaze from your pupils and debutants under your watchful instruction, you could maybe recall a small amount of polite conversation between you and the Lord of Castle Kuraigana.

Again, you found yourself recollecting the handful of times you had spoken to the warlord in the past. He had always been professional, and you had always reciprocated in an appropriate manner to him.

“Governess,” a smooth voice addressed you at your right hand side. Unmoving your gaze from the young gentleman you had been training for the past eleven months, you smiled and nodded your head in acknowledgement.

“Warlord,” you addressed him in return. Your pupil had finally worked up the courage to ask a young lady to dance, an action prompting you to sigh in both pride and relief.

“One of yours?” He asked, his voice quirking up at the end in question. Although it was deemed impolite to disregard a member of the upper class, you could not tear your eyes away from your young student as he was following the proper mannerisms of courtship. He extended his right hand, bowing politely to the young woman as she accepted by placing her gloved fingertips within his own.

“Indeed,” you drew out your response, cocking your head to the side to follow your pupil with your gaze more thoroughly. Your student began effortlessly twirling the young lady on the dance floor; swaying her to the melody performed by the stringed quartet. The twin violins began to swell, the viola accompanying their melody with harmony while the cello droned the bass notes effortlessly.

“He’s doing quite well,” he complimented with a polite expression within his tone, “I offer my praises to your abilities.”

“They always do,” you replied with a small smile tickling left hand side of your lips, “and thank you for your kind words, Lord Dracule.” Mihawk hummed in response, holding firm his yellow gaze affixed to your young pupil as he spun the debutant within his arms.

Both you and the warlord at your side allowed several moments to pass between you as you witnessed the successful maneuver of carefully articulated dance moves to be initiated by your student.

“Do you dance, Governess?” he asked you with a lazy air of curiosity about him.

“I have an array of many talents at my disposal, Warlord,” your smile broadened, “musicality, linguistics, formal ceremonies, and dance are a few skills I can call on from time to time. However,” you finally allowed yourself to look away from your pupil to focus on the awaiting gaze of the man beside you, “I find myself relishing in the propel of my students rather than to chase the thrill for myself.”

“Indeed,” he nodded, bringing his right hand to clasp the tip of his broad hat within his thumb and index finger, “until the next soiree, Governess.”

“Warlord,” you crossed your right leg behind your left, your toes curling beneath your foot as you bent in a low stooped curtsey. Your eyes shut politely before you rose, dragging your toes against the floor to brandish at your side and turning your back to the gentleman.

Stalking the perimeter of the dance floor, you once again found your pupil: he attempting to engage with the young lady’s chaperone to indicate his intentions of courtship. Another blissful sigh of the night fell from your parted lips, brimming with glee at another successful pupil finding a potential partner within the upper class. Unaware to the two amber eyes honing over your figure, you continued to fix your gaze on the young man, smiling further as he bowed lowly to take his leave and join once more with you.

Drawing the back of your knuckles upwards and rapping politely from the door, you stepped back and smoothed over the front of your formal governess attire. Hearing clangs, clashes and heavy laden footsteps falling in a thud towards the door, your eyes finally met with the warm, hazelnut gaze of a tall man with moss-coloured hair littering his scalp in an array of tussles.

“The fuck do you want-,” he began, halting as soon as a pale palm and slender fingers grasped his cream-coloured shirt and thrust him inside. Hastily closing the door behind him and stepping out into the foyer lay the towering form of the broody warlord who wrote to you.

“Governess,” he addressed you, sucking in an exasperated breath through his teeth. You took in the gentleman falling from the doorframe. His intimidating and intense aura was tainted with a slight amount of dishevelment.

“Warl-,” you halted your words, recognising his relinquishment of his prior status with a small quirk of your chin, “force of habit,” you smiled at him, lacing your fingers behind your back before correcting yourself, “my lord.”

“I will not hold it against you. It takes some adjustment,” he nodded. You bowed your head in a polite curtsey before again raising your gaze to beam against your new employer.

“Your latest protégé, I assume,” you nodded your head towards the door, eyes beaming with a small air of teasing.

“My latest project. As you can see,” he, himself, nodded his head towards the recently shut door, “his manners and language are of the highest priority.”

You hummed in response, looking over your latest recruiter with an intense and examining gaze. He took the opportunity to straighten his attire, rotating his shoulders back to adjust his posture upright and rigid, as was how you had come to acknowledge his stature through your prior interactions.

“Your letter-,” you began, halted by the palm of Mihawk’s hand presenting itself before your eyes.

“-I apologize for my hastily written words. I should have thought about them further before sending for you,” he commented, cutting off your sentence with a bored and dismissive tone. You clenched your jaw, displeased by his silencing of your words. Humming and straightening your own posture, you began looking up at him with a challenging intensity.

“I agree, my lord. Before you interrupted my words,” you coughed to release a small amount of agitation from your throat. “you currently have two wards in your care?” He roughly sucked in an air through his nose, shutting his eyes to rid himself of his own abrasive emotions. He reopened them, his pupils immediately narrowing in on your own.

“Yes,” he gruffly confirmed, his agitation not hidden by his rough words.

“And you require my help with rearing them?” you asked once more, stepping towards his towering form. He again inhaled very slowly to calm the simmer of his anger rising upwards.

“Yes,” he hissed from clenched teeth, again confirming his need for you. You smiled softly at him before turning your gaze towards the door once more.

“How wonderful,” you commented, stooping to reclaim your bags from the doorstep as Mihawk held his honeyed-gaze on your form, “I simply can’t wait to get started.”

“I would not be so eager, if I were you,” he reprimanded, reaching behind him to clasp the handle to reopen the door.

The ornate hall was decorated from the top of the roof floating all the way to the join against the floor with intricately painted designs. Angelic silhouettes or seraphim and cherubim floated at the highest point of the design, painted clouds parting to reveal the radiant beams of sunlight warming their drawn smiles. This was not a sight you foresaw, judging from the dark and gloomy halls and wings of Castle Kuraigana in the many rooms prior.

No. This room was special. Something truly holy and sacred to contain the vast accumulation of wealth displayed on the ornate, glass shelves and carved marble. Gemstones glittering with colors of the darkest of reds to the pastel hue of a magical and mossy green lay perfectly cataloged along the benches. The golds, silvers, coppers and platinum bands and bangles reflected the light beaming from the stained glass with drawn back, velvety curtains showcasing their majesty.

You should not be here.

Those were the words that you thought as your right arm lay laced within your pink-haired debutant pupil as she guided you throughout the beautiful halls, with your green-haired ‘gentleman in training’ lay sculking behind you with his left hand clutching the neck of a brown-stained beer bottle. You couldn’t hear a word she was uttering through her enthusiastic lips, no doubt informing you of the different historical properties and peculiarities lord Dracule Mihawk managed to procure over his time with piracy, and purchases he made under his former title as Warlord of the Seas. You were simply awestruck by the different paintings, musical instruments and finery fabrics that lay embroidering the perimeter of the room with their carefully attuned presence.

“And this one,” Perona’s voice shook you from your trance as she escorted you to the center of the room, “This one is my favorite. I don’t know exactly why he’s put it on the cushion, but I enjoy trying it on from time to time.”

You drew your gaze to the plush, deep emerald cushion. Laying in the center of the plush object lay a small circlet of gold, the central piece being a smoked piece of moss agate with the green floating across the circular stone. Compared to the other pieces, this one appeared to be of far lesser value in its make and mastery.

Perona pulled you towards the pillar the cushion was sitting comfortably atop, a wide grin pulling at her lips to beautifully decorate her cheeks. Unlacing her arm from within your own, she reached up to take the small ring within her slender fingertips; rolling it over in her palms before trying it on each of her fingers. The band easily slid off each of her long fingers, a small giggle falling from her parted lips as she did so.

“Zoro,” she elevated her tone in addressing her peer, “Come over here, you try it.”

“I’d rather not,” he grunted, raising the beer to his lips and taking a swig.

“And I’d rather you refrained from drinking alcohol so early in the day, young man,” you chastised him, gesturing to the glass bottle clutched tightly in his hands. His brows furrowed in a deep frown at your words. Making unblinking eye contact with you, he raised the tip of the bottle to his lips and hurriedly gulped down the yeasty brew to relinquish its presence within the container.

“I don’t have to do what you tell me, Governess. I neither need you, nor do I want you,” he spat in a gruff grunt, walking over to your place beside the cushion and taking the gold circlet from his peer’s hands. Unable to get the object over the first bended knuckle of his thumb, he tried three of his fingers with similar resistance while continuing to hold his frown against his brow.

“There’s no way this thing is getting on my-,” he halted his words as the ring slipped over his secondary knuckle on his smallest finger; immediately lodging the small band atop it. Looking between you both, eyes now widening with a small air of panic, his words struggled to flee from his lips.

“I-It’s stuck,” he gasped, gulping back his stress within his throat, “I-I can’t get it off. Help,” he quickly darted his eyes between you both, looking down at his swelling pinky finger and back up, “don’t just stand there! Do something!”

Perona, immediately sensing Zoro’s panic, lunged towards him and began pulling and tugging at his fingers. Zoro yelped as the young woman almost dislocated his finger under her strain.

“For fucks sake, Perona! Stop!” Zoro yelped with his voice, cradling his left hand within his right and soothing over the back of his knuckles, “Governess, you do it!”

You shook your head, a small sigh falling from your lips as you slowly drew yourself closer to the towering form of the unrefined swordsman. Clearly Mihawk was telling the truth in your abilities as a trainer and governess being of use to sculpt his wards into shape.

“I thought you didn’t need a governess, Zoro,” you kept a stern air with your voice, presenting your right palm upwards as a gesture to collect his left within it.

“I don’t,” he spat with a small tremble in his tone, immediately placing his swelling hand within your gentle grasp. You smiled and carefully inspected the digit with your examining gaze and the gentle and featherlight touches of your fingertips.

“Clearly,” you jabbed back at him, allowing your touch to attempt to rotate the band circling his pinky finger. The ring had a large amount of resistance, unable to move the object under your gentle touch. You sighed, reaching into your pocket to trace over a variety of hidden objects within your collection. Small scissors, a single bobbin, safety pins, and spools of cotton string jangled around in your pocket as you finally collected the object you were searching for. Drawing it up, you rolled it over beneath the pads of your thumb and index finger and revealed the length of the dark, satin ribbon to Zoro.

“I need to lace this around your finger to tighten the swell,” you said, following through with the action as you informed him, “and should all things go according to plan, I will be able to-,” you heard an echoed footbeat click against the hall outside the large door. All three of your eyes widened as the calculated thump drew nearer and nearer to the treasury door.

“Get to it, then!” Zoro’s harsh whisper commanded you, prompting you to continue tightening the ribbon over his finger. As the area compressed, the ring began moving back over his knuckle and slowly drawing its way down to his fingertip. This is not how you imagined your introduction to the two wards to go, but something you should have prepared for regardless.

Clearly Dracule Mihawk was not exaggerating your overzealousness in commencing your undertaking so hastily. The thumps fell silent as the crescendo of the steps fell in front of the large door. The shadow beneath the wooden frame halted its movement, a small rotation of the handle began to hasten your movements and increase the motion of your hearts rapidity.

Finally, the object was unceremoniously flung from Zoro’s fingertip and rang in a bell-like jingle against the polished marble floor.

“Pick it up, pick it up, pick it up,” Perona hastily whispered her commands to you with a frantic air to her words.

As the door flung open, you backed your way towards the object with your eyes holding firmly against the darkened silhouette. Stooping low and quickly finding the object, you hastily drew back up to your prior, formal posture and held your hands fastened behind your back. Zoro immediately drew himself between you and Perona, his form attempting to shield the velvet pillow from showcasing its bare surface to his mentor.

As your eyes met with the amber, calculated stare of the former warlord in front of you, all thoughts of sense fled from your mind. You immediately slipped the circlet onto the third finger of your left hand, holding it secured for safe-keeping. You were hoping to wait until his back once again turned for you to place it back on its comfortable position atop the dark, green cushion. But alas, not all things go according to plan.

“What are the three of you doing in the treasury?” his eyes narrowed, examining the three of you with a harsh and calculating gaze before immediately drawing his body closer in. He shoved the swordsman out of the way of the pillow, his eyes widening as his sights were met with nothing than the material of the plush pillow.

“W-Where,” he began, coughing slightly to rid himself of his panic, immediately looking to Perona, “where is the ring? Where did you put it, Perona?”

Before the pink-haired ward could answer and was unwilling to wait for you to offer an explanation, Zoro spoke up.

“She wanted to see it,” Zoro nudged his head to your form and laced his arms over his broad chest. You snapped your eyes over to the green-haired swordsman, clenching your teeth hard in anger at his words behind your thinned lips. You drew your eyes back to the lord of Kuraigana as he immediately sought out your forearm and harshly yanked it from its place laced behind your back.

“What are you-,” you began, immediately halting your words within your throat as you witnessed all of the pale color draining from Dracule Mihawk’s face as his expression changed from panic to absolute terror behind his amber eyes. You sucked in a stifled breath as he immediately clutched at your fingertips with both of his hands. He gasped, bringing his eyes over the gold circlet firmly placed effortlessly over your wedding-ring finger.

“N-No,” he stifled out, gently thumbing over the gemstone placed on your finger beneath his firm hands. As his hands clutched yours within his, you could almost feel them trembling beneath your own, “Why would you-, how could-, why would you put it on.”

“I-It was an accident,” Perona’s voice squeaked from beside Zoro, prompting your eyes to look at her in panic.

“You accidentally found yourself within the halls of the treasury?” Mihawk hissed at her, prompting her to cower behind Zoro. A pregnant pause fell between the four of you within the room, tension arising in a swell so suffocating you could tangibly feel it throughout the room.

“I can remove it,” you offered in a small voice, drawing up your right hand and gently placing it over Mihawk’s knuckles. He drew his eyes from their place holding against the ring to your two orbs. A small softness threatened to peak through his intensity, before he sighed and furrowed his brows.

“We are well past that now,” he sighed, removing his hands from their place clutching yours. He moved his neck in a small rotation, relieving the tension with a small ‘click’. He sighed once more, pinching his brows between his thumb and index finger and drawing himself away from the three of you. His boots began rhythmically falling against the floor as he paced from side to side.

“I’m assuming you do not understand the significance of such an object?” He uttered, drawing his eyes against yours once more. You gently shook your head, furrowing your brows at his words.

“All of us had one,” he spoke up, “the warlords and higher ups within the world government. I’m surprised at you, Governess.” Immediate realization hit you in the face with the intensity of a cannonball. You immediately drew up your right hand again to take off the small circlet from your finger.

“If I’d have known-,” you began, stopping only as you felt Mihawk’s hands atop your own to halt your movements.

“-As I said,” he again informed you, “we’re well past that.”

“Will one of you spit it out to clue us in?” Zoro’s gruff voice called to you both, “we’re in the dark here.” You let a shaken breath release from your lips as you looked down to your finger. The beautiful circlet of terror was truly an amazing piece, albeit not as spectacular as the other pieces within the treasury.

“These rings were made specifically to hold a particular covenant,” you uttered darkly, shutting your eyes, “none were the same. Each attuned specifically to the individual who purchased or claimed it.” You shook your head and drew your hand back from within Mihawk’s.

“Why would you have such a thing, my lord?” you asked him, not drawing your eyes back up from its place affixed to the floor, “You do not seem the type to desire marriage or courtship.” Both Perona and Zoro’s jaws fell slack, looking between each other before falling their widening eyes back to their mentor and lord.

“Which is precisely why I commissioned such a piece,” he commented, turning his back away from you and his two wards, “I will write to the appropriate channels to inform them of such an event.”

“I hardly see that as necessary,” you replied while drawing up your right hand to tug at the item attached to your left ring-finger.

“You placed it on your hand,” Mihawk informed you, gesturing to the object attuned to your flesh, “and now, unfortunately, we must bear the consequences of such an idiodic undertaking.”

You sucked in another hissed breath through your teeth, your tongue placed against the back of your top two teeth. Never had you so much as thought about marriage, opting to remain forever in your solitude in training the upper class to begin their courtships with poise and elegance. You were content with working your way through singledom: first achieving the status of Spinster and well on your way to becoming a Thornback or Doomwitch, you had never considered marriage a prospect for yourself.

But this gemstone encrusted within a finely tuned band of promise held a different fate for you. This hand of horrors now held your fate clutched entirely within its circlet of destiny. What this ring was intended for, and was now holding you completely to complete its obligation, was for you now to join with the owner in holy matrimony. Whom shall ever place the ring on your joining finger, and have it fit perfectly beneath its band with no need for alteration, would find themselves committed to wedding the owner of such a prize.

You felt your eyes beginning to sting with a foreign sense of hopelessness as you gazed upon the mighty band atop your ring finger.

“I will simply cut off the finger,” you declared, a rise of destiny swelling your chest alongside its solid intentions.

“It matters not,” Mihawk declared, refusing to turn to look at you, “the sign has already been addressed. We are to wed and, unfortunately, there is nothing either of us can do about it.”

“And if I refuse?” you quirked your head to the side, affixing your eyes to the band on your ring finger once more. Mihawk halted his pacing, looking over his shoulder at you through his peripheral vision.

“You know very well that neither you, nor I, can halt the ribbons of destiny,” he spat in an agitated breath. He was enraged, his thoughts and actions eclipsed with a fury he had not felt in a long time. You sighed, shaking hands drawing themselves down in front of you as you stepped closer to the former warlord before you.

“Fine,” you spat, rotating your shoulders back and affixing your posture to the most rigid state you could make it.

“Fine?” Mihawk questioned, turning to face you once more at his spot firmly placed beneath the door of the treasury. You immediately flung yourself into a trade of impossible circumstances to complete, one thought outrageously eclipsing the other with its demands.

“I require three things in order for us to wed, former warlord of the seas,” you uttered in a low and serious tone. Drawing up the finger containing the moss agate ring, you placed it on your bottom lip to ensure the cursed item did not miss a single syllable of your demands.

“To wed, I require three items,” you narrowed your eyes and lowered your forehead to the floor. Glancing up at the World’s Greatest Swordsman, he ushered you to enlist your demands before the ring. Grasping at straws, you decided to list three impossible items that dawned on your mind, carelessly spitting them out as they dawned on you.

“For the ceremony; I require a dress that is as radiant as the moon. A dress that glows with a hue so majestic, it eclipses all else with its mastery,” you declared, drawing your irises up to meet the honey-hue of the man who was entrusted to fulfill such an obscure demand.

“And what of the other two, Governess?” he spat in a serious and low tone. Refusing to shy away from such a verbal challenge, you declared another outrageous demand.

“For the reception,” you quirked your head to the side, stepping yourself closer to his towing form, “I require a dress so magnificent, the stars are envious of its sparkling vibrancy. Deep and darkened material accompanied by dust and orbs of glimmering starlight is what I require.”

Refusing to draw down the ring from your lip, you drew yourself uncomfortably close to the lord of Kuraigana and maintained a serious air of propositional eye contact.

“And the final demand?” He questioned, looking to your bottom lip lying flush against the cursed stone wrapped around your second littlest finger on your left hand. You took a moment to collect your thoughts, looking down at the piece clutched firmly against your finger. You sucked in a final, shaken breath through your teeth and parted your lips to release it from your chest with your last request.

“Sunlight,” you uttered quietly, drawing your eyes up to meet with the intense, narrowed gaze of the swordsman before you, “I require a dress that meets the intensity of the sun with its rays of gold and copper. An accumulation of material so outrageously forbidden, it be intended for your eyes alone with its intended purpose. A dress so scantily designed,” you stepped closer in proximity to the man before you, glaring up at him beneath his feathered hat, “that you will find none to ever match its equal in both color and provocative appearance. This be the final demand I ask of you, my lord.”

He sucked in a winced breath through his teeth and snarled at you.

“You ask me to meet three impossible circumstances for me to ever claim you as my bride?” He hissed, stepping closer into you. You felt his intense breaths exiting from his nose onto your face as he continued to snarl at you.

“Yes,” you nodded in confirmation. In your logic, if he was never able to meet those three impossible tasks - you would both get what you desired. Living forever in a dance of singledom, honing in to master your respective industries.

“A dress akin to the glow of the moon,” he confirmed with a curt nod, “another that is as radiant as the stars that litter the night sky.” Stepping closer again to you, drawing the ring away from your bottom lip to claim within both of his hands.

“And-,” he found the final demand catching within his throat. Watching the bob of his Adams apple brought you a sense of glee you did not intend of feeling on the first day you were invited to grace the presence of the castle; as you were initially hired to undertake the training of his two wards.

He uttered in a low tone, barely above a whisper; “lingerie that is as vibrant as the sun, cascading over your body with such radiancy that all those unintended to look upon it will shy away from its beauty.”

It was your turn now to click your neck under a graceful maneuver of rotating your chin. Extending your right hand out to him in a gentle and firm gesture, you confirmed his relay with a few words.

“Bring me such items,” you declared as he drew his hands up to meet with your own, “and we shall marry on the morrow the final demand is met.”

Clutching your right hand within his own right, he drew up his left hand to encase itself around it. Stooping in a low bow, he brought his face closer to your non-encompassed right hand and pressed his lips against the back of your knuckles with a chaste kiss; solidifying his promise to you with an utterance of confirmation.

“We will marry on the morrow.”

As he withdrew his face from your hand, you felt obliged to affix your gaze onto his retreating form. Relinquishing his hold on your hand, he looked to his two wards at his side and uttered a reprimand to scold the two of them.

“Do not think I will ever forget such a betrayal,” he hissed at both Perona and Zoro, swiftly falling his heavy feet against the polished marble towards the exit, “and you-,” You felt your heart rate quicken under his firm chastise, baring your unwavering gaze into his yellowed orbs. He sighed, taking a moment to collect himself before uttering a swift command; “get back to work.”

“Yes, sir,” you clicked your heels together and bowed lowly to the lord of Kuraigana, shutting your eyes to avoid his gaze as the great lord exited the treasury. The loud thump of your heartbeat echoed within the chasms of your hollowed chest, finality of the situation dawning on you.

You were now fixed to marry the former warlord of the seas. The World’s Greatest Swordsman. The never swaying gaze, the ever sought after bachelor of the four corners of the ocean. Something you had never desired; marriage.

After taking a small moment to collect yourself, you turned to face both of the two wards falling within your care. You narrowed your eyes at Zoro, finding a small bead of sweat falling from his temple to drag itself down to his chin. Wordlessly. You drew your eyes over to Perona, watching as she gulped a dry mouthful of breath down into her throat.

“I hope you’re both well pleased with yourselves,” you monotonously informed them, relishing in the slump of their shoulders beneath your chastised words. Stepping forward, you reached your right hand over to Zoro’s, claiming the neck of the brown-stained beer bottle beneath your nimble fingers.

“You will now heed my every word.” you scolded him, drawing up your left hand to collect Zoro’s chin and elevate it for his hazelnut irises to meet your furious gaze. His breath halted in his throat as he was met with your complete ferocity and intensity.

“My word is now law,” your tone continued to hold its low and serious air. Relinquishing your hold on Zoro’s chin, you stepped over to Perona and ensured her eyes would follow you, “Is that understood, pupils?”

Both of them enthusiastically nodded, prompting you to draw your thumb and index finger to your brow, pinching it below the pads of your fingers.

“When I address you,” you warned them, relinquishing your hold on your brow, “You will respond with ‘Yes, my lady’. Is that understood?”

“Yes, my lady,” they both spat out with haste, almost allowing a small stifled chuckle to find anchor within your throat, you hastily stifled it within your chest with a small, curt cough.

“Good, pupils,” you praised them, turning to the door and walking swiftly over to it, “now, the real work begins.”

As Mihawk shut the iron-barred, wooden door behind him, he allowed himself to have a small emotional outburst as soon as he heard the ‘click’ of the hinges. The lingering warmth against his hands, the illusionary touch of your skin still pressed against his palms and fingertips continued to propel his fury onward.

Why were you in the treasury? What possessed you to ever reach for such an item? Was it fate, or something else entirely?

These words flooded the brain of the dark-haired former warlord as his brows creased in the center with a rage he had not felt in some time. His lips curled back to bare his pearled teeth in a snarl, your demands echoing throughout his mind. He knew without a doubt you were challenging the curse carefully integrated into the moss agate ring.

Were you aware that if he did not complete the challenge, he would die? Absolutely not.

After taking a moment to collect himself, he drew in a final baited breath and began listing the items you had demanded one final time.

“A dress with the glowing hue of the moon, a dress littered with orbs akin to starlight, and-,’ his verbal list halted in his throat as he felt a warmth rise to taint his cheeks with a reddening glow, “-lingerie as forbidden as a kiss from the sun.”

He rotated his shoulders back to rid himself of the swelling tension from behind his new undertaking. Immediately, he began propelling himself closer to his personal wing with a sense of purpose now falling onto him.

“If I am to take a bride,’ he uttered to himself, allowing a small breath of anger to escape from his lips, “she will want for nothing.” He, again, began calculating the price, location and availability of fabrics, seamstresses and designers from all corners of the seas.

Once reaching his office, he stalked over to his desk and unceremoniously plonked himself into the studded, red armchair behind it. His elbows placed firmly against the desk, he cradled his forehead within his palms and allowed a shaken sigh to fall from his parted lips. After collecting himself, he withdrew a large amount of parchment paper and collected an inkpad and quill from his desk drawer. Beginning immediately with his undertaking, he was immediately seeking out the three impossible items.

Reaching up his right hand and shutting his amber-hued irises, he ran his fingertips over his bottom lip as he recollected the smoothed back of your knuckles he caressed with them moments prior. Sighing out a shaken breath, he reopened his eyes and glanced at the parchment paper.

Chapter 2

“I will not fail you, my lady,” he uttered to himself, scratching his quill against the parchment with flourish.

Tag List:

@writingmysanity @gingernut1314 @since-im-already-here

#one piece #opla #opla fic #one piece live action #x reader #mihawk #mihawk x reader #dracule mihawk #dracule mihawk x reader #sapsorrow

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604to647 · 5 months

Text

Barón Tovar Takes a Wife

First Movement (Adagio sostenuto)

5.5K / Bridgerton AU Regency!Pero Tovar x fem!reader, a childhood best friends to lovers story

Summary: About to make your society debut and enter London's marriage mart, you don't expect an old friend whom you haven't seen in over 10 years to make a surprise appearance at the first ball of the season.

Warnings: None! Fluff! B, C, D, E, F Bridgerton make appearances. It's me so there's a cute nickname (won't spoil). The masterlist includes a few words about how this reader insert is written - essentially, no reader description other than having hair and wearing dresses in the style of this era, reader has a backstory; much of this part is exposition (so maybe a little slow but we'll get there!😊)

A/N: My plan is to post the entire series before Season 3 of Bridgerton airs, because the story is intended to take place in the background of the same season and if things don't make sense after the show comes out then oh well 🤭 I'm also only 2/3 of the way through Julia Quinn's books, so please forgive me if some of my characterizations of the Bridgertons are not wholly correct 🙏🏻

Wonderful Bridgerton inspired dividers by @saradika-graphics 🥰

Series Masterlist

The Duchess of Hastings stands behind you, admiring the reflection in the mirror of the two of you together, “I dare say, if you had debuted with me during my season, there is a good chance that I may not have been the Diamond.”

“Oh, shush, your Grace,” you make a funny face at her in the mirror, to which she laughs and pokes you in the ribs, “Don’t you start with this ‘Your Grace’ business with me.”

That Daphne Bridgerton is your dearest and oldest friend in England is something you consider to be one of the great fortunes of your life, of which, as the daughter of a Count, you have many. Violet Bridgerton and your mother, the Countess, had been dear friends and as such, much of your early childhood in England had been spent at Bridgerton House, running around with not only the same aged Daphne, but her elder and younger siblings as well. The Bridgertons are one of the most beloved families of the ton, their good natured and spirited personalities recommending themselves to everyone, and accordingly, your memories of when your two families would gather remain some of the most joyous of your childhood.

Sadly, your dear mother passed away from illness when you were only seven years of age and your beloved father, who loved her more than life itself, could not bear to stay in England much without her. The Count was one of several nobles charged with governance of Her Majesty’s Royal Naval Fleet; a gentle man, his purview was primarily diplomatic (as opposed to militaristic) and he thus travelled widely, often and always for long periods of time.

Though he did not wish to remain where so many of his memories dwelled, the Count could not bear to leave his only child behind, and consequently, you had joined your father on his travels. He proudly raised a cheerful, spirited daughter who loved the seas and adventure as much as she did reading and music. Your father found that exposing you to and requiring you to immerse yourself in so many foreign cultures at a young age led you to be the most sympathetic and kind hearted child, one who others found easy to converse with and befriend on account of your good humoured nature and open minded heart. Unencumbered by the rigid etiquette requirements (and dress code!) of British high society, you happily embraced many freedoms that other young ladies of your age and breeding did not have the opportunity to enjoy. Your father taught you much about the ships and business of the naval fleet, subjects to which you took a great interest; to this day, you know your way around most ships better than some sailors. The Count was especially proud of your affinity for diplomacy, understanding the importance of fairness and tough negotiation both in foreign matters and managing fleets. You loved all of it – spending countless hours pouring over maps and letters of diplomatic matters with your father and absorbing all you could; as you got older, you took great pride in the way your father would sometimes seek your opinion and advice on business matters and delighting when he would praise you on your ideas.

While he was unorthodox, your father could not be accused of being neglectful; he would not forgo your formal and societal education, knowing that one day, you would have to return to live in England. Hiring only the most adventurous and brave governesses to accompany your travels, the Count ensured that your literary, numerical, musical and artistic accomplishments and pursuits could rival those of your peers back home. You learned to dance the dances of grand balls, though you had only the few foreign dignitary hosted events to practice. Your only other occasion to practice came when you would return for your infrequent visits to England, reuniting with your beloved Bridgertons to spend nearly all your time catching up and laughing with Daphne and her siblings, and take in what you could of British society before once again being swept away on another ship. Though brief, these reunions with your friends, coupled with your frequent letters were enough to ensure your friendships remained strong and cherished over the years.

Two years ago, Daphne had made her societal debut, meeting and marrying her love, the Duke, during the marriage season and you could not have been more delighted for your friend. That season should have also been your debut season, except that you and your father were in the Far East and would not have been able to complete the Count’s business and return in time. Since you had postponed one year, what was two? If you had your way, you would have made it three, not eager to give up the life of travel and leisure that you’ve grown accustomed to. However, when the Queen wrote to ask why the daughter of one of her esteemed Counts has not yet been presented, both you and your father had to regretfully concede that your life as a carefree sea farer was over.

And thus, you find yourself in your present circumstance: in a luxurious silk gown the colour of swan feathers, wearing what might actually be swan feathers in your hair, about to be presented to the Queen before embarking on your first social season. To be honest, you’re not terribly nervous, save for whatever nerves one always has whenever attempting something new, and you have good reasons not to be.

The first being that you are in the very capable hands of your great friend, the Duchess. The now Dowager Viscountess had promised your mother that when the time for your debut came, it would be the Bridgerton family’s honour to sponsor you. If anything, you felt that the honour was all yours – not only were you to have the support and backing of one of the most respected and revered families during your season, you would also be blessed with their company. As fortune would have it, due to the timing of your debut, Violet had prepared herself to take on the duty of presenting not one but two girls: yourself and her third eldest daughter, Francesca.

Fearing it was far too much work and pressure, you had assured Violet, whom you loved as a second mother, that she need not fret too much over you; you’re a woman of twenty-three with more world experience than most men twice your age, and encouraged her to focus her attentions on her own daughter. Violet had been aghast at the implication that she didn’t think of you as one of her daughters, and you were about to be on the receiving end of a scolding that only a mother could dispense when Daphne came to your rescue. As the Duchess of Hastings, she herself had the right to present young ladies at court, and she declared herself delighted to be your patroness this season. This was decidedly a win-win; not only could Violet concentrate on Francesca’s prospects, you could now look forward to spending the season with your dear friend by your side.

The second reason you’re not overly anxious is that despite being older than most of the girls debuting at the same time, you know you have plenty to recommend you to potential suitors. No, you are not terribly conceited nor do you hold your own attributes in such high esteem, but rather, very practically, you know most suitors will not let a small thing such as age deter them from the handsome fortune your father has bestowed upon you.

The Count was forever exasperated with the shortcomings of the laws of inheritance and how they prevented his one child from inheriting his estate, but he made up for it the best he could with the legal avenues available to him. First, he set aside a healthy dowry for you, so that you would be sure to attract a similarly healthy crop of high society gentlemen from which to choose a husband. Second, via his will, you would be provided for for the remainder of your life with a generous per annum allowance that rivaled the income of many estates; you were to want for nothing even if you never married.

And finally, known only to a select few, your father had a vast investment in an international fleet separate from the naval fleet of the queen; a beloved exploration and trade business venture that was the Count’s passion project - you and him spending many enjoyable hours pouring over the plans and movements of this fleet. The dividends from your father’s shares went directly into a trust of which you (and any future children of yours) are the sole beneficiary, though the capital had to be held by a man. It was the Count’s thinking that in addition to the income, it was only fair that you benefitted from a venture that you had invested much of your own heart and time into. Naturally, being a part of your father’s estate, this investment could be passed down to the next Count (a distant relative), but your father had other plans. If the intended recipient was willing, you father wanted to sell his shares to his future son-in-law, allowing for the dividends to continue flowing to you and so that you may remain close to the business via your husband’s involvement.

In other words, there are plenty of reasons that potential suitors who might otherwise be dismissive of your age and lack of societal presence, may find you attractive (the least of which were probably your charm and wit); you can afford to be choosy and you fully intend to be. And while you’re not quite so hopeful to wish for a great love like that of your parents, or even Daphne and her beloved Simon, you dearly wish for a husband that will understand and respect you; one who will celebrate you for your mind, experience, opinions and all the reasons why you’re different due to having grown up the way you did.

Daphne seems to have high hopes that there will be many potential suitors who will live up to your expectations. You’re less confident than she, but still more optimistic than not.

Flopping yourself down on the chaise next to Eloise, the two of you heave heavy sighs in unison. After the nerve-racking presentation to the queen earlier this week, the following days have been a non-stop flurry of ribbons, fittings, etiquette lessons and teas with the express purpose of study in the who’s who of the ton. In just a few hours, all of Violet and Daphne’s hard work and preparations will be put on display when your contingent attends the first event of the season: the Danbury Ball.

Eloise passes a box of candy to you and you select a treat gratefully. Though Daphne is your closest friend, you’ve sometimes found yourself having a fair amount in common with Eloise and know her to be a trustworthy confidant; this is one of those times. While you don’t think you have it in you to hate anything as much as Eloise despises the marriage mart, the both of you at least have the good fortune of being able to be picky with your suitors and moreover, wish to exercise that particular privilege. For Eloise, marriage is a cage. For you, it’s the not marriage itself, but a union with an imprudent match that you wish to avoid. If you can no longer be free to sail the seas and wander through the valleys and streets of the foreign lands that call your name, you must insist that the home you’re being called home to roost is at the very least, pleasant.

“I beg of you,” murmurs Eloise, “Please let all the fashionable young men fill up your dance card so that there shall be none left for me.”

You steal another piece of candy, “I’m afraid there’s more than enough young men to go around, El. Plus, you really ought to beseech Franny for your request, my dance card may struggle for applicants on account of me being such an old maid,” you giggle.

“None of that negativity now,” chimes in Daphne from the open door, “tonight is full of possibilities.”

During the season, you’re staying at Bridgerton House so to be close to all the finery of dresses, jewels, shoes, ladies’ maids and moral support that you may need. Your father is staying nearby in another house on Grosvenor Square, and comes by most days to see his daughter and dear family friends for breakfast at the very least. You have loved your life with your father, but at times like these, when you are laughing at and listening to the loving snipes and bickering of the Bridgerton siblings, you often wonder what it would have been like to have a more traditional upbringing. Pushing that thought out of your mind, you stand and pull Eloise up with you so that the two of you can follow the Duchess to the next room where you’re expected to choose from the glittering selection of dresses laid out for tonight.

As you lean towards selecting a pretty lavender gown, Daphne fills you in on the processional arrangements for your entrances tonight, “Mama, Franny, Anthony and Kate will take the first carriage, then you, Eloise and I will follow in the second. We will enter the ball in that order as well.”

“What about Colin and Ben?”

“They’re meeting with some friend from Colin’s travels whom he met in… I want to say Greece? They will make their own way and meet us at the ball.” You nod agreeably; as long as everyone is together at some point or another, your first season event will feel a lot less daunting.

---

As you walk into the Danbury estate, you cannot but feel a bit overwhelmed by all the elegance and glamour on display. Though no stranger to luxury and finer things, it’s not very often that you find yourself amidst so much opulence. Eyes shining as you take in the finery, your voice is full of excitement and genuine awe as you compliment Lady Danbury and thank her for hosting tonight’s soiree. Hand clasped tight in Daphne and Eloise’s as you make your way down the main hall to the ballroom, you see Colin further down on the right side of the hallway, waving alongside Benedict. Waiting by the wall with the Bridgerton brothers is a third gentleman, tall and broad shouldered with soft, curly brown hair who currently has his back to you; Colin has on a mischievous grin and he’s speaking to the stranger quietly, eyes flitting back to you and his sisters periodically as you approach. This can’t be good, you think with suspicion. When you’re a few steps away from meeting with the brothers, Colin gives the stranger a slight nod and he turns around; before you even have a chance to look upon the newcomer’s face, you hear a familiar sweet baritone voice say, “Hello, Dulce.”

At first, you’re in shock; the Spanish word for candy is not a nickname people commonly call you and it’s one you haven’t heard in over ten years. Then joy of recognition and realization overtake you and you completely forget where you are, crying out, “Pero!!!” Your arms behave of their own accord and fly open to wrap around his neck as you launch yourself into the handsome man’s arms.

He hugs you back firmly and whispers low in your ear, “Happy to see you, too” before releasing you, the both of you immediately stepping apart and drop your hands to your sides, remembering where you are and that the eyes of the ton are always watching. But you can’t help but beam; nor can you look away from Pero’s face.

Pero Tovar had been your most constant and beloved friend for many of your happiest childhood years spent abroad. Pero’s father, a Barón of Spain, was in charge of naval governance for his country in a similar capacity as your father was for England and accordingly, their paths crossed regularly in foreign countries. Both men of gentlemanly dispositions, the Count and the Barón had forged a deep and lasting friendship as they conducted their business. Another thing that they had bonded over was the fact that they were both widows who uncharacteristically chose to bring and raise their children with them on their travels.

So, although Pero is eight years your elder and already in his early teens when you first met, being the only two children of sea loving foreign diplomats in the strange lands you found yourselves in readily recommended you to each other and you had become happy and frequent playmates. Pero devoted hours and hours to your amusement, allowing himself to play more juvenile games of pretend that he may not otherwise with compatriots of his own age, and with his encouragement you grew to be brave and curious, always wishing to keep up with the older boy. He helped you with your studies, and you played music for him, learning and mastering the pieces he enjoyed the most. The two of you shared a love of literature and it became your special version of a traditional hunt in each new country you landed in to find foreign language versions of the other’s favourite books so that you could read the translations alongside your worn English copies. Some of the most cherished copies of your favourite books, ones you carry with you from country to country still, were gifts from Pero.

As you got older, your shared adventures expanded to include exploring the streets of new cities, trying local cuisines and frolicking on the beaches of the coasts of Italy, Portugal and even India. The last time you had seen him, he was a strapping young man of twenty and you had been twelve. His father was returning to Spain for an undetermined amount of time to deal with affairs of his estate, and Pero would be entering university, having postponed his acceptance for two years already. Although you had each promised to write, the letters were far and few between and eventually you lost track of Pero – you can hardly blame either of you; you were travelling with your father and not always easy to find, and you didn’t really expect a young man concentrating on his studies to have the time to write to a young girl despite having been her very best friend for so many years.

But now he’s standing right in front of you and you can hardly believe your eyes. He’s impossibly tall and wide, a far cry from the lanky boy with whom you scrambled over rocks on the beaches of Portugal, but he’s still tanned, leading you to surmise that he must still sail or at least get a healthy amount of sun regularly. And while his face is older, devastatingly handsome with a cutting jawline partially hidden by untamed facial scruff, he’s completely recognizable to you. An easy clue is the scar that runs from above his left eyebrow down past his eye, though faded from when you saw it last, but it’s the indulgent smile he’s giving you right now that gives him away to you.

“What are you doing at this ball? Did you know I would be here?” you can’t help but continue to stare at Pero wide-eyed, grinning like a fool.

“Oh! We made the connection earlier this week at dinner,” chimes in Colin, “We were going to bring him over to the house but thought this would be more fun.”

You make to swat at Colin’s arm. “How did you meet this scoundrel?” you jest, with absolutely no malice in your voice, pointing your thumb at the still laughing Bridgerton brother. As your group starts to move towards the ballroom, Pero falls into an easy step by your side, “We met when Colin was taking in the crisp sea air of Mykonos, and then again last year in the vineyards of Tuscany. He made for excellent company after a long day of helping the locals prune grape vines. Naturally, when I arrived in London for business this month, I had to look him up.”

Daphne is now tugging you towards the ballroom by your hand, and in turn, you’ve grabbed onto and are practically dragging Eloise down the hall with you. You shout back to Pero, “I want to hear everything!” and can’t help the smile that spreads across your excited face when he nods after you.

“Oh!” you breathe, invigorated from the surprise of seeing Pero, as you come to a stop right before the entrance way. Daphne smiles over at you, “It was so hard keeping it a secret from you!”

You’re astonished, “You knew about Pero as well?”

“Yes, I thought it might give you an additional boost of confidence to have another friend’s support during your first event.”

You smile at your sweet friend and squeeze her hand affectionately, “Thank you! It does and I’m delighted to see Pero again. But in truth, my confidence could never be lacking when I have a friend like you next to me.”

Daphne gives you her biggest smile and squeezes your hand right back. A moment later, the three of you step into the ballroom and meet the gazes of the other attendees as you’re announced.

---

The ball is a whirlwind. It seems you hardly have a moment to even catch your breath, never mind catch up with Pero. From the moment you walked in to the grand hall, you were pulled in this direction and then that, introduced to new person after new person, some of whose names were familiar from your visits home over the years, and others only from the copious amounts of study you’ve done on the ton over the past week. You’ve certainly forgotten all their names by now.

Then it’s dance after dance after dance with the young gentleman that Daphne parades in front of you. The dancing itself is quite pleasant and a lovely way to shake out some of your jitters, but you find the small talk hardly enough to get to know your partners, and when the dance is over and you’re once again being whisked away to another introduction or meeting that the Duchess has lined up for you. The few opportunities you’ve had to take a breather and indulge in a glass of lemonade, you’ve been happy to retreat back to Pero and your small familiar group; but just when you’ve started to entreat your old friend to open up about his adventures since you saw him last, another potential suitor will be introduced and the entire cycle starts over again.

It’s only when you’re halfway through the evening that the frenzy has died down enough that you can observe and be amused by Pero’s behaviour at the ball. While you’re constantly twirling around the dancefloor, you notice that he never leaves his position against the wall and doesn’t dance at all; he mainly scowls and looks displeased, hardly speaking to anyone other than the Bridgertons or you when you have a free moment. You feel his eyes follow you as you glide across the dance floor with the young men that have asked you to dance, and even when you’re making your way through the room on Daphne’s arm, meeting and making small talk with the other families of the ton. When you do happen to look up and search for him, you often find him glowering and looking dissatisfied, though if you catch his eye, his expression will soften slightly.

Once while you were dancing with Lord Whitfield, you had caught Pero’s eye mid-turn and made a silly quizzical face at him, as if to ask What’s going on with you? and you think you see him laugh briefly before the steps of the dance require you to turn away from him. You wonder why frowns so fearsomely and if there’s a reason for him to be so stoic and curt with the rest of the ton. It’s so odd to you as you’ve never had so much as a cross word from him in all the time you’ve known him, not even when you had snuck out of the compound in Singapore when you were nine so you could watch the fireworks display. Pero had come looking for you, his face serious and eyes panicked when he finally found you in the busy square, but he never once got mad. Instead, he swore not to tell your father, and promised that if you had wanted to see the fireworks up close, he would accompany you. And then he did just that the next night and the night after that. But here, when not engaging the company of his friends, Pero’s countenance is positively sour. Any hopes harboured by the mamas of the ton for snagging a Spanish nobility son-in-law this season are quickly dashed. Barón Tovar is decidedly not here to find a wife.

With the evening more than half over, you realize that unless you make the point to do so, an opportunity to speak more than a few minutes with Pero will surely not present itself. And while you are having fun meeting potential suitors, your mind consistently wanders to Pero throughout the evening. Aside from simply wishing to catch up with him and be in his comforting presence, you do have something important you feel compelled to speak to him on.

After a particularly spirited quadrille, you curtsey your gratitude for the dance to Mr. Sedgewick, and before any of the young men you spy hovering nearby can approach you, you hurry as elegantly as you can toward where Pero is standing awkwardly pressed to the wall.

Pero, having seen the look of determination on your face when seeking him out, asks with concern when you come up to him, “Is everything okay, Dulce?”

There he is, you smile when you see the kind, gentle expression of the boy that you knew for so many years, “Everything is fine, Pero. Although I must admit to needing a respite from all the endless socializing. Do you think we could get some lemonade?”

“Of course. I would be happy to accompany you in fetching a glass.”

With Pero by your side, any person who previously had designs on engaging you during this brief break between dances now thinks better of it; you chuckle to yourself as his fearsome expression comically paves a clear path for you to the refreshments table. Once having secured your drink, you ask Pero if you can speak to him privately.

Careful not to lead you from view of other people lest it incite a scandal, Pero finds a quiet place in the entrance hallway and turns to find you looking up at him rather seriously.

When you’re certain you have his attention, you launch into your confession, “Pero, please allow me to tell you how sorry I was to hear of your father’s passing. I remember him as such a kind, generous man, and such a wonderful friend to my father and by extension, me. I will always think of him with tremendous fondness.”

“Thank you, Dulce. I know he thought very highly of both you and your father and forever treasured your friendships.”

But you’re not done and start to shake your head, eyes filling with tears, “And I’m so very sorry that I did not write to you at the time. I didn't know where you were, but I should have been more diligent in my efforts to find you. I deeply regret not being there for you if you needed someone. I hope you were not alone during that difficult time.”

You hang your head in shame. Pero feels a deep affection for you blossoming in his chest; before him is the same sweet and compassionate girl he knew when he was a boy. Tender-hearted and endlessly considerate of the feelings of others, you always had more empathy than you knew what to do with; he himself had been on the receiving end of your care and concern more times than he could count. Pero gently tips you chin up with his gloved finger, “It was a tough time and I miss him a great deal. But he was an incredible man and I strive to follow the example he set for me everyday. So, in many ways, he is still with me. No need for any apologies.” He gives you what he hopes is a soft and reassuring smile.

In return, you grin, “Who are you and what have you done with my friend? The boy I knew would have made me pay dearly for even the slightest offense - my portion of dessert for a week, at the very least.”

Unable to hold back his own grin, Pero is finding it easy to slip back into this familiar type of playful banter with you, “Well, I was trying to be a gentleman, but since you think me nothing more than a brute, I shall have no trouble devising an appropriate punishment. For your transgression against me, I demand… a dance.”

You laugh whole-heartedly and it feels wonderful to laugh loudly at something genuinely funny rather than the quiet polite laughter you’ve been making most of the evening. “A dance? Well, that is hardly a concession for me! One dance with you means one less spot on my dance card for some lord I don’t know but who Daphne thinks I might find charming,” you joke.

“Are you finding your potential suitors so far to be villains or are they all just very boring?” smirks Pero.

Giving him a little punch in the arm to show him you’re not really complaining, “I am not so terribly unfeeling. They are for the most part fine enough gentlemen. The particular circumstance we find ourselves in just makes them so very eager. It can feel terribly awkward.”

“None of them are good enough for you anyway.”

“Oh, and you are?” you jest, eyes full of mirth.

“Dulce, I’m the worst of the bunch,” counters Pero, leaning in close.

“I don’t doubt it,” you haven’t smiled this wide all evening.

“Be that as it may, the price you must pay to regain my favour remains the same. Shall we?” Pero holds out his arm, waiting for you to accept his dance invitation; you hold on to him gratefully and head back into the main ballroom, realizing this is the first dance of the ball that you’ve truly looked forward to.

When Pero takes his place across from you, the tittering from the crowd that the Barón has finally taken to the dance floor can be heard over the opening notes of the music. You can’t help but giggle, and Pero beams back at you – your light laughter more melodic than any music he’s ever heard.

Hand firmly curling around your waist, Pero sways you to the beat and the two of you carry out the steps of the dance comfortably together. You hadn’t realized how much stress you’ve been under or how much tension you’ve been holding in until now, when you find yourself actually relaxing in Pero’s strong hold. For the first time this evening, you’re dancing without nerves or the pressure of having to make polite conversation or a good first impression; you can simply be. You sigh in contentment.

“What is it, Dulce? Are my dance skills not to the standard set by your other partners this evening?”

“Hardly,” you chuckle, “I know for a fact that you dance remarkably well. And if I were to have any complaints, the blame would rest squarely on my shoulders since we learned these dances together.”

“That’s true, we can only be as good as the partners we practice with.”

“Exactly. At least that’s what Madam used to say, right before she would rap you on your shoulders with her rhythm baton,” you muse, nostalgic.

“That weapon had a name? I have not thought of Madam for many years now, but upon my word if I did not straighten up and stiffen my arms just now.”

You share another chortle as only two close friends with a long history of fond memories and inside jokes between them can. When you sigh again, Pero cocks his scarred eyebrow at you.

“Do not think me dissatisfied, my Lord. It is simply just so comfortable dancing with you, as if it has not been over ten years since we last did so.”

“I feel the same way, Dulce.”

You smile sincerely at Pero; although you could explain yourself further, you somehow know that he understands your meaning without you having to do so. Feeling content, both heart and mood light in the safety of Pero’s closed frame, you find yourself wishing that you could spend the rest of the ball dancing with only him.

I've never done a tag list before so please let me know if it doesn't work, or you don't/do want to be on it, or it sets your phone on fire 😅 @drewharrisonwriter @inept-the-magnificent @tuquoquebrute @titabel

#pero tovar #regency!pero tovar #pero tovar fic #pero tovar fanfiction #bridgerton au #pero tovar x you #pero tovar x f!reader #pero tovar x reader #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #no y/n

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bella-goths-wife · 6 months

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I wasn't sure initially but after reading them all I must admit I've enjoyed your Yandre Vs x pet posts and love Velvette in particular. Can you do something similar but just for Velvette? Either Yandre, she owns your soul or just an obsessive girlfriend (general neutral reader).

Yandere girlfriend velvette

Warnings: obsessive behaviour but not as bad as pet series, reader is an objectively bad person but in a the devil wears Prada way, ooc velvette?

This isn’t canon to the pet series and is a completely different au! So reader is not pet and is treated significantly better

First of all, you’d have to be something special for velvette to treat you as an equal, let alone develop a romantic relationship with

And you were definitely something special

You were a fashionista demon who died in the 2000s, but your death would not stop you from building an empire

You created unique clothing pieces that blended the fun and freeness of the previous generations with a fresh Y2K style

Think monster high outfits, your outfits held darker and lighter tones blended together which incorporated different cultures from all over the world

You also had a unique ability that helped you with this, you had the ability to put your emotions into the clothing you’d handcrafted

Literally, so if you made a scarf while feeling sad, whoever wore the scarf would then feel sad for however long they wore the scarf

This made your brand unique and gave you an edge that stood out from the other companies

You started out on market stalls but eventually you gained investors and expanded into a company that even had hell’s celebrity’s wearing your clothes

Stolas had commissioned you to make Octavia’s debut dress, veroskia had asked you to create her entire wardrobe for her tour around the hells rings and even the Lilith was photographed wearing one of your dresses

You had officially built your fashion empire that you’d always dreamed about and you even owned your own tower

This unfortunately meant that you couldn’t keep up with demand and handcraft each clothing item and would have to expand the workforce and hire skilful factory workers

This meant that your ability to put your emotions into the clothing wouldn’t work, so you made a limited edition line out every year with one new clothing item coming out every month

Each outfit would have a theme that connected with the emotions, so you’d do a rouge rage or a cerulean calm

You’d sell these to the highest bidder and would quickly become your top earning products with brawls happening at the bidding wars

But your company being successful only made your bad personality traits worse as you became more demanding and perfectionist to your staff in a way that made you a bad person but in a devil wears prada way that had the newer generations of demons calling you an icon

You had an attitude very similar to velvettes, only with the skills and the maturity to carry it

Velvette hated watching you grow your empire so much that it almost rivalled hers in popularity and income

She hated that you’d practically done it all by yourself while she had relied on Vox financially and he only did that because of his interest In her abilities with social media

She hated that she actually liked your clothing and she hated that your ability made you stand out

But she hated most of all that you two had come to hell within months of each other, yet you were a respected ceo and overlord while she was seen as a joke by overlords and parts of the fashion community

She also hated how insanely pretty you were, but she didn’t come to terms with that until later

She would try and do anything to discredit you and make it so your popularity would go down when you were neck and neck

She tried ‘exposing’ you on social media for having poor working conditions and being rude to workers but she forgot this is hell and literally no one cares

She tried slandering you and your clothing brand on social media, but she forgot your modern and you know how to use social media to your advantage too

You kinda turned into a meme similar to the Wendy’s twitter memes whenever you clapped back at velvette

She tried to pull your investors by threatening them with voxtech legal action, but you’d become self sustaining and could handle the loss with having hells celebrities commissioning your personal pieces

She tried to make you look foolish in front of the other overlords, but they all respected you much more than they respected her

She even tried to copy one of your designs but you called her out and she had to do one of those influencer apology videos but it mostly just consisted of her badmouthing you and justifying her actions

Her hatred bored on obsession with how regularly she stalked your profiles and life

After around ten years of this rivalry, you grew bored with it and you were running out of ideas

So you contacted the Vs and sat down in a meeting with them where you suggested a collaboration of the fashion designers on your terms

Velvette wanted to laugh and cry at the same time, but Vox insist that it would be extremely profitable and practically forcing velvette to accept

So you started a collaboration

You and velvette butted heads a lot or some stylistic choices

It was so bad that eventually you couldn’t be in a room together for a few weeks

This collaboration took months, and during this time velvette got to hate you up close as she got to know every annoying detail about you

Except that hatred changed to something different over the months she worked with you, you intrigued her in a way that no one else has ever before

It all came to a stop one night when you two had gone out to a club together for social media promo for the upcoming collab

You shared drinks and complaints about one another and one thing led to another and you two had a drunken make out session in the back of the limo

But velvette hauled ass as soon as she realised she was swapping spit with her arch nemesis

She laid in bed and thought about her actions

Could all of those years of feeling hatred and jealousy towards you just been her suppressed attraction to you?

Could all those tense moments she assumed was awkward tension actually been sexual tension?

The thought made velvette want to scream into a pillow

She pushed her feelings down and decided to just avoid you until the collab was over

She thought it would be easier to hate you rather than face her obvious attraction to you

You tried talking with her many times during the collab but she just ignored you, and this hurt you deeply

So you complied with her wishes and after the collab ended you went back to living your lives without each other

But velvette found herself missing you and being around you

Staff especially noticed that she was much harsher to them then before

She felt herself wanting to reach out to you to beg you to either kiss her or reject her because surely rejection would be easier to deal with than this

But it all changed when rumours started circulating

Velvette had been innocently scrolling through social media until she came across a drama channel that claimed to have spotted you in a romantic moment with none other than veroskia mayday

Velvette found herself consumed with absolute disgust and jealousy

She stalked yours and veroskia’s profile and begged Vox to use his hypnosis to send trolls to verkoskia’s profile

The rumours were cleared up after you made a response that claimed that you and veroskia were only friends, but velvette still felt consumed with rage

She did something completely out of character

She went to you at your place of work and cornered you in your office before confessing every little feeling she’d ever had for you

She practically begged you to be with her, but you just sighed and explained that she had hurt you with her actions and that you couldn’t see yourself in a relationship with her

“It would hurt the brands” is what you also said, and that cut velvette deeper than any knife

She had felt pathetic, and she’d never feel pathetic in any relationship

Even before she had gotten to know you, your instant rise to success left her feeling small

You held power over her, and maybe that’s why she was so obsessed and attracted to you

She’d felt surrounded by people who were less than her all her life, and falling for you felt like finally finding an equal

And she wasn’t going to let you go that easily

She’d destroy you and your company if it meant that you’d love and rely on her

Hope you guys enjoyed and let me know if you want me to make this another series

Tag list:

None yet, let me know if you wanna be tagged in future works like this for this if it becomes a series :)

#hazbin hotel velvette #hazbin hotel vees #yandere hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #yandere velvette x reader #hazbin velvette #velvette x reader #yandere x reader #yandere

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vivwritesfics · 11 months

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Keep On Rolling - MV1

Chapter Six

Summary: Lando's best friend having feelings for anyone on the grid? Impossible, right? She worked with them, sharing her friendship with the grid with the world via the FormulaY/N youtube channel.

After film a video including... spicy water (alcohol), everything changes between her and a certain world champion. Good thing she hasn't had a crush on him since his F1 debut, right?

Right?

1.9K words

Series Masterlist

A/N: I've actually had the best day (and it's only midday)! Did a couple of hours of studying, completing one of my essays, went to the outlet shop and found my perfect pair of cargos (my friends all look for xs so I feel bad when we go retail therapying, but I went alone and I'm so happy)

Silverstone. Lando's home race. Y/N couldn't wait. Ever since she was a little girl, Silverstone had been one of her favourites. When they were kids, Y/N's father had taken her and Lando to Silverstone. It was the first race Y/N had ever attended, and the race that let Y/N fall in love with Formula One.

It had been a full month since Y/N had last spoken to the current world champion. Y/N didn't know why Max wasn't speaking to her. Or answering her text messages. He'd been missing out of Y/N's life completely for the last month.

For once, Y/N had nothing special planned for Silverstone. Just a simple Q and A video.

Y/N missed the Friday free practice. Where she'd usually be there to watch Lando and the rest of her friends (namely Charles), but, this time, she was at home with her family.

British families had some weird traditions and Y/N's family was no exception. Every Sunday in the winter months they ate a huge roast dinner and every Sunday in the summer was reserved for having a barbeque.

With a job like Y/N's, she didn't much get to see her family. She was always away at the grand prix or the city hosting them. Her family missed her, sure, but they knew she was living her dream. So, whenever she was home, Y/N made sure to visit them.

Y/N sat at the dining table, checking her phone. Nothing from Lando, nothing from Charles, nothing from Danny. Nothing from... Max.

That was the most upsetting thing. Y/N hadn't spoken to Max in so long. She didn't realise she'd miss him until he disappeared. There had been a couple of times where she'd text him, but he'd only read it, not respond. Y/N was getting desperate. Desperate to hear from him, but they weren't in a place where she could beg. Right?

"Dinner!" Y/N's mother shouted as she and her brother ran in the dishes. Chicken, potatoes, sprouts, carrots, parsnips and more. Y/N's mother always went above and beyond with roast dinner. It was a whole performance for her.

Y/N allowed her mother to plate up her food. It was something she loved doing whenever Y/N was home, her way to welcome her back. "Mum, do you think we can watch the free practice?" She asked as her mother placed a Yorkshire pudding onto her plate.

"What? No way!" Her brother suddenly shouted across the table. "If Y/N gets to watch formula one I get to watch football!"

"Neither of you are watching anything. Y/N is going to make the most of being here with us before she makes her way up to Silverstone, okay?"

Y/N's mother was not a scary woman, not by any means. But, when she commanded something, it happened. Y/N and her brother nodded as they tucked into their food.

Y/N checked her last messages to Lando and Max beneath the table. Lando hadn't yet seen her message, but Max hadn't responded. A small part of her wanted to throw her phone at the nearest wall, but she didn't. Instead, Y/N slipped her phone back into her pocket and tightened her hand in a fist, nails digging into her palm.

Her family could tell something was wrong. Normally it was non-stop chatter about the world of the paddock. But, aside from her request to watch the free practice, Y/N didn't talk about formula one at all. Even when her brother tried to ask, Y/N answered with single words.

That night, in her childhood bedroom, Y/N looked at the pictures of her and Lando. Them in school, them at Lydden Hill for Lando's Karting career. Silverstone when Lando was in F2, Lando when he first joined McLaren and that was it. The rest of the pictures were in Y/N's own apartment, a place she hardly saw the point in paying for when she rarely lived there.

Her phone began to ring. Picking it up, Y/N placed it to her ear. "Hey, Lan," she said to her best friend as soon as she answered.

"How's your mum? How's your brother? How's the cat?" He asked quickly.

The cat in question was currently sleeping on Y/N's bed. The moment she moved out, the cat began living in her room, sleeping on her bed or in the empty closet.

"Mum is good, brother is good, cat is good," she said, sitting beside the cat and stroking her fur. "How was free practice? I tried to watch on the television but Mum wouldn't let me."

Lando told her all about free practice and how his day at Silverstone had been. He told her about the media things she and Oscar had to do, the fun he and Carlos had been having and more.

When he fell silent, Y/N found herself asking a difficult question. "Lan, is Max okay?" She asked him. "Does he hate me or something?"

"No," Lando answered quickly. "Why would he hate you?"

"Can you tell him to answer my texts then please."

Lando didn't answer that. How could he, when he was the reason for Max's silence? But, he couldn't tell Y/N, either. He could tell her that he was the reason Max was refusing to speak to her. So, Lando took it in a different direction.

"What's going on with you and Max?" He asked. His tone was genuinely curious, leading Y/N away from his crime.

Y/N shook her head. "Lan, nothing. Nothing is going on with Max and I. He was just the only person who let me interview him in Monaco. He just happened to be the person who helped me out after the drunken quiz video. Why does that mean something has to be going on with us?"

Again, Lando didn't answer. Guilt ripped through him. He was selfish, a selfish little boy. He drove Max away from Y/N just because he didn't want to lose his best friend

Lando was quick to end the call. He said his goodbyes and left Y/N to it. Max liked Y/N, he knew that much. But did she like him? God, he felt like a child back in secondary school as he thought about it.

***

"Hey guys, welcome to the Silverstone weekend," Y/N said to the camera as she sat on her bed with her cat in her lap. "As you can see, we are not in a hotel room for once. We are actually in my childhood bedroom and we have a visitor." Y/N held the cat up to the camera and waved her paw.

"Today we're going to be going in with a Q and A video," she said, pulling up her phone. "I know a lot of you have a lot of questions around how and why I do what I do, and I'm going to answer them all."

She went into her twitter and pulled up her first question. "Right, question one. How did you meet Lando?" She read and put the phone down. "Oh, what a story this is," she said and let out a little laugh. "When Lando and I first met each other, we hated each other. We were eleven years old, both starting at secondary school. In maths we got sat beside each other, and it all kicked off from there.

"Lando was so loud! Seriously, he did not stop talking. And he spread his stuff to my side of the desk, which really pissed me me off. So, I told him to shut up and he told me to bleep off, and then we became best friends."

The cat in her lap was purring as Y/N stroked her. She grabbed her phone and checked for the next question. There had been a lot on there asked about the nature of her relationship with Charles and her relationship with Max. They were things she wouldn't get into, only because it would make the situation so much worse.

"Ah, what do you do when you're not travelling around?" She read and put the phone back down. "Well, I travel to the grand prix and then I explore the city the grand prix is held in with my friends. These bits I don't usually film, but I'm considering doing city vlogs. If you guys would like to see this, drop a comment."

Y/N went on and on, reading through the questions. There were many about hers and Lando's friendship, many that allowed her to grab pictures of little Lando from the wall.

"What is your favourite quote from anyone on the grid at the minute?" She read.

It made her grin. "Well, I've got one that I use all the time which is when Charles says 'Lando we can be world champions', but I'm a big fan of those noises Danny makes? You know, 'ki ki ki ra!'" She shouted.

There was a noise from downstairs, her mother shouting a complaint.

After getting through at least twenty of the questions, Y/N checked the time on her phone. "Oh my," she gasped when she saw how late it was. Or, rather, how early in the morning it was. "I guess that's the end of the video," she said to the camera. "Thank you guys for watching. Like, subscribe and I'll see you at Silverstone," she said and got up to switch off the camera.

Taglist (Open): @sticksdoesart @eviethetheatrefreak @eugene-emt-roe @glai1023-blog @mqcherie @itsjustkhaos @chonkybonky @arian-directioner @lazybot @lpab @princessria127 @fangirl125reader @honethatty12 @larastark3107 @urfavouritef1girly @cassiopeiia24 @callsign-scully @lexiecamposv @dl-yum @savagecelery @laneyspaulding19 @formulas-bitch @teenwolf01 @gayfrog29 @fictionalcomforts

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creatingblackcharacters · 20 days

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I can't believe no one has submitted her yet, but one of my favorite characters of all time is Nyota Uhura from Star Trek (there are 3 series she appears in (and shes wonderful in all of them) but I'm gonna focus on the Original Series because I love Nichelle Nichols)

I don't even know where to start with her. Shes beautiful, competent, and enchantingly playful on screen. She was born in Kenya and has strong cultural ties, even the name Uhura is derrived from the word 'Freedom' in Swahili.

Since Nichelle got her start on broadway, she has this wonderful musical quality and they even let her sing in a couple of episodes. She works as the communications officer (she can speak 37 languages!) and she does it wonderfully. She is often reffered to in fandom as the Voice of the Enterprise not only because shes a singer but because she embodies everything that Starfleet stands for (resilience, compassion, knowlege ect.). Shes level headed and so so good at her job and is such an important part of the crew.

This is of course not even scratching the cultural impact of her character. The Star Trek original series debut in 1966 (just one year after Bloody Sunday), Black characters were barely seen and when they were they were relegated to horrible stereotypes. Uhura was nothing like that, she was an equal and that was groundbreaking. She changed the industry forever.

Nichelle was originally going to quit the series after the first season but was stopped when she when she was approached by someone claiming to be her biggest fan, and that was Martin Luther King Jr. I'll link a great article recounting the meeting, but I have to put in my favorite quote of what he said.

"300 years from now, we are here. We are marching. And this is the first step. When we see you, we see ourselves, and we see ourselves as intelligent and beautiful and proud.' He goes on and I’m looking at him and my knees are buckling. I said, 'I…, I…' And he said, 'You turn on your television and the news comes on and you see us marching and peaceful, you see the peaceful civil disobedience, and you see the dogs and see the fire hoses, and we all know they cannot destroy us because we are there in the 23rd Century.'"

https://www.startrek.com/news/nichelle-nichols-remembers-dr-king

Literally such a good read. She inspired so so many people, and she is such a delight on screen. I just love her. I could go on but this is long enough haha. 🖖

🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹 and are!!! We are there!! We are always going to be there!! In every genre, in the past, present, and future- there will always be Black people striving for and existing in greatness! We are here, and we have every right to be here! There's no ignoring or getting rid of us, no matter how much that ruins many a racist's fantasy 🤷🏾‍♀️ That really did just make me tear up. Nichelle deserved so much better in her last days, for all she did for the community. Thank you for sharing this.

#september challenge #post your favorite black characters!#creatingblackcharacters #black characters

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sunaluv · 2 years

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I love the "Come get your man" series could you make a pt4????[you do not have to]

I love your work sm!!!keep doing what your doing!!!

Drink water, take breaks when needed, take care of your health both mentally & physically!!and see you next ask♡

wooo we back at it again! thanks for checking in on me bae 🥲 take care of yourselves too!

also thanks for 1k followers 🥳

part 3

feat. kenma, tsukishima, iwaizumi

steamer!KENMA

kenma loves his job. as a professional streamer he’s his own boss, he doesn’t have to be around people too often and he’s become really fond of his little online community (not that he’d admit that out loud).

it’s been a week since your unplanned debut on his channel. you didn’t realize he was recording when you came to drop of his snacks, doing your daily check in. ever since, all the tags with his stream name were aggressively loving, basically demanding him to bring back their ‘mother’ to the screen.

you drop in every now and then to remind his viewers to look after themselves, jokingly scolding them for not looking after your man aswell but it’s all fun and games on both ends.

whilst watching his stream in the room next door, you can help but notice a user in particular.

@/kodzubae: LMAOOO i thought he would be dating someone much prettier😭 didn’t know kodzu did charity cases.

even though the chat was moving before you could read all the comments, your eyes always managed to find whatever the user said about you, and none of it was nice. you didn’t have to be told not to read the comments— it’s an unspoken fact but your eyes and brain always seem to betray you, feeding into your minor insecurities.

you haven’t even realized you were staring at a blank screen. kenmas’ stream had ended whilst you were too lost in your thoughts.

“…you alright?” he asked hesitantly.

though your eyes lit up and your lips quirked at the sight of your boyfriend, he knew something was up— call it a sixth sense of his.

you wordlessly tried to convince him that you were okay, talking and joking the rest of the night until you fell asleep in his embrace but none of it felt genuine. he didn’t want to pry, but it physically hurt him to see you hiding things from him.

totally disregarding the first rules of boyfriend 101: “don’t go through your partners phone!”, kenma unlocked your phone, instantly frowning at the screen before him.

it was her twitter page. kenma knew his lifelong fans, and the handle on your screen now was one of them, except it was full of fan behavior for him and blatant hatred for you.

he felt bad.

it wasn’t exactly his fault, but he still felt responsible for the digs at you that were happening on his live.

the next day, you had woken up hours after kenma. you tend to do that when you sleep with a heavy heart.

in the distance, you could hear him talking, probably streaming. so you opened his stream on your phone and tuned in right on time.

“hey guys,” he greeted. “before we start i want to say something…i’ve become aware that ever since ‘mother’,” he emphasized on the quote marks. “made her first appearance, some of you have not been the nicest to her online and i just want to say that that’s a boundary that absolutely cannot be crossed.”

@/user1: WHAT? WHO HURT MOTHER

@/user2: i hope she’s okay :( luv u mom

@/user3: we’re just going to skip over the fact that he acknowledges them as our parents? okay…

@/user4: cross ken >:( cross ken >:(

“so from here on out, any hate towards her will be an instant block. i’ve told my mods too so behave…” he firmly, yet gently scolded.

“now that’s out of the way, today we’ll be…”

you watched the rest of the stream with a smile on your face. though you were working on voicing your concerns and discomfort, it was nice to know that kenma is willing to work for you whilst he waited.

TSUKISHIMA (tall!reader)

“you look so much taller when you’re not welded into tsukkis’ side, ya know?”

startled, you angled your neck down to see one of your classmates.

you had been avoiding her, and she, you. but it seems she’s finally willing to break this ongoing silent tension fest between you two.

“what do you want.” you deadpanned.

she gasped. “you’re too mean! tsukishima doesn’t deserve to be with someone like you, he deserves someone who is more down to earth, you get me?”

she eyed you up and down to emphasize her point.

taking your silence as willingness to listen, she continued. “i mean your too tall! granted he is too but opposites attract, he needs someone who will look good with him, like me.”

you folded your lips inward to contain your laughter. you and basically everyone knew about this girls love for your boyfriend, but you never pegged her as the type to come at you like this.

“you can have him if you want,” you waved. “kei looooves short girls.”

her eyes lit up in victory, obviously not sensing your sarcasm. “cool, just make sure you break up with him today because-“

“nobody is breaking up with anyone.” a voice shot.

low and behold, your six foot something boyfriend shutting down any advances you were planning to set him up with. though he joined the conversation, he only appeared to be addressing you.

“kei! i-“

“tsukishima.”

“tsukki! i-”

“no.”

he made eye contact with your smirking face over the girls head. “you were just gonna throw me to the wolves like that?” he asked offended.

you chucked. “there’s no wolves kei, look at her” you pinched the cheek of the stunned girl stood in between you two. “she’s harmless, like a poodle.”

she stood, mouth open seemingly in shock.

looking back at him, his face did not let up. you sighed.

“i’m sorry kei,” you breathed through your nose. “i will never subject you to such a horrible, earth shattering, torturous-“

“that’s enough, my god” he groaned. grabbing your wrist, he dragged you by the wrist, only slowing down when you rounded the corner, out of the girls view.

“you know i was joking, right.” you poked his cheek, to which he swatted your hand away.

“i know you’re joking,” his signature smirk appeared. “after all you wouldn’t throw away the opportunity to date the guy you’ve been crushing on for as long as you’ve been here. if i recall, your confession went along the lines of ‘i-“

you slapped your hand over his mouth in embarrassment. leave it to the guy to turn your confession into a weapon against you.

you playfully bickered down the rest of the hall, forgetting all about the girl who had tried to take your place earlier.

IWAIZUMI

“are you sure you’re not only using him to like, get to oikawa or something?”

the first words this girl had spoken to you. you don’t know who she is, or where she came from but she has some nerve coming with such a ridiculous question considering you haven’t formally met before.

“excuse me?”

“you heard me,” her tone was now accusatory. “i’ve seen many girls do iwa dirty because they want oikawa so if that’s the case save yourself an ass beating and leave him alone!”

you don’t know if you have bad memory or what because you don’t know who this girl is and as far as your concerned, neither does your boyfriend.

“i’m sorry, are you a friend of his?” you were more confused than anything.

“i am his and he is mine.”

woah.

you didn’t want to accuse her, but every sign she was showing pointed to a major case of FDS (fan delusion syndrome), a case of the crazies found in fans of the oikawa toru founded by you, maki and mattsun, but you were unaware that this case was also present in your boyfriends own… supporters.

you don’t blame them though because your man is a total hunkkkk. anyways.

right on queue, the door slid open and both of your heads turned to meet hajime’s, and of course he has to show up with a sweaty face, shirt practically clinging to his defined body.

“hajime!” the girl called, running and stopping infront of him. “she’s using you do get to oikawa, break up with her!”

he followed the finger that was pointed to you— confused and lost in the middle of the gym.

“that’s my girlfriend, she doesn’t like him like that.”

the sound of a shattered heart pierced the sudden silence. “w-w-what do you mean girlfriend, she’s after toru i’m sure of it!”

a humorless chuckle sounded from his throat. “trust me, she doesn’t ”

being cautious not to set the girl off, he traversed around her, and straight to you who watched the whole interaction both concerned and amused.

“wowww,” you breathed. “i didn’t know you were also a cause for FDS.”

“what?”

“nothing,” you straightened. “i don’t blame her though. i would go crazy if you walked around looking like that too.”

his face flushed and he turned away. “stop saying things like that…”

you smiled, poking his cheek. “what, i can’t appreciate my boyfriend who’s built like he was carved from the greek gods himself?”

he walked away after pushing your face with his hand, drowning your chuckle.

“c’mon haji, don’t be like that,” you chased after him. “you have to be feeling yourself a little after seeing the affect you have of the seijoh population!”

the girl watched as you made her ‘man’ flush, comment after comment, feeling numb as she watched him get more and more out of his reach.

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works-of-fanfiction · 1 year

Text

The Love of Another - Part Two || Cillian Murphy x actress!Reader

< Previous

Summary: After meeting on the set of Peaky Blinders, Cillian and Y/N struggle to keep their relationship professional.

Warnings: Swearing, cheating, angst. Some (pretty cringe) fluff at the end.

Word Count: 5.7k

a/n: thank you so much for the lovely feedback on the first part of this! I haven’t written anything multi-part in literal years, but this was fun. some chunky sections of dialogue here, hopefully easy to follow! enjoy x

(Paul is Paul Anderson and Sophie is Sophie Rundle (if that wasn’t obvious already). Y/N’s character in the show is not canon/replacing any of the actresses, just feel free to use your imagination and slot her in somewhere! it is yourself after all.)

“Would you rather have Tommy teach you to ride a horse, or Arthur teach you to box?” The interviewer asked, smiling at the actress in front of her. Y/N chewed the inside of her cheek, tapping her knee as she thought about her answer. “That’s a hard one, because both could end up with me on the floor!” She joked, looking past the camera at the crew who were essentially getting paid to laugh at anything she said. “I have to go with Tommy on this one. It’s probably the least dangerous! Plus, who doesn’t love watching Cillian ride those horses?” The two women laughed together before swiftly moving onto the more serious questions about Y/N’s debut in the series. “I’d have gone with Arthur.” Y/N’s husband sneered, lowering the volume on the TV. Behind him she was sat at the table, re-reading the new scripts she’d been sent and familiarising herself with the lines.

“They pay me to say stuff like that, you know.” She declared casually, not bothering to look up from the page. He turned around and watched as she scribbled down some notes, mouthing words to herself quietly.

“They pay you to brown-nose Cillian?” He scoffed, leaning on the back cushion. Dropping her pencil with a sigh, she finally looked up with raised brows.

“Yes. Just like I got paid to brown-nose every other man I’ve worked with.” She quipped sarcastically, rolling her eyes, and twirling the pencil between her fingers. She waited for him to respond, but the snarky comeback never came. A smart choice on his part.

Despite her only having met Cillian once, her husband still had this bizarre idea that they’d spent every waking moment together during filming. Y/N had become too exhausted to argue about it. Her career and her future in Peaky Blinders was a lot more important than her husband’s petty jealousy, and she certainly wasn’t going to throw away the role of a lifetime because of him.

“Y/N… Your line.” The prompter called, waving the script in the air and tapping the page with her pen.

“Oh, sorry. Can we go from the top?” Y/N asked nervously, looking around at the crew that were becoming increasingly impatient. What was supposed to be a quick and simple scene was turning into an hour of do-overs with Y/N forgetting small details on every take. “I’m really sorry everyone.” She addressed the room, some mumbling back, others just rolling their eyes and whispering among themselves.

Stepping forward off his mark, Cillian turned to the director. “I think we can pick this up next week. Don’t you?” He asked quietly, eyes flitting to Y/N and back again. “Long day…”

“Alright. We’ll set up for this scene first thing Monday morning, but I want it finished and perfect by lunchtime.” He spun in his chair, ordering everyone to go home and rest up on their rare weekend off.

Sighing, Y/N tugged at her hair, freeing it from the clips holding it tightly in place. Paul patted her shoulder sympathetically before leaving set, shaking Cillian’s hand on the way out. Cillian sat down beside her quietly, waiting for everyone else to filter out. Once the room was empty, he scooted closer, slipping his hand in hers beneath the table. “I had it, Cill, I had it.”

“I know.” He soothed, stroking her knuckles with his thumb. “I did it for my sake, not yours. This suit is itching.” He joked lightly, pulling at his collar. Looking up, she felt a smile creeping onto her face. There he was, being cheesy, always trying to cheer her up.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s gotten into me.”

“I think the guest in your trailer might have something to do with it.”

Nodding, she looked down at their hands, at Cillian’s gentle fingers dancing along her veins. She thought about her husband; how he’d travelled all this way and spent the entire afternoon waiting for her. Yet here she was, comfortable in the arms of another man, betraying him for the thousandth time.

Cillian could see the cogs turning in her head. Forgetting to blink, she stared down at the tabletop, studying the cracks in the brown paint. He squeezed her hand softly, reminding her he was still there. “What are you thinking?” He whispered.

“I have to tell him, don’t I?” She asked, not really seeking an answer. For months she’d tried to plan a way to tell him, to come out with the truth and end her marriage for good, but she just couldn’t bring herself to do it. It wasn’t something she could do over the phone, but she also couldn’t bear to see him in person. She continued to pretend everything was OK, smiling through their FaceTime calls and sending love hearts whenever she couldn’t answer. ‘Couldn’t’ meaning when she was with Cillian.

“I don’t know how I’m going to do it, or when, or where, but I know I have to. I mean, it’s been a year already, and I think I just lost track of time but then – “

“Hey, hey.” Cillian grabbed her face gently, putting a pause to her rambling. “You don’t need to go making any grand declarations today.”

“If I leave it any longer, it’ll just make it worse.”

Y/N seemed to stare straight through him, her jaw tensing beneath his fingers. Part of him wished he could fix it for her, that he could go to her husband himself and tell him the truth to save her the burden. He feared how her husband could react, knowing he had a habit of getting jealous and suspicious whenever she got too friendly with a man. He knew he could handle it but wasn’t sure she’d be able to.

“Y/N!” A voice shouted from the entrance; it was Sophie, looking for her so she could drag her to her birthday night out. The pair separated, Cillian standing awkwardly. “There you are. Come with me, I’ve found the perfect dress for you to wear tonight!”

“I’ll leave you ladies to it.” He smiled, giving Y/N one last reassuring smile before leaving the building. The last thing Y/N wanted to do was go out, but she didn’t want the crew hating her even more after her earlier fiasco, so she dragged herself to the wardrobe department and let Sophie show her the dresses they were going to ‘borrow’ for the evening.

“A vision in red! Happy birthday, sweetheart.” Paul beamed, hugging Y/N tight as she joined the group, her husband in tow. Paul made the effort to greet him - the man lucky enough to steal Y/N’s heart - as he put it. She laughed along, the pang of guilt inside her chest doubling in size. He may’ve had occupancy of her heart once upon a time, but that space had since been filled by someone else, and that someone was currently sat in the corner looking as handsome as ever. Cillian raised his glass to her, smiling, his arm flexing in his t-shirt. She nodded back, the all-too-familiar rush of heat spreading up her neck and to her face.

It was the perfect night for it, considering the football match just a few miles down the road was keeping most of the city occupied for a couple of hours. Everyone chose to pack out the pubs, leaving the majority of the bars fairly empty and ideal for the star-studded crowd to hide out and enjoy their night. It wasn’t often they all stepped out together like this, but birthdays were an exception.

“Drink?” Y/N’s husband asked, throwing his arm over her shoulder. Leading her to the bar, he gushed about his conversation with the Arthur Shelby, and how much of a nice guy he was. She wondered if he’d speak so highly of Cillian, or if his strange vendetta would get the better of him. “Shots for the birthday girl?”

“Oh, not yet. Let me ease myself in.” She laughed weakly, drumming her fingers on the bar.

“Not even one?”

“Why? Are you trying to get me drunk?” She raised a brow, eliciting a chuckle from him.

“Well, you always were fun after a few drinks…” He purred, leaning down to press a kiss to her cheek. She grimaced at his words, but luckily he didn’t notice as he was too busy waving at the bartender.

He ordered, yelling obnoxiously over the music. Y/N’s eyes wandered across the back of the bar as she absentmindedly bobbed her head to the song playing, mouthing some of the words. “Oh, I’ll get these.” They both turned to see Cillian standing there with his hands tucked into his pockets, a friendly smile on his face.

“It’s alright, mate. I promised I’d get the birthday girl her first drink.” Her husband’s hold on her tightened as he spoke, his fake grin wide enough to blind a man.

Y/N stood there between the two men, her heart pounding as she felt Cillian’s stare on her face. He’d had good intentions coming over, wanting to keep an eye on her, but she wished he’d stayed put at his table. She already struggled to act normal around her husband, and her lover’s presence only made things ten times more difficult.

“Perhaps some shots then? My treat?” Cillian rested his arm on the bar, catching the attention of another bartender.

“She doesn’t want – “

“Shots sound great. Thanks, Cill – ian.” She stuttered, correcting the nickname before her husband noticed. He looked down at his wife, then back at the man beside her who calmly ordered, leaning over the bar so he didn’t have to shout. Funny how she suddenly agreed to shots when he was the one paying…

Cillian passed Y/N and her husband a shot each, and they downed the drinks together. She winced as it burned her throat, sticking out her tongue as she groaned. “Tequila! Are you trying to kill me?”

The Irishman laughed, nodding a last thank you across the bar. “Happy birthday, Y/N.” He smiled sincerely, giving her arm an affectionate squeeze. He left the bar, rejoining the cast and crew and instantly slotting himself into a conversation. She watched him fondly, almost forgetting about the man stood behind her. Stretching his arm over her shoulder, her husband placed the drink into her hand.

She turned and took a sip. “Thank you… Wait, you didn’t take your shot?” She asked, pointing at the full glass on the bar. He shook his head, taking a swig of his beer. “Why not?”

Swallowing with a loud ‘ah’, he shrugged, his expression blank. “I figured it was a moment to be shared between the two of you. Here. Why don’t you have mine?” He slid the shot towards her, tapping the rim of the glass twice. “Go on. It’s your birthday after all.”

“You’ve got some nerve. Can’t you go a day without starting this bloody argument?” She hissed, pushing the shot back to him. Some of it spilt over the edge, leaving a sticky sheen on the bar. “Drink it, and let’s go join my friends.”

“I wouldn’t drink it if you paid me to.” He leaned down to her level, trying to intimidate her, but it didn’t work. She wasn’t scared of him; she just saw him as a pathetic, jealous little boy. When he behaved like this, it made her wonder why she ever felt bad for cheating on him at all.

“Fine. You want to be a child? Then two can play that game, babe.” She spat, turning on her heels and heading towards Cillian. She slipped herself into the group between him and Sophie, linking arms with the woman on her left. “Which one of you is going to dance with me?”

“I thought you’d never ask!” Sophie squealed, taking Y/N’s drink. “Look after this, will you?” Thrusting it into Cillian’s free hand, she then dragged Y/N into the nearest space, throwing her arms in the air and whooping to the music. They joined hands and spun around like two girls in a playground, shouting the wrong lyrics to the song and giggling uncontrollably.

Y/N twirled around and set her sights on Cillian, beckoning him over with her finger. “I’m not dancing!” He laughed over the music, keeping a firm grip on their drinks. “I’m guarding your drink!”

“No, go on. It’s her birthday.” Her husband goaded, appearing behind Cillian. Y/N frowned as she watched the two men speak, unable to hear what they were saying. Sophie grabbed her and spun her around, putting her back to them.

“Shouldn’t it be you dancing with her?” Cillian asked innocently, gently placing the drinks on the table.

“Oh… I don’t think she’s my friend at the moment.”

Watching his wife dance, he got the sense he was losing her; that she was slipping away from him and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He’d noticed how Cillian watched her, that lovesick puppy dog smile pasted on his face and eyes following her every move. He had attended many an event with her past co-stars, and none of them had ever looked at her like that. To him, Cillian was showing off, gloating that he’d lured his wife away from him. He wanted to wipe the shit-eating grin off his face if it was the last thing he ever did.

Y/N stumbled out of Sophie’s grasp, dizzily making her way back to the table. “Everything alright?” She asked, out of breath and reaching for her drink. “It’s a workout dancing with her.”

“Don’t you worry, love. Everything’s fine. I was just talking to Cillian here about you. About the two of you, I mean.” Sniggering behind his glass, he gulped down the remainder of his beer and wiped his mouth, clearing his throat. Cillian’s face contorted in confusion, his fingers gripping the edge of the table, toes curling inside his shoes out of frustration.

“What’s he said to you?” She asked, directing her question to Cillian. He opened his mouth to speak, only to be rudely interrupted.

“So quick to jump to his defence.”

“We’re not doing this here.” Y/N snapped, dropping her glass with a thud. “You are not showing me up in front of my colleagues, my friends.”

“Pick a place then, love. It won’t make a fucking difference.” Her husband could be nasty when need be, but she wasn’t about to stand and take it, especially not with an audience.

“Right - “ Cillian started, cut off by Y/N barging past them both and towards the doors. This caught the attention of her cast mates, which Cillian quickly fed a lie to before speeding after her.

He found her outside, stood against the wall and hunched over, hands clutching her knees. “Y/N, I’m so sor - “

“Cillian, don’t you dare apologise for his behaviour. Do you hear me?” Her voice shook as she spoke, the sudden rush of anger overwhelming her. She slid down the wall, sitting on the pavement, her exposed shoulders flat against the cold bricks. “Who does he think he is? Acting like that in front of everyone? I could lose my fucking job.”

“You wouldn’t lose - “

“Yes, Cillian. I would. If the studio… If the writers found out about this - “

“They won’t.” He asserted, kneeling down so they were on the same level. “They won’t.”

She took a few deep breaths, Cillian’s presence calming her down as he crouched opposite her, his fingers resting lightly on her knees. “You know, for months I have felt like the worst human being in the world. Looking at myself in the mirror and seeing the cheat staring back, the lousy fucking cheat.”

“So, you’re not perfect. You’ve done some, admittedly not great things, but I don’t think anyone in there would blame you.”

“Somehow I don’t think they’d praise me for fucking my co-star behind my husband’s back.” She scoffed, rolling her eyes and rubbing her temple with her fingertips. “God, I’m sorry, Cillian. I’m not trying to… You’re so much more than that, I – “

“It’s alright. You’re upset… And I can handle whatever you throw at me.” He joked, reaching out to pinch her chin.

Hearing the doors swing open, the two flinched, Cillian rising from the ground instinctively. “Well, isn’t this cosy?” Y/N’s husband drawled, sauntering towards them. “So… I was right, yeah? You and him?” He pointed between them, his words directed at Y/N.

“Please…”

“Just answer me. Put me out of my God damn misery.” He threw his arms in the air in defeat, letting them fall to his sides, hitting his thighs with a loud slap.

Pressing her palms against the ground, Y/N pushed herself up, adjusting her dress as she steadied her feet. She approached her husband, and Cillian put his arm out to try and hold her back. “It’s OK, Cill.” She stood looking up at the man she once loved, her hands balled into fists at her side, thumbs picking at the fabric clinging to her legs. “You’re right. You figured it out.”

He exhaled a laugh, kissing his teeth. “I knew it.” Turning away, he ran his hands through his hair, looking up to the sky and sighing deeply. “How long?” He looked back, hands on his hips and brows furrowed. “Y/N, how long?”

“Since my twenty-ninth birthday…” She said shyly, realising just how much worse that made everything look. It had been exactly a year, pretty much to the hour, that she’d shared the first kiss with Cillian that started it all.

“You’ve got to be kidding me. Well, I am sorry for interrupting your little anniversary night…” Exasperated, he took a deep breath and exhaled the air with puffed cheeks. “You know what? You are not the woman I married.” He pointed his finger in her face, but she didn’t react. Folding her arms over her chest, she stepped back until she felt Cillian against her, his hands supporting her upper arms. He whispered comforting words into her ear and her eyes began to water as she continued to stare at her husband, distant and unblinking.

Silence fell upon them, and Y/N expected more to be said, but was surprised to witness her husband turn and walk away. Anything else he had left to say was muttered under his breath as he disappeared around the corner. She and Cillian waited a few seconds to see if he would come back, but the street stayed unusually empty and quiet. “It’s alright. He’s gone.” Cillian whispered, and she spun in his arms, clinging onto him desperately.

Her thoughts felt like they were drowning in a whirlpool, like she couldn’t take control of them no matter how hard she tried. The heaviness in her heart had dissipated, but the ache in her stomach and throbbing in her head persisted. “Can we get out of here, please?” She begged, her head buried in Cillian’s chest.

“Shall I tell the others we’re leaving?”

“Just leave it. Please, can we just go?” Her voice cracked as her hold on him tightened, pieces of his shirt screwed up between her fingers.

“Alright. Let’s go.”

Lying on the bed, Y/N stared at the ceiling, her fingers ghosting over Cillian’s as he laid beside her. A strange mixture of relief and dread washed over her body, making her feel weak yet incredibly alive at the same time. She wanted to jump up and down, to declare her feelings for Cillian from the highest rooftop she could find. However, another part of her wanted to hide, to burrow under the covers like a scared child until it was safe to come out. She was too afraid to check her phone; it was probably already blowing up with messages from her family and friends.

How could you?

Who was there for you when you were starting out? Did the fame get to your head?

He’s heartbroken! You should be ashamed.

The mere thought of it all made her head spin, and it was far easier to leave her phone on do not disturb and pretend no one else existed for a moment. Her thoughts felt so loud, and she wondered if they both held their breaths for a moment, would Cillian be able to hear the gears twisting and turning inside her brain? Or the steam coming out of her ears?

“Some birthday this was.” She sighed, closing her eyes and shaking her head. “Am I supposed to feel bad? Like… Is this the point where I’m supposed to cry and scream about how terrible of a person I am?”

“You can if you want to.” Cillian turned his head to the left, and she looked over at the same time, their eyes meeting in the middle.

“No… I mean, it’s not that I don’t want to. I just can’t. I don’t feel bad, not anymore. Is that horrible?”

“How do you feel?”

This was a new feeling for Y/N, for the both of them in fact. Throughout their relationship they’d spoken about everything from their favourite albums to their very particular pet peeves. They’d even spent a whole night debating the existence of aliens, sitting out on the balcony of a hotel room and bickering with each other beneath the stars. The thing they hadn’t really spoken about were their feelings, including their feelings for each other. Those three fateful words were still dangling from the tip of Cillian’s tongue, and there was so much Y/N wanted to say in return.

“I feel… Relieved. I feel free.” Clasping her hands together, she tucked them under her head. “That’s awful to admit, isn’t it?”

“It’s better than pretending.” He rubbed her shoulder soothingly, his thumb slipping beneath the strap of her dress. “Paul was right, you are a vision in red.”

Y/N giggled, swatting his hand away and adjusting the strap. “You are such a flirt!”

They stayed looking at each other, studying each other’s faces as if there was something new to see. Y/N counted the little flecks in Cillian’s bright blue eyes, watching his pupils twitch and change sizes with every few blinks. He added up the freckles on her face, imagining how they’d look if they were connected like tiny constellations across her cheeks. He smiled to himself, his tongue poking out to swipe across his bottom lip. “What?” She asked, eyes squinting with playful suspicion.

“Nothing. It’s nothing.” His voice was gentle and quiet, barely reaching above a whisper. It wasn’t necessary in the room they were in. Not a single sound could be heard around them, except for their breathing and bodies shuffling against the sheets. He swallowed his words, assuming that perhaps she wasn’t ready to hear them. It had only been an hour since she confessed to her husband in the street, and he didn’t want to overwhelm her with a big declaration of love. He’d know when the time was right, he was sure of it.

Rolling off the bed, Y/N pressed a kiss to Cillian’s forehead and went to take a shower. Whilst she was gone, he looked around the bedroom, spotting various bits of his belongings scattered from the many times he’d stayed over. Filming for the series was almost complete, and it would soon be time for them to pack up their rentals and head home, wherever that may be. He thought about how things might change now that they technically didn’t have to sneak around anymore. Would people start to notice? Would they be victims of some derogatory Daily Mail headline by morning?

Returning in a towel, Y/N sat on the edge of the bed, combing through her damp hair in the mirror. Cillian knelt behind her, balancing on the mattress as he ducked his head down to press a soft kiss to her shoulder. “I’m sorry you didn’t get the birthday you deserve.” He murmured against her skin. She closed her eyes and hummed, enjoying the feeling of his lips moving across her shoulder blade.

“I think it was exactly what I deserved.” She whispered, turning her head to catch a glimpse of him. Resting his chin on her shoulder, he gazed up at her through his lashes.

“There’s still just under two hours left of it. Do you think we can turn it around?”

“What do you suggest?”

Cillian scrambled to his feet, hitting the carpet with a clumsy thud. Clicking his fingers, he pointed to Y/N, a goofy smile on his face. “You still have that wine in the fridge?”

“You really trust me to drink wine after last time?” She raised a brow then mimed throwing up, clutching her stomach with her arm. “After last time…” She fake gagged, making him grimace.

“OK, OK! Bad idea!”

He stood with one hand on his hip, the other raking through his hair. Cocking her head to the side, Y/N admired the view in front of her, pinching her bottom lip with her teeth. There was something oddly appealing about Cillian in regular clothes with the signature Tommy Shelby haircut. He wore a crisp white t-shirt with dark jeans, which just happened to be one of her favourite looks on him. It was simple, yet he somehow made it the most attractive thing she’d ever laid eyes on. Her eyes followed the trail of his veins down his forearm, where they reached the hand that sat just above his waistband.

“I’m gonna be honest, that was my only idea.” He laughed, resting his cheek in his hand.

“Cillian…” She said softly, shuffling to the edge of the mattress. “Come here.”

As he approached, she parted her legs, giving him enough room to stand between them. Placing his hands on her shoulders, he looked down, his eyes meeting hers. She looked so beautiful like this; just wearing a towel with unruly wet strands of hair stuck to the sides of her face. Her cheeks blushed a light pink, decorated in a couple of stray droplets of water from the shower.

“Closer.” She whispered, reaching up to grab his shirt. He lifted his knee and rested it on the mattress beside her, using his hands as support as he hovered over her, lowering her until she was laid on her back.

“Is this close enough?” He breathed, his palms flat on either side of her head.

“Almost…”

He lowered himself further as if he was performing a press-up, using the strength in his wrists to steady himself above her. “This will do.” She smiled, bringing her lips to meet his.

Dropping to his elbows, Cillian weaved his hands into her hair, tugging gently at the root. She moaned softly into his mouth, arching her back to inch herself closer to him and press their chests together. He groaned, a shiver coursing through his body as the towel around her dampened his shirt.

Pulling away from the kiss, they each opened their eyes and gazed at the other, panting quietly with heat-flushed cheeks and swollen lips. Their faces were just close enough to still be able to see one another properly without their vision blurring. Y/N sighed, her forefinger tracing the curve of his cheekbone. “Are you OK?” Cillian asked, running the pad of his thumb along her bottom lip.

“Yeah, I just…” She couldn’t concentrate with his fingers under her chin, featherlight and careful across her skin. Blinking slowly, she relaxed into his touch, relishing in the feeling of the goosebumps that prickled her cheeks.

“We can stop if you want.”

“No, no. That’s not what I want. Quite the opposite, actually.” Her words weren’t exactly a lie, but they didn’t seem to match the look on her face.

Worried, he flipped onto his side and laid next to her, his right hand finding a loose piece of thread hanging from the towel and twisting it around his finger. “If you need a bit of space for a while – “

“No, Cillian. Please don’t say that.”

“Alright, I’m sorry…”

“I just don’t know what happens next. Am I supposed to announce it to everyone? Do I file for divorce on Monday? How does this all work?” She laughed slightly, mostly at herself for being so clueless. “I think telling everyone my marriage is over will be the easy part. How do I tell them about us?”

“Well, the divorce stuff can wait for a bit. You don’t need to rush into anything.” He patted the bed, searching for her hand. She turned her palm upwards, letting his slide over the top and their fingers entwine. “As for telling anyone…”

“What?” She rolled onto her side, mirroring his position. “Do you think we should tell people?”

“I was going to say, is there really any need in telling anyone yet? I mean, we’ve kept it between the two of us for this long already and – “

“Yes, but that was because we didn’t have a choice.”

“I know... but just think about it. I think it would be weirder if we charged into work next week and announced it to everyone.”

She stared at a crease in Cillian’s shirt, daydreaming about how things were going to be. He was right. They didn’t need to shout about it, and Y/N certainly didn’t want to draw any attention to herself just yet. She already knew what people were going to think of her and label her as, and she wanted to delay the backlash for as long as possible; whether her husband was going to allow that was another story…

Cillian opened his arms for her, scooting higher onto the bed so his feet were no longer dangling off the edge. She followed, snuggling into him and tangling her legs with his. The silence between them was heavy, like there were a million words going unsaid. Y/N knew that Cillian was everything she wanted, but a small part of her worried about what would happen to her husband. Being married to someone for four years was going to leave a stamp on her forever, but she sincerely hoped he’d be OK, and that he wouldn’t try to inflict a war on her and Cillian. She knew in time that things would smooth themselves out and feel normal, but for now, she was content to sit in her little confusing bubble, just as long as Cillian was in it with her.

“Cill?”

“Mhm?”

“When we met earlier in wardrobe, and I spotted that box, what was in it?” She smiled sweetly, batting her eyelashes.

“You really wanna know?” She nodded. “OK… Well, that box wasn’t actually for you.”

“What?”

“I don’t know what was in it! It was already there.”

“Cillian!” She slapped his chest playfully and he huffed, feigning hurt. “Why did you say it was for me?”

“Technically, I didn’t! You just assumed.” He laughed, watching her cheeks redden and brows knit together. “Don’t look so disappointed! Listen, I’ll make it up to you tomorrow when I give, or rather take you to your real present.”

“Now I’m intrigued.”

“That’s all I’m saying! I’m not going to spoil it.”

“Fine…” He hugged her tightly, inhaling the scent of her shampoo. She listened to his heartbeat, counting the thumps in sets of eight. Looking up from his chest, she was surprised to see him already looking at her. “What about my other present?” She whispered.

“What do you – Oh, right. That.”

She sat up, kneeling beside him so she could see him better. He rotated onto his back, folding his arms across his chest, and tucking his hands under his arms. “Y/N – “

“No, wait!” She turned her head, fixing her messy hair and readjusting the towel around her body. Turning back with a flip of her hair and a dramatic flailing of her arms, she gestured for him to sit up.

“What are you doing?”

Awkwardly crawling closer on her knees, she ran the back of her hand over his cheek, leaving it to rest below his jaw. “Cillian.”

“Y/N.” He chuckled, and she immediately hushed him. She tried her best to be serious, but laughter threatened to burst out of her. “Whatever you’re doing, please get on with it because you’re freaking me ou – “

“Here it comes…” She spoke in her best attempt at an Irish accent, cringing at herself.

“Oh for Christ’s sake.” He threw his head back, belly laughing, and she grabbed him by his shirt to pull him back. Composing himself, he bit his cheeks to refrain from laughing any more. “Sorry… Go on.”

“I love you.”

He was silent, staring at her as he ran his fingers along his upper lip nervously. He knew it was coming, yet it still caught him by surprise, hearing those words come out of her mouth. He’d heard her say them plenty of times when they were in character, but this was different. They sounded so sweet when they finally meant something, and feeling her eyes on him made his heart pound in his chest. “Too cheesy?” Y/N asked, dropping the terrible accent.

“Cheesy, but I liked it.”

Sitting down cross-legged, she reached her hand out for him which he gladly took. He kissed her knuckles softly, keeping his lips there as he looked up at her. “I love you too.” He confessed. Both their bodies seemed to slump as if a weight they’d been carrying had been lifted, and despite everything that had happened, or rather gone wrong, that night, this moment felt right. He kissed her again, before slotting his fingers between hers and giving her hand a gentle squeeze. “And we’re going to be OK.”

#cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy oneshot #peaky blinders #cillian murphy

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joydemorra · 6 months

Text

Do you ever start something as a joke and lose complete control over your life?

In a world of dwindling hope, love has never mattered more... [read the full blurb here]

What is Hunger Pangs?

Hunger Pangs, often shortened to “Phangs” by the self-proclaimed phangdom, is my debut romance novel, published in Nov 2020, featuring a deaf, disabled werewolf, a neurodivergent, mad scientist vampire, and an all-powerful enchantress who is the last of her kind.

It is the first book in a slow-burn, polyamorous gaslamp fantasy romance series focusing on the relationship(s) and antics of the three main characters, Nathan Northland, Vlad Blutstein, and Lady Ursula, as they work to save the world they love from imminent magical and ecological disaster.

The first book primarily focuses on the relationship between Nathan and Vlad, with Ursula heavily alluded to in the next book (Pride and Folly) via some shameless flirting and stolen, impulsive kisses.

No love triangles here. Just three highly competent, world-saving bisexuals sharing the same brain cell the closer they get to each other.

There are two editions of the novel. The Flirting with Fangs edition depicts on-page sexual acts, and the Fluff and Fangs edition which uses alternative scenes/fade-to-black scenes for those who prefer not to read depictions of sex. You can read more about why I decided to do this here.

How Did Phangs come to be?

Like most things on my blog, the original concept began as a joke. My friend and enabler, @jeneelestrange, and I were talking about our least favorite tropes in romance/erotica, including but not limited to toxic “alpha” werewolves, brooding stalker vampire boyfriends, and the absolute profound bullshit that is the Conflicted Love Triangle and Bury Your Gays.

Eventually, it culminated in this post:

(source)

It was meant to be a joke. I really cannot emphasize this enough. It was meant to be a shitpost between friends.

A throwaway ADHD impulse.

Tumblr, however, wanted more of these posts, and like a swarming mass of drift-compatible rats in a trench coat, grabbed hold of my lack of impulse control and Ratatouille'd me into becoming an international bestselling author, and, well, here we are.

I also started writing the series while dying, which I highly do not recommend as a functional creative process.

Absolutely do not start a 500k five-part novel series about love and hope while dying from an undiagnosed genetic disorder. Or if you do, make sure you actually die so you don't have to edit the damn thing. (I am mostly kidding.)

What are the themes/tropes/character dynamics of the book?

In the simplest of terms, Phangs is a queer-polyamorous-paranormal-satirical-romance series featuring vampires, werewolves, and all other manner of creatures that go bump in the night.

It is set in a pseudo-regency meets fake-Victorian Gaslamp Fantasy world, complete with gothic castles, enchanted forests, and just a smidge of industrial coal dust.

Style-wise, Phangs has been described by readers as "like reading the queer, goth love child of Terry Pratchett meets Jane Austen," and I've never been more proud of anything in my life.

If Game of Thrones ascribes to the idea that the night is dark and full of terrors, Phangs is the monster-fucker politely sidling up to them at the bar and asking if they can buy them a drink.

It is also primarily a love letter to fandom, which has led some people to believe it’s fanfiction with the serial labels filed off. But as the person who spent five years agonizing over the world-building, I can assure you this is all very much the product of my weird little ADHD brain picking up tropes, shaking them upside down, and running off with whatever fun and interesting things shake loose.

As already stated, the first book, True Love Bites, focuses primarily on the relationship between Captain Nathaniel J. Northland and Viscount Vlad Blutstein.

The first part of the book primarily focuses on Nathan coming home injured from war and trying to find his place in the world as newly deaf and disabled -- something which alienates him from his werewolf family, who don't know what to do with an injury that can't be mended by a full moon.

While working on the island of Eyrie, he encounters Viscount Blutstein -- Vlad-- a neurodivergent, mad scientist dandy vampire with an enthusiasm for demonic botany and a streak of unfailing kindness as broad and expansive as the sky.

It's not so much love at first sight for the pair as instantaneous lust hampered by the restrictions of polite 1880 society and old ingrained prejudices that make them think the other couldn't possibly be interested in them that way. They're just misreading all those heartfelt stares and sexually charged chess games.

(The love is requited, your honor, they're just idiots.)

Both characters are explicitly queer/mspec, as is Ursula, who drops into their world like a magical atom bomb going off, but not before she spends her own parts of the book desperately trying to figure out what manner of dark entity is killing the magical shrines around the world that keep the world alive.

Thematically, the series touches on many things, but the book’s overriding theme is love. Romantically, of course, and love between families, both found or otherwise. But also love as an act of courage. As a choice. An act of defiance in dark and troubling times, and what it means to be loved and belong even though you’re different.

Especially when you’re different.

And I really fucking hope you enjoy it.

To read the full synopsis and check out the heat ratings, buy links and content tags, go to www.joydemorra.com

#hunger pangs: true love bites #info post #Hunger Pangs master post

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seeingivy · 1 year

Text

enchanted

satoru gojo x f!reader

**part of my debut concert event

**part one of this fic here icymi (read before or its kinda confusing)

**part of my satoru as taylor swift songs series

content: satoru and your parents are annoying, like in the last part, readers mom just says a bunch of mean shit (including comments on body image, etc), gojo being defensive of his wife but also corny asf, babies megumi + tsumiki having lil nightmares and wanting to sleep w their parents

an: KING OF MY HEART IS ONE OF MY FAV FICS EVER. so glad the pookie who requested this asked for it bc I was so excited writing it. also corny lil enchanted lyrics are at the end. mister satoru gojo is enchanted to meet you and ur lil babies megumi and tsumiki just love you

“Dr. L/N?”

You look up from the computer, breaking away from your sheer focus of charting all the patients you just saw in the past hour (nine patients - which sounds mediocre, but in actuality is insanity on earth).

Because when they’re sick, their parents ask a lot of questions. Which you understand and always honor - but that means you’re always running on a back log, running from one room to the next with no breaks in between. Satoru thinks that you’ll collapse on the floor one day while doing it. And you tell him that he’s praying on your downfall.

“Yes, Sarah? What’s up?”

“Your husband’s here to have lunch with you.”

“Ah. I still haven’t caught up on my charting and I really need to-”

You feel a hand on your shoulder, your senior advisor, Dr. Aoki, giving you a warm smile. She’s almost thirty years your senior - soft wrinkles and grey patches spread throughout her hair.

And she really, really loves Satoru. Which you know because she doesn’t shut up about him, always going on about how sweet he is.

“Go. Have lunch with your husband. I’ll finish off for you.”

“Ah. Dr. Aoki, I can’t let you. Plus, you don’t even know-”

“You take detailed notes. And I’m old, but I’m sure I can figure it out. Now go eat lunch with your sweet husband before I do it for you.”

You smile, giving her hand a squeeze, before dragging your feet to the breakroom - suddenly hyperaware of the tension in the back of your knees, your shoulders, and the back of your eyes. Satoru’s waiting for you at the center table - two glass bento boxes and two iced coffee’s sitting on the table.

He’s scrolling aimlessly on his phone and you’re more than positive that he’s playing Cut the Rope. A game Megumi begged him to download, but now he plays more than Megumi. Which just pisses Megumi off, because Satoru plays so far ahead in the game that Megumi can’t even remember which level it was he stopped at.

You look down at the cup of iced coffee, Satoru’s handwriting inscribed on the side.

pookie <;3

Bastard. He knows you hate it when you call him that.

Satoru looks up and smacks his phone down at the table as you take his side, placing your head flat against the clear, white table. Satoru immediately directs his hand to the back of your hair, his fingers soothing into the tense muscles in the back of your neck.

“Hello my little workaholic.”

“Good afternoon my little pain in the ass.”

He laughs, lifting your head up as he opens up the boxes, sliding forward the food he made and sticking the fork in your hand. You look down at the line up - egg fried rice and a wild assortments of fruits and vegetables on the side. They’re all cut into sweet little shapes - the cucumbers in hearts, the strawberries in flowers.

Right. You had tasked Satoru with making Megumi and Tsumiki’s lunches for one week when you were on the night call. When you had returned, all he did was scold you for making very boring lunches for Megumi and Tsumiki.

Granted, you thought they weren’t half bad. You always made sure to give them a little treat - strawberry gummies for Tsumiki and sour candy for Megumi - and left sweet little notes in their lunch boxes, saying you were proud of them, that Megumi was going to do great on his presentation, and that Tsumiki looked pretty today.

Satoru resolved the situation by heading to the store and buying the special little cutouts, shiny new metal tin boxes for Megumi and Tsumiki, and even glittery stationery to leave them both notes.

Yeah and he never let you make their lunch again. He’d often drop by to the office to eat with you, since he knew that was the only time you would eat anything, and bring you by the third box he arranged with theirs in the morning.

“Hard day, my love?”

“Yeah, Satoru. And it’s not even over yet.”

He places the fork in your hand again, instructing you to eat as you keep talking, tasking himself with mixing up the layers of the coffee he brought you.

“What’s the point of working so hard? Didn’t you marry me for my money?”

“Well, obviously but-”

“Hey!”

“What?”

“That’s so rude to admit. You should keep that type of stuff to yourself.”

“Okay, Satoru. You married me as a cover for your girlfriend and-”

“Stop throwing that in my face! So you have one girlfriend and suddenly you’re the bad-”

“It is when you’re married!”

You both laugh, Satoru ruffling your hair, as he opens up the second box, sliding it towards you as you keep eating.

“You don’t want, Toru?”

“No. They’re both for you. You really do work too hard, Y/N.”

“Well. Our parents could cut us off - we don’t exactly do everything they want. And I want to be self sufficient and be a good role model for-”

“Tsumiki and Megumi. I know, my love. I’m just saying.”

You lean into Satoru’s touch, placing your aching head against his shoulder as he leans over, pressing a kiss to the top of your forehead. You finish off your own box (and Satoru’s) and down your iced coffee (and half of Satoru’s, before he starts scolding you about healthy caffeine intakes).

He gives you a sweet kiss goodbye, giving soft smiles to the rest of your coworkers, as you buckle in for the rest of your shift.

“Satoru.”

“Hm.”

“Look at what my mom texted me.”

He untangles himself from his position - which is just using you as a third pillow - and peaks his head up, squinting his eyes at your phone in the dark.

Your mom, heinous bitch she is, sent you a text reminding you about all the things you need to do for your dinner with the Gojo’s tomorrow.

Wear a dress. Make sure it’s appropriate, but enough to keep a guy like Satoru interested. You don’t want your husband running off just because you’re boring him.

Make sure to wear the wedding ring Satoru gave you, not the engagement. You’re going to look tacky otherwise.

Fresh flowers, that haven’t bloomed yet. Don’t embarrass me by bringing flowers that’ll die in a day.

And please don’t leave your hair fully down. It washes you out.

Satoru glares at the camera, looking up at your face. He finds it hard to read you in situations like this. Because in all honesty, he knows that you hate your parents. But he doesn’t miss the way you act differently when it comes to them.

Because when you’re mad at Satoru for not picking up Tsumiki on time or at Megumi for not telling you he had a project due tomorrow until nine pm, you get a reasonable amount of mad. Pink in the cheeks, a little bit of scolding, followed by fixing the problem and talking it out.

But with them you, you don’t really talk about it. And he’s not sure if it’s because he’s not privy to the conversations that you have with them, but for some reason, he thinks there aren’t any. And that you just take it, when it’s them.

Which he understands. Too well. That’s part of the reason he’s with you, in this bed right now. Cuddled up in your arms, pressing lazy kisses around your shoulder.

Because his parents asked you to marry him. Because you told him you didn’t mind if he kept his own life outside of it, that you were just doing what you had to do.

And now that he…loves you, parts of it all make him sad. That you’d take someone telling you what to do - telling you that you don’t look good with your hair down when you look good all the time and that you’re tacky or boring or-

“Hey. Y/N.”

“Hm, Satoru?”

“You know I…love you right? For real?”

“Yeah. You told me.”

“But like, for real, okay? Not just because we’re…married or whatever. I actually really, really love you. You’re very pretty and you’re always so good with Megumi and Tsumiki and you’re so good at your job and-”

You stop him in his tracks by cupping his face in his ands, quirking your head to the side. You lean down and peck at his lips, pressing your fingers into his dimples.

“I love you too, Satoru but what’s this about?”

He frowns, placing his head back in your lap as you start running your hands through his white locks of hair, soft to the touch. You can feel his cheeks are warm from his face lying against your bare legs and you can’t help but smile at the fact that he’s blushing. Even after one year of marriage (and eight months of real marriage), he’s still nervous around you.

“I don’t know. Your mom’s just stupid. You’re not boring or tacky and you look very pretty with your hair down.”

“Thank you, Toru. For getting so offended on my behalf. But I don’t care, let’s go to bed, yeah?”

He nods, shuffling the sheets around you as he sprawls across the bed. One thing about Satoru, he has to touch you when he’s sleeping.

Not in the…dirty way. It could be the coldest night of the year and he has his entire body weight on you, treating you like a stuffed animal he was sleeping with. Or it’s the hottest night of the year and he’s as far away as he can be from you - just placing his hand on your forearm or tangling one of his legs with yours.

Touchy. Even when he’s asleep.

After not even five minutes of sleep, you feel a tapping on your nose, your features crinkling up from the sensation.

“Toru. Quit tickling me.”

He murmurs back incoherently, tangling around in the sheets as a response. Right. Satoru also sleeps like the walking dead. And he can and will sleep anywhere and everywhere, almost instantly. It’s actually a talent.

“Um. That wasn’t him.”

You flutter your eyes open to find Megumi, standing awkwardly at your side. You immediately sit up, clicking on the light as Satoru starts groaning behind you, smacking his hand on the bed to get you to turn the light off. You look over at the clock and realize it’s well past three, meaning Megumi should have been asleep hours ago.

“Megs. You okay?”

“Uh, yeah. But Tsumiki, she’s like crying a lot. Usually, what I do works but she just won’t stop.”

You shake Satoru at your side, his eyes finally fluttering open as he looks at you and Megumi in confusion.

“Megumi-chan. You better be interrupting our sleep for something good.”

“Satoru, stop it. Go get Tsumiki. Now. I think she’s crying.”

Satoru immediately stands up, stalking out of the room as you turn back to Megumi, taking his tiny hands in yours. He looks like he usually does - blank expression on his face, avoiding eye contact, tiredness on his face.

You wrap one of your hands around his cheek and squeeze, feeling his skin warm under your touch.

“What do you think happened, Megs?”

“She had a bad dream. Usually, we kind of just stay with each other till it stops. But, it didn’t really work.”

“Have you had them while you were here? Or her?”

“Yeah sometimes.”

You can feel your heart clench in your chest and you immediately wrap Megumi in your arms, brushing your hands through his soft, black hair. You can still smell the shampoo in his hair from earlier, the fresh smell springing into your nose. They should be coming to you. Not each other. Megumi’s only five. And she’s just seven.

“Megumi. You know you can come to us about that stuff. Both of you. And you should be because we know how to help you and-”

You stop talking as Satoru walks into the room, craning your head to the side to survey the situation. Satoru’s carrying Tsumiki in his arms, something he doesn’t do very often, and you can hear her soft sniffles as he places her on the bed between you, rubbing circles into her back.

You take the cup of water on the nightstand (that Satoru leaves out for you everyday so you can stay hydrated) and hand it to her, directing her to calm her breaths. She’s shaking so hard and her eyes are so pink that she can barely hold the glass, Satoru taking it from her hands and tilting her head up so she can drink it.

You look over at Megumi, his eyes twitching as he looks at Tsumiki, and you direct him to sit on the bed next to you, right next to Tsumiki and in between you and Satoru.

You never really know what to do in situations like this. And neither does Satoru. I mean hell, you’re only twenty-three and Satoru’s only twenty-four. And they haven’t been your kids for too long.

Other parents, the ones who come into your practice, talk about how they know somethings wrong. They can feel it in their gut. Their parental instinct. But you don’t have any of that, especially not with Tsumiki and Megumi.

And you know it’s not something you can learn and something that just comes from being their parents, but you sincerely wish it was. Because Tsumiki and Megumi deserve to have someone who can read them like that, who knows what’s wrong with them, and talks for them when they don’t know how. And-

Satoru opens up his arms, with Tsumiki crawls into his lap and curls herself up against his chest. She looks so small, barely covering his entire frame as she hiccups into his chest, pushing the back of her hand against his eyes.

Satoru beckons Megumi to join her and he awkwardly crawls up, the two of them nestled in Satoru’s arms. Maybe you spoke too soon. Because it always seems like Satoru knows what he’s doing.

“You too, goofy.”

You roll your eyes as you scoot closer to them, laying your head against Satoru’s shoulders as you start running your hands through Tsumiki’s hair, rubbing soft circles into the small of her back like Satoru was earlier.

“Hi Miki.”

“H-hi Y/N.”

“How you feeling, sweet girl?”

“O-okay.”

You soften your hands in her hair, focusing on braiding the ends as you talk, the three of them hanging on to every word you say.

“Miki, Megs. I know you’ve…been together for a long time. Before me and Satoru came around. And I’m sure you have your own ways of…being there for each other. But, you can let us be there for you too, you know?”

You feel Tsumiki stiffen under your touch and you pull back, holding the braid in place on your head.

“I don’t mean to let each other go. You’re siblings and that’s one of the most important relationships you can have. But just know, Satoru and I can be smart sometimes. Well, I can. I don’t really know about him.”

“Hey.”

Tsumiki and Megumi laugh, which stops Satoru’s protests all together. It’s working. And Satoru’s jealous of you, because as always, you know the right thing to say. To get them to smile again, tell you what’s wrong. And sure, you’ve always had that effect on Satoru but he loves that you can do it with them too. You’ve clearly got this parenting thing more figured out than him, he thinks.

“But, we can help you too, you know? I’m a big girl. I can deal with whatever you give me.”

Tsumiki turns to the side, crawling out of Satoru’s lap as she crawls into yours, squeezing herself in your arms.

“Th-thanks, Y/N. But maybe not right now?”

“Whenever you want, okay? Let’s just go to bed now, it’s late.”

“Can I sleep with you, Y/N? And Satoru?”

Satoru leans forward, squeezing Tsumiki’s hand in hers as he nods, opening up the covers for her. Megumi awkwardly looks between you and Satoru and you catch on fast, signaling for him to join you under the covers as well. The four of you are squished together, Tsumiki clinging on to you and Megumi clinging on to Satoru.

They both fall asleep fast and you give a weary look to Satoru in the dark, which he returns with a smile.

You hate leaving at a time like this. And you hate your parents and even Gojo’s parents for making you come to a stupid dinner like this.

Your kids, that they don’t know about, need you. You had tried your best to make Tsumiki comfortable, making her a stack of warm, strawberry pancakes and letting her pick what you guys ate for lunch.

And when you had to leave her with Nanami and Shoko to go see the Gojo’s, you swear you could feel your heart clench at the thought of leaving her. And Megumi. And of the two of them being uncomfortable without you there.

You could tell from the look in Satoru’s eyes that he shared your sentiments, his gaze weary as he said goodbye, lingering by the door until you two really had to leave. And then you both made your trek to the Gojo Estate.

And god do you hate it here. In all but ten minutes of dinner, your mother, assfucking clown she was, had already found ten different things to pick on.

Your hair has split ends, you should cut it.

You should slow down on the food.

You could have worn a more flattering color.

Every spiky comment she makes, Satoru squeezes his hand in yours under the table, grounding you in the moment. If it wasn’t for him and the soft looks he was giving you every few minutes, you’re sure you would have broken the centerpiece in the middle of the table by now.

“Say, Y/N, Satoru.”

You look up to find Mr. Gojo beaming at you, the smile not meeting his eyes. You can feel Satoru’s hand tense in yours under the table and you know it’s your turn to protect him from his dad.

“Did you start trying for kids?”

“Dad.”

“What, Satoru? It’s an important question. You guys have been married for a year now and surely there’s no better time than now to start trying.”

You can feel your mouth dry at the thought. Kids. Kids of your own. Like, a crying, pooping baby - half parts you and half parts Satoru.

How in the world could they think you were ready for that? Because in all honesty, Satoru’s your husband in name but he feels like your boyfriend.

You’ve been together for eight months. You haven’t gone on a vacation together or met his college best friend and you don’t know what his favorite smoothie flavor is or what the first car he drove was and they want you to start popping out kids?

You and Satoru aren’t ready for kids. And really, you already have two kids. That need you right now. And you have all the time in the world to have more and you really, really just like things the way they are. For now, and-

“They’ll get working on it.”

You feel your eyes boggle out of your head as you crane your neck to look at your mom, a self-assured smile placed on her face. She can’t really be serious, can she?

“Oh, how sweet! A grandchild. Oh, I do hope it’s a boy. So we can pass on the Gojo name and all.”

It’s Satoru’s turn to glare at his mother and you’re sure that he has the same bitter taste in his mouth as you. Sure, they were the reason you guys got married but they had no right to treat you guys like this. Like you were put together to make some offspring for them to fawn over.

“Although, I wouldn’t mind a girl. Boys can be rowdy and insensitive.” says Mr. Gojo, a matter-of-fact tone in his words.

“That’s not true. Boys can be sensitive too. You just have to raise them right.” you respond, muttering the words under your breath.

Megumi’s sweet and sensitive. He always avoids stomping on flowers growing out of the cracks of the cement and he always writes cards for his teachers on holiday’s and always says please and thank you after every little thing you and Satoru do for him, even if it is under his breath.

“Well, I hope it’s a boy. Girls come with attitude.” your dad responds, the implication in his tone clear.

“No daughter of ours would take back-handed comments like that.”

Because Tsumiki’s never done that. Because Satoru remembers the day someone tried to pick on her in her class and all she did was calmly respond. Stand her ground, surely but firmly. Something he’s sure that she learned from you. And to think someone could dismiss that off as attitude is so fucking-

You squeeze Satoru’s hand under the table, signaling him to stop. Because he’s being rude. Because he shouldn’t talk back to your father even if he’s wrong and-

“Satoru. Stop.” you whisper, awkwardly eyeing the four of them as he deflates.

The four of you awkwardly sit in silence, the forks clicking against the plates. Satoru’s crushing your hand into oblivion under the table and you can see that he’s agitated from the way his shoulders are all scrunched up. And when his dad talks next, he really can’t hold it in anymore.

“Satoru, son. All you have to do take her to bed one time to pass on the Gojo na-”

Satoru smacks his fist against the table, the glassware making a loud noise against the surface. You look over to find Satoru smoldering, the way he often did when he was near his dad.

“Don’t talk about my wife like that. She’s not some thing for you to use. You can try that shit on anyone else but you know damn well I’m not letting you do it to her.”

Mrs. Gojo’s features scrunch up in frustration, a pinched look on her face as she starts massaging the bridge of her nose. Satoru stands up, pulling you up with him as he stomps out, dragging you out with him.

You two drive in silence the entire way home. Satoru’s still smoldering in his drivers seat, jaw tight against his skin as he clenches his fists on the steering wheel, knuckles going white. And you’re unsure of what you can say to him to ease it, make him feel better.

He parks the car in the driveway, leaning his head against the seat to look up through the sunroof, the stars glittering in the sky above you. He makes no motions to get out of the car, the engine and lights still turned on despite the fact that you and Satoru were home.

“Y/N.”

“Hm, Satoru?”

“You-you okay?”

“What? Yeah. Are you?”

He doesn’t respond and instead loosens his tie, the fabric hanging from the sides of his collar.

“I just…hate them. So much. Why would we rush having a child when we aren’t ready? And who are they to talk about you like that? Like all I keep you around for is to bear my children.”

You’re not sure what to say so you snake your hand into his, leaning over the glove box to lean onto his shoulder. You can feel him deflate under you, leaning his head on top of yours as he presses his hand against your waist, his hands rubbing back and forth on the fabric.

“Satoru.”

“Yeah, love?”

“You feel like my boyfriend, right now. I know you’re my husband but…we’ve only been together for eight months. And I know it’s weird to say but…I’d like to have a kid with you someday just…not now.”

His hand comes up, angling your face up so you’re looking at him, a big smile spread across his face. You can feel your cheeks burning from the admission and you clench your eyes shut to avoid seeing the teasing look on Satoru’s face.

“Y/N. You’d want to have kids with me?”

You nod and Satoru’s face splits into a big smile, his hands shaking in yours.

“Well, yeah. It would be cute, when the time is right. Megumi and Tsumiki can have a little sibling and it’ll be like…a little us.

“A little us?”

“Your nose, my eyes, hopefully all of my looks and none of your annoyingness.”

“You’re so sweet, Y/N. I don’t know how I ever lucked out with such a charming girl like you.” he responds, sarcasm dripping from his voice. You laugh in response, beaming at him as you talk on.

“I love you, Satoru. And I’d love to have kids with you but we’re just…we already have two kids and I think they need us right now. They haven’t opened up yet and-”

“I know, sweet. I agree. Trust me, I’d love nothing more than putting a baby in your right here, right now in this car but-”

“Pervert.”

“Why are you so rude? Every word is like a bullet wound in my chest.”

You lean over, pressing a kiss to his chest as you lean back and glare at him. He smiles at you, a sweet look on his face.

“What was that for?”

“You said bullet wound in your chest. I was just kissing your ego better.”

He leans forward, cupping your face as he kisses you, hanging off the ends of your lips as he squeezes his face in your hands. He pulls apart, pressing kisses all over your face as he talks, his words making your cheeks burn.

“You’re so-”

Kiss.

“Damn cute.”

Kiss.

“I hate you sometimes.”

Kiss.

“When we have kids, I hope they’re all like you. Pretty eyes, soft hair, snarky attitude. She’ll be so easy to love, all goofy and idiotic like you.”

“She, Satoru?”

“Oh, she’s totally going to be a girl. My three girls. You, Tsumiki, and her.”

“Sounds like you have it all planned out already?”

“Well, I’m waiting. For when you’re ready and I’m ready and all that. But yeah. I’ve already seen how our entire life is going to play out. You and I are going to grow old together. Sick it to our parents. Have the type of love kids dream about. All that lovey-dovey stuff.”

You and Satoru, hands pressed together, pad into the dark of the house, slowly climbing up the stairs. When you amble into your bed room, you can hear soft snores in your bed - Tsumiki and Megumi fast asleep under your sheets. There’s a tiny little sticky-note pressed to the light switch, which you and Satoru both squint at.

They want to sleep with "their parents”. Their words, not ours. - Shoko

You and Satoru quickly peel out of your clothes and climb under the sheets - Satoru leaning over to press a kiss to all three of your heads before fluttering his own eyes shut.

And you hate to say it, because all in all the night wasn’t perfect, but you really, really don’t want to let it go. Every part of this night is…sparkling in your mind. Satoru defending you, telling you that he loves you, that he wants to have kids with you. You-

You count yourself lucky. That you don’t have to wonder if Satoru is in love with someone else or what he thinks about you or any other thing.

Because you know the person he’s waiting on is you.

the satoru as taylor swift songs series masterlist

taglist: @porridgesblog @platrom @k0z3me @kayleegomez @yihona-san06 @bsenpai @sweetenertea @skzismyhome @mykyoon @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters

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darkdemeter · 9 months

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Y/N “WOLFIE’S” PANEL

—- not my gifs, credit to original posters! -—

(Platonic) Avengers cast x GN/Female/Male Reader Feat. on the panel: Elizabeth Olsen, Chris Evans, Sebastian Stan, Anthony Mackie & Robert Downey Jr.

A/N — So this was delayed at first because I'd kinda gotten second thoughts, then did a bit of research (just watched some of the cast in interviews and stuff). And then I thought "fuck it, write it." So I did just that. Though I'm not counting on this being "top tier" and very well may be the only time I do this sorta thing. Because I have come to realise when writing this... I CANNOT write celebrities, so great kudos to those who can, and also they make it look so easy!

WORD COUNT — 1.7k

READER DISCRETION — Nothing that should be potentially triggering— maybe slight insecure reader? Nothing really, just that little "did I do good?" y'know? — just Y/N with the avengers cast— Y/N being a little blushing, embarrassed mess

SUMMARY— You meet your fellow cast members on the panel for Comic Con, the debut for the final instalment to Habits of Mother Nature's Will releasing that weekend at the premiere.

You can read the columns here — HABITS OF MOTHER NATURE'S WILL HABITS OF MOTHER NATURE'S WILL II HABITS OF MOTHER NATURE'S WILL II: AFTERMATH

You never thought you would hear anything louder than the sound of applauding fans and cheers as your name was announced by the panel moderator.

You swaggered onto the stage, your outfit was casual but styled in a way that could pass for formal dress easily. Your hair styled to what you favoured most.

You raised your arm up and waved to the crowd who roared with such vigour, you silently admitted to yourself it was a tad bit intimidating. But you were excited for this panel. To be beside your cast members who you had bonded with over the course of production, and to finally meet those who loved the project as well.

The Avengers series had been a cinematic hit and when you signed the contract, had anyone told you that the three part short series would have been a major hit for audiences, you would have scoffed.

Your co-stars each turned and greeted you with grins as they waved you over. “There they are!” Chris announced into his microphone with a wide grin.

You were assigned to sit between Lizzie and Chris. Anthony sat on Lizzie’s other side.

“Where you been, Y/N? We missed you,” Anthony questioned you with a pout, hands forming a heart over his chest. You chuckled and held up your other hand that held a cup of coffee.

“I needed my fix, leave me alone,” you grumbled. Lizzie squeezed your shoulder lightly with a shake of her head, ushering the others to stop picking on you.

“And you didn’t bring me one,” Anthony tutted and Seb called after him, “the betrayal.”

The crowd laughed and cheered.

“So we were just about to get to the fans' questions, Y/N, and I don’t doubt a lot of them have questions about your character in particular,” the moderator said to you and you nodded.

“Prepare yourself for marriage proposals, Y/N. There is always at least ten for each of us,” Robert said, his voice deep and calm over the mic system.

Your face went bright red. “Well…” you wanted to swear out of habit, but you held your tongue, your head fell forward. “Dammit.”

More laughs came from the audience. The microphone was set up and any fans who had questions were directed to stand in the queue.

The first fan was a young woman, probably about college age. You leaned forward, your arms folded on the table and made your clothes pull against your frame and you looked intensely focused on the fan. Engaged with what they had to say.

The very act made quite a few people swoon and scream, only your eyes flickered to your cast mates with a raised brow.

“I think the proposals have increased quite a bit now,” Chris said with a smirk. It didn’t help relieve the flush in your face when a few whistles of agreement followed his statement.

The girl giggled nervously into the mic in front of her and you refocused your attention on her. “Hi,” she said through her giggles and you nodded, hand lifting slightly to wave.

“Hey, how are you?” you asked and she nodded, “good thank you. I just want to say personally I’m a huge fan of the character, C/N, and I just wanted to ask you how you felt when you got the role to portray them?”

You raised your brows under the weight of the question. You smiled and thanked her for the question. “Hmm, well, I’m not gonna lie it felt scary that I wouldn’t be able to portray the character, but the script writer and director - along with my cast members - they really helped me where I felt I lacked in providing the performance that C/N would. So yeah, thank you for that question, and I’m glad you enjoyed my take on the character, other than that it was a lot of fun.”

She beamed from ear to ear and nodded eagerly. She thanked you profusely and expressed her excitement to see Aftermath in cinemas. Elizabeth patted your hand with a smile. “You did good,” she uttered away from the microphone and you nodded in thanks.

Another fan walked up and greeted the cast. “So I want to know, who would win in a fight against each other: Bucky or C/N?”

“Uh, the correct answer, obviously, would be Ironman.” Robert’s interjection made the crowd fall into a frenzy of hysterics. You grinned, the act natural and your own that you made signature component for your character.

“Remember who killed your parents,” Sebastian taunted and Robert smirked down the table his way. “Uh,” Sebastian began as he leaned back in thought for a moment, “I kinda want to say Bucky. I don’t think C/N could bring themselves to hurt him. So I think he’d use that to his advantage.”

When the fan inquired about your opinion, you shrugged with a tsk. “I think C/N would only win if someone hurt Wanda.” Your answer made the fans giddy, the uproar of cheers enough to bring the roof down like an earthquake.

“I have to say that the fight sequence was so intense, I was on the edge of my seat the entire time. The cinema I was in was in such a state, I thought it was gonna get shut down,” the next fan began with a giggle. You and your fellow co-stars couldn’t help but chuckle and smile. It really did make you happy to know that you had done well to provide fans with such excitement. The Avenger films were great and adored by the fanbase, your only wish was that you wouldn’t let the dedicated members of the production and the fans down.

“The fight choreography was brilliant and I wanted to ask what you could share about what went on behind the scenes? Like, how was all of that done?”

Oh, that was a loaded question. “Well…,” you chuckled, “let me first tell you that the entirety of my character fighting in their ‘wolf form’ was me. I did all the motion capture for that–” The room was filled with applaus. “Thank you. Yeah, my stunt double thought it would be funny to visit their family overseas and leave me to do all the motion capture. So I have them to thank for the harness that was riding my ass for the next couple of days,” you answered, though everyone could tell you only meant to tease, that you didn’t mean anything ill about it all.

The experience of doing all the intense choreography was actually one of the most fun aspects you’d ever done in any of your productions thus far.

Anthony laughed into his mic then. “I kid you not, we all have a video around twenty minutes long of Y/N doing the motion capture from the gag reel. And it’s hilarious,” he sighed at the end and earnt a laugh from the crowd.

“It wasn’t easy, man,” you whined, “but– but when I had to do scenes that required a more realistic build, I was saved the embarrassment and actually we had my dog, D/N, do all the motion capture for that.”

A photo of your German Shepherd appeared on the screen above, your arms encircled around them, their head tilted and long tongue hung from their mouth.

“They’re so cute!” a fan in the crowd shouted and you chuckled. “Damn adorable, I love them. I had to be on guard, I was scared Chris would take them home.”

Chris leaned over in his seat, hand slapped to his chest with a toothy grin as he cackled to himself. “I love that dog so much, what can I say?”

The fan thanked you for your time and walked back to their seat. The next fans were two girls, again around the age of college students walked up together. “Hi!” one of them greeted and the other looked incredibly shy, her friend held her close around the shoulders.

“Hey there, how are you?” you asked again. You always asked how the fans were, a habit that was just natural. Human. Kind.

“We’re good thanks. Uh, so this is my friend, Taylor,” she said and indicated to the other girl next to her. She waved and mumbled a meek hello into the mic. Your cheeks folded out into a smile, adoring the girl’s shyness. It was adorable. “And it’s her birthday and I want to ask if you could give her a little birthday present as your character, C/N, please? And with a cherry on top, add your wolf voice?”

Your tongue danced over your teeth as fans left, right and centre cheered and hollered. You could tell it was as much wanted by them as the fans asking for it themselves. “Just out of curiosity, who else is here for their birthday?” you asked and quite a large amount clapped in answer, a view yelled their response.

“Okay, so you can consider this a gift to you guys as well.” You sat forward and rolled your shoulders, getting into the mind of your character.

“Happy Birthday, Taylor.” You stopped to let the fans burn out their screams before you continued. “Told you, marriage proposals all of them,” Robert commented just as you went to speak and you broke out of character for a moment, face palming your hand.

“Go on, Wolfie, you gotta appease the fans,” Robert uttered with a wave of his hand to usher you on.

“I hope you have a wonderful birthday. Wanna play fetch some… sometime in the park?” Despite the momentary hiccup, unable to contain the embarrassed giggle in your throat as your face brightened, you finished.

Even some of your castmates imitated getting flustered, even Lizzie herself fanned her face. Taylor hid her face in her palms and her friend thanked you.

The other beauty of your performance was that the sound editors had little to do with mixing your vocals for the werewolf voices, you had a knack for making it naturally guttural and animalistic.

Anthony snickered playfully. “So I think we can agree that Y/N “Wolfie” has taken over the panel. Can we get a shout or clap if you enjoyed Y/N’s performance of C/N?”

You don’t know how it was possible, but that was the loudest you’d heard the fans.

#marvel #platonic avengers x reader #gn reader #male reader #female reader #sebastian stan x reader #elizabeth olsen x reader #robert downey jr x reader #anthony mackie x reader #chris evans x reader #comic con panel #x reader #imagine #mcu

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fantasyescapes17 · 1 year

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Wings (Part 4)

Your debut in society was as spectacular as one could be, but nobody had prepared you for what came afterward. When you find yourself overwhelmed during your very first season and unable to keep up with the rat race to secure yourself an eligible husband, a curious mentor appears- in the form of notorious flirt and self-proclaimed rake, Mr. Kim Mingyu.

Genre: Mingyu x Female!reader. Regency!AU. You are Jeonghan's sibling so your last name is Yoon but the reader has no other physical characteristics.

Warnings: Discussions of social anxiety, one f-bomb (yes shy Miss Yoon drops an f-bomb sue me) smoking (don't smoke kids, the characters in this story are from a time when they didn't know how bad it was for their health)

Word Count: 6.2k+

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 5

Series Masterlist [You WILL need to read Patience, the earlier installment in this series first in order to understand the character dynamics in this story. Reading Candle before this is also strongly recommended.]

Confessing to your sister-in-law that you were in love with Mr. Kim Mingyu somehow made your feelings for him seem more real than ever. It was as though saying the words aloud had allowed the true extent of your affection for him to finally come out of hiding.

The idea of confessing your love to him did not come without apprehension. But the clock was ticking and you had no other viable option. You were in danger of losing Mr. Kim in any case; if you were silent and married someone else, it would still be the end of your friendship as you knew it. Once married, it would be unseemly to maintain even a close friendship with a gentleman who was not your husband.

So you had no choice.

You had to show him your heart and hope for the best.

The opening of Mr. Kim’s art gallery was a spectacular event at which no expense had been spared. You entered the new building and immediately saw all the most elite members of the ton gathered in one place. The Viscount and Viscountess Hong and even the Duke and Duchess of Graham had turned up for Mr. Kim’s opening. You were impressed by Mr. Kim’s prowess in being able to gather all these high-ranking members of the ton for his grand opening.

Your mother insisted on accompanying you to the event. She was not very pleased with Mr. Kim (‘If he was seriously courting you, he should have proposed by now! What can he be waiting for?’ she often complained) but even her displeasure would not cause her to absent herself from one of the season’s most awaited events. She forced you to stay near her as you walked around to admire the displayed paintings and sculptures. Your mother's eyes, however, were on the people and not the paintings.

“If Mr. Kim is not going to propose, then I think you must focus your attention on Baron Wright instead,” your mother hissed in your ear as you tried to admire a large painting of a young woman. “The season is coming to an end. This is the ideal time for a proposal.”

You said nothing.

“Are you listening to me?”

“Yes, mother. Isn’t this portrait quite lovely? I love how the artist has captured the sheer quality of the lace on her gown,” you said. There was no arguing with your mother when it came to Baron Wright. You had no option but to try to turn her attention away from him.

“Yes, yes,” your mother mumbled, barely glancing at the painting. “Ah! I see Mrs. Patty! I must ask her whether she has seen Baron Wright of late, I am so worried that he shall leave London without saying a word to us…”

You were relieved when she hurried away, leaving you behind. You slipped through the crowd in search of Mr. Kim. He was not difficult to find. He was surrounded by a group of people who were congratulating him on the successful gallery opening. Of course. He was the star of tonight's event.

Mr. Kim stood tall, in a particularly dashing black suit that you had never seen him wear before. He was handsome; you were not noticing that for the first time but it was the first time you allowed yourself to fully acknowledge the warmth and happiness that exploded inside of you at the sight of his smile.

He looked up. His twinkling eyes met yours and his smile widened. You waited patiently until he excused himself from the conversation and strode towards you confidently.

"And what is little Miss Yoon doing here all alone?" Mr. Kim asked with a playful grin as he offered you his arm.

"I managed to slip away from my mother," you told him. You took his arm. "But never mind her. This gallery is beautiful. I never knew you had such taste for art, Mr. Kim."

Your compliments seemed to please him. He grinned down at you. "I told you I was a patron of the arts. This is nothing. My private collection at home is much more selective and exquisite."

"I should love to see it someday," you said lightly.

"And it would be my pleasure to show it to you," he answered smoothly. "There are a few pieces here tonight that I think you might enjoy. May I?"

"Lead the way."

You found nothing more enjoyable than allowing Mr. Kim to lead you around the room and show you his favourite artwork. Some of the paintings had stories behind them- others were simply visual masterpieces. You saw portraits of kings and paintings of forests and vast landscapes.

"This one is a particular favourite of mine," Mr. Kim said as he paused in front of a beautiful oil painting of a small grey bird inside a cage. The cage door was open; another brightly coloured bird with enormous feathers and large wings was hovering near the cage door as though coaxing the grey bird to come out.

You stared at it for a long moment.

"It's beautiful," you whispered.

"I think the colourful bird can't understand why the grey bird chooses to sit in the cage," Mr. Kim said thoughtfully.

"But his wing is broken."

"What?"

You stepped closer to the small painting and gestured towards the grey bird's wings. The wings were tucked close to the bird's body but upon closer inspection, one of them was angled differently from the other.

"I don't think the grey one can fly," you said quietly. "So for him, the cage is safe and not a trap."

Mr. Kim was silent for a long moment. "I hadn't noticed that," he admitted. "Clearly you are more observant than I am. I thought it was a lesson on spreading your wings and taking risks."

"Or perhaps it is a lesson on communication," you suggested.

"Or perhaps the artist simply drew a pair of birds and we are projecting our interpretations of deeper meaning onto them," he continued with a chuckle. "Well; there concludes our tour of the art gallery."

You frowned. "We have not seen that hallway yet."

Mr. Kim rubbed the back of his neck and suddenly looked rather sheepish. "Perhaps we had better not tour that one together."

"Why not?"

"It is not… appropriate."

"What could be inappropriate about some paintings?" you demanded. You turned towards the hallway before Mr. Kim could stop you and paused at the first painting. You realised your mistake immediately. This was an enormous nude portrait of a woman looking out of a window wearing a scrap of silk that covered none of her intimate parts.

"O-oh," you said quickly.

Mr. Kim cleared his throat behind you. "I told you it was inappropriate."

You took a deep breath. "I-I have seen paintings such as these before," you tried to say smoothly. You turned around to see that Mr. Kim was biting back a smile as he looked at you. "It is… it is merely art."

"Indeed," he said, the corners of his lips twitching as they upwards. "Art."

Your embarrassment was becoming more difficult to conceal. "The-the human form is a commonly chosen subject for artists, and of course among polite adults there is nothing to be ashamed of and-are you laughing at me?"

Mr. Kim could not control his laughter. He gently but firmly steered you away from the hallway of nude paintings, laughing all the while as you scolded him for ridiculing you.

"You are too innocent, Miss Yoon," Mr. Kim told you once he was able to stop laughing. "I will not allow your corruption to be on my conscience."

You frowned. "I am a lady."

"Yes, and I am a gentleman who will not encourage you to do things which are not ladylike," he replied.

"It is a bit late for that," you mumbled. You lowered your voice and leaned a little closer to him. "You have been so busy with the gallery that I have not seen you in over a week and I am simply dying for a smoke. Jeonghan keeps his cigars locked up in his study."

Mr. Kim's eyes twinkled as he looked down at you. "Is this what my position in your life has been reduced to? I thought perhaps we were friends but it appears I am little more than your cigar supplier."

"You can be both," you replied. "Do you have one or not?"

He lowered his voice. "Of course, I have one. Go back through that door- there are some storerooms there. I will join you in a few moments."

You followed his instructions and slipped through the door that Mr. Kim had pointed out. You trusted him implicitly; in all the clandestine smoking sessions that you had indulged in with Mr. Kim you had never gotten close to being caught by another soul.

But this evening was far more than your usual little smoke and chat.

This evening you would finally tell him you loved him.

The storeroom was a small dusty room filled with large easels and paintings that had white cloths thrown over them to protect them from the elements. You took a deep breath and tried to calm your nerves as you waited impatiently for Mr. Kim. The door opened a few moments later and he entered with a smile.

"I have your cigar," he said, holding it up. "We must be quick; I have guests waiting to speak to me outside so we only have time for one."

You glanced at the cigar in his hand. "What is that?"

"Your cigar, my lady."

"Don't you have any of the Cuban ones?"

Mr. Kim's mouth dropped open in mock offence. "The Cuban ones? What; do local cigars offend my lady's sensibilities? Does your delicate constitution only permit you to smoke imported cigars?"

"Yes," you replied with a smile. "Hand over the Cubans."

"I will not. I have spent enough money on your cigar habit already. I may have to start selling my paintings en masse if I am to continue to purchase foreign cigars for you at this rate."

"Hand over the Cubans, Mr. Kim."

"I do not have any."

You made a sudden and bold move- one that you did not pause to think through, or else you would never have dared to do it. You stepped closer to Mr. Kim so that you were right in front of him. He looked startled but did not move away. His warm, familiar scent enveloped you and you could hear his heavy breathing.

"What are you doing, Miss Yoon?" he asked quietly.

"Looking for Cubans."

You placed your hands on the lapels of his suit and slowly slid them down. Mr. Kim watched you silently as your fingers undid his coat buttons- first one, and then the other. Then you slid your hand into his coat and reached for his inner pocket.

Mr. Kim stared down at you. His eyes were dark and lidded as your hands delicately brushed his torso and felt for his inner jacket pocket. Your hand finally stilled; fingers brushing the cigars.

"Found them," you whispered. Your eyes snapped up to meet his. "You liar."

There was a brief moment of silence. Mr. Kim's eyes had an almost wild sort of hunger that you had never seen in them before. It sent a thrilling shiver down your spine. You were inches away from him. Nothing about this situation was appropriate- the two of you in this storeroom nor the cigars.

But this closeness… the look in his eyes…

This was beyond mere social inappropriateness. Your hand on Mr. Kim's chest and his heavy breathing as he stared down at you made one thing quite clear. The delicate line that you had been dancing around for months had just been crossed.

It was not a blatant violation. There was still a chance to step back. You could apologise for having toed the line and claim it was a mistake, that in your desperation to look for the cigars you had not thought about how it would appear-

Mr. Kim leaned down and kissed you.

You had been kissed before (there was that innocent little dalliance with the stableboy from many years ago) but you had never been kissed like this. His lips were hot as they covered yours and his hands were hot as one of them cupped your face and the other came around your waist to pull your body flush against his.

Every place he touched with his hands and lips set you on fire.

You gasped into his mouth; he did not waste the opportunity to slip his tongue past your lips and his fingers into your hair at the base of your neck.

You could not think. You could not breathe. You melted against him completely and allowed yourself to run your hands over his toned chest and shoulders while Mr. Kim continued to press warm kisses to your lips and jaw.

He pulled back for a moment, forehead pressed against yours and breathing heavily. Your breath mingled and the room was silent except for the sound of your combined heavy breathing.

"Mingyu," you whispered. "I-"

There was a loud noise outside the storeroom. You both froze. Mr. Kim swiftly pushed you so that you were hidden behind a large easel covered in a white sheet and out of sight of the door.

"I-it's probably just the gallery staff," he said anxiously. His dark eyes searched yours as he slowly released you and stepped back.

A sudden emptiness flooded you as you realised, he was leaving you.

"No, wait-"

"I will go out and send whoever it is away. Come out of the storeroom after at least two minutes," Mr. Kim said quickly before he swiftly exited the storeroom.

You stared after him in shock.

—-------------------------------------------------------

You could not sleep all night. Mr. Kim had avoided you for the rest of the gallery opening. Once your mother understood that Baron Wright was not in attendance, she had preferred to leave early, and you were forced to return home without a chance to speak to him again.

Would Mr. Kim propose? Perhaps it was too soon for that. But he would come speak to you to understand your feelings and explain his, you were sure of it. That kiss had not been for nothing. Mr. Kim would not have kissed you if he did not feel the same way about you.

You waited.

And waited.

Two days later, Jeonghan called you into his study while your mother was away from home. You felt anxious, not knowing what your brother wanted to discuss. Perhaps this was it, perhaps Mr. Kim had thought it was best to approach your brother before the proposal?

Jeonghan looked tired as he closed the study door behind you and turned to you with a sigh.

"Baron Wright has asked for permission to propose to you," Jeonghan said. He noticed the instant panic that flashed across your face and lifted a hand to calm you. "I have not answered him yet- do not worry. I told him that I would discuss it with you and let him know."

You shook your head frantically. "I-I don't want to marry Baron Wright."

"I expected so. It appears your mother has been strongly encouraging him to propose. Sister- I do not want to pressure you but you know that time is running out and your mother will lose her mind if you are not engaged by the season's end."

You sank down into a chair near Jeonghan's desk and took a deep breath. You suddenly felt as though the walls of the room were closing in on you. Clearly Mr. Kim had feelings for you, so why was he sitting around while other men proposed? What was he doing with all this time? His failure to propose to you was only making things more complicated and confusing.

"Has… nobody else asked?" you questioned Jeonghan finally.

Jeonghan raised an eyebrow and leaned against his desk. "Are you expecting someone else to ask?"

You flushed in embarrassment. "No, no, I mean…"

"Sister, you have to tell me."

You took another deep breath and tried to calm the racing thoughts in your head. You could not figure out your next steps and the only person you trusted to guide you or help you was not here.

"Have… have you spoken to Mr. Kim at all in the last few days?" you asked hesitantly.

Jeonghan's eyes widened. "No. Should I have?"

"No, no-"

"Sister. Should I speak to Mr. Kim?"

"No!" you said quickly. "Not at all. I… I need some time to think. I will come back soon."

Jeonghan did not seem convinced but allowed you to leave the study. You walked out into the foyer as you considered your options. You had to marry by the end of the season and the thought of Baron Wright becoming your husband made you recoil in disgust. You wanted Mingyu and if he would not come to you, then you would have to go to him.

It was evening; chances were high that Mr. Kim would be at either the assembly rooms or the gentleman's club. You could not gain entrance to the latter but if luck was in your favour, you might find him at the assembly rooms.

You called for the carriage and set off immediately.

The assembly rooms were crowded and you weaved through the people anxiously, hoping nobody would notice that you were without a chaperone and that you could find Mr. Kim quickly.

"Miss Yoon!"

You jumped- but the voice that called out to you was not one that you need have worried about. The Viscountess Hong was smiling at you from one of the card tables.

You greeted her anxiously. "Viscountess Hong."

"Would you like to join us for a game of cards? The stakes are not very high. We are only playing for fun," she said pleasantly.

"Oh-thank you… no, I am afraid I must decline, I am actually looking for someone…."

"Who?" she asked quietly.

You lowered your voice. "Mr. Kim."

The Viscountess stared at you for a brief moment. You felt suddenly ashamed under her curious gaze but she did not stare for long. She immediately turned to her husband and interrupted his conversation to ask. "Joshua- have you seen Mr. Kim this evening? I rather enjoy watching him lose to you at cards, it is very amusing."

The Viscount blinked at his wife. "Mr. Kim? No, he is not here. I believe he spends most of his time at the art gallery. I will ask him to join us one of these days."

The Viscountess gave you a meaningful look; you returned a silent smile of gratitude and left for the art gallery.

The front entrance of the building was closed and the door appeared to be locked. The gallery closed at 5pm and it was already well past that. Hesitantly, you knocked on the large door panels and were relieved when a member of the staff opened it and peered at you.

"I am terribly sorry, madam, the gallery is closed for the evening-"

"I was hoping to see Mr. Kim."

"Oh… yes, of course, please come in."

The staff member allowed you to enter the gallery and guided you towards a plush chair where you could sit while they disappeared into a back room to fetch Mr. Kim. Your heartbeat was thudding with anxiety. You had not prepared yourself for what to say to him, but usually speaking to Mr. Kim came so easily to you that preparation was rarely required…

Mr. Kim appeared a few moments later. His eyes widened when he saw you and he quickly dismissed the staff before walking towards you.

"Miss Yoon," he said quietly. "It is very risky for you to be seen here-"

You cut him off, urgently stepping closer. "I had to speak to you, it could not wait. Time is running out, Mingyu. I need to be engaged by the end of the season and my mother has already encouraged Baron Wright to propose. I will have to give him an answer soon. "

Mr. Kim looked torn. You paused to notice how different he looked; his usually neatly parted hair was tousled and his suit jacket wrinkled. His face was pale. There was a heavy scent that hung around him- the usual smell of cigars combined with the pungent smell of whisky.

"Have you been drinking?" you asked him suddenly.

He would not make eye contact with you. Something was wrong and you had a sudden awful, foreboding feeling wash over you as Mr. Kim sat down on one of the plush chairs and ran his fingers shakily through his hair.

"I'm sorry," he said, trembling. "I made a mistake."

Your heart sank.

"What?"

"I should not have kissed you that evening. I-I took advantage of the situation and crossed the boundaries of friendship and propriety. You are a lady and you did not deserve to be treated like that, I would understand if you hated me…"

"But I do not hate you," you whispered. "I love you."

He visibly flinched at your confession.

"You don't. You shouldn't."

"Why?" you demanded, confused.

"Because I do not deserve it. My intentions were impure from the moment I laid eyes on you. If I had truly wanted to help you find a husband, I would not have done half the things I did. I was playing a secret game- a game where the end result was you falling in love with me rather than finding you a husband."

You stared at him. The gallery was silent. You could hear nothing but the sound of your own heartbeat.

"That can't be true…" you said quietly. "You… you were the only gentleman who was not performing this entire bloody pantomime, who spoke to me so naturally and honestly without ulterior motives…"

Mr. Kim looked up at you. His eyes were bloodshot and the corner of his lips curved up in a humourless smile.

"That you still can't see it means that you are too innocent, too sweet, too trusting for your own good. I saw that- it was so deliciously tempting and I took advantage of it."

It did not make sense to you. Took advantage of what? No matter what he said, you did not feel taken advantage of. You had wanted to kiss him, you had wanted everything that he did and said to you. Not a single thing Mingyu had done had ever been unwelcome.

"I can't understand what you are saying," you whispered.

He ran his fingers through his hair again in frustration. "It was all calculated, Miss Yoon. Everything I did was calculated. Do you want a list of the techniques I used on you? I encouraged you to tell me about your deepest fears and used them to make you trust me. I stayed by your side constantly so that you would come to depend on me, and eventually my absence would feel hollow. I encouraged you to smoke cigars so that we would have a shared secret, something thrilling we shared that no other people could know of. Are these not the things that made you fall in love with me?"

"Y-yes, but…"

"Then I successfully manipulated you."

Your legs felt weak. Yes, yes, he was describing everything that had made you fall for Mingyu but why did he have to make them all sound so malicious? How could he take these feelings, these genuine feelings that you had for him and say that they were the result of some clever tactics he had used?

"You manipulated me into falling in love with you?" you demanded. "So… to be clear, you do not think that I am truly in love with you?"

Mr. Kim shook his head. "How could you be? I have only ever shown you the parts of me that I intended to show you. Do you even know what I am like when I am not with you?"

"Why should I care what you are like when you are not with me?" you asked, bewildered.

"You are naive to even ask that question."

Something inside of you broke at his harsh words. This was not the man you knew. A dark, ugly whirlpool of self-loathing and regret in your stomach suddenly emerged as you looked down at this man- this man that could stand here so calmly after you had exposed your most vulnerable thoughts to him and tell you that your love was merely the result of his manipulations and scheming.

You suddenly wanted to end this conversation.

"Fine," you whispered. "So, I am naive, foolish and I fell for some trap that you set to intentionally ruin my life- is that all? Is that what I am to understand from all this?"

"Yes," he croaked.

"Congratulations, Mr. Kim. If that is what you truly feel then I will leave you to celebrate your victory alone," you told him quietly.

You walked towards the exit of the gallery before Mr. Kim could see how your hands were trembling, how your throat had closed up and your chest felt so tight that you thought it might explode.

"I warned you that I was a rake," he said softly.

You paused, hand on the door, and turned to look at him. "Then tell me one more thing," you choked out. "Did you love me?"

He did not look at you.

"I don't know."

—--------------------------------------------------------

You felt numb as the carriage brought you back home. It was as though your mind and body had shut down completely due to their inability to process the emotions that were threatening to overwhelm you.

The carriage driver had to tap on the door thrice to inform you that you had arrived at the Yoon manor and needed to descend.

You entered the foyer and walked towards the stairs, barely noticing that there was a commotion coming from the adjoining drawing room. Loud voices were arguing; the door opened in front of you and you had no choice but to go in.

"There you are!" your mother cried furiously as she saw you. She grabbed your arm and pulled you into the drawing room further. You limply followed her, lacking the energy to resist. "Where have you been? How could you leave the house without saying a word to anybody?"

You opened your mouth to respond but she cut you off immediately.

"Never mind that! Look; look at what this boy has done now! Baron Wright has approached your brother for your hand in marriage and he will not grant his permission!"

Jeonghan had his fingers pressed to his temples, as he often did when conversing with your mother. "I am not refusing to grant anything, madam, I am only waiting for my sister to make up her mind."

"About what?" your mother screeched. "What is there to make up her mind about the man is a Baron and he wishes to marry my daughter! There is nothing to discuss! We have already angered him by making him wait so long-"

Jeonghan frowned. "If he cannot wait even a few days for a response to his proposal-"

"He is a Baron!"

You flinched. Your head was aching so badly that every word you mother yelled felt like a knife in your flesh. She continued to yell at your brother and finally something inside of you snapped.

You had had enough.

"Will you shut up?" you yelled. Your hands were shaking. "Can you all shut up for one bloody second, do you not see that I am suffocating? Are you so blinded by your selfishness and hatred that you cannot even ask me if I want to marry the Baron? I can't breathe, mother, but that does not matter to you! You would drag me lifeless to the altar if I happened to die before the wedding!"

Your mother looked as though you had slapped her.

"My dear, I-"

You wrenched her arm out of her grasp violently.

"Don't touch me. This has never been about me or my sister or Jeonghan. This has always been about you and your bloody selfishness. I will not marry the Baron. I am sick of being pushed about and doing things to make others happy and if you have a problem with that, mother, you can marry the fucking Baron yourself."

The room was silent. For a moment even you could not believe what you had done- your mother gaped at you wordlessly, and even Jeonghan was stunned into silence.

You turned and fled upstairs.

It was too much; the combined emotions of the evening had overwhelmed you. The tears were streaming down your face but somehow it was incredibly important that nobody saw them. You ran up to your bedchambers, sank down on the floor next to the bed, pulled your knees up to your chest and cried.

The sobs racked your body violently and it was almost a relief, because the physical pain of holding them in had been too difficult to bear.

You cried because the man you thought you loved was lost to you. Because somehow, you had failed everyone- your sister, Jeonghan, mother… you had failed them all. Everything had gone wrong and it was all your fault. The way Mingyu's bloodshot eyes had looked up at you, the things he had said- innocent, naive, trusting….

You felt disgusted with yourself.

He was right. You were stupid, naive and trusting. But despite all the misery you were going through, there was perhaps one very important, very crucial and painful lesson that Mingyu had, intentionally or not, taught you.

You would never trust again.

There was a knock on your door. Jeonghan's voice called out to you gently from the other side.

"Sister?" he said as the door creaked open. His tone was gentle. "Are you here?"

"Yes," you choked out.

"That was quite a scene you made with your mother," he said with a chuckle. "She hasn't spoken a word since you left. I thought her discovery of our sister's affair was bad, but I think you have broken her far beyond that."

You said nothing.

Jeonghan came around the side of the bed. He saw you curled up in the corner with your tear-stricken face. He sighed and kneeled beside you.

"Is there anyone I need to speak to?" he asked gently.

You shook your head. "No."

"What shall we do?"

"Let's please just go home."

—-----------------------------------------------

The words ‘innocent’, ‘naive’, and ‘trusting’ rang like bells in your head and you heard them in Mr. Kim’s voice in your waking dreams and nightmares. You heard them constantly, over and over, chanting in a rhythm that matched the hoofbeats of the horses that pulled your carriage away from London and back towards your countryside home.

They pierced you so deeply because they were true. You had been warned- every single person you met had told you that Mr. Kim was a notorious rake. Even your sister-in-law had brought him in to mentor you because he was the best at the game.

You had stumbled blindly into a game that you barely understood and tried to take on a man who had been the ace, the savant for years. What had you been thinking? You may as well have walked up to Mr. Kim Mingyu and handed him your heart on a silver platter.

No, you thought. There is no use crying over it now. Mr. Kim was right. You had been innocent, naive and trusting. And despite all the pain you were going through, there was one very important lesson that Mingyu had taught you. Like a fledgling bird pushed out of the nest too soon, you had landed on the ground but you were prepared for your next flight. You would not allow yourself to be pushed around and used and manipulated. You would not be taken under anyone’s wings.

You would find your own wings.

And you would start with the woman who had been suffocating you from the moment you were born- your mother.

Your sister was waiting at the front entrance of the manor as the carriage rolled up to your familiar countryside manor. She ran towards you- she had received letters from Jeonghan and heard everything that he knew, including that you had refused to marry Baron Wright. The anxiety on her face was evident.

“Oh my dear sister!”

She embraced you warmly; you took a deep breath and inhaled her familiar scent and hugged her, blinking back the tears in your eyes. You had missed her deeply. You pulled back and gave her a gentle, watery smile.

“Are you all right?” she asked you nervously.

You nodded. “I am excellent, sister. And I have wonderful news. We have to prepare for a wedding this winter.”

Her eyes widened. “But I thought… Jeonghan said you turned down Baron Wright…”

You shook your head.

“The wedding we are preparing for is yours.”

—------------------------------------------------------------------

Your mother gave up expressing her displeasure after it became clear to her that not a single person in the Yoon household, least of all her precious youngest daughter, cared two bits for what she thought. She walked around the house bemoaning her lot in life and how Jeonghan had turned both her daughters against her. You felt no sympathy. You were tired of living under your mother’s reign of fear and anxiety- indeed, she was partly to blame for your proclivity to anxiousness and nervous breakdowns.

You refused to allow your failure- no, your decision- not to marry to stop your sister from attaining her own happiness.

“Are you sure?” your sister asked you anxiously as the modiste fussed about her skirts and fitted her wedding gown. “Are you quite sure about this, sister? It will be very difficult for you when you go into London next season and the entire ton associates you with me.”

You shook your head. “I do not care.”

“But you do not understand how difficult it is to enter society when everyone is gossiping about…”

You gave her a firm look and she fell silent. Your sister knew you too well not to notice the change in you; you were not the same shy, innocent girl who she had sent away to London a few months ago. There was a mixture of sadness and understanding in her eyes as she nodded and turned her attention back to her wedding gown.

“We will need to tuck this part in here…” the modiste murmured.

You frowned. “Hurry. The wedding is in barely two days.”

“I can get it done in time.”

There was a knock on the door and one of the modiste’s assistants poked her head into the dressing room anxiously. “Mr. Choi is here, madam. He is waiting outside the shop.”

You stood up quickly before your sister could speak. “He cannot see my sister in her wedding gown. I will go speak to him.”

You hurried outside and saw Seungcheol standing anxiously near the entrance to the shop. His son- little Jiwoo with his father’s eyes and smile- was standing with him and he beamed when he saw you, waving his hands in greeting eagerly. You smiled back at the boy.

“Jiwoo! You have grown so tall!” you told him brightly.

Jiwoo blushed proudly.

Seungcheol smiled down at his son for a moment before turning to you. There was a certain anxiousness in his kind eyes. He had been anticipating this wedding for a long time, and it was evident that he was just as nervous, if not more, than your sister inside.

“Have you not heard that it is bad luck to see the bride in her wedding gown?” you scolded Seungcheol.

He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “I only wanted to be sure everything is going well.”

“Everything is going perfectly. I am taking care of things so you, Mr. Choi, can wait at your home,” you told him firmly. “Unless you are having second thoughts about the wedding. In which case I shall be obliged to inform you that I know where Jeonghan keeps his hunting rifles and I am not afraid to use them.”

He chuckled. “There will be no need for that.”

“Good.”

Seungcheol gave you a small smile. “Your sister has informed me that any mention of postponing the wedding until next season makes you incredibly angry so I will not suggest it to you. Instead-let me say thank you. Thank you for doing this for us.”

You shook your head. “No- I am sorry that you had to wait because of me.”

“That was not your fault.”

“Perhaps not,” you said quietly. “Perhaps I did not ask for it, but it was decided that way for my benefit. I have allowed other people to decide things for me for too long. It is time I chose what makes me happy and nothing would make me happier than seeing you marry my sister.”

Seungcheol reached out to clasp your hand in both of his. His words were warm and genuine. “You will always be welcome at our home.”

You bit your lip and smiled.

“Thank you.”

—----------------------------------------------

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