#I know mean isn’t her best song | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

girlgenius1111 · 5 months

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hallmarks of sisterhood

putellas!reader. r mediates a fight between her sisters. they don't realize they're tearing her apart in the process. at least, not until they ruin an important night for her. can they make it up to her? fluff & angst.

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Being significantly younger than your sisters, you were the true baby of the family, and were treated as such. You were already a pretty sensitive person, and the overprotective tendencies of the entire family only increased this. You were quite different from both your sisters. Alba was an extrovert, always talking, always laughing, never thinking too hard about anything. Alexia was quieter in public, but always loud at home in an attempt to match Alba’s energy. The competitive gene only seemed to skip you, and you hated conflict. Any type of it. You didn’t like yelling, you didn’t like arguments, and you couldn’t stand when people were mad at you.

It made sense then, that you’d always been the mitigator between your sisters. They were always fighting growing up, and it took a very small you to break up the fights that the teenage versions of them would get into, often shoving your small body in between theirs and singing a song so loudly they had no choice but to stop arguing. If the singing didn’t work, then you’d cry, and that always worked.

As you got older, your role changed slightly. You were still the mitigator, but more because you were logical and smart and both of them could normally trust you to be objective. You didn’t really enjoy it, but you hated it more when they weren’t speaking to each other, so you did what you could to resolve their fights easily.

All of this considered, you were not surprised to catch yourself in an argument between them yet again. This one wasn’t super similar to the others, though, in that it was much more emotionally charged. Both Alexia and Alba seemed angrier at each other than normal, and you didn’t know why. Still, you tried to fix it, as best you could.

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“I cannot believe you, Alba.” Alexia sighed, shaking her head at her other sister.

“Don’t try to guilt trip me, Ale, this isn’t my fault. I told you before there was a chance I’d have to go to this conference.” Alba shot back.

“You don’t have to go, you are choosing to go. So you can hook up with that coworker you're seeing.”

Alba flushed red with anger.

“Let’s calm down, guys,” you began, shifting uncomfortably in your seat in the corner of the sectional. Neither girl paid you any mind.

“I am going for work, Alexia, I wouldn’t sleep with anyone at a work conference.”

“Oh, yes of course, you’re so above that. You are notorious for not hooking up with people in inappropriate situations Alba, how could I forget. It was only 4 of my teammates you slept with? And how many of my other friends?”

“You are such a-”

“Stop.” You cut in. “Alexia, that was mean. Alba, she’s just disappointed because she was looking forward to spending time with everyone.” You cut in, trying to cool the rising temperature of the room.

“No, I am disappointed because we made a commitment to do this for Mami and now she’s backing out. Like always.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Alba scoffed.

“The last trip to Ibiza. Mother’s day last year. My 25th birthday,” Alexia began to list, counting the events off on her fingers rather condescending.

“Guys, please calm down.” You attempted.

“Will you ever get over me missing your 25th birthday? Or are you going to have it engraved on your tombstone? ‘My sister missed my birthday once and I never shut up about it.’” Alba yelled, getting to her feet and walking closer to where Alexia was sitting at the kitchen counter.

When Alexia rose to meet her, you stood nervously, too, moving a bit closer. “Why don’t we all stay seated?” You tried.

Both of them continued to ignore you, as if you weren’t even there. “That is not the point, Alba.”

“No, Ale, the point is that only your career is important. Everyone has to drop everything for football, but what I do doesn’t matter, and I have to bend over backwards to make things work with your insane schedule. The world doesn’t revolve around you, Alexia.”

“Oh my god, Alba. You are such a bitch.” Alexia sighed, rolling her eyes in a way she knew would make the younger girl furious.

“You are the bitch, Alexia. A selfish, bossy, mean bitch,” Alba yelled, crossing her arms and taking a step closer to the older girl.

“Alba, I swear to god,” Alexia threw back, the volume of her voice making you flinch. You stepped in between them, forcing them to both back up a bit.

“Please stop shouting.” You pleaded, looking between them. Both of them turned to you, annoyed.

“Go somewhere else if it’s bothering you, pequeña! Adults argue. Grow up.” Alexia yelled, sending a glare your way. You stopped back, blinking away tears, looking incredibly hurt. Alexia sighed. “Sorry, nena, I didn’t mean-”

It was too late, though, you were pushing past her towards the door of her house. “No, whatever. I’ll go. Solve your argument by yourselves for once.” You snapped.

“Nice job, Ale, you made the el bebe cry.” Alba said mockingly.

“Shut your mouth, Alba. Pequeña, come back,” Alexia called, but the door was already slamming shut behind you.

You wiped at your eyes furiously, getting into your car. You’d always hated how sensitive you were, how anyone raising their voice at you made you cry. You couldn’t argue, couldn’t disagree without dissolving into tears. Normally, angry tears. You’d always been like this, and your sisters often made fun of it, but were aware of the fact that you hated yelling, and tried to avoid doing so. Even when they were fighting with each other. Today got too out of control, though, both of them taking this specific issue very seriously.

They’d have to figure it out themselves, this time. You were done with this. They knew how you felt about conflict, and yet they always put you in the middle. It was exhausting and hurtful being caught in between them. They were adults, they could solve this argument.

You and Eli didn’t live far from Alexia, and you reached home before you were really ready to. You needed to erase all evidence of your tears from your face before heading inside, because Eli could not know about this. You and your sisters did not tell on each other, for one thing. For another, there was a possibility the trip in question could be rescheduled and you didn’t want to ruin the surprise.

You checked your face in the mirror, took a deep breath, denied Alexia’s phone call, and headed inside, prepared to pretend that nothing was wrong.

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You got past your mother with very few questions asked, as she was distracted reading over Alexia’s new Nike contracts. Your sister still had Eli read all her contracts, a habit you and Alba teased her about often.

Eli did come knocking, though, only a few hours later, while you were in your room getting some homework done. “Nena?” She called from the hallway, not hearing a response to her knock.

Still, you didn’t say anything, so she pushed the door open, only to find you asleep at your desk, your head resting on a pile of photographs, your computer opened up to photoshop. A black and white photo of your sister at training was pulled up, and Eli quickly averted her eyes, knowing very well she wasn’t supposed to see this particular assignment until you were done.

“Mija,” Eli said, covering her eyes as she heard you stir. “Go to bed, it’s late, and you are exhausted.”

“Do not look, Mami!” You cried, sitting up completely and quickly flipping everything over and shutting your computer.

“I’m not!” Eli replied, laughing at how secretive you were about these photos.

“Okay, everything is away.” You said, standing to give your mother a hug before getting into bed. She squeezed you tight, as she always did, kissing your cheek before letting go.

“Goodnight,” she said, giving you a kind smile.

“Goodnight mami,” you replied, knowing she was smiling because she knew you were about to get back on your computer as soon as she left the room.

“Oh, do you know why your sister’s are fighting? I texted the groupchat with them, and they both replied to me separately.” Eli asked with an eye roll, quite used to your sisters’ antics.

“Something dumb, probably.” You said with an unconvincing laugh. Your mother gave you a weird look, like she didn't believe you, but didn’t push it.

As soon as she was out of the room, you were, in fact, back on your computer, finishing up the final touches on a photo of Alexia. You were really too excited to be preoccupied with your sisters at the moment. You were in school studying photography, and after a recent exhibition at your school, a gallery in Barcelona had reached out and asked you to shoot a series for them to display. They’d given you full creative control, which was an insane amount of trust to put into a 20 year old, and you were determined not to mess it up.

If that meant staying up late making sure every photo was perfect in the next couple days, so be it. You were proud of this work, and that wasn’t really a common feeling for you. You’d grown up in the shadow of your two sisters. Alexia was the best female footballer in the world, and Alba was… Alba. Everyone loved her. Nothing you ever did seemed to really make anyone pay attention, except for your Mami. Eli had always been careful to celebrate your and Alba’s accomplishments, like she celebrated Alexia’s, even if they weren’t of the same magnitude. Your sisters were a bit better than the rest of your family and friends, paying attention to what you did, but it always felt a bit like your mother was making them do so.

This was your chance to do something impressive of your own. Something that everyone could understand, everyone could be impressed by. It was an opportunity you were not about to waste. You didn’t realize the potential that other people had, though, to ruin it for you.

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The next few days were busy. When you weren’t working on your photos, making sure they were perfectly edited and printed properly, you were worrying about what people would think about them. Or you were trying to pick the perfect outfit for Saturday evening, the opening of the gallery. There wasn’t a ton of time for you to respond to Alexia’s repetitive apologies, or to Alba’s pleading for you to be on her side. It was annoying, really, that during such an important and stressful week, they couldn’t leave you out of their argument.

You finally had enough on Friday, pulling up the groupchat with both of them in it, and sending a rather harsh message. It wasn’t like you to be harsh and snap at them, and you were hoping they would get the message that they’d upset you, and you wanted to be left out of this.

If one of you texts me one more time about this idiotic fight, I am going to tell Mami that it was you two who dented her car, not the neighbor backing into it. I am so tired of being pulled into the middle of this. Both of you apologize to each other for being mean, and get over it.

You hoped that would be the end of it. When your phone buzzed a few minutes later, though, you knew that had been a naive hope.

Alexia had responded first.

It should not be hard to pick a side when I am right, nena.

Alba responded after that.

You always let Alexia get away with things you’d yell at me about. You can both apologize to me when you are ready.

You weren’t really sure how Alba had decided that you’d sided with Alexia, but you certainly were not going to be apologizing to her anytime soon. You left them both on read, figuring they’d make up before the gallery opening tomorrow night.

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You were up pretty much the entire night before the gallery. This time, not because anything needed to get done, but because you were nervous. You were thinking about everything that could possibly go wrong. By the time morning rolled around, you slept for maybe a couple hours, and created a decisive list of every bad thing that could happen today.

You actually hadn’t thought of everything, but you wouldn’t know that until later.

You’d passed out just as the sun had started to rise, and Eli came in to wake you up only a few hours later.

“Nena, despierta,” she said softly, setting down a mug of coffee on your nightstand and shaking your shoulder.

You bolted upright in bed, and looked around frantically, startling your mother. “Am I late?!” You gasped, moving to get out of your bed as fast as possible.

“No, no, you aren’t late. It is only 11. Relax, mija, everything is okay.” Eli soothed, gently pushing you back down onto the bed.

You let out a relieved sigh, rubbing at your face with your hands. “Sorry.”

“Did you sleep at all?” Eli asked with a disapproving look.

“Not much. I tried, I swear, I just couldn’t turn my brain off.”

Your mother patted your cheek reassuringly. “You’re almost done, nena. It’s all going to go perfectly.”

You nodded, trying to believe her words. You just had this weird, nagging feeling that something was going to go wrong. There wasn’t time to focus on this feeling, though, no matter how much you wanted to. There was simply too much to be done. Accepting the hug your mother offered, you got up, ready to prepare yourself for the long day ahead.

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You didn’t really think anything of it when you didn’t see either of your sisters right away. You were busy greeting other people, family and friends. Some of Alexia’s teammates had made it, and you spent some time taking in the awestruck expression on Mapi’s face when she saw the singular photo of her included.

That was the best part of the whole thing, you decided. Getting to see everyone’s reactions to seeing themselves up on the wall.

The theme was people you loved, in their happy place. The project was joyful and fun, radiating happiness. Looking at the photos made you smile, and you were glad to see that everyone seemed to have the same reaction as they took their time looking at each image.

You had Mapi giggling at something Ingrid had said, a candid taken after a Barça game. Ingrid was smiling back at her, like making her girlfriend laugh was the only thing she wanted to do for the rest of her life.

You had your Mami, sitting in the stands of one of Alexia’s games, looking on with pride all over her face. You had her pinching Alba’s cheek, a fond smile on her face as your sister said something that was, no doubt, ridiculous.

You had your aunts and your uncles around the dinner table, all laughing hysterically.

You had your friends at the beach, all lounging and staring out into the ocean, looking peaceful.

You had your best friend sitting in the driver's seat of her car, singing along passionately to her favorite song.

More than anyone else, though, you had your sisters.

Alexia preparing to take a penalty, determined. Celebrating with her teammates after a goal. Cheekily blowing a kiss to Olga in the stands. Smiling proudly at Vicki after an impressive goal. Proudly wearing the captain’s armband in front of a completely sold out stadium. Leaned against Olga on the couch after a movie night, out cold. She was completely peaceful, with Olga looking down at her adoringly.

You had Alba at the school where she taught. Candids of her face, when one of her students got the answer right, or made her laugh. With her dog, holding him up at the aquarium, eye level with one of the dolphins. You had her watching Alexia play, too, a grin on her face that you were sure she was unaware of. Your favorite of Alba was a photo you’d taken in your Mami’s kitchen, while she’d been baking. Alba was sneaking a taste of the cake batter, and you’d captured her mid-wink, giving the camera a smile while Eli’s back was turned to her.

They hadn’t seen any of these photos; you’d almost gone crazy not showing them, and not giving in to them when they begged to see.

You’d finally managed to break away from a crowd of your friends, having a moment to yourself, when you realized that you still hadn’t seen your sisters yet. Ale’s teammates were here. Some of Alba’s friends were here. The whole family was here. You checked your watch, a frown on your face, seeing that they were both already over a half hour late, which was unlike both of them. It was only when you saw Olga looking up at one of the photos she was pictured in, all by herself, that you really got a sinking feeling in your stomach. She was talking to Irene when you walked over and interrupted, gently pulling Olga away from the conversation.

“Where is Ale? Is she coming late?” You asked, confused by the sad look on Olga’s face.

“No, nena, I’m sorry. She didn’t want to see Alba, so she decided not to come. I tried to convince her to, but she didn’t listen.” Olga said delicately. You looked like you’d been hit across the face, honestly, and Olga wanted nothing more than to march home and drag Alexia over here, but she knew better to try to convince the blonde to do something she had decided she wouldn’t. “She said she texted you?”

You pulled your phone out, taking a deep breath when you saw almost identical texts from both of your sisters.

Can’t make it tonight. I’ll come see it another time. Good luck!

Sorry, hermanita, I can’t come tonight. Love you.

You had been so excited for them to see their pictures. There was a little note up on the wall, too, a statement thanking everyone for coming. In it, you mentioned being excited to allow your sisters to finally see the photos, as they’d been begging to for a while now. And they hadn’t come.

A wave of embarrassment washed over you, your cheeks flushing red. You were angry, too, but you blinked your tears back, looking up at Olga and trying to look more put together than you felt.

“No Alba either.” You said, your voice cracking slightly.

“Oh, nena, I am so sorry.” Olga whispered, pulling you into a tight hug. It was too soft, and too comforting. You pulled away rapidly, shaking your head.

“It’s fine. I don’t care.” You said, cutting the brunette off before she could say anything else. “I have to go talk to someone, thank you for coming, Olga.”

You rushed away from your sister’s girlfriend, focusing on taking deep breaths. You couldn’t be sad, not right now. So many people had come here to celebrate you and your work, and you weren’t going to ruin it. You could be upset later. It was almost excruciating, pretending that you weren’t upset that your sisters hadn't come, but you managed it. You kept up a pretty good façade for the rest of the evening, even when you saw Olga speaking in hushed voices to Irene and Mapi, even when everyone kept asking where Ale and Alba were. You held it together. Because you, unlike them, could pretend that nothing was wrong for the sake of others.

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Your mother knew you better than anyone. You should have been thrilled, ecstatic. Everything had gone so well. Your photos had been a hit, the owners of the gallery had been thrilled. She realized neither of her other daughters had shown up, but she assumed they had talked that through with you. She wasn’t sure what was wrong with you, but when you declined going out with some of your friends as the night came to an end, Eli knew something wasn’t right.

She had every intention of letting you come to her, but you weren’t talking. As everyone began to file out of the gallery, saying their final goodbyes, Eli overheard you tell your friends you were going to go home because you were tired. You didn't say a single word to her aside from telling her that you’d see her at home, before you practically fled the building, heading for your car. She didn’t couldn’t imagine what was wrong, never expecting her daughters to have done what they did. Eli didn’t even think of them being a possible reason as to why you were upset. Mapi pulled her aside, though, before she could go after you, an infuriated look on her face.

“Do you know what your daughters have done?” She asked quietly.

Eli frowned. “No. What have they done?”

Mapi shook her head. “They both bailed on tonight over text to pequeña. They are in some stupid fight that they’ve put her in the middle of, and they didn’t want to see each other, so they didn’t come.”

Suddenly, Eli was quite furious at her eldest daughters. There would be hell to pay, she’d make sure of it. How could they be so selfish, and ruin your night like this? You’d been almost beside yourself for weeks about this night, and she knew the people you wanted to impress most were your sisters. And they hadn’t come. Before she yelled at them, though, she needed to go home to you, because she was very sure that you weren’t okay. Your odd behavior made sense, now, and Eli’s heart ached at the thought of you driving all by yourself while you were so upset.

“I will deal with them.” Eli said quietly. “Thank you for telling me, María, and for coming. It meant a lot to her.”

Mapi smiled sympathetically. “Of course. Let me know if you need help kicking some Putellas ass.”

Eli chuckled. “I will.”

She set off to her car after that, ignoring Alexia’s numerous phone calls. Likely, Olga had arrived home and laid into her for not coming, and Alexia was looking to be let off the hook from her Mami that she hadn’t messed up that badly. Eli wouldn’t be doing that.

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You didn’t make it far into the house. In your new dress, one that was reminiscent of the dress Alexia had worn to win her first balon d’or, you’d collapsed onto the couch, harsh sobs ripping their way out of your chest. You cried until your makeup ran and your chest hurt. Until your Mami arrived home, rushing through the door, her heart breaking when she saw the state you were in. Eli was by your side instantly, pulling you into her arms. It was rare that a hug from your mother didn’t make you feel better, but this was the case today. You weren’t really sure that anything would help, but you still buried yourself into your Mami’s arms, wishing more than anything that she could fix this for you.

“They didn’t come, Mami,” you sobbed.

“I know, mija, I am so sorry.”

“Am I not more important than their stupid fight?” You asked, looking up at your mother with a devastated expression on your face. “I was so excited for them to see, I just wanted them to be proud of me.”

Eli felt anger fill her at a level she’d never quite felt before. “I am proud of you, cariño, so proud of you. It’s all going to be okay, I promise. Everything is going to be fine.” She soothed, running her hand through your hair, shushing you softly. Her fury would have to wait, until you stopped crying. Eli would always put you first when you needed it, even if your sisters didn’t.

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It was late by the time you’d stopped crying and headed up to bed. With a soft goodnight to your Mami, you’d slumped upstairs, barely changing into your pajamas before you collapsed into your bed, absolutely exhausted. Being disappointed was tiring, apparently. And you were more disappointed than you’d ever been in your life.

Downstairs, Eli waited until she heard your door shut before she pulled her phone out, returning one of the 15 missed calls from her eldest daughter. Alexia picked up quickly, her voice dripping with guilt.

“Mami, I-”

“No. Do not try to explain yourself. You and Alba have done a terrible thing, Alexia. I am not sure how you will make it up to your sister, but you will. You will figure out how to fix it, you will apologize, you will mean it.”

“Sí, Mami.” Alexia said, her voice small like when she used to get scolded for kicking the football in the house or holding the tv remote high out of her sisters’ reach.

“I am so disappointed, Alexia. In you and Alba both.”

“I know, Mami.” Alexia replied, blinking hard to fight off her tears. “I’ll fix it, Al and I will fix it.”

“You will. Goodnight, Alexia. I love you.” Eli was furious, but she’d always say it, always make sure her daughters knew how loved they were.

“I love you too Mami,” the blonde choked out, feeling worse about this than she’d ever felt about anything in her entire life.

Eli called Alba next, who was significantly more clueless about the situation. Neither had known the other wasn’t going, but it was beyond your mother how either of her daughters could have underestimated how important to you this night was. Alba was in tears, like Alexia, by the end of the call, also promising her mother she’d fix it.

Eli knew the level of guilt Alexia and Alba must have been feeling at the moment, considering how protective they were of you. They never wanted you to be hurt, but you were. And they were the reason why. As she checked on you, ensuring you were asleep, she knew that her older daughters would go to the ends of the earth to make this up to you.

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Alba was sitting on her couch, willing herself to be the bigger person and pick up the phone to call Alexia, when she heard a knock at the door. The brunette knew who was there before she pulled it open, not flinching when her older sister was standing on her front porch.

Alexia had a drink carrier in one hand, and two bags in the other, giving Alba an unreadable look. “Can I come in?”

Alba nodded, stepping aside to let her sister in. The blonde headed for the living room, setting the coffees down, and grabbing hers out of the holder. Alba grabbed the other, noting that it was her favorite coffee, and her favorite breakfast pastry, from her favorite bakery. A bakery Alexia didn’t particularly like, but had clearly stopped at just for Alba.

It was a peace offering. One that Alba took, grabbing the coffee and the pastry, sitting on the couch next to her sister in a much less tense silence. They made up in the way only sister’s could, with no words necessary for either of them to know that the other was sorry for what had been said.

“We fucked up.” Alexia said after a minute, glancing at her sister.

“We really did.” Alba replied.

“We have to fix it.” Alexia declared.

“We really do.” Alba agreed.

“Are you going to keep agreeing with me, or are you going to come up with a solution here?”

“As the one who started the fight that led to us letting our sister down, I think it should be you who solves the problem, Alexia.” Alba retorted, a smirk on her face.

Her sister shook her head, shoving the brunette’s shoulder lightly. “You are supposed to be the smart one, hermana. Get thinking.”

“New car?”

“New house?”

“Can we buy her a country?”

They broke into laughter, the tension completely gone from the room, before they really got brainstorming. They were a good team when they weren’t fighting, and it wasn’t long before they’d come up with something that they hoped would make up for their horrible behavior.

-------

The minute you saw Alexia’s car pull into the driveway from your spot on the couch, you were standing up, prepared to flee the room. You’d known this would happen at some point today, but you weren’t ready to see them. You felt so humiliated and so neglected, you were sure that seeing them would have you in tears, and you didn’t really want to show that emotion in front of them. Not now, not when they were the reason you were so upset.

You knew how important family was to your mother, though, and you knew that if she told you to stay and talk to them, you would. Looking at her cautiously, you took in the wary expression on her face.

“Do you want to hear them out, mija?” Eli asked gently.

“No. I don’t want to see them right now. Please don’t make me.” You begged.

“I won’t make you do anything. Go upstairs, I’ll tell you when they’re gone.” Eli sighed, and with her permission, you practically sprinted up the stairs to your room, closing and locking the door behind you.

Your older sisters walked through the doors to the house like they were afraid of what awaited them inside, and it seems that they should have been. Eli stood from her chair, walking over to them, looking unimpressed at the large present in Alexia’s hands.

“Hola Mami,” Alba greeted softly. They both wanted to make this up to you, of course, but they also hated when their mother was mad at them.

“I do not think that buying her a present is going to fix this.” Eli said pointedly. Alexia and Alba exchanged nervous glances, relaxing slightly when Eli allowed them further into the house. “What is it?”

“It’s the new camera. The brand new canon model that she wanted, with all the extra lenses and storage and stuff.” Alexia said, feeling less and less confident about how she and Alba had chosen to go about this.

“And you think that is enough?” Eli asked bluntly.

“It’s a start.” Alba said, a bit defensively. “We know we messed up, Mami, and we missed the opening night but we can go see it today. Are you not being a little dramatic about this?”

Alexia shot her younger sister a look, knowing exactly how hurt you were, because Olga had returned home from the gallery and told her.

“You did not see her last night. When she realized you weren’t coming? She completely shut down. She talked to everyone she needed to, but I did not see her smile the rest of the night. She rushed out of the building just as the evening ended, and by the time I got home, she was sitting on the couch, sobbing. It was supposed to be her night, and you ruined it.” Eli snapped.

Alexia and Alba both looked appropriately ashamed, their heads dropping, gazes pointed at the floor in an almost identical fashion. They felt guilty, obviously, but Eli wasn’t quite sure they understood that it wasn’t just about them missing your event. It was so much more than that.

“She asked me why she is not more important to both of you than an argument. I do not want to spoil the gallery, but I do not think you understand how embarrassing it was for her to have countless photos of you two up on the wall, when you did not even come.”

Both her daughters’ heads snapped up at this. “Of us?” Alba asked. “The project was of us?”

“It was about her loved ones. You two were featured more than anyone else. She was so excited to see your reactions to the photos.” Eli continued, only making them feel worse.

“Please, Mami, I cannot hear anymore.” Alexia said softly, her heart aching at the thought of how upset you must be at the moment. Every detail that her mother added made it worse. She wasn’t sure she’d ever done anything like this to you before, and the thought that you might not forgive her was filling her with anxiety.

“No, you will hear all of it.” Eli said, shaking her head. “She said to me, ‘I was so excited for them to see, I just wanted them to be proud of me.’”

“We are proud of her, she has to know that.” Alba cut in desperately. Her mother just shook her head.

“She does not. Nothing she ever does feels very important to either of you, because it is always something you have done before. This was something that was her own, and she just wanted to share it with you. Everything your sister does is so that you two will be proud of her, and pay attention to her.”

At this, Alexia stood up from the couch, walking over to the window and putting her face in her hands. Her shoulders shook with silent cries, and neither her mother or her sister were very surprised at the emotional outburst. Alexia was always emotional when it came to you; she remembered the day you’d been born, every milestone in your life. You were your very tough sister’s soft spot.

“Do you think we can fix it?” Alba asked quietly, terrified of her mother’s answer.

With a deep sigh, Eli nodded her head. Alexia turned around hopefully, hanging on to Eli’s every word. “Your baby sister has always been more forgiving than both of you. She is hurt, but she will forgive you. She loves you both too much not to.”

Every word Eli said felt like a bullet to the chest to both of your sisters, something your mother was well aware of. She wasn’t going to sugar coat this. It was silent in the room for several minutes, every member of the family lost in thought. Alexia looked furious with herself, Alba looked like she was close to tears, and Eli just looked disappointed. She’d always trusted your sisters to take care of you when she couldn’t, but she wasn’t so sure she had that confidence in them anymore.

“I have an idea.” Alexia said finally, looking between her mother and her sister hesitantly. They both agreed to what she proposed, though, and it wasn’t long before Eli had pulled out some paper and pens for her daughters. They both sat on the floor around the coffee table and got writing. It was reminiscent of when they’d do their homework in the same spot years ago, sitting on the floor so they could play with you while they finished their assignments.

Now, though, you were painfully absent from the scene in front of your mother, and Eli could only hope that this would work.

-------

Alexia and Alba agreed that only one of them would go upstairs, give you the two pieces of paper, and let you be for the evening. Alexia was desperate to see you, while Alba wasn’t sure she could do so without crying, and she didn’t particularly want to put that on you at the moment. You hated seeing your sisters upset, and she didn’t want to inadvertently guilt you into forgiving her before you were ready. So, Alexia made her way upstairs, agreeing to Eli’s warnings to leave you alone if you wouldn’t let her in.

Her knock on your door was uncharacteristically gentle, and her voice was almost shaky as she announced herself.

“Nena? Can I come in for a minute?”

Taking a deep breath, you opened the door, feeling rather satisfied to see the guilt all over her face.

Alexia stepped into the room, looking so nervous and so unlike herself. She was fidgeting with two pieces of paper in her hands, barely able to bring herself to look you in the eye. “I am so sorry, hermanita. More sorry than I can put into words.” She didn't seem to know what else to say, and you rolled your eyes.

“Do you think that is enough?” You asked.

Alexia shook her head rapidly. “No, I know it isn’t. Alba and I are going to fix this, nena, I promise. Whatever we have to do, whatever it takes. We will make this up to you. There is nothing more important to us than you.”

Your eldest sister could tell you didn’t believe her, the way you looked away from her was a dead giveaway.

“I know you are upset, and that is okay. I just… can I give you a hug, nena? You can still be mad at me and everything. I’d just really like an hermanita hug.” Alexia said vulnerably, tears clouding her vision. She had underestimated how painful it would be to see you so upset with her, but her chest truly ached as she took in the betrayal and disappointment on your face. A few tears fell from her eyes, and it was this bit of emotion that had you nodding your head, stepping forward as Alexia wrapped her arms around you almost painfully tight.

It made you feel better, even though it probably shouldn’t have. Your sister’s hugs always felt warm and safe, and today was no exception. Even though she’d hurt you. It was still Alexia, and she was a hard person to stay mad at. Still, you pulled away before you wanted to, and the blonde cleared her throat, holding out the pieces of paper for you.

“From me and Alba. We will be downstairs, if you want to talk.” Your sister opened and closed her mouth a few times, before shaking her head, mustering a weak smile, and leaving the room. She shut the door behind her, something she never did, always insisting on leaving it open just to bother you.

You opened your sisters’ letters, not quite sure what you would be reading. You weren’t quite angry anymore, just sad. You were never one to hold a grudge, but you weren’t sure how they were going to be able to make this stop hurting.

You underestimate, however, how well your sisters knew you, and combined with the information they had from Eli, they knew just what to say. You read both the letters a few times, tears streaming down your face for what felt like the 12th time that day. This time, though, they were good tears.

Both letters were similar, but very… specific to each of your sisters.

Alexia’s was practically a bullet pointed list, in her messy, big handwriting. There was a mark on the page that looked suspiciously like a teardrop, and Alexia talked about her emotions in the letter the way she always did in real life; saying as little as possible, while still somehow saying a whole lot.

Alba’s was a real letter, paragraph after paragraph of neat writing, beautifully articulating what she wanted to say to you. It was always a bit surprising to remember how perceptive Alba was. She was a forgetful person, but not when it came to the things that mattered. This was clear in the letter, as she listed small details out that you hadn’t thought she’d noticed.

Both of the letters were an apology. An apology, and a deep dive into how proud of you Alexia and Alba were. They apologized for not making it clear, before going back to when you were a baby, and they watched you walk for the first time. Through the years, they had overlapping and different memories of things you’d done that made them swell with pride. There were things you remembered, and things you didn’t, but they made you feel special all the same. Alexia and Alba did pay attention, that much was clear. Even if they weren’t always the best at showing it, they paid attention to you.

It did more than a verbal apology could have ever done. It was something tangible, kind, warm and loving. It made you feel loved, and seen. It made you feel like you mattered. You weren’t Alexia, and you weren’t Alba, but you were you, and they felt that to be something much more special.

You tried to hold out a bit longer, you really did, but you were putting the letters down and rushing downstairs before you could really stop yourself.

You passed the kitchen on the way to the living room, where your Mami was preparing dinner, a small, relieved smile on her face. Wishing you had something funny and unbothered to say, you walked into the room, seeing your sisters sitting on the couch, looking pathetically distraught.

“Hola.” You said softly, feeling indescribably happy when both of their faces lit up at the sight of you, and you quickly crossed the room, wedging yourself in between them. They made room for you, as they always did, allowing you to fit easily into your spot squished with Alexia on one side, and Alba on the other.

They each wrapped an arm around you, and both tried to pull you in opposite directions. It was ironic, the way they used you to play a silly game of tug of war. This time, however, they stopped pulling when they realized neither of them would win. Instead, they both wrapped you into a very awkward and suffocating hug, arms wrapped around you from seemingly every direction.

“I love you, nena.” Alexia whispered, pressing a kiss to the side of your head.

Alba did the same to your cheek. “I am so sorry, hermanita, and I love you so much,” she whispered.

“I know.” You said softly. “I forgive you.”

And if it had been either of them in your position, it would have taken a lot more. You were the forgiving sister, though, and you’d really just needed proof that your sisters thought that you were as important as you felt them to be.

When Eli came in the room a few minutes later, it was to see the three of you in a rather familiar position; you in the middle, each of your sisters holding on to as much of you as they could, completely content. They’d always like to hold you like that, starting when you were a baby. Alexia would carefully put you on the couch in between them, and put a movie on. They would take turns telling you all the important details your brain was far too small to comprehend, but you didn’t squirm, and you didn’t fuss. You would stay plopped right in between them, one of each of their fingers gripped tight in your hands.

It was a lot different now, because you were all bigger. It looked like an uncomfortable pile of limbs on the couch, but Eli knew you were all as comfortable as you’d ever get.

-------

Neither of your sisters seemed very willing to let you out of their sight anytime soon, which you were sure would grow annoying very fast. For now, though, you enjoyed the attention, especially when Alexia pushed the wrapped box that had been sitting on the table into your hands.

And, you’d already forgiven them before you’d seen the camera they’d bought you, one that you’d been desperately wanting for a while. If you hadn’t forgiven them, though, you would have now. You could be bought, and your sisters were well aware of it. As was your Mami. She rolled her eyes as you stared in awe at the camera, as Alexia and Alba looked on proudly, sharing a discreet fist bump. Personally, Eli thought you’d let them off kind of easy, but she shouldn’t have underestimated you. You were a youngest child, and you knew how to get what you wanted.

“Can we go see your photos after dinner?” Alba asked, not even getting a glance from you, your attention completely zeroed in on the camera in your hands.

“Nope.” You replied. Alexia and Alba looked uneasily at each other, and then at their Mami for guidance, before you spoke again. “Alexia, you are going to clean my room. And Alba, you are going to make me those cookies I like. We can go see the gallery tomorrow.”

Your face was smug, and your mother stifled a laugh as your sisters looked disgruntled at each other. Begrudgingly, though, they both nodded.

“Anything for the princess.” Alexia mumbled, and Alba snickered quietly.

“What was that?” You asked, turning your attention to your sisters. They looked at you in defiance, smirks on both of their faces, not willing to let you completely walk all over them, even if they deserved it.

“You heard me.” Alexia teased. “The baby princess always gets her way.”

“Really, Ale?” You asked calmly, before turning to Eli, your new camera briefly forgotten on the table in front of you. “Mami, do you have any plans in two weekends? I was thinking we could take a trip just the two of-”

Alexia cut you off by rather aggressively throwing herself at you, covering your mouth with her hand. “NO HERMANITA!” The blonde shouted. “Oh, gross, nena, really?” She groaned, pulling her hand away when you licked it. You smiled triumphantly, managing to push away from her a bit.

“You are not a princess, nena. Just a little baby.” Alba chimed in, reaching over from her chair to pinch your cheek in one hand. “Now keep quiet before you ruin the surprise and give Ale a stroke.”

Your mother shook her head, taking pity on her eldest daughter, who looked prepared to explode at the thought of the surprise being ruined. “Do you think I do not know you were planning a trip for the four of us, Alexia? Honey, you asked me several times if I was free that weekend, and reminded me not to make any plans then either. You also asked me for hotel recommendations, and pretended it was for you and Olga. You are a bad liar, mija. I have known for weeks.” Eli laughed.

Alexia frowned, shoving you and Alba both away from her as you both collapsed into giggles, despite the fact that this was entirely her fault, and you and Alba were blameless. She knew there was teasing coming her way, but the smile on your face was well worth it. Order had been restored, and both of your sisters had made promises to themselves, and to each other, to not let their arguments hurt you anymore. You were just happy to have them both there, at home. All four of you together, how it was supposed to be.

-------

it will really always be funny to me that my sister and i do not say the words "i'm sorry" to each other. like we'd both rather die than apologize. she could hit me with her car and i wouldn't want her to apologize because... ew. anyway sometimes having a sister is cool and sometimes its not but i love mine.

everyone applaud me for not splitting this into two parts. seriously i am astounded at myself right now.

hope you all like it :) give me all your thoughts.

#woso imagine #woso x reader #woso one shot #woso fanfics #alexia putellas x reader #putellas!reader #platonic reader

1K notes · View notes

neowinestainedress · 2 months

Text

wave | lee donghyuck

pairing: lee donghyuck x fem reader genre: college au, academics rivals to lovers, kinda fake dating, forced to work together on a project, smut, fluff, humor (idk), music major!haechan, music major!mc | not really requested but thank you 💌 anon for the inspo summary: your indifference toward Lee Donghyuck, also known as Haechan, becomes rivalry when he decides to sabotage you. The battle turns into a war, the war turns into a plan, and the plan, well, the plan fails miserably... or succeeds wonderfully. After all, it’s all about points of view. Or, Haechan thinks he found a way to distract you and be better than you, but doesn’t think it thoroughly and screws it up. warnings: smut, mentioned weed consumption, alcohol use, fingering, oral (receiving), unprotected sex, public sex, jealous sex, bickering, teasing, etc | inclusivity notes: reader wears different hairstyles (no mention of texture, type and color), no mention of body type (but haechan lifts her a few times), no mention of skin color, no use of y/n wc: 22.4k (out of 42k)

a/n: finally i’m back! i started this fic more than a year ago so seeing it finally come to life means everything to me. i had so much fun writing it, so i hope you’ll love it too. please, let me know with comments, reblogs (that also help reach more people), or anon. i love knowing what you think. enjoy! also if there are formatting mistakes please let me know cause i’ve been having problems posting this and i copied it without editing it once again.

masterpost (with visuals and playlist) (i can’t post the link or else the post doesn’t show up in the tags, but you can find it on my profile)

Being number one in your academy isn’t a want, but a need.

You didn’t spend your entire life crafting your skills and splitting yourself between the books and the training room for all of that to be swept under the rug when you finally made it to your dream university; Neo Arts Academy.

Surely, with the prizes promised to those on top, you aren’t the only one with that racing passion to drive you through each day. Tons of people try their best, and even put their health at risk to reach the biggest success, but you manage to focus on yourself and keep your life in a pretty healthy balance.

You managed to focus on you… until something, well, somebody, started to come into your way.

Lee Donghyuck, also known as Haechan, his stage name —if he ever made it big in the industry he wanted to be already known.

You never paid him much attention. Honestly, you never paid attention to anybody, your only goal was to take care of your small garden and top everybody else, but when his competitiveness got the best of him, you just couldn’t push him in the back of your mind.

Apparently, his goals are the same as yours, and that isn’t a nice thing considering how competitive your world is. You first truly glanced at him during a songwriting lesson, when he huffed a bit too loudly behind you while he announced to his friend, probably named Mark, that he sucked at writing songs. However, you only chuckled mindlessly that time and went on with your day.

That was your first year there and everything went fine. Then the second year arrived and you applied for your minor degree in dance and that was when Donghyuck’s presence started to be louder. You had nothing against him, but you quickly learned he couldn’t stand you for some reason. Rumours were quick at flying around, being passed from mouth to ear and you knew them.

You simply couldn’t care.

Yet.

Haechan doesn’t hate you. He could never do that. After all, he doesn’t even know you. But he does know something about you. He knows your name, and how it is always on top of his in any ranking. He knows you will always win the contests he wants to win so badly. He knows you are good at theory and practice. He knows he just can’t win with you.

He also knows nothing can touch you. Not because you are unreachable and believe you’re superior to others. Actually, you are very modest about all your academic success, but you always walk straight on your road with the goal perfectly in the line of view.

Haechan doesn’t hate you. Though, lately, he has a strange feeling in his body every time he sits at his desk to study and his only motivation is to surpass you. Nothing different than the first months there, he got pretty soon you were going to be a tough but nice competitor, but fuck he never imagined you would be so hard to beat. Now that after a year he never won or got the top grade and always came second after you, you aren’t motivating him, you are driving him insane.

He doesn’t have many distractions, but he has friends, some hobbies outside of university, and even a part-time job. But you? Is there something that is distracting you? Is there anything that could distract you? He has no idea, not now that he is watching you walk into the room, ready for the classical ballet history class —yes, of course out of all the minors, you had to choose his— and sit a few rows in front of him, all alone as always, taking out your lilac book note and your pen.

Haechan has no idea, but he is going to find out something that can easily distract you and push out of your path.

You know people think of university as a moment to socialise, but being on your own has never been a problem for you. You have contacts with some of your hometown friends, and most importantly, you don’t mind doing things alone; you can go to the cinema when you want, you can pick whatever restaurant you like, you can take a walk, or stay at home.

You’ve always been comfortable in your bubble, and you’d like to keep it that way, but life has strange plans.

“Damn, always on a rush.” You recognize Haechan’s voice, but you don’t bother turning around because you’re sure he’s not addressing you. You think it’s weird he’s sitting next to you, but you blink the surprise away and grab your tablet from your bag. “Whoever put music theory at 8:30 in the morning on a Monday needs to go to jail.”

You chuckle at his comment, subtly rolling your eyes before opening the note app to go where you left it in the previous lesson.

“You write a lot.” This time you’re quite sure he’s talking to you, so your neck turns to look at him and you find him closer than you’d like him to be.

“I annotate, it’s just the essentials.”

He scans the notes quickly before scoffing. “The essentials? I don’t write as half as that.”

“Well, I think this is essential, but we all work differently,” while you’re answering him, you don’t even notice that his friend is not beside him, and you get lost in him for a second, mostly in the scent that’s filling your nostrils now that his brown jacket is so close to you.

“The professor talks too fast, how the fu— how do you get everything?” He stops himself from cursing and backs away, finally making you breathe some air that is not filled with his intoxicating perfume.

“I rewrite phrases. And, to be sure, I record the lessons, so I can re-listen to them in case something doesn’t make sense when I study them. And then I also re-write the not—”

“You record the lessons?” He almost snarls with his eyes bulging out of his skull as he, once again, stands too close to you.

“Is it illegal?” Your head tilts to the side as genuine curiosity blooms on your face.

“No, it’s… it’s…” he sighs, throwing his head back and cursing something under his breath in a tight dialect you don’t recognize. “I never thought about it.”

“Oh, well, it helps me a lot. Sometimes when I’m too tired to read I just play the lessons and memorize stuff while I do other things,” you smile, moving your hair to one side of your neck before grabbing the pen when the professor walks in. “You should try.”

“Oh, you can be sure I will.”

Haechan can’t be so stupid. He can’t believe he can be so stupid. Why didn’t he ever, ever, think about that? That’s a smart idea, better than crying and cursing when he tries to understand what he wrote down on paper when he revisits the notes, or asking Mark if he wrote some phrases he had marked down with several question marks or dots to fill —dots that he never fills.

But he’s still sure he can’t be a terrible student, he had always been on top of his classes, always aced them and his study method worked… but what if yours worked better? Given the results of the past year, and the start of this one, the answer is clear: yours do work better.

But he doesn’t think that it’s the only reason you are beating him in everything. What if you have other tricks?

Haechan is going to find out.

You always believed your only competition was yourself. You never liked to engage with other people and fight them or fear them. But Haechan had given you no choice.

It was an open threat at you when he purposefully told you a different day to turn in an assignment when you were sick, you had no choice but to fight back.

That was when Haechan truly became your rival. He had always been, you two were always at the top, fighting for the first place and the big prizes, but now it was a matter of pride.

Haechan had officially made it on top of your blacklist, at least he could arrive number one in something, not like there was a big competition to be in there, in fact, you didn’t even have one before he pushed your last nerve.

Fucking it up with you wasn’t Haechan’s plan, he wanted to befriend you and trick you into giving him some magic tricks, but things went… wrong. With Mark by his side, it was impossible to sit next to you. During songwriting you got up and sat on another seat in the middle of the lesson with the excuse of ‘not seeing from afar’, and he couldn’t approach you in any other circumstances. So, when you got sick for three days, he thought he could, for once, steal your spotlight.

He wasn’t sure you were sick, but he was sure enough you weren’t going to miss lessons days to study or work on projects; you never needed extra time, unfortunately, he knew it well. So the only thing that could lock you in your place was an illness of some kind. He did feel bad when you came back four days later and asked him if you missed something, he could see you still weren’t at your best, and he could’ve tried his luck by telling you the truth, hoping that the precarious state you were in was going to make you come up with a terrible essay on an instrument of the 18th century, but his eagerness got the best of him, and he lied.

So he had officially screwed his plan of getting closer to you.

“You are an asshole,” you scream, slamming the books in front of him on the table in the garden, not caring about his friends staring at you in shock. “And don’t look at me with that face of ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about’ because you know what I’m referring to.”

“I don’t, though…” he whispers, trying to keep a distance between you because you look scary —half bent on the table, furrowed forehead, pointing finger— and he thinks you are very motivated to reach over his neckline and strangle him.

You roll your eyes, groaning in annoyance. “You told me Professor Kim left an essay for Monday, I thought I could use the weekend to do an amazing job and he called me to his office because I was three days late.”

Haechan gulps, and the table goes silent, you feel his friends’ gazes on you but they are the last thing in your mind.

“Mind to explain?”

“I… I didn’t do it on purpose?”

“You have to ask me if you are an asshole because your mother didn’t put a brain in your skull?”

“Hey, take it back!” He warns with a pointing finger, glaring at you.

“No,” you retort, crossing your arms on your chest and standing up straight. “You sabotaged me.”

“You are making things up. Maybe you should be in the creative writing major,” Haechan taunts, a shit-eating grin on his face.

You gasp offended, clenching your fists to avoid wrapping your hands around his neck. “You — you — ugh,” you huff. “This paper was graded! And you knew it, it’s part of the mid-course work he adds to our final grade. Why would you do that to me?”

“You think I did that on purpose?”

“When did you turn it in?” You ask and when his eyes widen you scream at his face. “See! You turned it on time. I fucking hate you!”

“I didn’t answer,” he tries to defend, a challenging edge in his voice, getting to your nerves more than the look on his face.

“First of all, I can see it in your face. You’re trying to look surprised and even scared, but you’re having the time of your life because, guess what, you can’t surpass me if you don’t play your stupid games.”

He snorts offended, gulping before leaning closer. “You think I can’t beat you?”

“It’s not what I think, it’s what the rankings say, it’s what our professors say, and it’s what all the external opportunities I’ve got say. But if you want to try to prove facts wrong, bring it on,” you shrug, grabbing your things and taking a step back. “No more dirty games from now on, Lee Donghyuck. Trust me, you don’t want me to start playing them too, you might not even see the top three if I do.”

The months to come are fire. You should keep minding your business but as soon as he opens his mouth in class you can’t press your lips together and fake it. You try, every time, but you fail.

“I just mean that the melody is what attracts people,” he argues during a discussion in the songwriting class.

You huff, shaking your head. “People care about the lyrics more.”

He scoffs loudly and the professor glares at him for the reaction but he still goes on. “People won’t listen to a song if the production sucks.”

You turn around, eyebrows pressed in a furrow. “And they won’t listen to a song if the lyrics are dumb, or tell a bad message.”

“Really? Catchy pop music is a thing even if you want so badly to maintain the purity of the art of music with only lyrical depth.”

“I love catchy pop songs, but there’s something objective in music and something subjective, if you paid attention to any of our classes you should know, right?”

The class holds back a laugh and the professor coughs, making you utter an apologize, more addressed to her than your enemy.

“Oh, trust me, I paid attention to class,” he retorts, mockingly smiling at you. “And we’re not talking about the quality but the appeal. People remember the rhythm of the song or the tune more than they remember the words.”

“And words can hold so much meaning for someone they will stick to them forever. Also, lyrics can have different interpretations and if you’re a good writer you can make one song fit for more occasions.”

“That’s dumb,” he says, looking at you up and down after scoffing. “Notes can transfer different emotions, what you said just doesn’t make sense, please.”

“Can we tone it down?” Professor Park warns, glaring at the both of you.

You nod and mutter another apology before speaking up again, “I believe that a good melody can easily attract people at first listen, but if we talk about the long run, a memorable song also needs good lyrics. And Mariah Carey herself said how being a songwriter makes your career last more, so I think it’s telling coming from one of the best voices ever.”

“I think you both make a great point,” the professor cuts the conversation off before you can jump at each other’s throat again. “It would be interesting to make a deeper analysis and maybe break down songs and compare data over time. If it was possible to keep the decorum…” she whispers the last word and you want to disappear because you hate the scene you gave. “But we need to move on with our lesson, so, as I was saying…”

Out of all the heated discussions you had in class, the one about the importance of production and lyrics, led to your worst nightmare, working on a project with him. Professor Park was so nice to pair you together because she wanted to see how your different points of view would’ve worked in the song you had to write and produce and even if you smiled and said, ‘it will be really motivating,’ to avoid yelling at her face, now you want to die.

You’re sure the first two knocks on the door don’t even reach the other side; your hits are too weak and the small apartment in that complex is too loud for anyone to hear. Is this the environment you have to work in today?

You roll your eyes and knock again, this time making sure it’s impossible for them not to hear you. You wait there only for a few seconds and then the door opens, revealing a boy your age you can’t remember.

“Oh, hi,” he cheers, big toothy smile beaming at you. “You must be here for Hyuck, right?”

You hum, nodding and murmuring, “Yes, I have to work on a project with Haechan.”

“Come in.”

You step inside the house and look around briefly before your eyes fall on the table in the small living room; there are books everywhere, headphones on the ground, boxes of food and empty water bottles, and most importantly talks too loud for four boys that were supposedly studying.

“Mark, can you lower the music?”

“Music is what I’m studying, I can’t,” the man you know well replies. “Why don’t you keep your pencil close to you? Jesus, there’s graphite everywhere.”

“You’re so annoying, I can’t go in my room, Jeno still didn’t take down the light boxes,” the brown-haired replies, sending a death glare to the boy at his side who quickly replies to his defence.

“Hey, I finished shooting half an hour ago and now I have an essay to write, leave me alone.”

“They’re entertaining, aren’t they?” Haechan’s voice brings you out of the haze of his bickering friends, their conversation fades in the background while your anger level rises just seeing his face when you turn around.

“Surely more entertaining than you,” you retort before taking a step forward, pretending to know where to go in that house.

Haechan rolls his eyes, thanking his friend who opened the door —Jaemin— and coming next to you. “You don’t know where my room is yet, so if you’d like to follow me.”

You trail behind him, waving at the men around the table but it’s clear that none of them even noticed your presence. Luckily for you, Donghyuck’s room is at the end of the corridor and the mess that goes down in the other room is not hearable enough to make your day a living hell.

“So, do you have anything in mind?” He asks after you sit at one of the chairs at his desk.

You shake your head, fixing your skirt and pulling out some things you might need from your bag. “Wanted to hear from you first. Since the melody is so crucial, we should start from that,” you mock in a fake-sweet tone, and you feel his glare on your skin.

“You truly are a pain in the ass, you know?” He scoffs, moving his hair out of his face, gaze fixed on you.

“And for what? Because I agreed with your theory?”

“If you have a melody in mind it’s easier to make the words flow.”

“If the melody has nothing to do with the idea, you only have some notes and not a song.”

Now that there aren’t rows of chairs dividing you, the heated argument has led you face to face, literally. And you feel your heart pound in your chest from the anger and, also because it’s weird to be this close to a stranger you can’t stand.

“Okay, Miss Taylor Swift, why don’t you enlighten me and show me what you got?”

You glare at him but he’s unfazed, holding the eye contact proudly. “My lyrics will be better than your production.”

“And are those lyrics in the room with us?”

“God,” you groan, throwing your hands in the air and your head back. “You drive me insane.”

“And you are pretentious and still never prove all the things that that little, bratty, annoying mouth of yours says.”

Deep creases show on your forehead, and you have to turn around because if you see his face for a second more you will slap him. But you want this project done, you have four weeks to turn it in, but you want this torture to be over as soon as possible, so you know you have to put the pettiness aside.

“If we want a great result and good grades, we need good lyrics and a good melody,” you say, calmly facing him again, slowly watching as his face softens. “My words and your production. I don’t care what comes to us first, if you think it can be useful, we could even brainstorm some tunes and catchphrases and then build it around it.”

“Now you’re making some sense,” he exclaims, smiling widely before patting the top of your head. “So that head is not empty.”

“Oh, seriously? I’m trying to have a truce, and you fuck it all up again?”

“No, sorry, I just think you’re really smart when it comes to college but a bit annoying when it comes to life.”

“You’re just mad you can’t beat me.”

“I can,” he retorts smugly.

“Then why don’t you do it?” You tease, cocking your head to the side.

Haechan scoffs, lips twitching in a quick smirk before he wets them. “I didn’t yet, but are you so sure I won’t?” He whispers, breath colliding with your lips and nose brushing yours, your brain doesn’t even register his hands on your legs right away, only when his fingers caress your bare skin right above the hem you wake up from the haze of having him so close.

“Time will — time will prove us,” you say, turning to the desk and scratching your neck. “Time will tell us, not prove us.”

Haechan snickers, moving closer to see on your tablet where you opened the notes, and smiles smugly. He thinks he found a way to distract you.

The project isn’t done in the first week, and to put a cherry on top, Professor Park decides to make it the big project for the end of the class, adding a cover for the single, a plan to sponsor it, and, if someone feels brave enough, even to record it. Even if you wanted to, a thing this big, and now with so much weight on the final grade, can’t be done in one week.

Yet, you think you’ll have to deal with Haechan only on your weekly meet-ups for that project and during lessons, you never imagined you would have to deal with him even during your library study on Wednesday.

“Why are you studying in the middle of the week?”

“You know, if I had to replicate a sound every time we start a conversation it would be ‘and now, I just want to sit back and relax and enjoy my evening, when all of a sudden I hear this agitating grating voice,’ and that is the sound that plays in my mind, actually.”

“Grating? Really?”

“Well, it’s the quote but it fits,” you reply sternly, bringing your attention back to the book. “Also, the question is not, why am I studying, but why aren’t you? How will you beat me if you don’t?” You wink, laughing under your breath. You don’t even need to see his reaction; you know his jaw tenses and his nostrils flare for a brief second every time you tease him.

You hear the chair in front of you scratch on the floor, and deeply hope he’s not sitting on it. But Haechan is sitting on it, staring at you as if he could steal the information from your brain and pass it to his.

“I am studying.”

“No, you’re not,” you reply, eyes widening when he rips a page from your notebook and a pen from your case. “So, what have you learned since now?”

You fight the urge to roll your eyes to the sky and instead run a hand on your face while sighing deeply. There’s just no way to get rid of him, right?

“You don’t even know what I’m studying.”

“Sound design,” he replies promptly, and you look down to see if he could’ve gotten a grasp from your books but there’s a paper on it and there’s not much written on it. Haechan smiles and moves to the chair next to you. “It’s because I started it too, there are too many notions, it would be a suicide to wait for the finals.”

“Oh, so you do something else other than think about me,” you tease, nudging him with your leg.

“Hey! I don’t think about you,” he replies firmly, frowning.

“Sure,” you huff, waving him off. “So, what do you know?”

“Well, all the basis we learnt last year, so the definition of sound, the path it follows, how it’s perceived based on the medium and how fast it travels through them, slowest through gases, faster through liquids, and fastest through solids, and that temperature effects it as well.”

You smile, content with the reply but you want to test him more. “What about the five characteristics of sound?”

“You think that’s a difficult one?” He asks, almost disappointed at the easiness of your question.

“Well, if you want to impress me so bad, I could ask you to list all the types of compressors?”

“You already know that?” He questions, quirking a brow, trying to think why he doesn’t remember them. “Wait, we didn’t do that in class.”

You laugh. “See, you’re witty. No, we haven’t done that yet, but since you love producing so much, I thought you knew it as personal knowledge.”

“Why do you talk as if you don’t want to do the same job as mine?” There’s a bit of annoyance in his tone, but there’s genuine curiosity in his eyes.

You shrug, pressing your lips together before diverting your gaze.

Haechan gasps. “Don’t tell me you don’t know what you want to do, yet, because I won’t believe it.”

“It’s not that I don’t know,” you reply, a low huff leaving your lips. “I’d like to try different things out, being a PR manager sounds interesting too. And I’m also pretty good at dancing, so that could be a career path.”

“It’s a shame we didn’t start practical courses, I would love to see you dance.”

“Yeah, sure, so you can mock me some more,” you groan.

He shakes his head. “No, you wouldn’t enroll in a program if you weren’t absolutely perfect at it, so I can’t come at your skills.”

“You’re so kind, I think I might love you,” you mock, moving closer to him and pouting before pushing him away with a light push on his chest and focusing on your papers again.

“And by the way, I know the characteristics of sound,” he says, right next to your face.

You smile and think to yourself that this might be fun. “Good, go on and tell me.”

You don’t get why Haechan’s roommate bicker so much. Not that you could lecture them when, as soon as you walk inside his room, your talks won’t be much different than theirs (worse, probably). But you think you and Haechan, at least, have a reason to fight so much. His roommates are… weird. They are close. They all are, in an annoying way almost, always moving in packs and breaking their back to meet up even if their institutes are scattered around in the Academy. Yet, they get heated pretty easily when they sit in the living room, and you can only blame it on stress as you chuckle, standing against the countertop with a glass of water in hand.

“Donghyuck left you all alone?” Jeno enters the kitchen, distracting you from Renjun screaming at his painting and Mark cursing while he tries to come up with a melody for a small assignment you decided to not worry about —you have Haechan to worry about now.

“Yep, told me to be here at 2 pm just to be in the shower instead,” you reply with a tight smile on your face that makes him laugh and scroll the black hair out of his face.

“My fault,” he explains while pouring himself a glass. “I convinced him to stay at the basketball field when we finished and he couldn’t meet up with you smelling like rotten leftovers forgotten under the august sun.”

“Creative writing?” You ask after you chuckle at his description.

“Nope, photography, Renjun’s worst nightmare.”

You laugh. “It’s because you leave all those big things around his room, right?”

“Our room,” he says, empathising on the first word.

“Okay, communism king, your room but I don’t think your comrade is happy about it.”

Jeno laughs, and hums before gulping down a sip of water. “I’m not rich yet to afford a studio so he’ll have to deal with his bestie working, sweating, and crying his way to the top.”

“You could’ve been a nepo baby and have everything handed to you.”

“Sucks not to be one. I wouldn’t even bother being in Uni, just leaving my best life with my camera and daddy’s money.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Haechan says entering the kitchen, hair still damp and casual housewear on.

“None of your business,” you reply, placing the glass in the sink and walking to the door. “Come on, we have a song to create. It could be our first Billboard number one.”

Haechan sighs, snatching the bottle of water from Jeno’s hand, briefly confused at his grinning face, and then follows you quickly.

“Are you trying to hit on my friends?” He asks, closing the door behind.

“Would you mind?”

“Yes, I’d hate having to deal with you in our group hangouts.”

“You already deal with me. More than you should since you always come to me even when we could not be together,” you say, tilting your head to the side, and sitting on your assigned chair. “Are you perhaps jealous? Do you want me all to yourself?”

“Nah, you can go and fuck all of them right no—”

“Okay,” you don’t even let him finish and you’re at the door, but he springs after you and stops you.

“What are you doing? I was kidding!”

“Why? Since when you can tell me what to do?”

Haechan groans and drags you back to your place, but he doesn’t sit just yet, he’s bent over to be close to you. “I need you here with me to work on this goddam song, and then you can go and have a gangbang in the living room, I don’t care.”

“You’d be mad you won’t be part of it,” you joke, having the time of your life watching his pissed-off expression as he stomps loudly back at his place. “Accept that you will never win with me, and maybe you won’t be so triggered every time we talk.”

“Shit, it’s late,” you murmur, lifting your head from the lyrics you’re trying to write down. Now you got the theme —it’s a love song that you hope won’t turn lame— and even a faint idea of a tune, and while Haechan tried to get inspired by other songs and tried instruments he wants to add to the track, you worked on the words.

“Don’t you think we’re trying too hard?” He whispers, placing the guitar on his bed before standing up and stretching.

“What do you mean?” You ask, lifting your neck so you can look at him after you turn around on the rotating chair.

“Music should come to you, it should be… spontaneous.”

You’d want to roll your eyes, mostly for the spontaneous part, but he’s right. Most artists don’t think about the songs they make, the song comes to their mind when they’re not thinking about it.

“Yes, but do you think we’re doing such a shitty job with this?”

He shakes his head, walking closer to you. “Not totally, I just think that if we want to be on top, we have to work around it differently.”

You gulp when he hovers over you and grips the side of the chair tightly. “Like?”

“We should… relax. Take our mind off of it and just wait for it to come,” he glances at the desk, studying the crumpled tries you gave up on and the only three phrases you were happy with written on the tablet. “We should get inspired,” he whispers, and you’re once again so focused on his face that you don’t feel his hand on your thigh, under the long black skirt you’re wearing, it surely must’ve been on you for a while if the fabric was already crumpled up and his fingers teased the hem of your panties between your hips and stomach.

“Is — is this how you inspire people?” You ask, glancing down with a rising chest but for some reason not pulling away.

“Don’t know, I’ve never done it before,” he chuckles, slowly moving closer to your core, observing the small signs of your body. “Should we see if it works?”

You hate him. You should be working on that lyric for the last half hour you have left. You hate him. He’s making it impossible for you to stick to your ‘minding my business’ plan that had worked through all your school years. You hate him, you do, and yet you nod, humming a feeble ‘yes,’ in response.

“Good,” rolls out of his lips, and it sounds so different from his usual tone, you can’t help but feel hot.

Your nails sink in the chair when his fingers slip right against your clit after he had your consent and starts teasing it.

“So, it’s a love song…” he says, and you frown, heart pumping louder as for a second you think he led you on and you looked like a pathetic horny loser, but his hand is still playing with your pussy and his face is still close to yours. “Chose that because you have somebody in mind?”

“We literally picked it for a reason last week, you —”

“God,” he shushes you up, pushing the panties to the side and teasing your entrance, it’s already damp, but not enough how he wants it. “Can you stop being so rational for once? I know why we picked it; remember I’m trying to inspire you.”

“Wait, you really think some fingering can inspire me to write a love so—” your words shut down when he places a hand on your mouth, eyes widening but pussy leaking an embarrassing amount of cum.

He quirks a brow in surprise and, shortly after, a smug smirk curls his lips. “Oh, so you’re into that?”

You can’t reply, but even if you could’ve, you’re not sure you would’ve said anything.

“So, anybody in mind?”

You shake your head. Your love life has been anything but exciting, and after a few tries, you were sure it wasn’t what you needed to focus on, especially because nobody sparked your interest. Nobody was worth moving your focus from your studies.

“Great, so I guess that’ll have to be me.”

“What?” You mutter muffled, closing your legs and moving on the chair.

Haechan rolls his eyes in his skull, keeping you in place. “Oh, come on, you can fake it for a few minutes. Don’t act disgusted, I’m knuckle-deep inside you,” he says.

“Not yet.”

“I’m knuckle-deep inside you,” he retorts after he pushes into you with two fingers, staring right into your eyes.

You bite back a moan and a curse under your breath. “Fine, but I don’t want to think,” you say. “Just, prove it to me. If you’re good, I’ll be inspired and I’ll come up with the lyrics, if you suck, we’ll go back to our original method.”

Haechan hates that he constantly has to prove things to you, and he hates even more that he does it, almost as if he’s your dog and he has to follow your orders while you keep him on a leash. But if this will work to come up with a great song, and in his outer-songwriting-course-plan to distract you, he won’t complain.

Honestly, he couldn’t complain even if it only meant to finger you. He might want to fight you every time he sees your face but, damn, what a face.

“Shit,” you moan. You don’t want to give him too much satisfaction, but he knows what he’s doing and it’s been way too long since someone touched you like that. Damn, even since you touched yourself like that. Maybe the whole ‘staring at your goals’ was taking some funny things away from you.

“Do you want to turn the song into a Hozier song?”

You huff, you just asked him one thing and his mouth is running again doing the opposite. “You wish you were this good to inspire a Hozier type of song.”

“Really?” He taunts, pressing his thumb on your clit, starting to tease the throbbing nub in circles.

“Yes,” your voice trembles, but your face shows confidence.

Haechan snickers, quickening the pace of his fingers, watching you fight against yourself to not show how much you’re loving it. “One second of this mouth on your pussy and I’d make you change your mind,” he whispers right against your ears, hot breath fanning your skin. “It’s a shame you don’t deserve it.”

You groan, head rolling back in disappointment, and that makes him laugh.

“You have to think twice before running that mouth, babe. Especially with me.”

“Never,” you talk back, opening your eyes and regretting as soon as they meet his. His gaze is too intense, and your brain is too far gone to keep it up.

Haechan only grins, enjoying your wrecked face and the sounds your pussy is making as his fingers keep working on you. You might try to deny him, but your body is speaking to him, and deeply so are you. It’s in your eyes, and your lips trembling, and in the beautiful moans that are rolling out of your tongue.

“Are you close, brat?”

You don’t have it in you to complain, or retort, the orgasm is right around the corner and you fear he would ruin the experience if you said something out of line.

“Answer me,” he orders, lightly slapping your thigh.

“Yes,” you breathe out, biting your lower lip to prevent the whole house from hearing you.

“Good,” he replies, smiling proudly and starting to move faster in and out of you, hitting your sweet spot every time he reaches the base, and torturing your clit with his thumb. And when it’s too much for you, you come. Body trembling against the chair, and legs pushing up as the shocks of pleasure run through you.

“Acid when you talk but sweet to taste,” he hums after pulling out his fingers from his mouth and you only glare at him as you quickly try to get yourself together again.

“It’s late,” he says, staring at the clock. “Go home and let me know if this was useful somehow. And not by replaying it in your mind at night wishing I was there with you.” He winks and you slap his shoulder hard. “What the hell!”

“I won’t come up with anything on purpose, and I swear if you keep being so annoying, I’ll be terrible at this.”

“You would never, this makes up like 80% of our final grade.” He challenges you with a glare.

“If I go down, you go down with me,” you retort, face to face, fiercely looking into his eyes.

“It’s not smart of you.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” you smile sweetly before it drops from your face. “It’s a threat.”

It’s not like you’re trying to avoid him after what happened, but that’s exactly what’s going on. You don’t regret the act per se, you just can’t believe it was so easy for you to agree to do that with him. And you know he will use it against you for eternity.

A very dumb move from your side to give him the possibility to tease you even more and about something you couldn’t defend yourself from.

But if you try your best to change corridors when you see him from afar, walk quickly back to your dorm room, and sit on the opposite side in class (you fail at keeping your mouth quiet, but you need to discuss with him during lessons), it seems like he’s doing everything he can to be on your path.

“I’m starting to believe you’re a stalker,” you huff, clearly scaring him when you stop abruptly in the middle of the library and make him stop in his tracks.

“I’m not.”

You raise a brow, staring at him until he huffs and throws his hands up in the air. “Fine, fine, I was following you but only because I wanted to know what you will study.”

“Why do you care so much about what I study?”

“So I know how to beat you?”

“Isn’t it more exciting if you beat me only using your brain by putting some knowledge in it without seeing my cards?” You say, pushing a finger on his chest and making him walk backwards until his back hits the bookshelf behind him.

“I think sneaky games are funnier, though,” he whispers, hand moving to rest on your side. “Especially with you.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes, and taking a step back, freeing yourself from his hold. “The games you’re playing are not sneaky. Why are you always in my business?”

He shrugs. “Why not? So, what are we studying today?”

“We are not studying together.”

“Why? Isn’t it funny? The same study method, same hours, but one of us will be better than the other. That’s a truly equal comparison.”

You run a hand on your face and keep walking to find what you need. “If you didn’t distract me every two seconds, I would’ve already been like five pages into my studying session.”

“Oh, please, you are wondering around the library anyway. I’m just keeping you company.” His body follows yours like a shadow, his heat radiating so close to your skin that you think you might go insane.

“I don’t want your company,” you say, moving your eyes swiftly over the books in front of you as you try to find what you are looking for in the sociology section. When you finally find it, reminding yourself you have to buy it so you can annotate directly on yours, you walk back to your table, but Haechan is still beside you like a puppy on a string. “Can’t you just leave me alone?”

“I could, and I’d want to, but I can’t,” he says, sitting at your side, smiling widely when you glare at him.

“This is a useless lesson for you,” you try to dismiss him.

“Is it? Because we have the same ones.”

“Jesus, okay, fine,” you give up, throwing your head back and raising your voice enough to make some heads turn in your direction. His biggest talent is to exasperate you. “But we give ourselves a timing, and then when we’re done, we’ll have to answer five questions.”

“And who answers to them all?” He asks, there’s a taunting edge in his voice, and a grin on his face.

“Is the best,” you reply as if it’s obvious.

“Yeah, but there should be a prize.”

“Being better than you is the prize.”

Haechan scoffs, and he hates to admit in his mind that he finds your snarky remarks so fucking hot, if you weren’t in a public library and if his job on earth wasn’t to detest you, he would’ve already had you bent on the table.

“I love how you’re always so sure of being better than me.”

You snicker and send him a flying kiss. “Honey, I am better than you.”

“Wait, I just left out a detail!” You almost scream when you compare your answers for the nth time because you can’t believe he has done slightly better than you.

“That detail is important,” Haechan replies unfazed by your indignation.

“No, it’s not. We would have the same score if this was graded,” you insist, feeling more angered than you should. It’s nothing serious, it shouldn’t be serious, but with him, there’s your pride on the line.

“But this is between me and you, so I win. Also, my phrasing in the second answer is better than yours.”

“Shut up, it’s not.”

“It is, and you just have to admit you lost,” he insists, leaning over, staring at you with a challenging raised brow.

You swallow, eyebrows furrowing, and then you sigh. “Your advantage is minimal. And you only won a battle, because I’m winning a war.”

“Fine, Napoleon, I still won and you’re coming to my place even Saturday so we can do this some more.”

“Hey, Napoleon sucked! He lost the most important battles, the only ones he should’ve won.”

“That’s why I called you that,” he winks, clicking his tongue mockingly.

“Oh, you think you will win the war? You’re wrong, honey, Waterloo is yours.”

Haechan laughs, standing up after putting his things in his bag. “I’m waiting for you on Saturday…” he says and before you can complain he starts singing, “Waterloo, I was defeated, you won the war…”

“Oh, shut up!” You say, hitting his arm as you push him away, but he giggles and walks away continuing with the tune.

“Waterloo, promise to love you forevermore. Waterloo, couldn’t escape if I wanted to…”

And you think that if only he didn’t try to sabotage your final grades in Music History, you might even find him funny.

Haechan hates you.

If he was sure he didn’t before, he is sure that he does now.

He can’t wrap his head around the fact that you, Miss zero social skills, and negative 100 friends, can be so good at debating. On every fucking topic. You’re well-spoken, witty, smart, somehow it looks like you know everything about everything. And even when you don’t know (and you always specify it — which he shouldn’t find so hot, but he does) you always come up with perfectly thought theories and analyses coming from the small knowledge you have on the topic. The thing he also hates is that you never sound like you’re showing off your skills, it’s just really nice to listen to you and —when he’s not the one intervening against you— you’re the sweetest person ever and everybody in every class absolutely adores you.

He wonders if you’re a robot. Maybe you’re some sort of artificial intelligence sent there to conduct studies on humans’ stupidity, and he was unlucky enough to start a fight with you. You just don’t seem real. And he’d love to dig deeper but he doubts he will find anything relevant.

You might be smart, but you also look incredibly boring. He tried to find out if you had interests, or anything that could distract you, but his research led nowhere. The biggest problem is that he hates you, but not to the point that he wants to get you suspended from University, so he has to find another way to make you slip.

Apparently, you’re playing the same game, but even at this, you are thinking faster and smarter.

“Where the fuck are all my anthropology notes?” Haechan mutters as he looks through his library, moving books and notebooks around, thinking he has gone insane. “Mark!” He screams, rushing to the desk to search again but he knows where he left everything; on the second shelf of the small library in his room, on top of the music theory book that hasn’t moved since a week.

“Yes?” His housemate peaks from the door only with his head.

“Did you mistake our notes?”

“What notes?” Mark furrows, backing away from his friend who looks out of his mind.

“The anthropology notes,” he says, voice full of annoyance because, why does Mark never know anything? He’s in the same course and, yet, he’s always somewhere else with his head.

“Man, I don’t even take notes during that lesson.”

“What do you mean you don’t? Ugh, never mind,” Haechan groans, rolling his eyes because he can’t believe he can’t count on anybody. “Have you seen them somewhere?”

“Nope,” Mark replies, entering the room. “I mean, I don’t know what they look like.”

“You know right we have a test tomorrow? The winter break is close, and some courses have it. You are studying, right?”

“Yeah, just not every…thing…”

Haechan rolls his eyes, shaking his head. “Why don’t you like it? I mean, I know it’s not really music related but it teaches you so much about other cultures and there’s a whole part about how music is different from culture to culture.”

“Next semester, we didn’t get there, yet. It’s a bunch of complicated terminology and theories I just don’t get,” Mark defends. He never understood why Haechan loved studying so much. He is only there for the music, and a few other theoretical lessons, but some courses don’t make any sense to him.

“So you plan on being terrible tomorrow?”

“I just want a decent result; I don’t strive for perfection like you and your girlie.”

Haechan almost chokes on his saliva. “My girlie? Who’s my girlie?”

“That girl in class you always get into heated arguments with, and then she comes here and I’m pretty sure you make out when no one’s watching,” Mark says so calmly it infuriates Haechan more than if he was teasing him.

“Shut the hell up! She’s my mortal enemy and while you have been paired with Yangyang for the song project, Professor Park thought it was nice putting her and me together.”

“Yeah, you can still make out with your mortal enemy,” he snorts, hitting his friend with a playful elbow hit.

“Mark, shut up and leave, I have to study,” he tries to cut short, pushing his friend out of the room.

“With what notes?”

“I don’t know. I left them on the shelf, and nobody entered my room since Saturday when she — Oh, my God.”

When your name resonates in the empty classroom after you’ve taken the anthropology test, your blood freezes for a second.

“Haechannie,” you cheer cheekily, turning around and pushing your tote bag far up your shoulders.

“Don’t,” he warns, lifting a finger to stop you from starting anything. “I have to talk to you.”

“Sure, the test was easy, right? You might have beaten me this time,” you say but you have to hold back a laugh when you scan his furious, pissed-off expression.

“Yeah, if you studied, it was,” he retorts venously.

“And you surely studied,” you say, faking innocence.

“You can study when you have something to study on,” he says through gritted teeth.

“Yes, and you do,” you still play dumb, but when he calls your surname, you know he’s not joking anymore. “Yes?”

“Do you, perhaps, know where the fuck my notes are?”

You look around, shrugging. “Where are your notes, Donghyuck?”

“I don’t know, I’m asking you for a reason,” he retorts, plastering a fake smile that doesn’t reflect in the darkness of his pupils.

“They might’ve mixed up with my stuff when you invited me over Saturday?” You sing-song, tilting your head to the side and shrugging.

“Might’ve,” he repeats, a hint of bitterness in his tone. “It was just a coincidence.”

You shrug again, pushing your lower lip in a pout. “Sometimes… things happen.”

“And if it wasn’t on purpose, why couldn’t you just text me?”

“Because I didn’t notice,” you reply innocently, batting your lashes, knowing it will get on his nerves even more.

He groans, closing his eyes to calm himself down before he speaks again, “then how do you know?”

“Don’t know, just making assumptions,” you say. “It turns out I’m really good at it.”

“I swear, I — I want to… I want to —”

“To what? Choke me because I got my revenge? Oh, it turns out it’s really not that funny when someone plays with you?” You mock, and in doing so you get closer to him.

“Goddamn,” he groans before your back meets the hard wall of the room and his lips meet yours in a heated kiss, his hands on your body and yours limp at your side as you’re too shocked to react. “I want to — I want to kill you, actually.”

You smirk, chuckling straight at his face. “Filled the space with the wrong letter, ‘cause you’re kissing me.”

“Maybe my kiss is lethal, maybe there’s poison on my lips.”

“Oh, you’re so romantic you’d die for me?” You coo, placing a hand on your heart.

Haechan groans, throwing his head back. “Why are you always so, so, so, God,” he curses, running his fingers in his hair. “I want my notes back, now.”

“I don’t have them,” you say, grinning because he looks wrecked. You know it wasn’t very morally mature for you, but it was only fair. Also, you know he doesn’t arrive last minute with anything, he had already studied everything and you’re sure he had answered everything on that paper, he just couldn’t revisit.

“My notes back when you pass by for the project or it’s war.”

“It’s already war,” you retort when he walks past you to leave.

Haechan turns around, locking his gaze with yours. “Oh, honey, it can get so much worse than this.”

You felt like testing your luck when his notes weren’t back on his desk, but you had no idea it could get worse than that, until it got.

When he deleted an essay from your computer and you had to remake and finish the work of five days in five hours, so you cancelled a project he was working on for another assignment you had. And then he erased the recording of a course from your phone, so you ripped his notebook in front of his eyes (and his roommates too). The list of petty things is long, and you’re not really proud (you’re sure not even Haechan is) of what you did, especially when things started becoming personal. You two want to destroy each other, but you are honestly just killing yourselves in the meantime.

Your book slams closed so hard that you almost zip your hands in it, and by protecting your fingers you lose track of where you’ve been. “Get lost,” you whisper bitterly as soon as you recognize the hand that did that.

“No thanks,” he replies, sitting next to you.

“I’m trying to read a book in the quiet of the library, so can you leave me alone?”

“It’s a public space, I can sit wherever I want,” he replies, leaning back into the chair, and widening his legs under the table. You know ‘cause you feel his knee push against yours and you have to retract your leg to avoid the contact.

You glare at him, breathing deeply through your nose because you can’t make a scene here. You two almost got kicked out of a class two days ago, and that was humiliating enough. So, you think that ignoring him is the best thing you can do.

“Wow, so you have a bit of self-control and don’t talk back. Never thought I’d see that day,” he replies sarcastically to your silence with an amused grin that curls his lips.

You hold back a scream and huff loudly, “I truly need you to get fucked right now.”

“Nevermind,” he jokes, pulling a tight forced smile and you close the book again, now too annoyed to even focus on the words on the paper. “I came here in peace, by the way.”

“Yeah, your peace is war in my country,” you reply bitterly, trying to shift away but those damn chairs make the loudest sounds at the smallest movements.

“That’s because you’re full of prejudices.”

You inhale deeply, rubbing your temple to soothe the headache you know is about to arrive. “Haechan, tell me what you want and then leave me alone.”

He smiles, happy you are finally willing to listen, before he clears his throat. “Okay so, I have to say that some of this is funny. I mean, only the debates and these random talks, but I’m not the biggest fan of all the other stuff we’re doing, so why don’t we bring it back?”

“Bring it back? As in?” You question, raising a brow in confusion.

“I liked it better when we would just compete without tearing ourselves down. If you cancel, ruin, or save one of my projects with the word boobs in it before sending it to the professor another time, I will go insane.”

You hold back a chuckle. You have to admit it was your lowest move, but it was quite funny when Professor Choi had a whole talk in class about being careful before sending out finished projects and exposed him in front of the class.

“No, it wasn’t funny,” he mutters sternly, watching you fight with all the muscles of your face to don’t break into a laugh.

“No, sorry, it was,” you defend, voice trembling, threatening a chuckle to come out. “Like Iloveboobsdemo1 is the best thing I’ve ever come up with. That could be the title of our song.”

“If you want to get expelled from all the academies in the world that would be a perfect idea,” he says, trying to be serious because seriously it wasn’t funny, but when you stare into each other’s eyes for too long none of you two can hold back the laughter anymore. “Okay, fine. It was funny, but I don’t want that to happen again.”

“So? Do you give up?” You taunt, tilting your head after placing it on your palms.

“I’m not giving up, we are changing strategies of our combat.”

“Oh, okay. You will lose anyway in the end, so if this can be more beneficial for me in the meantime, it’s fine.”

He sighs, rubbing his temples, and you chuckle. “Don’t laugh,” he whispers distraught. “I… could you sometimes at least pretend to give me some kind of chance of winning with you and not feeling like you’ll always have the last laugh?”

“I just replied.”

“No, a reply would’ve been ‘Yes, Haechan, don’t worry, we can change it.”

“Too wordy,” you comment, waving him off with a movement of hand.

“You said like ten words more,” he replies, voice breaking in his throat in a whine, but you decide to act as if you don’t notice.

“It still flowed better. See, that’s why the lyrics are in my hands. You’re really not good with words.”

“You keep doing that,” he groans, slamming a hand on the table, attracting some curious eyes on you before you glare them away. “But it’s fine, okay, so… no more dirty games? No more sabotaging?”

“Yes, no more. Well, not like this, but we can still play a bit, right?” You ask, retracting your hand right when you’re about to hold his to seal the deal.

“Yes, but nothing weird, or you know what I mean.”

You hum, reaching out again and shaking his hand. “It’s a deal, then?”

“It’s a deal.”

The deal somehow turns into Haechan always being next to you. He’s like a shadow, sitting next to you in class, studying with you in the library, and so on. You don’t mind him when he minds his business, but he rarely does. Especially during lessons when you need to focus on what the professors are saying.

You roll your eyes when Haechan sneaks a paper next to your notebook and you read ‘how would a dog wear pants’ with two badly drawn different options on it.

“Does it look like the right moment?” You whisper under your breath, side-eyeing him, and trying to keep your focus on the lesson. You see him nod and decide to mark the second option, thinking that he’d be happy with it, but he has the urge to hear a whole dissertation on something that will never happen, right now.

“Why?” He asks as if you’re not in the middle of a lecture.

“Not now.”

“But this lesson is boring,” he whines, poking your side with his elbow.

You huff, covering it with a cough when you realize it is too loud, and then take a sip from your bottle of water.

“You didn’t answer,” Haechan insists, this time poking your arm with the cap of the pencil.

“I picked one,” you mutter, pointing at the paper with your head.

“Elaborate and change my mind.”

“You think it’s the first one?” You say in disbelief, the utter shock causing the tone of your voice to be louder than you expected.

“Any problems there?” The Professor asks, and you feel your blood freeze.

“Mh, no, nothing, my pen has no more ink, I was asking for another one,” you lie, thanking God you two are sitting far in the back of the class and the Professor can’t hear and can’t see that your pen isn’t dead at all. So, with a suspicious nod, the middle-aged man goes on with the lecture while Haechan giggles beside you.

You glare at him, and he shrugs raising his hands. “If you kept quiet, it wouldn’t have happened.”

“If you let me concentrate on the lesson instead of asking dumb questions, it wouldn’t have happened,” you retort, and he laughs under his breath again, but doesn’t ask more questions. He still ruins your notes with ugly flowers and other drabbles and you let him be because at least he’s being silent and paying attention.

“So, you really are giving up,” you say when the bell rings and the class starts emptying.

“What makes you think that?” He asks, putting his things in his bag, just like you.

“You didn’t write anything down.”

Haechan shrugs. “Why would I? I have your notes.”

“No, you don’t,” you say but before you can realize he rips the notebook from your hands and snaps a picture of the two pages you wrote. “Hey! That’s not fair. That’s my work.”

“Your amazing summarizing skills and my artistic skills. I don’t gift beautiful sunflowers to just anybody.”

“Beautiful sunflowers?” You snicker, starting to walk down the stairs, pushing the notebook into your bag as Haechan follows at your side. “If Renjun saw them he would have a heart attack.”

“Can’t compare Vang Gogh to Picasso.”

“Keep Picasso out of your mouth,” you say threateningly.

“Still, aren’t you happy you will think of me while studying?” He bats his lashes, and you hold back an entertained grin.

“Can’t wait to go through the absolute most painful ulcers every time I glance down on those things.”

He gasps offended, bringing a hand on his chest. “See, this is what happens when you spend all your days on socials and your brain doesn’t know how to appreciate real art anymore.”

“You are so annoying, and distracting. Next time if you sit next to me, I’ll push you off the chair,” you warn, and only when a colder blow of wind hits you, you realize you’re walking back to your places together.

“Right!” He says and you think it’s the good time he leaves you alone, but no, he’s not done. “You didn’t explain why the dog would wear it only on its hind legs.”

“Is it really that serious? Why do you want to know so badly?”

“It’s funny. I’m sick and tired of hearing you only discuss music, sociology, and the media and other stuff.”

You sigh. But you still have a bit to walk, so you might as well have to deal with him and his hypothesis about dogs. “Because pants have to cover your lower body, so legs, and ass and everything else. If you wear them like the first option, half of the ass is out. And also, the back limbs correspond to our legs, we’re divided in half horizontally, not vertically.”

He doesn’t reply right away, processing your answer. And you think you broke him.

“Oh!” You exclaim. “Zootopia, animals wear clothes like the second picture.”

“Really? You had a whole statement that made perfect sense and then you added a cartoon to your thesis?”

“But it still makes sense,” you argue back. “And, most importantly, I made you agree with me,” you wink before stopping when you reach your complex.

“Fine, fine, you’re right,” he gives up before looking behind you. “You live here?”

You nod, searching for the keys in the tote bag, and you think it’s time to stop pretending that’s Mary Poppins’ bag and throw away some useless stuff.

“I thought there were only rooms here,” he states, looking at the big complex a few meters away from the university.

“There are common dormitories, and then there are some one-room flats. I got one with a scholarship when I graduated. It’s less expensive than an apartment and I get a small place all to myself.”

“Oh,” he whispers. He doesn’t know why he thought you had roommates. “So, you’re alone, alone?”

“No, you can’t come in,” you say.

“I didn’t ask that,” he frowns, offended you would even imply that. “I thought you… well, oh, never mind.”

“Yes, I’m alone, so I can do whatever the hell I want. If I want to cook, I cook. If I want to stay up all night to study, I do that. If I want to dry the clothes in the middle of the living room, that is also the bedroom and the kitchen, I do that.”

“Is it really that small?”

“It’s decent, I guess. It’s spacious enough to live in it comfortably but not big to the point I have to waste days cleaning it.”

“Maybe we could study there, no loud roommates screaming in the living room.”

“I like the mess of your place, and I’ll be there Friday.”

Haechan rolls his eyes. “Come on, I hate the library. Can’t we for once study at your place?”

“I never invited you to my studying sessions,” you groan.

“But you love it.”

“No.”

“Yes, you have an orgasm every time you know something better than me.”

“Please, shut up,” you wave him off, starting to walk away.

“I don’t care, I’ll be here tomorrow,” he screams when you’re too far, clearly running away from him.

“And I’ll be at the library!”

You never go to the library, to be honest, you were just unlucky enough that the washing machine thought it was the right moment to leak all over the floor and Haechan found you at home with your coat on the couch, the tote bag next to the door and your jeans half soaked as you tried to fix the mess on the pavement.

From that moment, your meet-ups become more and more periodic, whether it’s at your place, his or at the library. You hate to admit it, but the competition drives you forward, and you love seeing his face every time you defeat him somehow.

“Are you busy this Saturday?” He asks while he strums with the guitar to come up with a chord progression for your song.

“Yeah, why?” You reply, poking the cap of the pen to your cheeks, drifting your eyes on him.

“Want to go out with me?”

“What? Saturday is my day to study and do my things like I want to,” you say. It was the only day, along with Sunday, you had to fix all your notes without being wrecked from the lessons of the day, or listen to lessons while cleaning the house, and so on. You tried to squeeze everything there so Sunday could be your free day and you could dedicate it to your hobbies and to write for the magazine you worked for, nothing too serious, just some money to add to the survival costs that your parents would send you, and the monthly entrance you had when you would get called to help a dance studio downtown.

“Great, we’re going out tomorrow.”

You huff, slumping back on the chair. “No, we’re not. I’m busy.”

“You can take one afternoon for me,” he replies, placing the instrument next to him. “Come on, it will be fun.”

“Where would you even take me?”

Haechan smirks. “It’s a surprise.”

When Saturday afternoon arrives, you don’t know how to feel. You spent the whole night trying to find a positive thing about it, and the good thing is that for once you are leaving the house to do something funny —you hoped so— not all by yourself. The bad thing is that the person you are going to do this thing with is Haechan.

You try not to worry about it too much, he’s not that bad when he wants to, and he’s funnier than you’d like to admit, so maybe taking a small break from the obsessive studying and tidying, will do you some good.

When you hear the knocks on the door, you grab your coat and your bag and head to open it.

“Hi,” he says. “Anything to fix before we leave?”

“Don’t say that, they will hear you and break all together.”

Haechan laughs, briefly looking at your body, mostly covered because it’s still cold outside and you have way too many layers on you. “Toy Story for home appliances?”

“Yeah, that would be my life,” you reply, closing the door behind you and walking outside of the complex. “So, where are you taking me?”

“I told you, it’s a surprise,” he says. “Don’t expect anything big, I just don’t want to hear you nag about it.”

“Hey, I appreciate almost everything.”

“Yeah, it’s the almost that worries me,” he says. “Hop in the car.”

“You have a car?”

“Yeah, it’s right in front of your eyes,” he answers, gesturing to the space next to you.

You turn around, holding back a laugh when you see the old blue car, it’s surely a Hyundai, you have no idea about the model, but you know for sure it’s falling apart. “This is the car?”

“Yes, I’m sorry I’m poor.”

“It will get us killed,” you say opening the door, letting out a breath of relief when the handle doesn’t stay in your hold.

Haechan rolls his eyes and sits in. “Can you don’t be overdramatic for one second?”

“I’m stating facts. Are the airbags still working? Is the oil level high enough? The battery? And the water for —” Your eyes widen when his lips crash on yours. At first, it’s a harsh attempt to shut you up, but then his lips shily go for more, moving along yours with a small flame of need.

“I won’t kill you, but please shut up,” he begs when he pulls away, sooner than you want to, later than he should’ve.

You gulp, trying to shake the dizziness and the way his kiss made you feel lightweight. You might occasionally still want to wrap your hand around his neck but he’s quite good at being a charmer.

“I’m giving you the privilege to pick the music,” he says once you’re on the open road, the lights of the city shine against the windows and the other cars pass beside you.

“Yeah, can I connect my Spotify to the car? Oh, wait, this model from the future directly brings the singers into your backseats so you can have a live concert,” you joke after seeing the car radio.

“Wanted to take the metro?”

You laugh. “No, I’m just… why did you say that as if I could connect the aux or the Bluetooth? It was funny.”

“Fine, you’re forgiven,” he says. “Just play it through your phone.”

You hum, already deep into the scrolling of your music catalogue. “Can I put my driving playlist?”

“You have a car?”

“No, I have a driving playlist.”

“Why would you have a driving playlist if you don’t have a car?”

“Because right now it comes useful,” you wink, pressing play without waiting for his answer.

Haechan smiles, quickly glancing at you before his attention is fully on the road. “Baekhyun?” He asks with surprise when the second song starts. “You listen to Baekhyun?”

“Everybody should listen to him,” you reply, already getting defensive because his next words could be the last straw of your ‘relationship.’

“Oh God,” he whispers.

“If you tell me you’re a hater I’m jumping out of the running car and changing the trajectory of your life forever,” you warn, turning to the side to have a better view of him.

“Me? A Baekhyun hater? He’s my father! I just can’t believe you have some sort of sense and taste.”

You slap his shoulder, making the both of you break into a light-hearted laugh.

“You scared me for a second,” you say, placing your hand on your beating heart.

“Sorry. So, it turns out we have one thing in common,” he jokes, creases creating at the corner of his eyes as his features soften and a genuine smile blooms on his face.

You shrug. “I mean, we have many things in common, actually. That’s why we get along so badly. Maybe it’s true, opposite attracts and that’s why we don’t attract.”

“I think we do attract… proved it a few times.”

“Once,” you reply immediately.

“Twice, with the kiss…”

“You did that to shut me up.”

“I don’t shut up just…” anybody… “I felt like kissing you.”

You smirk, loving watching him struggle. “Nothing wrong to admit you find me attractive,” you tease.

“Unfortunately, your mouth ruins everything.”

“My mouth is the thing that attracts you the most about me, or else you wouldn’t keep lingering around me like bees on honey.”

“Bees make honey, they’re not attracted to it. Bears are.”

“Yeah, you look like a bear, you know?”

He glares at you, and you laugh. “Bears are cute.”

“And attracted to honey.”

“And do I look like honey?” You ask teasingly. “Wait! You always call me honey!”

“It’s a mockery honey, not a sweet honey. You’re not my honey.”

You think about it. “You’re not my honey… could be a line of our song.”

“No academy talking today. It’s forbidden. You have to forget about uni.”

“Fine, I’ll forget about it just for today.”

The dates with Haechan, you can call them dates, right? Well, anyway, whatever they are, they become more common. At first, you tried to reject his weird, most of the time, last minute, proposal, because they would throw in the air all of your plans, but after a while, you somehow still found a way to go back on track without screwing up your academic goals.

“Why don’t you stay?” Haechan asks. It’s another Friday afternoon, and you two met up to go on with the song’s project. Much to your dismay, you have to admit you are the one who’s holding you two back. It’s like words can’t come out of you, not like you want to, at least. But Haechan’s not mad at you. Actually, you like the atmosphere around you when you lock in his room for those sessions. One time, he even made you try edibles to see if you could come up with something, but you ended up making out on the floor instead, so you stopped going for that path.

“I don’t know,” you say, huffing when you glance at the words in front of you and remind yourself that they don’t make sense. “I was thinking of going home and maybe listening to your tracks and…”

“Come up with something?” He drags the chair closer to you and steals your papers to read them. “It’s not as bad as you made it to be.”

“Yeah, it’s a good song, but it’s basic. And I feel like it’s a bit… cliché.”

“You do know that everything has already been written?” He jokes, but it’s not a teasing remark, it’s the truth, and he’s genuinely trying to lift your spirit.

“I know, but it’s not my style, this is not how I usually write, I —”

“You write?” He stops you and only then you realize what you said. “Like, you have written songs before?”

You nod, shame pervading you when he stares at you with an expression you can’t comprehend. “Are you going to make fun of me?”

“No, I just thought you preferred lyrics over production, but I had no idea you were a lyricist.”

“Now, lyricist… I try, sometimes…”

Haechan smirks, poking your tummy making you cover it with your arms. “So there is something you’re insecure about.”

“Oh, I knew you were going to have a ball about this,” you groan, rolling your head back.

“No, hey, it’s just… I’ve never seen you like this about something you do. You are confident, usually,” he explains with no hint of mockery in his voice.

You sigh, looking at your feet tapping the ground and then look back at him. “It’s just… very personal,” you confess. “I think it’s clear I don’t have lots of friends. I used to, back at home, but here I’m alone. But even back then I’ve always felt like there was something I couldn’t completely let out. That’s why I love dancing, I can express myself in a different way, but I found out it still wasn’t enough and when I started playing the piano again I… started writing. It started almost as a joke, and it was a cheesy break-up song when my ex cheated on me, like the cheap version of drivers license,” you joke and he laughs with you.

“But it was still better than this, I guess?”

You hum, shaking your head. “Nah, my first song was a mess, but then it was like I just couldn’t stop writing, so my songs became my diary. Every time something happens, I write about it.”

He hums, moving the chair closer until your legs intertwine. “So, to write a love song you would need to fall in love?”

You’re taken aback by his question, and don’t reply right away. “No, I just need to be inspired. I’ll watch some movies, and it will come to me.”

His face twists in mild disgust as he shakes his head. “Movies are fake, it’s better to live things on your skin.”

“I don’t have time to date, and I can’t just find someone that easily,” you say laughing. “But don’t worry, I won’t make us fail. I’ll try to edit this and make it work if I really can’t come up with anything else.”

Haechan is not convinced, it’s clear in his face and the way his leg is bouncing nervously, but he doesn’t get back on the conversation. “Are you staying?”

“I have some notes to edit and —”

“You have tomorrow,” he cuts you off. “Come on, I have to do it too.”

You groan, hating the way you can’t say no to his big eyes staring at you. “Fine, but not too much.”

It’s useless to say that none of you get those notes written better.

“God, are you fucking Professor Kim?” Haechan growls, grabbing your wrist and stopping you in the college corridors right out of Music History class, the last lesson of Tuesday.

“What?” You babble out, surprised by his angry tone and his speculation.

“No cause you’re his favourite and it’s driving me insane,” he utters under his breath, glaring at you.

“I’m his favourite?” You tease, tilting your head to the side, loving the fire that turned on between you two. It had been three calm months, the bickerings were too intellectual and you missed this.

“Yeah, I gave him the exact same answer and he found the tiniest thing to say I wasn’t right, just so he could hear yours instead and praise you.”

“Oh, poor baby boy, Professor Kim didn’t give you head pats and now you’re mad?” You pout, patting his head in a mockery gesture.

Haechan groans, throwing his head back, and pushing you into the nearest empty class, closing the door behind.

“Haechan, what are y—”

“Shh,” he says, shushing you with a stern gaze and a squeeze of your wrist. “You passed by his office the other day, didn’t you? Needed extracurricular help ‘cause you didn’t understand something,” he mocks with a high-pitched voice. “Taught you how to play his flute in a historically accurate way?”

You’d love to laugh at his terrible blowjob-music reference but when his gaze darkens, you only chuckle, and that’s enough to drive him mad.

“God, for you is just a game, isn’t it?”

“You really think I fucked Professor Kim?”

“No, but I’m pretty sure he fantasizes about having you bent over his desk and, fuck, it drives me mad.”

“You wish he fantasized about having you bent on his desk?” You joke, smirking.

He groans. “No, I hate the way he looks at you, and talks to you, the last thing he had to do today was to call you a good girl in front of the whole class.”

Your lips curl in an amused grin, but your heart —and something else— flutter at the way he says ‘good girl,’ you try not to show it and go on with your teasing. “Not my fault I’m good, and I’m interested in his subject.”

“Your fault you lick his boots,” he groans, pushing you flat against the door, standing so close to your nose. “I know you’re smart and you don’t need to ride a dick to be first in class but…” he stops, inhaling your scent, and leaning against your forehead.

You lift his head with two fingers under his chin, and lean in, whispering, “you still want to see me bent over a desk, and you want to be the one railing me, isn’t it?”

He doesn’t reply, not verbally at least. The only answer is a guttural moan and two arms lifting you, making your legs wrap around his waist as he kisses you roughly.

“Hyuck,” you moan into the kiss when he starts walking toward the desk, sitting you on the edge.

“Yeah?”

“We can’t — we — this is, we can get expelled…”

He snickers. “Be quiet and nobody will even hear us.”

“What if they lock us inside?”

“Shut up,” he groans again, kissing you another time as his bag drops on the floor. “You drive me so fucking mad, you have no idea.”

You snicker under your breath, but your heart loses a beat when his hands roam on your thighs, moving closer and closer to your heat. “Wait,” you whisper.

“Wait, what?” He hums, cupping your chin and lowering your head, staring straight into your eyes. Haechan scoffs when your thighs squeeze against each other and he can see you gulping. “Don’t act like you don’t want this,” he whispers, leaning closer to your lips, making you believe he’ll kiss you, but you only get a taste of his thumb rubbing over your full lips, “don’t act like you don’t want me.”

“Haechan!” You scream when he rips off your tights, the tear of the fabric resonating in the room as you look down in shock. “I’m gonna kill you,” you groan but he’s not bothered in the slightest.

“They were getting in the way, and I get rid of everything that gets in my way,” he says with a smirk.

You laugh mockingly. “Then why am I still here?”

His brows furrow and a small pout forms on his face but he shrugs it off. “I’m taking care of you, I told you,” he groans, kissing you harshly. “You’re not winning the war.”

“Oh, and your military strategy is to fuck me?”

“Yeah, until you forget everything.”

You huff loudly when he finishes ripping the tights from your legs, the only pieces left the ones trapped in your shoes, and you’re glad the skirt is long enough to don’t make you freeze on the way back home.

“So much better,” he says proudly, staring at his work of art, letting his hands wander on your now bare skin. “And, now, let’s find out if there’s a way to shut you up.”

You look at him in anticipation, waiting for his next move as if your life depends on it. And you hate to be so eager, you hate you fantasized on it more than you should’ve, but you want to know what his lips feel like. And it’s almost as if Haechan hears your secret thoughts.

“What do you want, sweetheart?” He taunts, kneading his fingers on your flesh.

“Nothing,” you mutter, trying to sound more confident than what you are.

Haechan laughs at you, shaking his head as he slowly gets on his knees, looking up at you. “You are always so fucking proud and annoying.” His hands rest on your knees before he pushes them far apart, forcing you in place as you uselessly try to close your legs. He tsk, shaking his head. “Don’t act ashamed, I’ve already felt you, and tasted you.”

You don’t reply. It’s hard to keep eye contact but this is bigger than sex, this is a game between you two and, he might not beat you in class, but he’s beating you right now.

His laugh brings you back to earth and you hate the smug smirk that’s sitting on his face. “So you do get quiet, thought I needed to give you a taste of my mouth to shut you up.”

You open your mouth to retort but the stern glare that flashes on his face is enough to put you back in your place.

“Good girl,” he says and your body trembles before you can even try to hide it. “Should I get a better taste of you?” He stares at you, waiting for an answer that doesn’t come, not like he wants to at least. “Use your words, babe. You know how to run that mouth when you want to, so, beg for it.”

“Fuck, no,” you retort, trying to move away but his hold on you doesn’t give any signs of loosening up.

“Okay, then,” he says, slowly standing up, and grabbing his bag. “See you around.”

“What?” You squeal, grabbing his wrist. “What are you doing?”

“Leaving,” he replies, shrugging.

“That’s not fair,” you reply, and he snickers.

“What? Are you wet? Do you want me?”

You don’t expect that reply and struggle to find the words, even more now that he’s standing between your open legs, keeping them apart, and his eyes are staring down at you, pinning you down in place. “I don’t want you,” you lie, swallowing the gulp in your throat when his right hand sits on your waist. “I just… I want to fuck.”

“Oh, do you? Well, there are plenty of people here, I’m sure many of them would want you. You know, even if you don’t pay attention to anybody, people look at you,” he whispers, caressing your jaw with his other hand. “First on the list is Professor Kim. Don’t you want to feel the thrill? Come on, go to his office now, so I can have something to hold against you forever.”

You chuckle. “Yeah? Want to blackmail me so I can do all the essays for you? Maybe you’ll get the best grades like this,” you tease, pulling him closer by the collar of his shirt and making him groan.

He licks his lips, staring at yours, and you smirk. “I don’t need you to be first, and you know it.”

“Do I?” you tease. “Want to be first at something?”

“Don’t,” Haechan warns, eyes darkening even more while the tent in his tight pants becomes even more evident.

“What? You can be the first one who fucks me on a desk if you quit playing hard to get.”

“I’m not playing hard to get,” he replies, leaning even closer, your bodies are pressed together and you can feel his hard dick press against you. “I won’t be the one begging, especially to eat you out,” he groans, cupping your chin unexpectedly. “Don’t act as if you didn’t think of this before. I’ve seen the way you get lost in my fingers when we study together. You see me twirl a pen in my hand and you wish I was inside you, don’t you? And when we argue? There’s always a small fragment where you lose focus and stare at my lips. Where do you want them, honey?”

Your brows furrow but your entire body reacts differently, a small shake, while wetness pools down your panties, soaking them even more, and your eyes close because you can’t bear his smug glare.

“I said,” he urges, giving a quick squeeze to your chin, “where do you want my lips?”

“On — on me,” you breathe out, voice muffled by the firm hold on your face.

His lips twitch as he leans closer and kisses your cheek. “Here,” he says, holding back a laugh when your eyes widen. “That was where you wanted them, right?”

“Oh, fuck off, you know what I meant,” you huff.

“No, I’m the dumb one, remember? You are smarter than me, you know everything. I’m always a step behind, I need you to guide me step by step,” he mocks in a condescending tone, pouting.

You take a deep breath. “I hate you.”

“Oh, I know,” he laughs. “But if you use just three magic words I’m sure you’re going to love me for a while.”

You don’t want to give up but you’re on fire, and you fear that the more time passes by the more someone could find you out.

“I’ll ask nicely one last time,” he whispers against your lips. “Then I’ll ask you to do something for me and you’ll lose my lips for the second time. Where do you want them?”

“On my pussy,” you whisper, not meeting his eyes.

“Fucking finally,” he laughs. “Was it so hard Miss big brain?”

“Stop mocking me!”

“Mocking you?” He asks, getting on his knees again before grabbing your panties to pull them down. “I might hate you but it would be dumb to not recognize your qualities, right?”

You don’t reply, you have other things to worry about. For example, your mortal enemies kneeled between your legs in an empty class of your Academy, staring into your soul, ready to eat you out.

“So, since you’re so good with words, here we go again. Beg.” Haechan craves putting his lips on you just as you do, but this is the only moment he can have some power over you. And after the humiliation of today’s class, he has to make you pay for it a bit. Or maybe he just wants to hear that even if you’d choke him and slap him, you still want him.

“Please, Donghyuck, please,” you plead, looking into his eyes.

He’d love to hear you beg for him more, but the way your cunt is dripping on the desk is already enough to tell him how much you want him, and for now, it’s enough.

When his lips come in contact with your skin your legs immediately hook around his shoulders and you can feel the chuckle on your wet folds.

“Eager, honey?”

“Just, please, eat me out already,” you barely have time to finish that he stops playing around and starts moving his mouth on you. Your head falls behind while your thighs squeeze tighter around his face. Your hands clench on the edge of the desk as you try to keep your balance, but it gets harder with every lick of his tongue.

“Keep quiet, the door is closed not locked,” he reminds you, pulling away from you just to pick up again.

You try to don’t be too loud, but he’s better than you expected and maybe this was the wrong time to try this out. You should’ve simply begged him to fuck you, but now that you’re in the middle of this, the last thing you want is to stop him.

One of your hands is brave enough to let go of the hold on the desk and reach his hair to push him closer to your body, surprising him.

Haechan always thought you were much more shy than this, honestly, he didn’t even hope much for this to happen. But you surprise him, not only you let him have you in a random class at your university but you are also pushing him closer.

“You are eager,” he muffles against you, he can’t pull away when you’re pressing him down with so much force, but the way you’re acting is setting him on fire. He loves hearing you moan and whimper, not a word coming out of your pretty lips to confront him, just bliss on your face and voice. And that pushes him to give you even more, putting his entire self into eating you out until he almost drags screams out of you, making both of you forget where you are.

You’re not sure how many minutes pass by but when the orgasm rushes in your body you feel it’s too close. You’d probably force him down for another round if you were in any other place but you don’t feel brave enough.

“So? Disappointed?” He asks, cleaning his chin as he stands up, reaching you again. “Don’t lie, you’re still dripping down the desk, you’re even more turned on than last time.”

“I’m not,” you lie. You know you are, and Haechan knows it too.

“What is it? The thrill of being caught? My skills? Just me, or something else?”

You don’t know why you reply with what you reply, but you do. “Maybe someone else,” you tease, not even sure he’ll take the bait, but he’s too caught up in you to see the games you’re playing.

“Yeah? And who’s that?”

“See, I always believed you were perspicacious and could catch details, I can’t believe you didn’t get it. You’re so sure Professor Kim wants to fuck me, ever thought I want him too?” You bat your lashes and Haechan tries to silence a groan, but you feel his fists clench at your sides.

“Don’t play with me, I’m not falling for this.”

You shrug. “Fine, I’ll still think about him while you fuck m—” he shuts you up with a rough kiss, pushing you down the desk with a quick movement that makes your heart jump to your throat.

“He’s not even that hot,” he groans, turning you around before bending you on the desk, and pulling your skirt up around your waist. “And he’s not even that old, there’s not even the charm of the dilf.”

“He’s smart,” you talk back, not sure how much you can pull your luck.

Haechan scoffs, slapping your ass. “Not smarter than me.”

“You’re not the professor so…”

“A degree means nothing,” he says, his chest pressing against your back. “What’s that you like so much about him?”

You chuckle. You’re not sure if he’s playing into your game or is just so easy to fool, but either way, you decide to keep going. “Everything. Don’t you see him?”

Haechan groans. Out of all the people, out of all the professors, he has a very personal beef with him that started at the start of the year and the way you just praise him so much —even outside of this specific situation where he got you’re messing up with him— drives him insane.

“Because he’s the best at everything? Isn’t he?”

You nod, expecting him to talk back but the only answer you get is the sharp sound of his belt being pulled away from his pants and smacked against your ass. “Fuck,” you curse, hating the way your body buzzes with pleasure at the impact.

Haechan chuckles. “I wonder what he would think of you if he saw you like this.”

“He wouldn’t think,” you say. “He’d act, fucking me like I deserve instead of wasting time like you.”

When his cock fills you up with no warning you almost scream but his hand is quicker at reaching your mouth.

“Yeah, would he fuck you better?”

You groan in his hand, but your brain goes blank with each thrust into you, pulling his hips back before he snaps them forward, so forcefully that you slide upward on the desk and he has to pull you down so that your hips don’t hit the wood.

“Answer me,” he urges, making a makeshift ponytail with your hair to force you up. “Would he?”

“I… I don’t know,” you cry out, feeling him deep inside of you, filling you perfectly.

“You just have to test me until I snap, don’t you?”

“He seems —fuck— fitter than you.”

Haechan snickers mockingly. “Yes? You want to be thrown around? Like you’re worth nothing? Do I have to do that to make you feel good?”

You shake your head, ass perking up, your feet on their tips as you try to keep balance.

“No? Is being fucked in a class enough for you? Does it satisfy your needs?” He hisses, eyes rolling back when he focuses them where your bodies meet, your cum dripping down his length and balls. He can’t believe how turned on you are. “Thought you were innocent but look at you.”

“Not my fault you don’t catch details,” you retort with a small bit of sanity —not really— you have in you.

“Details? Or maybe you’re just an actress. Making everyone believe you only think about grades and studies and here you are, drooling while I fuck you over a desk. Begging for my dick.”

You don’t even realize you are drooling down the desk and when you’re about to clean your chin, Haechan grabs your hands and pins them in place behind your back.

“No,” you whimper, falling flat with your chest pressing down the wooden table.

“Yes, honey,” he mocks. “I want to see you become a mess for me. Should I take a snap of you like this? Send it to Professor Kim so he can see he will never have you like this?” He whispers against your ear. “Think I don’t know it was all a play? Not only you don’t like him, but you wouldn’t risk your reputation for a terrible fuck when you have a brain like yours.”

Your pussy clenches. It’s the way his voice sounds like velvet, it’s how deep it’s hitting you, it’s in his words, and the way it turns you on that your number one rival, the one that despises you, still knows your value.

“Still, I’m pretty sure he wishes he could see you like this,” he adds, biting your earlobe. “A shame he can’t, right?”

“Y-yes,” you mumble in a pathetic wail.

“But maybe I could still keep it to myself,” his hips start moving with more force and you can’t hold back your moans as you clench around him. “Yeah? Want me to take a photo of you like this?”

You wish you could reply but words just don’t come out of your lips, brain emptying and eyes rolled back in your skull.

“Maybe another time,” he says, breath getting ragged as he keeps fucking into you with determination. “Don’t really want to pull away to take a pic of us.”

“There — there won’t be —fuck— another time,” you reply, forcing yourself to speak.

Haechan snickers. “The mess between your legs tells me otherwise,” he mocks, reaching in front of you to play with your clit, making you shake. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, you deserve good things, even a good fuck from me.��

“Too much,” you cry out, feeling your eyes getting wetter as the orgasm starts choking you.

“No, you just haven’t had a decent orgasm in ages,” he retorts.

“Shut up! You know —shit— you know nothing.”

“Honey, I can only imagine you playing with yourself, but your hands or toys don’t come close to me,” he says, so smugly you can feel the smirk on his face. And you can’t even retort because —as much as you hate it— he’s right.

“Come here,” he says, putting a hand over your shoulders to pull you closer to him. “Are you close?”

You nod, biting your lower lip until it bleeds because you’re sure the sound of your ass slamming against his hips is already a giveaway of what’s going on inside this room. You clench around him when he bites down your shoulder to muffle a louder groan as his hips start moving faster as he chases his climax.

You feel your legs give up as the second orgasm hits you and you hold against the desk again because you don’t know where else to hold on to. Haechan tries to keep his curses low, sticking his face in the crook of your neck and you feel you could come again just by his voice alone; his moans the pretties sounds you’ve ever heard.

“Oh god,” you breathe out when he gently lets go of your body and you can relax on the hard surface again, squirming in discomfort when he pulls out of you.

“I hope you didn’t tear my panties apart, too,” you say, rolling on your back, making him laugh.

“Don’t move, you’ll stain the skirt, it’s the only clean thing on the table,” he says, grabbing a napkin to prevent you from making even more of a mess.

“And who’s fault is that?” You ask, glaring at him.

“You should just thank me for the orgasm, better, two orgasms, I gave you.”

You huff, rolling your eyes, but still letting him clean you up, after all, the cum was his, so it’s his place to clean it. After you’re sure you won’t ruin the last untouched piece of clothes you have, you sit up, taking your —uncomfortably— wet panties to put them on.

“So…” he whispers as he cleans up the rest of the mess on the table and shoves your broken tights in his bag, “it was just for fun, right? You have no intentions with Mr…”

You break down laughing. “You’re so easy to fool. You seriously think I’ll ever let him see me like this?”

Haechan scoffs, finishing fixing his clothes before walking to the door. “It’s not about what you would do, is if you think of him.”

“I don’t,” you reply, following him even if you feel like your legs could give up any second. “I wonder if your jealousy was also a play,” you tease, nudging him as you two walk down the corridor to leave.

“It wasn’t jealousy, you would just have terrible taste if you truly liked him, and I have beef with him.”

You chuckle, deciding to believe him.

“Wait,” he says, stopping to search for something in his bag.

“I’ll go for the door, reach me,” you say, starting to head on, you’re not even sure you two could be there at that time. “Lee Donghyuck,” you curse when you try to push open the front door. “What did I say?”

He walks toward you nonchalantly and shrugs. “Yeah?”

“They locked us in!”

He smiles, shaking his head, and grabbing your hand. “Can you run?”

“What?” You blink a few times, trying to understand how his question fits the situation.

“After I fucked you like that, can you run?”

“Shush,” you scold, fearful someone might hear, you’re not sure who since you seem to be completely alone, but better safe than sorry. “And no, I don’t know, I… why would we run?”

“Do you trust me?” He asks, reaching out his hand for you to take.

“No,” you say resolutely.

“Good,” he smirks before he starts running into the corridors, giving you no chance but to follow him, cursing and damming every life decision that led you here, with cum threatening to leak out of you after you finished having sex in the class of your Academy and are now running to go God knows where, locked inside the institute.

“Hyuck!” You scream when he runs up the stairs and you swear you never felt so much adrenaline rush in your blood but when he looks back for a second and shows you his big bright smile with his hair falling in his face perfectly, you swear the world stops and all your worries are lifted from your shoulders. Maybe you trust him. Maybe you need to be this carefree sometimes.

Your heart jumps in your throat when he pushes open an emergency door and the mild breeze of March runs over you. You breathe in deeply, pushing into your lungs the air and the first early spring scent, letting the wind play with your hair and your clothes while your hand never lets go of his.

And then you both start laughing. Never looking back, and terribly looking forward, watching your steps as you run down the emergency stairs. You laugh, and you’re happy and you can’t believe your fingers are still intertwined with the ones of your mortal enemy.

When you reach the ground floor, hidden in the back of the palace where the sun doesn’t shine, there are still some tears spilling out of your eyes. You two pant, trying to catch your breath, and look at each other before you have to look away or else you will start laughing again.

You can’t believe you followed him blindly.

Your hands are still intertwined.

With each passing day, Haechan is convinced he has a perfect plan. It’s all part of the original plan, but if he gets you to try out romantic things, not only will he distract you from your perfect grades but he will also make you come up with a song that will give him a perfect score.

There are some small details that Haechan didn’t even consider. Detail number 1: where this could lead you two and your relationship. Detail number 2: that while distracting you, he will inevitably distract himself. But he doesn’t get it until it’s too late.

Haechan can’t remember when you started to dress up so much every time you hang out. You always dress well, or maybe he is biased for thinking that even the most basic white turtleneck shirt and cargo pants when you are too done with life to put up your skirts, dresses, or cutely styled other types of outfits, look amazing on you. Yet, during these last few dates, you started doing more, playing more with your hairstyles, trying different make-up, and always looking perfect in whatever clothes you put on your body.

Haechan hates you. Now more than ever because this was supposed to be your silly little race to the top of your second academic year and yet here he is, feeling his heart pound in his throat as you walk toward him. With your hair in a slicked-back ponytail, a freaking heart-shaped side part, your short red dress, while the white cardigan covers your arms and shields you from the light breeze, and your red short heels tap on the asphalt and bring his attention to the white socks that reach you right below your knees, while your hand clench around a heart-shaped bag.

He hates you because he wants you too badly and he’s terrified this is crossing the lines of bland and stupid physical attraction.

You smile, calling him Hyuck and he’d love to scream because he can’t be so smart and yet so dumb at the same time. But he tries to ignore it, and smiles back at you, addressing you with your surname so he can put some distance between you. You don’t even get mad anymore, it makes you smile tenderly as you lower your face to the ground and tangle your arm with his to walk to the car. Now he hopes that the old sardine can will make you two blow up, not to kill you, but to don’t make you accept a date from him anymore.

But that old car struggles but doesn’t crash, and drives you to the restaurant safely.

“This place is so pretty,” your voice rings in his ears, bringing him out of the thought he’s struggling with since you walked out of your apartment.

“Yeah, it’s musically themed, thought it was a good idea.”

“And the dishes also have song names? That’s the best thing I’ve ever seen,” your face lightens up when you scan the menu and in reflection, he does too.

What the fuck are you doing? He curses when he catches himself lost on you, too focused giggling like a child as you catch the references between the songs and the plates. You look like a cliché embodiment of love, and he thinks you’ve done it on purpose. It’s way past Valentine’s Day, but he feels that Cupid is flying right above you, ready to play him a dirty trick.

“So? You picked?” You ask, bringing him out of his thoughts, and he shakes his head, coughing while glueing his eyes on the menu.

“Nope, I’m a bit uncertain,” he says, pretending he wasn’t just too busy staring at you a few moments ago.

You laugh, humming. “Oh, I know.”

“What did you get?” He asks, meeting your eyes above the paper in his hand.

“I wanted to get the Summer 69’ appetizer first,” you reply and he smirks.

“Are you hinting at something?”

“Oh, shut up, you perv! It just looks tasty, there are different appetizers from different parts of the world and it’s a cold start.”

“Then we can take the big one so we can share?”

“Sure,” you reply, smiling at him. “Oh, and then ‘I wanna dance with somebody’ as the main dish.”

“Do you?” He winks.

“I’m not sending you signals, I’m just starving,” you reply, rolling your eyes, but he hears the low giggle that you try to hold back.

“Fine,” he smiles. “I’ll take ‘Maneater’ in your honour.”

“I’m a maneater? Oh, thanks, the best compliment ever actually,” you say playfully.

He smiles, stopping for a second after he hands you his menu. “You look beautiful tonight, by the way.” And when your mouth parts and no sound come out of it, he thinks he screwed it up. It’s not the first time he compliments you but well, the other times didn’t sound so serious.

But then your face breaks in a smile, and your eyes light up, shily diverting the gaze as you thank him before the waitress saves you both from the embarrassment that’s tangible in the air.

“Karaoke? Are you being extremely nice, borderline perfect, tonight so you can show me the biggest twist ever?” You gasp when the karaoke downtown enters your line of view. You’ve been walking for a while now since he couldn’t find a spot nearby, but he never mentioned where your next stop would be.

“I’m always nice to you when we go out on da— like this,” Haechan replies, opening the door of the place for you to get in first. “Also, since we’ll have to record the song soon, I think it’s time to test our vocal abilities.”

You giggle, waiting for him before you start walking to the desk to book a room.

“Karaoke is for fun, never to show off you’re like Celine Dion.”

Haechan chuckles, nodding in agreement while you reach the booth that the lady at the counter assigned you.

“Right, I’m more like Ailee, actually,” he jokes, closing the door behind you.

“Prove it to me, I always hear your mouth run to talk shit but never to sing melodies, so…”

“Should we go for a duet?” He asks, starting the TV to scroll down the songs listed.

“Nope,” you say, sitting on the couch. “A solo song first.”

“Fine,” he says, humming as the titles pass in front of your vision. “Mhh, what about Dean?”

“Love him, would love him more if he came back from the death and dropped another album of the year,” you say, sitting back to fully enjoy Haechan’s performance.

He chuckles at your comment. “This one was a painful reminder,” he says before clicking on “Instagram,” making the logo of the place appear before the countdown, signalling the beat was about to start.

You never thought you would find yourself so caught up in him but when he opens his mouth, you feel like you’re being taken to another world.

His voice sounds like honey, so raw yet so lovely. And as he keeps singing, you think that he would be wasted as a producer, a voice like his deserves to be heard by everyone. But when he finishes, you don’t show any of the emotions you felt.

“Your performance was very touching,” you say while standing up to grab your mic, “but I’m a performer, so I’ll go with Queen Britney.”

“Can’t wait to see your Superbowl worth it performance,” he snickers, sitting back against the small couch in the room as he watches you getting ready.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” you start, winking at him and swinging your hips to follow the rhythm of the music.

Haechan would love to find it as funny as he does at the start, but when you start singing for real, and moving around in the small boot, he gulps, feeling the air around him starting to dim. And it only gets worse when you turn around and start to perform for him. Of course, you know the song by heart, you don’t need to read the words, and you don’t need them to change colour to know when each verse, chorus and bridge starts.

“Oops, I did it again, I played with your heart,” you wink, tilting your head to the side, still moving your body to the beat. He can’t tell, not right at the moment, but he thinks you’re replicating the choreography. That’s the last worry in his mind.

I played with your heart.

And Haechan thinks you really did that. This doesn’t feel like a game anymore, and not even like sex. He looks at you, even right now, that you’re sensually singing a Britney Spears song, and he can only fucking smile like an idiot.

“Wow,” you exhale when the song ends, fanning yourself with your hand, “it’s really hot in here.”

“It definitely is,” he whispers, drifting his gaze from you.

“So? How was I?” You ask, head tilted to the side, and a big, bright smile on your face.

“Good,” Haechan mutters, catching himself staring at you for too long again, shaking his head, the red blush on his face is humiliating. “You were good.”

“Yes,” you cheer, clapping your hands. “Should we duet, now?”

He hums, grabbing the remote again and searching ‘duets’ in the search bar. “Sad, sexy or silly?”

You roll your eyes. “Really?”

“What? I’m trying to understand the vibe we want to go with.”

“I’ll let you pick,” you say just to regret it when you see the song choice on the screen. “Seriously? Anything you can do?”

“What? It’s fitting for how relationship,” he says nonchalantly.

“That’s a crazy choice.”

“Worried you can’t actually do better than me?” He winks, passing you the mic as the song loads on the screen.

“You’ll see,” you challenge with a glare.

One minute into the song you regret having agreed to that, not remembering the last time you sang like this, but the look on his face when it’s time for you to hold a long note for 15 seconds is worth it. And it keeps going until the end, as you both surprise each other with all the skills that this song requires.

“Wow, you’re good,” you both say when the song ends and you break down laughing, a sound that grows bigger when the screen lights up to show a perfect score.

“Maybe we make a great couple together,” you say, laying back on the couch, tired from the singing.

Haechan turns to you, smirking and nodding. “I guess we do.”

You sit up, resting your chin on his arm. “Can you take another one?”

“Oh, don’t test me, baby.”

“So, ice cream is good for vocal cords?” You giggle as you walk to the side of the Han River with the ice cream in hand. It seemed like Haechan didn’t want to end the night anytime soon, but you don’t feel like complaining.

“Yeah,” he hums with conviction, licking another stripe of chocolate.

“On which book you’ve read this scientific fact?”

“The ice cream ghost came to me one night and whispered the secret to my ear,” he jokes, making you laugh.

“Uhm, yeah, I think that ghosts are much more reliable than old men in white coats in a lab,” you joke, but then you remember something you wanted to talk about since you’ve walked out of the karaoke. “Mhh, you know what I was thinking?”

Haechan shakes his head, waiting for you to talk.

“I think we’re going down the wrong path with our song,” you voice out. “Especially me. A warmer, darker, I dare to say more sensual vibe, fits us better.”

Haechan chuckles and you glare at him. “What?”

“Nothing,” he giggles, but he can’t lose against you so he goes on. “That’s the production, you know?”

You huff, rolling your eyes, and jumping on the handrail to sit. “I never said it wasn’t important.”

“Whatever,” he snickers. “So I have to scrap everything I’m working on?”

You shake your head, cleaning your hands after swallowing the last bite of the cone. “No, I was thinking about the second base you were working on, the one with the guitars and violins, remember?”

He hums, but he’s dangerously close to you, and you don’t understand why his hands wrap around your waist.

“I think we could use that and —” you gulp when he places his feet on the handrail under you and reaches your height, “and then I can change small things of my — my writing to fit more. What do you think?”

He smiles before it turns into his usual smirk. “I still think you’re worrying too much and you’re not letting it come to you,” he whispers, and the air of his breaths puffs on your lips before he erases the space between you and kisses you.

You feel your breath taken away as you feel like you’re falling behind in the river as the wind blows harder and your hands immediately leave the handrail to reach for him.

You’re not sure that wasn’t an attempted murder from him, but you can’t care when you feel your heart flutter and your legs give up as he deepens the kiss.

“Let it flow,” he whispers, kissing you again, whispering against your lips, “and the song will come at you.”

You know it’s not what he’s talking about, but you kiss him again, this time pushing him down so your feet are on the ground again. Your hands are holding tight on his sweatshirt as you pull him even closer and he does the same wrapping his arms around your frame tighter.

You find yourself in the same position in the living room of his apartment, struggling to make it to his bedroom without waking some of the others up. Not that you care much, it would be fair payback for all the chaos they make when you and Haechan are studying together.

The clothes fall on the floor as quickly as he’s on top of you on the bed.

“I hate that I have to ruin your pretty face,” he whispers, fingers deep inside your sopping wet cunt, pumping in and out painfully slowly as he stares at your face, a cute mix between ecstasy and annoyance because he’s giving you something but not enough. “The red eyeshadow looks really good on you, you know?”

You groan, rolling your head back. “It’s not time for compliments.”

“I’ve been complimenting you all night,” he says, teasing your clit with flicks of his thumb but without giving you much. “It is a shame you will look like a mess once I’m done with you.”

“We can’t be loud,” you say, hating that, for one reason or another, you two always have to keep quiet.

“Nah, Jeno has his headphones on playing games with Yangyang. Renjun has headphones on with music to don’t listen to Jeno. Mark’s not home and not even bombs wake Jaemin up.” The explanation is particularly non-sexy now that he has his fingers inside of you and it doesn’t make you relax much, but you hum nonetheless and beg him to keep going.

“Patience, honey. We’ve got all night,” he smirks.

“Yeah but —”

“Ah, ah,” he says, clicking his tongue and silencing you with a finger on your lips. “What did I tell you before? Let it flow.”

“It was different it was —ugh,” you mumble when he covers your mouth with his hand, eyes widening before they narrow to send him a deadly glare, but he only smirks. He has control now. He always does when he has you underneath him, he still has to fight with you a bit, but you both know this is the only time he can ever win against you. And tonight is special, he wants you to let go of the reins completely, he wants you brainless, because even if your brain is the sexiest thing of you —yeah, yeah, and the thing that is making his college years hell on earth— your brain is also the thing that makes you obsess over the smallest thing and doesn’t make you follow your heart so freely.

Yeah, tonight Donghyuck wants you free, but for the sake of the dirty talking later —and to fool himself he doesn’t care about you that much— he’s going to say he wants you dumb.

And he’s starting strong tonight, his beautiful, long fingers reaching deep inside you, hitting right against your sweet spot, causing so much cum to pool around them and drip down while your pussy clenches hard and your hips buck up to ride the pleasure with him. And you don’t have it in you to fight; it feels too good, especially when he starts rubbing your clit and whispers dirty talk about how well you’re taking him.

Your eyes flutter open, just in time to catch the proud smirk on his face as he stares at your body, you dare to say, in awe. It shouldn’t warm your heart, but it does. You don’t even care if he sees you like a prize he won, right now, because even if he does, you know he only fights hard to win the trophies he cares about. He wants you, he likes you, even. Between the hate and the tension, something about what attracts you two together makes this work. And it’s fine.

“Hyuck,” you breathe out, chest panting and toes curling as you feel the familiar knot in your stomach. But you don’t expect the next words that come out of your mouth. “Kiss me.” When you realize what you said, you anticipate him mocking you, your ears already hear the snicker you know, oh so well, but it never arrives. What arrives are his lips on yours as he leans down, pressing his chest against yours while his fingers keep working wonder inside you.

The kiss is passionate, but not rough like the ones you’re so used to sharing. There’s no anger in it, just need and greed, and chemistry. So much chemistry, your hands have to run in his hair and tug them, making him moan and his dick throb against your thigh.

“I want you so bad,” he slurs against your lips. “I will do some dumb shit one day for you.”

You don’t get what he means. You don’t even know what he could mean by that given the nature of your bond, but his words, mixed with the sultry tone of his voice, are enough to make you come. You barely register the orgasm, hitting you like a singular explosion of a firework, leaving you gasping, exploding as quickly as it came yet slowly running through your bones as the feeling tones down.

Haechan snickers softly. “You love it when I get in trouble for you, don’t you? Even when it’s just a promise.”

Your lips part to reply but he shuts you with a kiss. “No talking, not unless I tell you to. I know everything I need to know, your body tells me that,” he says, grinning like an idiot when he shows you his cum coated fingers, tapping them against your lips, silently ordering you to taste yourself. You would never do that, but tonight it’s like he’s commanding you like a puppet on a string, and you obey. Closing your lips around him and sucking hard.

He smirks, feeling his dick get even harder as he stares at your lips. “That’s what I do to you, pretty girl. And I’m not even started.”

Your pussy throbs in anticipation while he pulls his fingers out. You know he’s one to keep promise, and you can’t wait for what’s to come. But he’s taking too long, and you can feel his hard dick against your leg, so your hand creeps down to touch it.

“You’re not in command tonight, angel,” he says, grabbing your wrist to stop you from moving your hand on him.

“But I want you,” you whine, trying to win him with a pouty look on your face.

It doesn’t work as he pushes your hand over your head and leans in. “Patience, princess. Keep quiet, don’t be greedy and just trust me. Can you do that? Or is it too hard for you?” He groans against your ear, making your hips buck up.

“I — I can,” you whisper but he stops with a glare and your brain replays his words ‘quiet, no words from you tonight,’ and he means it. So you nod, breathing in deeply as you feel weak in the knees for the way he looks at you.

“Good girl,” he says, pushing up to stand between your legs, pushing them open.

When he slips inside you, you gasp, dragging your nails on his back. “Are you alright?”

You nod, forcing yourself to look into his eyes.

“Good, and now,” he whispers, kissing your lips, and dragging out of you, “I want you to give into me and completely turn your brain off. You have me, that’s all you need right now.”

When he starts moving in and out, your body succumbs to the pleasure. Your muscles relax as you let him take care of you. His lips trace over your sensitive skin, leaving kisses on your neck and chest. His hands run over your body, touching and squeezing every inch. And he reaches so deep inside of you that you feel you can barely breathe.

“Just like this,” Haechan whispers close to your ear, gently biting the skin on your jaw. “Don’t think about anything,” he groans, hitting you deep after pulling out of you completely. “Not a single worry in that pretty brain of yours.”

You rarely let him win, but you have to admit that the way he makes you feel, the way he can lift all the stress off your shoulders, is a talent. He knows what he’s doing, and the scary thing is that he knows how to get you. So easily wrapped around his fingers, crumbling into nothing at his tiniest touch.

You whimper loudly when his fingers press against your clit, seeing stars at the new stimulation.

“You can take it,” he groans. You’re about to talk but he traps your lips in a messy, wet kiss as he pulls you closer by your waist, hitting even deeper. “You’re a good girl, right? You can take it.”

You’re doubtful, but you do take it, over and over again. You lose track of time and stop counting your orgasms after the third. There’s no need for that. All you need is the pleasure Donghyuck gives you, fucking you until both of you can’t do it anymore.

There’s nothing left once it’s over, no strength to talk or clean up the mess, just the warmth of your bodies cuddled against each other.

“Good morning, I will kill Lee Je — what the hell,” Renjun exclaims, entering the kitchen, making you turn around as if you’ve been caught stealing, holding the mug full of coffee in your hands and giving him a shy smile. “What are you doing here?”

You gulp, pushing your hair out of your face before coming up with a lie. “We studied too late.”

Renjun steps further into the room, staring at you with a raised brow before he tilts his head and studies how you’re dressed. You’re wearing Donghyuck’s sweater and pants.

“Oh, now they call it studying? Last time I checked you’re not med students, didn’t know music had anatomy in the program,” he taunts, grinning at you as he comes to your side.

You choke on your saliva and don’t have time to come up with a reply because he strikes again.

“Oh, no, maybe you were exercising vocalization, it’s better when it’s done together, right?” He winks and you glare at him.

“It’s not what you think,” you lie, but honestly you feel so embarrassed about everything. You didn’t think anybody else would be up this early on a Sunday, but it’s clear you don’t know Renjun well. You could’ve left, but you didn’t want to. It was slowly starting to sink in that you didn’t like the solitude of your life anymore.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell anybody,” he says, sitting in front of you. “Come here, don’t stay up.”

You do as told, and smile when he offers you a pack of biscuits. “I would’ve cooked something usually, but Jeno kept me up all night.”

You chuckle. “It’s fine, normally I don’t even have breakfast.”

“You don’t?” He gasps, and you nod.

“Yeah, just coffee.”

He looks down at you, shaking his head in disappointment. “It’s not healthy.”

“I know, I know, I’ll try to eat more, okay? For you.” You reach out your hand and he takes it.

A fit of cough brings both of your gazes to the door and you see Haechan stand against the frame. “Once it’s Jeno, another time it’s Renjun. I bring you home to study and you flirt with my friends.”

“Drop the bullshit, Hyuck. He knows,” you say, rolling your eyes.

Haechan’s eyes widen, but he slowly fakes indifference. “Knows what? That you don’t have time for a relationship so you can’t date him?”

“That you two fuck,” Renjun answers instead, making him cough.

“That’s not true,” he defends. “I hate her,” he says, laughing, but when he meets your eyes and sees them sadden, he feels pain in his heart. “No, no, I don’t hate her, but we’re… you know our relationship, why would we fuck?”

“Who’s fucking?”

“Not you, Jeno. Not you for sure,” Renjun says, rolling his eyes.

“Hey! Why do you always gotta be so rude,” Jeno whines.

“I doubt he’s not getting laid,” you chuckle, and Jeno winks playfully.

“See, words of a wise woman,” he brags, walking to the fridge to grab something.

Renjun sighs loudly. “A woman that doesn’t know you.”

“Would you fuck him?” Haechan asks out of nowhere and you glare at him.

“I just said that he’s hot and smart, I don’t see how he can have a hard time finding somebody,”

“’Cause he’s annoying,” Renjun answers, but Haechan’s not listening.

“I didn’t ask that,” Donghyuck says instead, his attention is all on you as if there’s nobody else in the room.

“I don’t answer stupid questions,” you reply before sipping from your cup and drifting your gaze away.

“Wait, why are you here?” Jeno asks, only now realizing you’re not supposed to be at their place, not in the morning at least… wait… “Wait! Are you two fuck—”

“No,” Haechan answers sternly, glaring at him. “We’re studying. And it got late, so since we were closer to my place, I let her stay the night.”

“I thought you left yesterday saying you had a date, though,” Jeno says confused.

You chuckle under your breath before you feel Haechan’s hand wrap around your writs to pull you out of the room, not even giving you time to finish your coffee. “A studying date, and now drop it.”

When you reach his room, he groans loudly, walking to the closet to pick something to wear. You watch him move for a while, but then you can’t keep your thoughts inside your head anymore.

“Are you ashamed of me?” You ask and he turns around with wide eyes.

“What?”

“Am I something to be ashamed of? Do I don’t fit in the standard of the people you would usually fuck?”

He sighs, shaking his head. “No, I don’t want them to get invasive, they don’t let me live once they know something. And with you, it’s more embarrassing because of our history…”

You giggle, trying not to show the relief you’re feeling because, for a moment, you thought he was one of those types of men.

“Why can’t you ever make things easy for me?” He asks, annoyance in his voice. You have so much power over him, more than he likes to admit, and he feels like he can’t even be too mad at you about it.

“Sorry, it’s just, it’s funny having a history with you,” you explain. “My mortal enemy, always ready to steal my number ones, and my good grades.”

“You’re so annoying, you’re never sleeping over ever again.”

“Yeah, ‘cause I won’t let you fuck me ever again.”

“Liar,” he says. “And now move, I’ll drop you home.”

you can find part two on my account on the story masterlist or haechan’s masterlist (i can’t link it because if i do the post won’t appear in the tags)

general taglist: @froggyforhyuck, @wingsss45, @tddyhyck, @technologyculturedneo

fic taglist: @hcluvie, @gusgus0517, @multifandomania, @413cl, @odgsuji,

@hey-hey-heybitch, @nctrawberries, @n0hyuck, @haechoshi,

@girlwholoveslpreppyattire, @viciousdarlings, @hyuckmoon,

@jaeymark, @hqech, @xntlax, @milkyway-vxm, @fullsunahceah,

@beomgyusonlywife, @toroufriteh, @yesohhsehun @shxnz

@haecastor, @hyucksaint, @sk8ermark, @midnightrained

@maiteeeeesstuff, @smwhrinthehaze, @yoursyuno

#nct fanfiction #haechan smut #lee haechan smut #donghyuck smut #lee donghyuck smut #haechan fluff #lee haechan fluff #donghyuck fluff #nct smut #nct 127 smut #nct dream smut #haechan scenarios

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mountainsandmayhem · 5 months

Text

God Bless The She Devil Who Made Joel Miller

Pairing: BFD!Joel x F!Reader

18+ only!!!

Summary: After a fight with your boyfriend, your best friend Sarah invites you to say with her at her childhood home with her dad.

CW: Joel be peekin, Joel is mean (but you like it). I’m choosing not to say anything else to not spoil anything so engage at your own risk.

AN: You can all thank @littlevenicebitch69 for this. She asked for being caught, but I am daddy and I know what she really wants 😉 thank you @mermaidgirl30 for being my forever beta xo

Graphics by @saradika-graphics

God bless the absolute angel who brought Sarah Miller into your life. She somehow convinced her dad to let you stay with them over spring break after your boyfriend locked you out of your shared apartment and then refused to answer the phone or let you in. Sweet, empathetic, and dependable Sarah was at your apartment minutes after you called her and didn’t have to say much to her dad to let him allow you to stay.

And God bless the absolute she devil who made Joel Miller and put him in close proximity with you. You have a boyfriend, maybe, you can’t be sure, but you do know you have it HARD for Joel Mother Fucking Miller. He’s exactly the type of man that would classify as a DILF, and you don’t even consider yourself into older men. But Joel isn’t older, he’s experienced and charming and every single thing he does seems to turn you on.

Sarah has been working a day shift at the local grocery store during the break and Joel is off running his contracting business. Joel Miller, sweaty and dirty and building things with his large calloused hands. Fuck, you try to shake that image from your brain because you certainly do not need another image of him to touch yourself too.

You have a job serving in the evenings so the house is quiet and all yours during the day. This afternoon the sun peeks through your curtains and wakes you. Sun dancing along the pale yellow walls of the spare bedroom. You pick up your phone and see that it’s clear and sunny, the perfect day to lay out by the pool that Joel said you could use, “make yourself at home, darlin’, any friend of Sarah is welcome anytime.”

You practically leap out of bed and into your ensuite bathroom to brush your teeth and get ready to lay out in the sun. You rush down the hall in the swimsuit Sarah lent you, a large blue and white striped pool towel tucked under your arm.

You love Sarah, but there’s no chance you’re wearing this ridiculous one piece swimsuit to tan, plus you’re alone so what’s the harm? Joel doesn’t get home until well after 5 pm most nights, Sarah usually around 3 or 4, and she’s seen you naked more than once. Plus the backyard is fairly private, most likely no one will see anything.

Fuck it, you think to yourself, slipping the red lycra straps off your shoulders and then shimmying the suit down your body. The sun immediately warms your skin and that boost of vitamin D already has you feeling lighter and happier. You spread the towel down on the chair and lay on your stomach, tying your hair on top of your head and then grabbing your phone.

You flip through Spotify before settling on the album Ten by Pearl Jam. As the first song floats across the backyard, you rest your cheek on your hands and let the fast paced grunge music wash away your thoughts of your boyfriend and what you’re going to do next week when you go back to school. All that matters now is the sun on your skin.

X•X•X•X•X•X•X

Joel was just about to start working on some paperwork for his next building when he heard movement in the hallway. You must be up for the day, he should probably let you know he’s working from home today, just in case. He wants you to be comfortable here, even if it’s killing him to see you wandering around his house in those small denim shorts you wear to work. Last night he was almost certain he could see your hard nipples peeking out from the fabric of your tight white t-shirt.

Absolutely not, Joel. He scolds himself.

He hears you pad down the hall and then the unmistakable swoosh of the sliding glass door to the backyard. He glances out the window in his office to see you slip the red swimsuit Sarah lent you off your body. His cock was already painfully hard behind his jeans.

She just turned 21. The Angel on his shoulder reminds the devil that’s tempting him from the other side.

His mouth waters as he looks at your body. Your tits are perky, pink little nipples hardening as the air hits them.

She's going through a hard time. The good side of his conscience seems to be losing but he finds an ounce of strength and looks away. He can’t be staring at you.

He tries to focus on this goddamn contract but even little deadline and “initial here” blend together and all he can see in the jumbled words of the page is that little strip of hair that leads to that bundle of nerves he so badly wants to suck on. When he looks up again you’re laying face down, round and perky ass facing his window and on display for him. She must not know he’s home, and now she’s going to think he’s a total fucking creep if he says something now.

She’s your daughter's best friend. No, she’s off limits. Beyond off limits. Get it together, Miller.

And then your music drifts through his cracked window. You’re listening to Pearl Jam. So now not only are you incredibly tempting but you also have the music of his teenage years blasting. He can’t resist anymore, glancing out of the window to see you still laying on your stomach and your plush ass bouncing along as you wiggle to Eddie Vedder singing about still being alive.

He’s not sure how it happens, his body seems to move without him knowing, and suddenly he’s standing at the window, staring down into the backyard at you. His muscular arms crossed over his chest, leaning against the large window frame.

He slows his breathing and focuses on you - every dip and curve, every freckle, every little bit of skin being absorbed by his heated gaze. Your legs are slightly parted, but not enough for him to be able to see your cunt, and fuck does he want to see it.

His palms tingle with the need to cup your ass, maybe spank you for being naked in the middle of the day. He has neighbors, they could see you right now. This is unacceptable and you should be punished.

Just as he’s about to head downstairs his cell phone rings loudly and you shoot up onto your elbows and look over your shoulder at him, eyes locking with his before a tiny smile crosses your face. Joel looks away quickly and grabs his cell, almost crushing the device in his grasp as he answers.

X•X•X•X•X•X•X

Joel Miller was fully lurking at your naked body, and while that should probably embarrass you, you need to get fucked. You need something, anything, to forget about that piece of shit boyfriend who locked you out and refuses to talk to you or let you get your stuff. Sarah told you when you first met that he had her when he was 19, so it’s not like he’s THAT much older than you. Plus it’s just fucking.

Yep, I’m going for it.

You gather the towel around your body loosely, hooking your swimsuit on your finger and twirling it happily as you head into the house, determined to confront him and then seduce him. When you head up the stairs he’s standing in the doorframe of his office, just across from the spare bedroom you’re occupying. He looks deliciously pissed, one arm propped above his head on the door frame, the other on his hip, knee popped out. Your pussy flutters at the thought of his large, angry body above yours.

The opening bars of Jeremy fill the silence between you two, almost daring the other to make the first move.

“Turn that off,” Joel snaps. “I’m working.”

“Didn’t look like you were working a few minutes ago,” you say back, matching his energy.

Joel’s eyes narrow, brows furrowing, but you can tell he’s fighting to keep his eyes on yours. You lick your lips, testing him, teasing him, pushing him to see if he’ll take the bait. The flick of his eyes to your lips happens so quickly you almost miss it.

You let out a scoff, “Ya, that’s what I thought.” You step towards him, so close that you can smell the coffee and sawdust on him. “Wanna take a break from all that work?” You say the word work teasingly, trying to entice him.

“Go to your room and put some clothes on. Don’t let me catch you naked in the backyard again,” He says deeply, then closes his office door in your face.

You smirk to yourself, dropping the towel at his door and wandering into your room leaving the door wide open. You hook your phone to the Bluetooth speaker as you lay on your bed completely naked. You hit the volume button and slip your hand between your legs, rubbing your clit in fast, little circles.

“Daddy didn’t give no affection, no

And the boy was something that Mommy wouldn’t wear

King Jeremy the wicked

Oh, ruled his world”

Joel whips his office door open looking absolutely furious. His breath catches in his throat at the sight of you. Bare, wide open, and soaking wet. You don’t stop, don’t even bother to look his way, as you dip your fingers into your pussy and cry out his name. Joel steps into your room and hits the power button on your speaker. The only sounds that film the room are your moans and the squelching of your arousal as your fingers slip in and out of your pussy.

“What the fuck did I just say, little girl?” Joel says darkly.

You open your eyes to look at him and the expression on his face sends your heart into your stomach. You’ve always been a little bit of a brat, getting in trouble lots growing up. Truthfully, you like the rush of it, the adrenaline of the unknown. But Joel looks dangerous, eyes blown out with rage and lust, hands clamped into fists at his sides, a slight blush pinks his cheeks, lips in a tight line.

You sit up, crossing your legs and covering yourself with a pillow as you turn towards him. You’re suddenly not feeling so confident, you may have pushed the wrong man.

“Y-you said outside,” you start, your voice wavering. “I’m inside.”

Joel moves so quickly that you don’t even have time to register what’s happening as the pillow is ripped from your grip and disposed of on the floor in front of you. You’re bare and exposed to him again.

“Spread your legs,” he says hungrily, voice a raspy whisper.

He watches your throat as you swallow hard, leaning back on your elbows and planting your feet on the edge of the bed. You look at him tentatively, jumping and letting out a little squeal when he barks, “I said spread your fucking legs.”

You relax, letting your knees fall open. His breathing is rapid, a growling moan leaving his parted lips. He takes one step, his knees hitting the edge of the bed.

“Joel -” you start.

“Shut up. You knew what you were doing, you wanted this. Didn’t you?”

“Y-Yes, but…” his hand slaps the inside of your thigh and your knees slam together as you cry out.

“Spread. Your fucking. Legs,” he repeats in a slow and deep command.

“That hurt!” You say back, squeezing your knees together tighter. It feels like he set fire to your thigh and you can already see the red handprint forming.

“If you’re gonna act like a little brat, I’m going to treat you like one. Now spread your legs so I can hit the other one.” He raises an eyebrow at you cockily. “If you keep them open, I might reward you.” You’ve bit off more than you can chew with Joel Miller.

You take in a calming breath through your nose, relaxing your knees as you exhale slowly. Joel can see the milky, sticky strings of your arousal as your pussy lips spread open for him. He has to swallow the excess saliva that pools in his cheeks at the sight. He wants to taste you so fucking badly.

“I think you liked it,” he taunts. “You’re makin’ a mess, you like being slapped around, don’t you? Treated like a little whore.”

Before you can respond he lays a hard smack on your other thigh. Your hips involuntarily buck upwards, your head falling back and a moaning, whimpering cry you don’t recognize as your own leaves your lips. You focus on your knees, fighting against your body’s instincts, keeping them pushed into the mattress.

“That’s what I thought,” he says as he kneels in front of you and yanks your ass to the edge of the bed. “Think you should get a reward now?”

“Y-yes, please, Joel. Please!” You have never had to beg for sex before, boys your age are usually fired up and ready to go, but men of Joel’s age know sex is so much more than just penetration - it’s a game, a tease.

He bites down on your thigh, “Please. Please, Joel!”

“You smell so fucking good,” he says as his hooked nose trails down your little line of pubic hair. You squirm under him as your clit twitches, aching for his attention. “And so goddamn wet. My little whore, aren’t ya?” His warm breath hits your needy clit and you flop down onto the bed, whining in need.

“Please -” but your words are cut off by the front door opening and Sarah’s voice calls through the house.

“Everyone can celebrate, I’m home now!!!” She yells jokingly.

“Fuck!” Joel huffs under his breath and bolts for his office, kicks your towel and swimsuit into your room, you follow and click your door shut quietly.

“Hello?” Sarah calls, heading up the stairs.

“Just getting dressed,” you call through your closed door. “I think your dad is in a meeting.”

“Put on your swimsuit, it’s gorgeous outside!”

Taglist

@corazondebeskar @hiddenbabynyc @rainstorms-library @smutsmutslut @sullyrocky44

@keylimebeag @pimosworld @casa-boiardi @pedritoferg @paleidiot

@javierpena-inatacvest @blazeflays @akah565 @pinkiec6-rubi @pedroshotwifey

@lorilane33 @pansexual-potatoes @jessthebaker @jasminedragoon @koshkaj-blog

@pedroswife69 @strawberri-blonde @none-of-this-makes-any-sense @iloveenya

@iluvurfather @ashleyfilm @mermaidgirl30 @untamedheart81

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adragonprinceswhore · 1 month

Text

Rumours

Aemond Targaryen x (Ex)Wife

Chapter II: Go Your Own Way 🎼 Masterlist

Summary: Aemond's written another song about your separation, and it becomes clear to you that he'll do anything to make you suffer.

Warnings: 18+, AFAB reader, she/her pronouns, angst, toxic relationship dynamic, depictions of anxiety, smut, oral (f receiving), facesitting, phone sex, description of naughty videos

Word count: 3600 A/N: Thank you so much lovely Justine for looking this over for me @theoneeyedprince ♡

‘DRAGONSTONE: VIBRANT START OF TOUR FOR DRAGON DREAMERS’

Eyes glued to the screen of your phone, you absentmindedly sip your cup of tea, newly awake and curled up on a puffy armchair in your hotel room.

Life on the road proves to be draining. You still feel exhausted from having to fly from Dragonstone to your current location, Gulltown, right after the show, currently operating on merely 4 hours of sleep.

You had told yourself that you wouldn’t check reviews from your opening night before you felt ready to deal with all possible speculations of your and Aemond’s divorce.

You know that the concert had been fantastic, the audience demanded two encores and you left the venue with a sore throat and an unquenchable thirst for more. There’s nothing as exhilarating as the high you feel after a live show.

Still, you couldn’t fight the urge to google reviews, curiosity getting the best of you.

‘Tensions were high as Dragon Dreamers entered the nearly full venue on Dragonstone last night. Kicking off with a song from their new album, The Chain, devoted fans are quick to speculate whether guitarist Aemond Targaryen wrote it to-’

You can’t bring yourself to continue, knowing that whatever they’d written would only leave you feeling melancholic. You need all the energy you can muster, which means torturing yourself reading about your divorce isn’t a good idea.

As you’re about to put your phone down, it lights up with Helaena’s name.

“Are you okay, love? We’ve been waiting for 10 minutes”, she asks, voice sounding a bit strained.

A meek “What?” is all you manage to get out. You were supposed to meet up in an hour, not now.

“The press? We’ve got 5 interviews lined up and need to leave now. Didn’t Tyland tell you about the change in schedule?”

No.

And you have a feeling that it isn’t Tyland who’ll be delighted when you show up smelling of sweat from yesterday's gig, with your hair in tangles and face fatigued.

“Sorry, Hel. I’ll be there as soon as I can, give me five minutes”

No shower.

No hair.

No makeup.

Great.

In haste, you throw on a pair of jeans, a burgundy top and messily apply some blush and mascara, hoping it’ll distract from the bags under your eyes. You throw one last glance at your reflection before heading down.

You look exactly like you feel,

Shit.

You try your best to not let your cheery facade crack, smiling brightly at the journalists as they ask you about yesterday’s show and the ongoing tour.

No one dares to ask about your personal lives, something you find yourself feeling immensely grateful for.

Three interviews down, two to go.

You throw a quick glance at Aemond. You’d been careful to sit on his blind side so you wouldn’t have to feel the searing sensation of him staring you down. Observing him in secret still burns though.

You know he won’t move quickly enough for you to get caught. After the accident that left him blind in one eye, he always moved slowly. His blind eye has a tendency to lag slightly, not always looking in the same direction as his seeing eye. Self-conscious and afraid of being awarded the epithet ‘lazy eye’ on top of ‘one eye’, he’s trained his body to always move slowly, giving his blind eye a chance to keep up.

The next interviewer enters the small room you’ve been assigned, donning a wide smile as she makes her way to the chair in front of the two sofas where you and your bandmates are seated.

After quickly introducing herself and the magazine she works for, Harrentown Underground, she jumps straight to the questions, asking you how yesterday’s gig felt and what fans should expect from the upcoming tour.

As she talks, her gaze is trained on Aemond, nodding and smiling brightly when he answers.

Her eyes narrow slightly as she purses her lips together, visibly tensing up as she asks,

“Has the recent, um, changes in your personal life aided your creative process?”

The tension in the room grows as Aemond stays silent despite the journalist looking solely at him. You’d asked management to let the journalists know that you wouldn’t be taking any questions about your personal lives. She either doesn’t know or doesn’t care; you can’t make out which it is.

Aemond finally breaks the silence,

“Yes. I guess so”

“Many fans online suspect the new song you performed yesterday is about your failed marriage, is that correct?”, she continues, completely ignoring you and the other band members as she looks up from her notepad, meeting Aemond’s eye.

He’s completely still as he regards her, taking time to answer so that the awkward atmosphere of the room lingers.

“It is”, he finally admits, catching you by surprise. He’d always been so reserved; never wanting to let the public in on his private life.

The journalist gives Aemond a sympathetic look, nodding as she replies,

“Heartache really fuels the creative process, is that it?”

Aemond lets out a detached hum,

“I’m not one to go back on my promises. I value loyalty. The song is about when promises are broken”

Helaena has started to pick at her nail beds next to you. On your other side you feel Jace straighten up, eyes cast down to inspect the floor with newfound interest.

Nobody wants to say anything; nobody wants to continue this conversation. Except for the journalist, who nods in understanding as she scribbles on her notepad.

“It must be hard, being left by your partner”, she says, throwing a brief, disapproving look your way, “Have you had time to process it all?”

She is clearly not interested in speaking to anyone else in the band. She regards Aemond as if they are the only two in the room. It feels so belittling, being talked about like you’re not even present.

“Hmm. Betrayal takes time to recover from”, he replies curtly, sounding cold and harsh.

You feel your throat close up, eyesight going blurry as you take in his words.

Betrayal?

You try to the best of your ability to not let any tears escape down your cheeks, tilting your head slightly backwards as you take a deep, quiet breath.

You will not cause a scene.

You will not give him the satisfaction of knowing that his words got to you.

You will not give him what he wants.

As soon as the journalist from Harrentown Underground leaves and Tyland tells you to take a break, you make your way to the bathroom in quick steps.

You rush inside a booth, quickly locking the door before you fall down on the toilet seat, hand over your mouth in an attempt to muffle your wailing as you begin to cry heavily, sobs ripping through your body in angry waves, and tears pouring down your cheeks.

He’s such a fucking prick.

He knows exactly what buttons to push to upset you. He also knows exactly how to do it in front of others, without them knowing of the quiet war being fought between the two of you. If that journalist knew the full story of what led to your divorce, would she still pity poor Aemond?

You cry hard, trying to release some of the frustration built up inside. After a couple of minutes, the tears start to lessen and you roll out some toilet paper, patting it over your soaked face before throwing it in the toilet.

You exit the booth and move to stand in front of the mirror.

Seeing your reflection makes you feel worse. Your hair is frizzy from the way you tossed in bed, your mascara has run down your cheeks in black streaks, and your eyes are puffy and red.

You sigh in surrender, pulling out a concealer from your purse and patting some under your eye to hide the smudged blackness and swollen skin.

If strength was measured by resilience, you’d be a warrior. You wouldn’t let Aemond’s attempts at hurting you hinder you. He’d already controlled your life when you were married. He wasn’t going to continue to restrict you now.

The last interview is with a journalist from King’s Landing Weekly, and you remember meeting him last year when you’d just released your first album.

He’s a true music nerd, always asking insightful questions about your inspirations, what you want to convey, how you went about the recording process.

“How has recording been this time around?”, the journalist asks, oblivious to the fact that you’d spent most time alone in the studio, recording your parts separately.

“It’s been interesting. Production has taken longer than we anticipated, but we’ve got some real bangers we’re eager to share with our fans”, Jace answers with a smile, going on to reveal that you’ll perform some of the new songs during your tour.

You think back to when you recorded your first album, spending almost every waking hour in the studio with your bandmates.

Well, mostly with Aemond.

The nostalgic past when you were madly in love. It seems so distant now.

On your knees, you hover over Aemond’s face. His nose repeatedly brushes against your clit as his tongue moves in and out of you. He’s lying on his back on the dirty floor of the studio, his arms locked around your thighs, and his hands grip your hips tightly.

You’re so close to breaking. So close.

Hands resting on your thighs to keep yourself upright, you let your hips rock in tandem with Aemond’s tongue as it fucks you. And when your orgasm crashes over you, one hand moves to his hair, grabbing it harshly as you moan his name.

Unabashedly, you cry out in pleasure before stilling. Breathing heavily, your mind feels delightfully empty in the bliss-filled aftermath of your peak.

As you move to get up, Aemond’s grip on your hips tighten, focing you to stay put as he continues his assault on your cunt. You moan, half in pleasure, half in pain, from how his nose brushes against your over sensitive clit, sending jolts of stinging delight through your body.

“Aem, I can’t-”, you weakly protest as he brings his tongue up to your clit, gently swiping over it.

His voice is muffled underneath you as he replies, “Yes you can”

His hands push your hips to forcefully rock your body against his face once more, and you feel the stinging between your legs morph into fierce pleasure, consuming your senses.

You had tried to keep yourself up slightly to not place all your weight on Aemond’s face, but you slowly lose control over your body and slump down against his face as a second orgasm approaches.

Satisfied at your defeat, Aemond moves one hand down to your entrance and pushes two fingers inside at once, stretching your slippery hole. You gasp, and when his fingers find your g-spot, you moan without inhibition.

“Fu-, k-”, you sigh, voice strained.

Your hands hold on to the edge of the desk in front of you, head thrown back. Aemond’s fingers continue to move in and out of you in calculated strokes as his tongue determinedly massages your clit, and when he closes his lips around your bundle of nerves and suck, you come for the second time; the edge of your vision going black from the intensity.

Your body jerks uncontrollably as you gasp and sigh and moan.

After your body’s stopped twitching, Aemond’s face pokes out from beneath you, covered in your slick. You’re still breathing heavily, trying to regain your posture and stand, but he tugs you down to the ground and places you in his arms.

“Go on, pretty girl. Clean me up”, he whispers into your ear. You oblige with a smile, kissing away all the remnants of your arousal on his face, revelling in the taste of you on his skin.

You wish your mind wouldn’t go there whenever you think about the last time you were in the studio together. You wish it wouldn’t drift to the happy memories.

They hurt the most.

Leaving someone you still love is so much harder than leaving someone you don’t. You have to continually remind yourself of what a toxic husband he could be. Of how unfair, and controlling, and dangerous he could be.

In fact, you didn’t really need to remind yourself; Aemond was fully capable of acting horrible on his own.

As the journalist from King’s Landing Weekly wraps up the last interview of the day, he stands and thanks you all for your time.

He stretches out his hand and offers each member a handshake. When he reaches you, he holds onto your hand as he gleefully states, “I truly hope we get to hear one of your new songs soon. The emotions you put into song-making is truly something else”

You smile back at him and squeeze his hand, assuring him that you’ll perform a new song soon.

Behind you, Aemond clears his throat a bit too loudly for it to seem unintentional. He stands up, prompting the reporter to move to shake Jace’s hand next to you before leaving.

All you can think about is getting back to your hotel room, take a long-overdue shower, and a much-needed nap.

You make your way out of the conference room, but before you can leave, a large hand gently tugs at your shoulder, stopping you.

You turn around to face Aemond, who gives your form a once-over,

“Are you doing okay? You look a bit, hm, disoriented”

If he is trying to sound caring he’s failing miserably. His tone is condescending, nearly mocking.

“I’m fine”, you reply, jaw shut tight and annoyance tinting your voice “No one told me about the sudden change in schedule”

You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?

He nods curtly, “Alright. I’d like to perform a new song tonight, you did back-ups on it in recording; ‘Go your own way’. Would that be okay with you?”

The forced, nice pretence he’s trying to uphold doesn’t fool you for a second, you can hear how he’s holding himself back as he speaks.

“Of course”, you reply shortly.

Why is he asking for permission?

You turn and move towards the door, eager to retreat to your room. Aemond stays put behind you, voice a little more urgent than before as he adds,

“My girlfriend will come to tonight's gig, if you don’t mind?”

You sigh as you turn the handle of the door,

“Why would I mind?”

You do mind.

It feels so wrong to see Alys sit on Aemond’s lap backstage as he whispers something in her ear. It almost feels perverse, seeing your husband with someone else. Like they’re committing a sin.

Still, you say nothing. Instead, you stubbornly refuse to look their way, focusing on helping Helaena with her eyeshadow at the other end of the room.

You can’t help but ponder their dynamic.

Is he as possessive of her as he had been over you?

Is he as insatiable?

Like the time he demanded you record when you touch yourself, instructing you to place your phone on your stomach so he could hear just how wet you were as your fingers slip inside and you moan his name.

That was back when he was still working for his grandfather’s company, and he’d occasionally go away on business trips. He’d call you around midnight every night.

“What would you do if I were there?”

You hear him breathe heavily. His voice is strained and the distant sounds of him stroking his cock echo in the background.

“I’d climb on your lap and beg you to fuck me. Beg you to let me ride you”.

Aemond groans.

“And then?”

“I’d beg you to suck on my tits as I bounce up, ah-, and down”

You’re so close, forcefully letting your fingers push at your g-spot while the palm of your hand presses at your clit. You know he’s close too by the sounds of his breath hitching and the way he’s swearing under his breath, mumbling “I can’t wait to sink my cock into you”

Or the videos he had on his phone of you. God, did he keep those? You know his favourite had been the one where you’re seen kneeling in front of him, tongue sticking out of your mouth as he coats your face with his cum, asking you who you belong to, who’s little slut you are.

“Only yours, Aemond. Always yours”

You shiver at the memory. Hopefully Alys had gone through his phone and deleted any and all trace of you.

You do some vocal warm-ups with Helaena, restless nerves bubbling inside you as you wait backstage to soon enter the stage.

Wiping some sweat from your palms onto the jeans you’re wearing, you internally remind yourself of the fact that you’d done an incredible show yesterday, and today would be just as good.

You know that your band will deliver. You always do. Even Erryk, being a new addition, has proven to be a great drummer and teamplayer, possessing both the stamina and skills needed to thrive in Dragon Dreamers.

You hear the crowd chanting, mood just as elevated as it had been the day before on Dragonstone. As you go over the set list for the night, Aemond suggests you start with ‘The Chain’, like you did yesterday, and end with his new song, ‘Go your own way’.

Although you’d recorded backups for the song, you hadn’t listened to the entirety of it in the studio.

Somewhere inside, you know that the song is about you. About the divorce. You remember singing,

‘You can go your own way’

‘You can call it another lonely day’

Anxiety grows within you as you think of having to listen to the entire song. You’d put it off in the studio, never feeling mentally prepared to hear Aemond’s thoughts on how you’ve ‘wronged’ him.

And now you’ll have to hear it for the first time in public. In front of an audience.

You can do this.

Just breathe. In. Hold three seconds. Out. Hold three seconds.

Your breathing is laboured, body vibrating from the excitement of performing. This truly is where you thrive; where you feel your best.

Where you can contribute something to the world.

Make people happy.

You look down at the fans beaming up at you, howling in excitement as they demand another song.

“Here’s a new song from our upcoming album”, Aemond starts, the crowd cheering louder.

This is it. The anxiety you’d felt about hearing Aemond’s new song still buzzes within you, but you won’t let that hinder you from giving this song your all as well. You won’t let him intimidate you.

The song is fast-paced, and Aemond’s fingers quickly pluck the strings of his guitar as he starts to sing,

‘Loving you isn’t the right thing to do’

‘How can I ever change things that I feel?’

‘If I could, baby, I’d give you my world’

‘How can I when you won’t take it from me?’

He was so intent on playing the victim it was almost laughable. Ignoring his own wrong-doings; his part in your separation. He was suffering; left to bleed out from the knife you’d stabbed in his back.

Fuck that.

He’d driven you away with his obsessive behaviour and anger issues. But that was not the story he wanted to tell.

‘You can go your own way’

‘Go your own way’

‘You can call it another lonely day’

‘Another lonely day’

As he sings his solo lines, Aemond stares you down.

His seeing eye bores into you with a fire you’d hardly seen before. It’s a stark contrast from his damaged eye; the white mist covering it making it appear calm, almost gentle.

He’s found a way to yell at you in public, berating you for leaving him in front of the entire world, without causing a scene. That’s why he’d been so set on appearing civil with you around others. He wants to break you.

‘Open up, everything’s waiting for you’

Just like yesterday, he sounds uncharacteristically passionate as he sings, much angrier than usual. He basically spits the words at you; ‘go your own way’, ‘everything’s waiting for you’

You can’t keep eye contact with him for long, his gaze too scorching.

Why is he suddenly so intimidating?

You try to remind yourself of the fact that you were married mere months ago.

You know him. He’s still Aemond. Your Aemond.

Or is he? The man staring at you on stage feels far removed from the person you married two years ago.

As Aemond starts to play his guitar solo, he leaves his microphone, furious eye never leaving you as he approaches you; more akin to a predator than a man.

You hear the crowd cheer.

He doesn’t have to look at his guitar as his skillful fingers effortlessly play the climatic guitar solo. He’s treating his instrument like he’s angry at it, harshly plucking at the strings in the most violent manner. He comes up to stand right by you, between you and the audience. You’re forced to face him. To meet his eye.

The crowd cheers louder and louder.

His expression is stoic, eye unblinking as he assaults the strings of his guitar.

Never looking down.

Only at you.

Thank you for reading!

#aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen imagines #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen #aemond fanfiction #aemond x you #my fics #rumours #Spotify

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borathae · 12 days

Text

Even Bunnies Bite

"When you get harassed during a night out - not once, but twice - Jungkook shows you that even gentle guys like him can fight, saving you from the harassers. You show him your apprecitiation for it once home. He deserves to know that he is the most perfect person to ever exist."

Pairing: CEO!Jungkook x f.Reader

Genre: married life!AU, Slice of Life Romance, slight Angst in the beginning

Warnings: sexual harassment by strangers in a club, protective!Jungkook, he is so angry at first but calms down in her arms, the most romantic love confessions ever, they're so in love it's insane, cuddles and snuggles, this is so romantic you have no idea

Wordcount: 3.6k

a/n: someone sent in this idea for kinktober and i was inspired. as i was writing it, i realised that smut would be out of place here, hence you are getting a super romantic, emotional oneshot instead 😭i love this couple so much, you girlies have no idea 🤎

You like to go out with your best friends sometimes. You spend all day preparing for it. You take an Everything Shower, plan outfits and send them into the group chat, asking which outfit was the best. You look up hairstyle and makeup inspirations and try to recreate the looks as best as possible. You make sure to eat something just in case a drink or two will be bought later. Truly, nights out with your girls means a day full of self care and the most divine feminine energies and you are loving them.

Sometimes you also take your men with you. Yongsun brings Shiwon, Moonbyul brings whoever she is currently dating and you bring Jungkook. You don’t think that the nights with your men are any less fun, on the contrary, you love having Jungkook with you.

Tonight is such a night. You put on a tight mini dress and some heels, feeling like it. Jungkook went for some skinny jeans and a shirt which he tugged into them. He matched the colour of his watch to the colour of your clutch.

Yongsun and Shiwon came matching as well, Moonbyul came solo tonight because her last man dropped her. He was trash, so the loss isn’t big.

You hug and squeal in greeting, then enter the club together.

The night is amazing. You dance until your feet hurt, share some drinks (except Jungkook and Shiwon because he was the driver), dance some more and talk whenever you find yourselves in a calmer spot. It is exactly how a night out should be and there is nothing that could spoil it.

Or so you thought because some men have nothing else but audacity. Stinking, annoying audacity.

You are on the dance floor with Moonbyul, shaking your booties to an amazing song, when you suddenly feel two hands on your waist. You don’t have to turn around to know that this wasn’t Jungkook touching you. Moonbyul’s instant yell and her hand coming up to slap the guy away is another indicator. You jump away with the first touch, whipping around to yell at the guy.

“Fuck off!”

“Ladies”, he says, lifting his hands in defence, “no need to get emotional, I was just getting a feel of you.”

“You’re gonna get a feel of my fists if you’re not letting off of her”, Moonbyul spits, almost jumping at the guy if you weren’t holding her back.

Moonbyul has always been a fighter and someone who takes no fucking shit from anyone, especially not from men. She says that it’s the reason why men are too afraid to stay with her to which you always tell her that these men wouldn’t be the right match for her anyways because she is a goddess and they are trash. She accepts it with a smile each time and a little kiss to your cheek.

The dude she is currently waving her fist at, seems determined to change her mind.

“Just one dance, alright?”

“No. Leave us alone.”

“I’ll leave once I danced with you.”

“You motherfu-”

“Unnie, let’s just go”, you stop her, dragging her away from him.

He thankfully doesn’t follow you.

“No, why are you dragging me away? I’ll punch him so hard.”

“That’s why I’m dragging you away. You’re gonna end up with a warning again.”

“He’d deserve it. The fucking audacity. Why do we have to stop having fun and dancing just because he decided? Why do we have to give up our space for him?”

“What’s wrong? What happened?” Hyejin asks, sitting by the bar.

You and Moonbyul explain the situation to her and she rightfully gets angry with you. You all agree that it is unfair that you always have to give up your space when entitled men decide it’s time to invade it.

In the time you curse the dude, he seems to leave for good. You share a shot then drag Hyejin onto the dance floor with you. It was clean again and Moonbyul a lot calmer. The music still was good and you try to let the incident be in the past. Soon you forget all about it, dancing happily with the other people around you invisible to the three of you.

Jungkook and the others return from taking an air break outside in the time you are dancing. Yongsun drags Shiwon onto the dance floor while Wheein stays with Jungkook. She often stays close to him during your nights out because he makes her feel safe. Tonight is no different.

“Want another drink, noona?” he asks her, waving the bartender to them.

“Really?”

“Of course, what do you want?”

“Maybe just another beer?”

“Alrighty.”

Jungkook orders for her and orders a coke for himself. He pays and clinks bottles with her.

“Thank you for paying.”

“Don’t even mention it. Cheers.”

“Cheers.”

They drink their beverages, moving their bodies to the music slightly and enjoying the view of the dancing people.

Soon you and Hyejin return to the bar. You seek out Jungkook instantly, hooking your fingers in his belt loops to pull him into a kiss. He smiles, rubbing your lower back. You break the kiss with a goofy giggle, smiling at him.

“I’m so thirsty.”

“Coke?”

“Yes actually, thank you”, you say and drink from the bottle Jungkook offers.

Hyejin in the meantime, convinced Wheein to join her on the dance floor.

“Can I keep this with you?”

“Of course, give me”, you assure her, taking her beer and shielding the opening with your hand. Soon the two women disappear on the dance floor. Jungkook glances at the hand on the bottle. This has never been his instinct to do. He would take any of the girls’ bottles like this, but he never developed the instinct with his own drinks. He thinks it’s insane how different the world is for someone just because they have something different between their legs.

You seem happy however, using the moment of togetherness to talk to him.

“I think we should go on Saturday because I checked the cinema and on Friday, there are only five seats in the front row left.”

You and Jungkook want to watch a new horror movie in the cinema and can’t decide on the day. You talked about it before meeting with the others.

“Saturday sounds good. It’s less stressful too because we have all day. We could go for dinner afterwards, somewhere nice maybe.”

“Yeah? Then I’ll book the tickets for Saturday.”

“Sounds good to me. And I’ll books us a table. Should we go for sushi?”

“Yes, that’s perfect. I’m so excited.”

“Me too.”

You grin at him, he retorts it.

“Hey there”, a random guy comes up to you. Jungkook’s face darkens instantly, his alarm bells are ringing. He stays calm for now, wanting to give you a chance to handle it yourself.

You turn to him. His face is unfamiliar to you.

“Hey? I think you’re mistaking me with someone.”

“No, I don’t think I am. I’m Woonyong but you can call me whatever you like. How can I call you? Sexy or maybe mine?”

“Ah yeah no”, you say with a scoff, turning away from the guy.

“Hey, don’t ignore me”, the guy says and tries to turn you back to him by touching your shoulder.

You wriggle out of his touch at the same time as Jungkook tugs the guy’s hand away. He can accept people trying to flirt with you and then pissing off once you told them no, but he draws the line at them getting pushy and touching you.

“Don’t touch her”, he spits and drapes his arm over your shoulder protectively. “She already told you no.”

The guy studies Jungkook and lifts his hands in defeat.

“Dude, I’m sorry I didn’t see you. I thought she was still to take.”

“Well she’s not and even if she was, she’s not something to take. She’s a person not a thing to own.”

“Chill man, you don’t gotta play white knight just to impress her.”

“I’m not playing anything, I’m being a decent human!” Jungkook yells.

“Chill dude, damn. She’s not gonna want you anyways.”

“Yah asshole, seriously piss off”, you speak up in a dark voice, “I literally said no to you and he’s my husband of five years, you’re just embarrassing yourself at this point.”

The guy gawks for a second then sends Jungkook a poisonous look.

“Fucking simp”, he hisses and leaves.

“I’ll actually punch you, come-”

“Jungkook.” You stand yourself in front of him, calming him down by kissing his lips. “He’s not worth it.”

“He objectified you. He’s worth it.”

“I’m okay, Bunny. I’m okay, thanks to you”, you assure him, kissing his cheek gently.

“I can’t do this. I’m so angry. How dare he objectify you. You’re a person and, and you’re amazing a-a-and he made you a thing. And he touched you, he fucking touched you eventhough you said no. He is such an asshole, I’m gonna hurt him. I mean it.”

“Fuck him then, I’m alright. Promise.”

He looks at you, both angry and frustrated, but also deeply saddened and defeated.

“Do you wanna go home?” you suggest, rubbing his chest soothingly, “I think this club is kinda trash. I already had someone grope me on the dance floor and now this.”

“What? Who did that?!”

“I don’t know why I told you that. I’m fine seriously.”

“No, it’s not fine. He has to pay. Who groped you? Show him to me, I’ll rip off his hands.”

“Okay let’s not do that”, you say in a chuckle, rubbing the nape of his neck, “besides, Moonbyul already cursed him.”

“Good”, Jungkook says scanning his eyes over the crowd angrily.

You shift his eyes to you by cradling his cheek.

“Let’s go home, yeah?”

He nods his head, huffing out air as he pouts angrily.

“Okay. Let’s just say bye to the others and then leave.”

“If you see the guy, tell me.”

“Okay I will.”

The others bid you goodbye, wishing you a good night. You hand Wheein her beer and tell her that you took the best watch of it, then you leave.

Jungkook puts his arm around your shoulders, keeping you close to him. You glance at his face. He has his scary look on, dark and serious. You don’t say anything. You simply smile to yourself and drape your arm over his waist. It’s actually so nice to know that you’re safe when he is with you.

Jungkook drives the car home because you drank one beer and a shot. You don’t feel the effects at all, but you know better than to trust your judgement. People who drank alcohol, should never ever sit down in the driver’s seat of a car. No matter how little they feel the booze.

Jungkook obviously is sober and uses almost the entire drive home to rant about “assholes like these dudes”. You let him because he seems so worked up about the topic that stopping him is impossible. For the last quarter of the drive, he has finally tired himself out, sharing the ride with you in silence. You appreciate it, watching the familiar streets pass you by.

You don’t get to talk in the elevator because there are other tenants and a few house worker who ride it with you. The first few moments in your penthouse are silent as well. You slip out of your shoes and jackets, where Jungkook helps you hang it up.

“Thank you Bunny.”

“Mhm.”

You glance at him. He has his back turned to you, busy with hanging his own jacket, but he is standing right in front of the mirror so his face was visible to you. He is clearly upset. You let out a deep sigh of defeat and put your clutch on the dresser so you have both hands free. Then you close the distance, calling his attention with a gentle hand on his right shoulder. Jungkook lifts his head and turns, lowering his head instantly when you run your fingers over his undercut. It is as if he leaning into the affection.

“Are you still upset, Bunnybaby?” you ask him.

He nods his head, tightening his features.

“I hate when men treat you like this”, he murmurs, voice shaking. You can’t decide if it’s anger or the first indicator of tears. “You don’t deserve it and, and I feel so helpless because whatever I do won’t make them see their shitty behaviour.”

“I know, baby, I know. It’s so frustrating and I share your feelings.”

He lets out a sound of defeat and nods his head, burying it in the crook of your neck within the next second, arms tightly around you. A whimper leaves him, he practically melts in your embrace.

“You deserve the world, but the world doesn’t deserve you”, he mumbles into you.

You smile, playing with his hair gently.

“You’re the sweetest person, my love. Mhm I gotta squeeze you.” You tighten the hug, shaking him from side to side gently. “I’m squeezing the frustration outta you, Bunnybaby.”

He lets it happen at first, but soon can’t stop himself from giggling. You chuckle, lessening the pressure to ruffle his hair.

“No but seriously, you’re the sweetest person and I’m so grateful for you standing up for me and other women. I know it feels like you aren’t achieving anything, but you are. It only takes one person to be brave enough to stand up and for it to mean that there will be others who follow.”

“You think so?”

“Of course I do. You know, Shiwon was always a good guy but he never really said anything when men were being pigs until you came around and actually stood up for us.”

“But Shiwon always says something to sexists.”

“Yes, because he saw you doing it and realised that he needed to change his ways.”

“Really?” he sounds in disbelief.

“Yes, really.”

“Wow”, he lets out in a breathy whisper, “wow”, his voice is louder and he steps back to lock eyes with you, “wow.”

You give him an adoring smile, cradling his cheeks.

“So keep being yourself and keep standing up for us. You’re helping, even if it feels frustrating to do.”

He shakes his head, “it’s not frustrating to help. It’s frustrating that I even have to help.”

“I know, it really is.”

“But ___, I made someone change his habits.” His face lights up. “I did it.”

“You did it.”

“Oh ___”, he swoops you off your feet and twirls you right here and now.

You laugh, holding onto his shoulders and throwing your head back in delight. He twirls three times then stands still with his arms under your butt and his sparkling eyes gazing up at you. You meet his pretty eyes, caressing his shoulders and neck.

“I will keep protecting you and standing up for you and being someone safe for you until you and every other woman can feel safe as well. The world doesn’t deserve you right now, so I’ll make it be worthy of you. I promise.”

“Oh Jeon Jungkook, you sweetheart of a person. I fucking adore you”, you get out, cupping his face to pull him into a deep kiss.

Once the kiss breaks, Jungkook’s eyes are hazy in love and he can’t stop smiling at you. You mirror his state, running your fingers over his temples and forehead.

“I really adore you, I really do”, you speak softly.

“I adore you too”, he says without hesitation, voice nothing but a whisper.

“I don’t think you understand how much I adore you though. I adore every single star in your galaxy brain, every single inch of your golden heart and every single particle of your perfect soul. I adore the way you think, the words you speak and how gently you voice them. I adore your silly jokes and adore your smile and laughter. I adore how you love so much and so big and so wholeheartedly because you cannot do it any other way. I adore that you are in love with love and that everything you do is done by your gentle, romantic hands. I adore how happy you get for food, how you hum to yourself when you do something, how you fill the room with warmth because you are such a warm presence. I fucking adore the very essence that makes you, Jeon Jungkook, and if I could turn back time, I would do everything the exact same way because I know that it would lead me to you one day.”

“Why are you saying that?” he presses out and instantly bursts into tears, dropping you on the floor gently to hug you as tightly as humanly possible.

“Oh sweetie, gosh, you gentle hearted soul you”, you say softly, hugging him just as tightly.

“You can’t just say that”, he sobs into your neck, making you chuckle and ruffle his hair.

“Goodness, you’re so sweet. Are you okay, Bunnybaby?”

“No”, he whimpers, shaking his head, “I’m so grateful and I wasn’t ready”, he gets out and sobs again.

“I’m sorry, I’ll give you a warning next time”, you joke, eliciting both a laugh and sob from him. He is truly the most endearing and wonderful person to ever exist.

“I’m so grateful. Thank you so much for saying all of this, oh god, I adore you so much. I, I could fill the entire galaxy with it and it still wouldn’t be enough.”

“Oh my Jungkookie.”

You and he fall into a moment of silence where you hug and enjoy each other’s presence. The night might have ended in a messy, frustrating way but does it really matter when at the end of it you and he are still together? Does it really matter that people are awful when you and he have each other? Does it really matter when you can forget all about the outside world in each other’s arms?

The tranquillity of togetherness continues as the night grows older. You change into comfortable clothes and make a 1 AM snack with nothing but the stove light glowing. You eat cuddled up on the couch as you watch an episode of your favourite show and realize that the best part of going out will always be the coming home. You take separate showers for practicality reasons. You downstairs and he upstairs so you and he could be in bed sooner than later. It is already 3 AM by now and Jungkook has to wake up early tomorrow.

He drops into the pillow, bangs hiding his eyes. You reach out with a soft chuckle, combing them out of his face. You tug them behind his ear, giving his neck a little scratch afterwards. He flutters his lashes, clearly enjoying the touch.

“My Bunny.”

He smiles with his eyes and holds the open hand you had resting on the sheets. Your fingers intertwine as tightly as possible. You guide your touch to his shoulder and upper arm, drawing little hearts on his clothed skin.

“I think we should stop going out. It’s so nice to stay home”, he says sleepily.

“If we do that, we’ll just end up as cave goblins.”

“That wouldn’t be bad. At least we would have each other and nothing could hurt us.”

“Mhm maybe you’re right, but in the end nothing can really hurt us, can’t it? We have each other.”

“Yeah”, he breathes and closes the distance, cradling the back of your head. He kisses your forehead then rests his own against it. His eyes fall closed.

You don’t want to close your eyes, gazing at him. When he is as close to you as right now, you swear that you get soaked in the glow of his sunlight soul until the very colours of your own soul shine brightly.

“I adore you”, he whispers.

“I adore you too”, you breathe.

“I’m so tired.”

“Then sleep, you have an early morning anyways. I hate when you get little sleep.”

“I don’t wanna.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t wanna end this. We are so together.”

“We’ll be together tomorrow too, I promise.”

“Not like this.” He pulls your closer, furrowing his brows. “Not like this. I won’t feel like this tomorrow.”

“How do you feel?”

“Like my soul is on my skin and I’m basically living in your own soul, like with each touch we share I find new meaning.”

“Oh Kookie”, you cradle the back of his head and kiss his forehead.

“Like this”, he gets out, hugging you as his face sinks into the softness of your chest. “It’s like I'm sinking into your essence. My soul feels so safe with you.”

“It is safe with me, my love”, you say softly, petting his hair soothingly.

Jungkook lets out a sound of relief, growing softer in your arms. You know that this means that he is losing his fight with sleep, that your warmth and scent are relaxing him beyond saving. You begin caressing his favourite spot on his head, the one which knocks him out within seconds.

“___, you can’t ever get hurt”, he gets out in a quiet sigh, exhaling deeply afterwards. His body grows slack. He fell asleep.

You kiss the crown of his head, keeping your nose buried in his hair afterwards.

“Sleep tight, my gentle hearted love”, you whisper and close your eyes, drifting off to sleep as gently as a boat drifting away on a calm ocean.

He says that his soul feels safe with you, unaware that he is the only person your soul ever felt safe enough to fall asleep with.

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silencesscreams · 9 months

Note

"is there any chance i can fix this?" where james and reader are best friends since birth but he begins to pull away and spend less time with her in favor of the boys, so she just cuts him out of her life and after a while he doesn't know how to deal with it anymore. hiiiii

sad beautiful tragic

james potter x fem reader (angst)

a/n: sorry about any grammar mistakes, english isn’t my first language (also i’m pretty bad at writing angst but i tried my best) also immediately thought of the title because of the taylor swift song, so hope you don’t mind the association. also the first kiss part came to my mind because of a tiktok i saw a few weeks ago but i don’t really remember who’s it was to credit them

warnings: friendship distancing, kissing, fighting, cursing, a bit short (sorry), happy ending

“i’m sorry, okay? i’m so sorry, honey, please. is there any chance i can fix this? just tell me, please”

you knew james potter and he knew you. knowing meaning comprehending each other, meaning that you stood by each others side for as long as you can remember.

he was your first friend. he was your neighbor and you both grew up together, it was expected that you both would know each other better than anyone.

sure, it felt different when you both started hogwarts and suddenly he had new friends, but so did you. you spent the time you could together, always saving a bit of your days for each other.

during the sixth to seventh year summer vacation, he had spent the whole summer with you, you both would hang out all the time.

until he kissed you.

it was the last day of summer and you both had spent the evening in his room. you were talking about a book you had been reading recently and he listened quietly, like it was the most interesting thing he had ever heard of. until you paused for a brief moment and he moved closer to you. you were sat on the floor with him, the carpet tickling your legs as you played with the fluffy yarn under you.

“honey” he said, you looked at him, doe eyed waiting for him to continue. “a phrase. two words, six letters, two vowels. guess.” he said lowly whilst looking at your lips. your mind went blank.

one vowel for each word. you still didn’t get it.

“what are the vowels?” you whisper back, he smiles.

“i and e” he answers, not taking his eyes from off of you for a second. you knew.

“kiss me?” and so he did. his lips met yours abruptly, his hands grabbed your hips and yours went straight to the back of his neck. it completely changed the way you ever saw him, hell, it completely changed your expectations to a kiss. it was better than anything you’d ever experienced and you loved it.

when you got back to school, it seemed like he didn’t do that, actually, it seemed like he didn’t even talk to you the whole summer.

sure, he did casually say hello in the halls and you might’ve shared one or two conversations, but what the hell? he kisses you like that and expects you to just forget about it? that was the most fucked up thing anyone could’ve done. as the semester went on, your mind was absolutely torturing you over that kiss.

it made you overthink every single thing you ever did around him. but maybe he didn't have time, maybe he was really busy with his studies and quidditch, right? that was probably it.

he saw you every once in a while, said an awkward hi or whatever that thing signaling head thing he did was.

the crush you had developed for him didn’t help at all. it made you crave his presence in your life, even now that you hated him more than you ever thought you possibly could. you missed his pet names for you, ‘honey’ and ‘sweetheart’ sounded so amazing coming out of his mouth.

but from the moment he started to ignore you, you decided he was absolutely done. he was never going to see a smile coming from you ever again, he was never going to get another hello, nothing. james potter didn’t deserve a single thing from you.

your friends agreed. they thought he was a piece of shit and said you should’ve cut him off a long time before.

life went on without him, you barely thought about him. your studies were going well, everything was great.

christmas break came up and when you saw james at the train station, you were pissed. you knew he was going to be there for christmas dinner, he was always invited alongside with his family. you didn’t know how he was going to act then, was he going to pretend it never happened?

when you got home, your mother instantly started asking you what you wanted for dinner and you were glad to be home, you just hated that he was in the house next to yours.

a few nights after you both got home, you were invited for a date by steven, who worked at a bookstore near the city park. you said yes, he took you to see a shitty movie and tried to kiss you after dropping you off at your front porch. you dodged it and gave him a good night kiss on the cheek. james saw it all.

once the date left, you heard him yelling from his porch:

“who’s that?” you ignored him and went inside, sure, you weren’t going to see steven again but james didn’t deserve to know that.

on christmas day you went to the potter’s for dinner, your parents insisted for you to go, even though you tried to fake being sick. sirius was there too, you politely greeted all of them and didn’t bother to answer james’ “hey”.

when you sat at the side of the living room table james sat next to you, even though that wasn’t his usual seat. you played with your dress awkwardly and ate less, being there was making you so irritated you lost your appetite.

after taking a bite from your dessert, you thanked euphemia for the food and told your parents you were feeling a bit sick and that you were heading home, telling them to enjoy the rest of their night.

as you were opening the door to head out, you heard footsteps behind you. you knew james was there and you had no interest to talk with him.

“don’t” you simply stated, stepping out and shutting the door lightly on him, he followed you during the small walk between both your houses.

“hey!” he shouted, trying to get your attention. you were about to shut the door to your house on his face, but he held it with his foot, going into your house.

he pulled you by your wrist but you tugged it away from him.

“don’t touch me!” you shouted at him, staring into his eyes for the first time that night.

“now you can talk to me, huh? ‘the fucks up with you?!” he shouts back, brows furrowed. you couldn’t believe him, what a fucking nerve he had.

“whats up with YOU?!” you step closer to him, throwing your keys on the coffee table in the middle of the living room. “you’ve ignored me for the whole semester and now you wanna talk?” he had never seen you like this. you had never been this angry at anyone or anything around him.

“i’m sorry?” he had no reaction, he knew he was wrong, he just couldn’t deal with it. with anything. he didn’t know what to do after he kissed you, he couldn’t handle any of it. he knew that if he spent more time around you he would fall harder, he couldn’t risk it.

“i’m sorry! now that you don’t have anyone else near for you to talk to, i’m worthy of your attention? i’m so lucky, right?!” your eyes started to tear up, but you held it in, he was not getting to see you cry.

“honey, i’m sorry i didn’t talk much with you these past few months, but i tried to speak with you tonight and you didn’t even bother to answer me!” he ran his hand through his hair, looking at you as you sat down on the couch, staring at your hands.

“you didnt even look at me. the entire fucking night. one lousy ‘hey’ is not trying to do anything” he handed you a piece of paper, it was crumpled up in his jeans’ pocket. you knew he was bad with words, but the paper was written front and back. what was he even trying to do? did he think a letter was enough to fix the damage he had done?

“really? you’re a little too late for this, don’t you think?” you said, looking at him angrily.

“fine, don’t read it then. just keep it, okay?” he knew you were about to cry. it was the worst feeling he had ever felt.

“you don’t get to do this to me, james” you hold back tears once you say it.

“i know, honey, i know” he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, cupping your face as you try to not melt because of his touch. he kisses you, but this time you pull away.

“no. don’t do this to me” you say, a single tear streaming down your face, he wipes it off but more tears just keep coming

“im sorry, im so sorry for everything i did and-“ you interrupt him.

“could you just try to listen?!” you shout, pulling away from his touch again. “what makes you think that i want this? after all you did, better, all that you didn’t do?! you kiss me and expect me to forget about it? expect me to be okay with you ignoring me all the time just because you kissed me again? i can’t be okay with any of this unless you actually explain to me what happened. i really try to understand you, but all of this doesn’t help!”

“i love you” he says “i have loved you all my life and i didn’t know, after i kissed you it all hit me and i couldn’t trust myself around you anymore, i didn’t want to hurt you so i pulled away, i just didn’t know it would hurt you more like that. i’m sorry, but im here now and i want to show you how much I do love you” he pauses and sits next to you on the couch.

“i’m sorry, okay? i’m so sorry, honey, please. is there any chance i can fix this? just tell me, please” he wipes the tears from off your face again. you knew he meant it, you just didn’t know how to trust him again.

“i don’t know” you whisper, looking into his eyes, you had never seen him look this sad. you wanted to trust him, you really did, but how could you? how could you know he wasn’t going to pull something like that again?

you couldn’t be sure of anything, you could only hope for the best and be careful. so you gave it a shot.

“come here” you say lowly, pulling him in for a hug. he buried his face in the crook of your neck and gave you small kisses.

“i’m so sorry, baby” he whispered.

“i know” you whisper back, he looks at you and gives you quick kisses all over your face. you can’t help but smile.

it was going to take a while for you to trust him again, but you knew you could.

#james potter x reader #james potter fic #james potter #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #james potter angst #james potter oneshot #james potter imagine #james potter fanfiction #mrsaluado #lila writes #silencesscreams

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elizaleclerc · 2 months

Text

vicious 🍒

charles leclerc x reader (smau)

summary: singer!reader starts soft launching a relationship with charles leclerc amidst a new album and tour after a messy breakup with lando norris...

song: (literally every single one mentioned lol)

author's note: back on my smau bs! faceclaim is sabrina carpenter bc DUHHH!!!! i honestly just loveee the messy drama and petty posts w this one

NEW ARTICLE: VANITY FAIR

After almost two years of fiery romance, pop singer Y/N and F1 driver Lando Norris split after cheating rumors

Rising pop sensation Y/N had temporarily put her music career on hold to accompany her new boyfriend, F1 rookie Lando Norris, on his journey to dominance. The couple's public debut was in Monaco, following Norris's first Formula One win last year. After being photographed together several times after that, the pair finally decided to be more public with their relationship, with Y/N attending every Grand Prix at Norris’s side.

The media was ablaze with chatter about their fairytale romance, causing fans of both stars to swoon and declare them the next "it" couple. For nearly two years, Norris and y/l/n were inseparable, gracing every magazine cover and dominating headlines. But suddenly, everything changed. Rumors began circulating that Norris had been secretly seeing a stunning model for the past three months, sending shockwaves through the fandom. Soon, the once inseparable pair stopped appearing in public together, leaving fans to speculate if their relationship had met its bitter end. Now, all eyes are on Y/N as she prepares for her highly anticipated next album. Will she address the rumors and set the record straight, or will we all be left in the dark?

yourname proud to announce my second album, vicious, will be yours november 15th <3 more news soon x

liked by f1, charlesleclerc, landonorris, and others

-user8465 YES YES YES

-user9902 oh we're about to get all the answers

-user4558 if the album is as good as the cover photo we are about to get FED

-user5041 everyone place bets on how many of these songs are about lando...

landonorris A steady couple of weeks for the team, ready to take on more tracks soon!

liked by maxverstappen, mclaren, f1, and others

-user4902 sir are you aware you are about to get cooked

-user5506 um id go into hiding if i were you

-user4558 people already jumping to conclusions yall calm downnn

-user1141 have you not SEEN the cheating rumors??

-user4558 we have literally no idea what happened between them tho

-user1141 girl i fear we are about to know tho

yourname all because i liked a boy :,)

liked by charlesleclerc, sonymusic, f1, and others

-user0402 please tell me the caption is a lyric on the album i might die

-yourname shhhh...

-user0402 I DIED.

-user5903 charles being messy in the likes i cant

-user4304 y/n i don't think we are ready truly

yourname the first single, feather, is out now for you to love and enjoy!! kisses

liked by charlesleclerc, sonymusic, yourbestfriend, and others

-user3560 oh she's moved ON.

-user2094 "you wanted me, no DUH" we all said in unison

-user3932 im so sorry for your loss lando!!!

-user8856 she really just called this man a waste of time...icon behavior

-charlesleclerc A tune.

-user6678 CHARLES??

charlesleclerc Feels good to have a couple wins under our belt, the fight for the championship isn’t over yet.

liked by yourname, f1, scuderiaferrari, and others

-yourname red looks best

-user7704 hey so what does this mean

-user5089 charles dominance could bore fans

-user6723 so no ones gonna say anything about y/n in the comments? okay

yourname the vicious tour, coming to a city near you <3 check my website for more info ;)

liked by maxverstappen, charlesleclerc, sonymusic, and others

-charlesleclerc the ticket is already in my cart

-yourname what a loyal fan <3

-maxverstappen can i tag along?

-user4783 omg what did i walk in on

-user4370 charles and y/n i- um- how did-

-user3904 i need this album like yesterday i cannot wait any longer

yourname vicious is officially out now!!! creating an album is always so daunting, but everything i went through this past year has brought me to where i am now :,) the lyrics, melodies, and tears flowed out of me like a literal waterfall and this record slowly evolved into something so personal and beautiful, and i hope you all love it as much as i do. for those who have bought tickets to the tour, i'll see you all so soon. xoxo

liked by charlesleclerc, landonorris, maxverstappen, and others

-user3204 i simply have no words this is beautiful

-user5103 how is it possible to both cry and shake my ass to this album

-user0989 i know lando is somewhere sobbing and shaking

-user6434 everyone reply with ur fav songs so far!!

-charlesleclerc Picture You ;)

-yourname cheeky.

-user5568 could it be perhaps...because...its about you, charles?

charlesleclerc WORLD CHAMPION! It feels so good to finally have a WDC. The team has put in countless hours of work this season and it finally paid off. Red Bull and McLaren challenged us all year, but I've always had faith in myself and this team. This is a moment in my career that I will never forget. I'm ready to enjoy some time off, but I'll see you on the track soon.

liked by yourname, f1, scuderiaferrari, and others

-yourname my champion <3

-charlesleclerc ❤️

-user6845 OMG THIS IS NOT A DRILL

-user3579 we all love you charles!!!!

-user9356 charles wdc and y/n soft launch in the comments yall are we okay

-user5602 once again lando is probably crying and throwing up

-user1362 karma tastes so sweet

-yourname tell me about it

yourname he's good for my heart ☀️

liked by charlesleclerc, f1, sonymusic, and others

-charlesleclerc mon amour <3

-user5412 she's got him using that heart im obsessed

-user7584 going from wag to wag again she's truly iconic i fear

-user0049 girl why hide the face we recognize that man anywhere

-maxverstappen Soft launch of the century.

charlesleclerc my two loves. welcome to our little fam leo <3

liked by yourname, maxverstappen, f1, and others

-yourname love u both <3

-user6731 oh my god i might cry

-user0823 u can tell charles is so perfect for y/n im so happy for them

-user7803 charles better treat her well or we ride at dawn

-charlesleclerc i'll love her forever

-user4812 CRYING I LOVE THEMMM

thx for reading!! might make a part 2 with y/n on tour...

#formula 1 #formula one #formula one fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 #charles leclerc #f1 imagine #charlesleclerc #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x reader #social media au #smau

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reminiscingtonight · 2 months

Text

There's People Watching

Alexia Putellas x Reader

Word Count: 3.3k

A/N: Timeline? I don’t know her. Started writing this early 2023. Based on the Jade LeMac song

[WOSO Masterlist]

Everyone always joked about it. About how great a couple you and Alexia would be.

Every time Mapi would poke fun at the two of you Alexia would just roll her eyes, a dangerous smirk playing at the edge of her lips.

Every time Leila would ask if there was something hidden in the charged looks you would exchange with each other you’d just push at her shoulders, expertly avoiding your best friend’s question with ease.

You and Alexia were the best of friends, partners in crime. Where she was the Queen, you were her Knight, more content to stand off to the side but still a steady force when she needed you.

You hadn’t always been in love with her. It crept up slowly on you, the admiration for your friend turning something romantic in nature as the years went on. Your mouth started getting dry whenever she came in the room, her smile set off butterflies deep in your stomach, Alexia became all your senses could focus on.

You were content leaving it as it was. Alexia has been in your life since you could remember, and you weren’t willing to risk it all on a little crush.

And then one drink filled night Alexia kissed you.

Your fate was sealed right then and there.

It made sense when Alexia asked for discretion. Being public figures, no matter how big or small, always came with some degree of scrutiny. Anything that could be kept private could be considered a blessing in disguise, and your budding relationship? Well that was definitely something Alexia wanted to keep to yourselves.

It’s sweet, the way she cares for you behind closed doors.

It’s beautiful, the way she loves you when no one’s watching.

And it’s fun, sneaking around. Stealing kisses when no one’s watching. Hiding in the shadows together.

Your touches were only meant for each other. Your love was only for the two of you to share.

It’s sweet, it’s beautiful, it’s fun.

It’s all those things until it isn’t.

Somewhere along the line, as Barcelona becomes a club whispered about in awe, as Alexia is pushed more into the spotlight, she starts pulling away from you. In the quiet of your home she’s still every bit the loving girlfriend you’ve come to know. But the second you walk out the door, the second all eyes are on you, you’re no longer Alexia and (Y/N). It’s no longer the two of you shouldering the weight of the world together. It becomes just Alexia. And just you. Two lovers pretending to be less than what they are.

But you love her. So you don’t say anything. You don’t try to convince her to love without abandonment.

Her image is important to her and Alexia is important to you too, so you stay quiet, content to love her in secret.

But there’s only so much one can take.

It’s on the eve of your second anniversary that the cracks finally start to show.

The two of you are at a gala, Alexia having to fulfill some of her media duties as captain and you not wanting to be without your girlfriend on such a special day. It’s not weird for your Barca teammates to be at such events so no one bats an eye when you show up together. Alexia usually bars you from going along with her to events, lest others figure out your relationship status, but she’s also slightly clingier given the day.

You’re careful to keep your distance after arriving. Never brushing hands, never exchanging prolonged eye contact. It hurts you to have to act like Alexia doesn’t mean a thing to you, but it is how it is.

You’ve been doing a good job. Smiling at the sponsors, exchanging small talk with everyone and no one. And then it happens. Alexia reaches across you to grab a drink from the waiter. On instinct your hand drops to her back, steadying the midfielder so she doesn’t fall over.

Alexia instantly stiffens.

You pretend it doesn’t hurt when she pulls away.

She’s quick to make her departure, claiming a need to talk to another one of the sponsors, but you both know the truth.

You’re internally cursing at yourself, but what’s done is done. You know the rules. You know what you can and can’t do, what she’ll tolerate in public.

It hurts, but it’s just the way things have always been and always will be.

It’s no surprise she stays on the other side of the room for the rest of the evening.

When Alexia’s pressing you against the mattress later that night, later when you’re back in the solitude of your apartment, you try to forget the pain through the pleasure. It’s easy to pretend you’re not just a secret when she whispers sweet nothings into your ear, one leg pressing firmly between yours.

When you fall asleep after she’s had her appetite sated, warm bodies pressed against one another, you can’t help but start to feel the cold ache of something unpleasant seeping in.

---

The break up was inevitable.

No matter how much you love her, you couldn’t deny how much it hurt when Alexia wouldn’t love you the way you deserved.

“You treat me like a stranger. You can’t even look me in the eye when we’re out with friends.”

Not having the social support that came with most relationships really helped drive this to the ground. Secret meant secret, no friends, no families involved.

It’s lonely pretending you’re not in love.

Even lonelier pretending you’re not in love alone.

“I feel like you’re ashamed of me.”

It’s sharp. It’s loud.

It’s deafening how much freedom sounds.

“I can’t do this.”

Alexia doesn’t give you another explanation.

You don’t ask for one.

When the door closes behind her, it feels like nothing makes sense anymore.

---

It’s been coming for a while now.

The nagging feeling that you need to do what’s best for your career. With your playing time dwindling as the season progresses as well as the end of your contract looming near, you know you have to start branching out your options.

You pretend your break up with Alexia doesn’t play a part in your focus on the pool outside of Spain.

There’s one offer that stands out among the rest.

Manchester City, the home of the blues. Ona’s already in the same city, albeit playing for a rival club, but her presence is one of the selling points that eventually convinces you to go. You’ve always had a soft spot for the defender, always considering her a younger sister even long after she left Barcelona. Although you’re rivals now, you’re more than happy to be reunited, one of the first bright spots in a couple weeks marred with nothing but sadness and hurt.

When news of your transfer breaks, Alexia’s one of the first to call.

You stare at your phone until it rings out to voicemail. Her contact photo, a beautiful picture of her mid-laugh that you had captured in what seems like another lifetime ago, sends sharp pains through your heart. You yearn for those secret weekend getaways she used to take you on, back before everything blew up in your face, back when this thing between the two of you was sparkling, new and exciting.

Sitting in your bare apartment, boxes piled up by the front door, you can’t help but feel cheated by the startling end to what could’ve been a love story for the ages.

---

Despite being the smaller person, Ona nearly barrels you over when you come out of your gate.

Laughing, you hug her back with the same vigor, quietly soaking in the familiar presence of a longtime friend.

She’s talking a mile a minute, eager to catch you up about her life in Manchester as well as try to get updates of the girls back home. It’s only a miracle that you get Ona to lead you out of the airport before she starts digging more into why you decided to leave all you know behind for the English league.

Everything’s so sparkly and new, it’s not hard to get lost in all the glitz and glam of moving to another country. You’re so caught up in all that’s involved with both moving clubs and country that you don’t remember to turn your phone back on until later that night when you’re finally ready to settle down for the night.

What you see there makes all of the elation you’ve experienced today dissipate.

Alexia Putellas: [I’m sorry]

You stare at the two words until they blur, until your screen times out and you’re left staring at a person you don’t recognize in the reflection of the dark screen.

---

Manchester is good to you.

You win some, you lose some, but damn does it feel good to find joy in your favorite game again.

With the way you’re playing it’s not a surprise when you get the call up for the Euros.

You’re nervous, of course you are, but you’d be lying if you said it was just nerves from representing your country.

The night before you’re set to meet up with the rest of the team you get a call.

On the screen is a name you haven’t seen in a while but one you haven’t stopped thinking about since you left Barcelona.

You hesitate for a moment, not sure if you should answer it. But Alexia’s always been your kryptonite. And a season spent apart would never be enough for that to change.

She sounds surprised when you pick up. There’s a sharp intake of breath, before she whispers your name out in awe.

“I want this.” Her voice is quiet, barely coming through the speaker.

You swallow. Suddenly the phone feels like it weighs a thousand pounds. “Ale.”

It’s one word, but both of you can hear the emotions there. The hurt. The silent plea for her not to do this to you again.

“I miss you.” She sounds frustrated, on the verge of tears.

If you close your eyes you can imagine the way she’s pacing back and forth in what used to be your shared living room. Alexia always had a knack for mindless pacing when she was frustrated, trying to work things out.

“Alexia, don’t.”

“I love you and I want to make this work.”

You tilt your head back, letting it hit your bedrest as you squeeze your eyes shut, ignoring the painful clench of your heart at her admission. The pinch of your nails digging into your palm is the only thing keeping you grounded as your voice comes out strangled, pained. “Why are you doing this?”

“(Y/N)--”

“Cállate, Alexia,” you hiss. You rub harshly at your face, trying to erase the traces of your tears despite your lack of witnesses. “Why? Why now? You had your chance to make me stay.”

Instead of answering your question Alexia returns with one of her own. “Have you moved on?”

Have you moved on? Well that was the question, wasn’t it.

You’re not sure if you should tell Alexia it’s hard to move on from someone you never stopped loving. Alexia never seemed to care about what you thought about your relationship. Why would she care now?

“Because I haven’t moved on.” It shouldn’t make you feel hopeful, the words she says when you don’t respond. Hope is a cruel thing but Alexia doesn’t seem to care about the turmoil in your head she sets off with just those five words. “Letting you go, that was the worst mistake of my life. I never should have thrown us away. I should’ve fought harder for us.”

It’s everything you wanted to hear, but nearly a year later you’re not sure if it’s too late.

“Tell me you haven’t moved on.” There’s a slight plea in her voice as Alexia all but starts begging. “I don’t know what I would do if you have.”

The seconds tick by and still you say nothing. You’re crying earnestly now, comforted only by the fact that you can hear Alexia trying to muffle her cries on the other line.

Everything hurts. Your head, your heart, your body. You’re just so sad and just so lonely and there’s only ever been one person who could take away your pain.

“I can’t walk away from you,” you whisper, the truth feeling like sandpaper in your throat. It stings and burns, but you could never lie to Alexia. Not even now. “You’re… it’s like you’re stuck in my veins and I couldn’t leave you even if I wanted to.”

It’s no surprise your torturous brain works slower than your mouth. By the time you’ve begun processing what this all means you’re already telling Alexia exactly what she wants to hear.

And when you finally fall into a tumultuous night of sleep you’re left wondering if love should really hurt this much.

---

“You’ve been driving me crazy.”

Sneaking away at the first possible moment isn’t at the top of your proudest moments, but you don’t find yourself minding much with Alexia glued as close to your body as humanly possible.

You’re a bit ashamed to say the two of you don’t do too much talking before picking up right where you left off. Caught up between preparing for the tournament and fighting for a starting position didn’t leave you with much time to figure out where things stood between you and Alexia.

And you definitely weren’t going to be one to complain as long as it filled the void left behind with your departure from Spain.

“Thank god for hot summer air, right?” You shamelessly grope at Alexia’s ass, grinning when she lets out another desperate noise.

“You’re a vision,” she groans, hands slipping under your shirt to palm at your abs.

“And you’re a tease,” you shoot back, laugh turning into a moan when Alexia turns her lips towards your neck. She peppers feather-light kisses all the way up until you reconnect your mouths again.

So caught up in each other, neither of you hear the door open behind you.

It isn’t until there’s a gagging noise echoing in the tiny room that you stiffen in place. Alexia jerks back, almost knocking over the shelf behind her as she tries to put as much space between the two of you as possible.

“There is such a thing as too much tongue, you know?” There’s a sparkle of amusement in Leila’s eyes as she takes in both of your disheveled states.

“Leila--” Alexia starts, but the defender doesn’t let her finish.

“The two of you are so lucky Mapi was too lazy to come grab the wrap herself. I volunteered to stop her whining but the amount of ammunition she would’ve gotten…” The Catalonian pauses, eyes switching from Alexia to you, finally taking in the look on your face.

From the moment Alexia leapt back, your face has been stony and unreadable. It’s out of character for you, someone who never hesitates to show your heart on your sleeve.

It’s such things about yourself like that you’ve had to sacrifice to love Alexia.

You don’t know if you have it in yourself to do it again.

Eyes lingering on your stiffened frame, it’s easy for Leila to know she walked in on something more important than a stolen hookup. She blinks slowly. “I didn’t see anything.” Her voice is suddenly serious, no trace of her previous laughter in them.

Leila gives you a nod of acknowledgement as she reaches past you to grab one of the wraps on the shelf behind you. Her hand gives you a small squeeze before she’s turning away, the door closing quietly behind her.

It’s quiet for a moment.

You find yourself wishing the silence would last forever. The knowledge of the only way this will end weighs heavy on your heart.

Alexia doesn’t seem to get your unspoken desire.

The midfielder runs a hand through her hair, letting out a nervous breath of air. “Well that was a close one.”

The smile on her face falls when she spots the way you haven’t so much as moved the whole time Leila was here.

“(Y/N).”

You step away before Alexia’s outstretched hand can touch you. Her hand falters mid-air, a stricken expression on her face.

She can tell by the look in your eye the decision you’ve come to.

“(Y/N),” she repeats, now with a slight plea in her voice.

Shaking your head you let out a quiet sigh. “I’m not doing this with you again.”

You only give yourself enough time to pause in front of the door, eyes still looking everywhere but at Alexia. All it would take is one look for you to break. And you can’t break. Not again.

“I deserve better than to be someone’s secret.”

You slip out, door closing in Alexia’s face before she has a chance to say anything in return.

---

You’re quiet all throughout dinner.

After the afternoon you’ve had, you have no appetite, simply pushing the food around your plate, taking a small bite here and there. It’s enough to fool the rest of your teammates, but Leila watches on with concern, your best friend knowing you better than most.

Having decided you’ve feigned eating long enough, you’re just about to get up from the table when a familiar blonde takes the spot right next to you.

You have to fight your sigh, simply turning away from the Catalonian.

She quietly murmurs your name but you ignore her. Patri’s looking at the two of you with intrigue, confused why you’re not giving Alexia the attention she so obviously wants. By the fifth time you pretend your plate is more exciting than Alexia’s attempts to get you to look at her, most of the table has picked up on the frosty vibes emanating from you.

Unable to get your attention, Alexia does the unexpected.

She drops her hand on top of where yours is resting next to your water. Moving softly, she intertwines your fingers together, holding on tight.

You look down at your hands, mouth parted in surprise.

You try to school your expression, but you can tell by Leila’s raised eyebrow that you’ve failed.

“There’s people watching.” You keep your eyes fixed at the table, knowing that if you stare into Alexia’s brown eyes you would break down.

You try to pull your hand away but Alexia’s hand tightens around yours.

“I know,” she murmurs, discreetly scooting her chair closer to yours.

Shutting your eyes, you let out a shaky breath. Her hand feels warm in yours, familiar.

You’re still frozen when she leans towards you, face inching closer and closer to yours.

“Let them watch.” She darts in to press a kiss against your cheek, dangerously close to your mouth.

Alexia lingers and you hold your breath, afraid to make any movements.

“Let them see how lucky I am to have you.”

When you turn to face her it’s hard to miss the love and adoration shining in her eyes. Alexia gives you a shy smile, hand lightly squeezing yours.

“I love you.”

You don’t miss the raised eyebrows and looks from around the table, but Alexia doesn’t spare them any time. Her eyes are trained on you, warmth and sincerity shining through her gaze.

You’re not ready to forgive her. But for right now, this is enough.

Letting Alexia love you is enough.

#alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas imagine #woso x reader #woso imagine #Ace writes

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luveline · 5 months

Note

Hi I love you coworker! James series feel free to ignore if you don’t like this idea but what if Remus convinced reader to go to a karaoke bar with them and she gets a little tipsy and signs her heart out and James is just heart eyes over it

thanks for requesting <3 fem!reader

“What is that?” James asks, genuinely scornful as he points at you where you’re leaning on the bar. “Is that another margarita? Jesus Christ.”

“You should be enjoying this.” Sirius smiles around the lip of his beer.

“Why would I enjoy this?”

“She’s coming out of her shell, isn’t she? You’re always calling her a priss.”

“She is a priss, but binge drinking isn’t the same as extroversion.”

Sirius taps their beers together. “And what are you doing tonight, James?”

James scowls as you collect your new drink. You’ve had four or five by now and they’ve more than started to affect you, your giggling endless, your hand wrapped around the crook of Remus’ arm for balance.

“Remus! It’s your turn, hun, get up here!” your general manager calls from the stage, a mic in her hand.

“Me!” you shout suddenly, to James’ shock and Sirius’ bright laughter. “Remus, please let me have your turn, please! I know exactly what song I want to sing.”

Remus, who’d convinced you to come through a lot of pleading and a promise that you won’t have to sing at all if you weren’t ready, looks at you like you’ve grown horns. “Are you sure?”

“Yes? Can I please?”

You take his arm into your hand and you look at him with widened eyes, thumb rubbing a line that James zeroes in on, doesn’t mean to, can’t believe he’s noticed at all. He’s irked you’d even look at Remus that way.

Because you’re annoying. Yes. Very annoying.

You drink a good half of your Margarita and ask Remus to hold it for you before you take the steps onto the stage and chat with your general manager about what song you want to sing. You put your hands on the mic stand and prepare yourself with eyebrows pinched together, determined, even though you look a little shaky at the same time. Sirius nudges James from behind, the two of them joining Remus in the small crowd of your coworkers as the music starts.

There are two screens for lyrics. A huge one for you, a smaller for everyone else beside you. You clutch the mic and stare resolutely at the bigger one as the melody becomes recognisable. James watches in what he thought would be smugness, but instead lays somewhere between awe and mild horror as you begin to sing.

The song is Brandy (You’re a Fine Girl) by Big Head Todd & The Monsters. James loves this song, he sings it every time he has to drive Remus to cornwall. He knows every word back to front and he likes how you seem to like it too, even if you’re butchering it, and the drunken slur to your words is ridiculous. You know the chorus well enough and sing it with a beaming smile. James maybe doesn’t like you, but it’s hard not to smile when someone else is happy like that.

“Don’t make fun of her, James! Please don’t, she’s trying her best,” Remus says at his smiling. “And she won’t come again.”

“I’m not,” he says, not bothering to look away from you.

Your eyes scan faces and get caught on his. He can feel the moment you realise he’s watching too, see your slight falter, and then, magically, your excitement. “James! It’s Brandy! You love this song!”

Sirius snickers at his expression. “Mate,” he says quietly, “I thought you didn’t like her?”

“I don’t.”

You stumble a little where you’re standing and James has to stand extremely still so as to prevent his hands from reaching out for you. “James, I didn’t take your favourite song, okay? You have to sing Don’t Stop Believin’! Oh, shit–” You don’t realise your cue to sing the chorus until it’s halfway through, but when you do find the right words, you’re extremely passionate.

“She sounds like Melly coughing up a hairball,” James says, wrinkling his nose.

An emotion far from disgust settles hot at the base of his neck.

“She looks cute,” Remus says.

“Sure, if you’re blind. And deaf.”

“Well,” Sirius says, “you do wear glasses.”

#james potter #james potter x reader #james potter x fem!reader #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #james potter fic #james potter fluff #james potter blurb #james potter drabble #james potter imagine #james potter fanfic #james potter fanfiction #james potter scenario #james potter oneshot #the marauders #marauders era #marauders

835 notes · View notes

4unnyr0se · 2 months

Text

❥ apple cider | tobio kageyama

warnings: timeskip! university! tobio, f! reader, she/her pronouns, virgin! tobio, cunnilingus, tit-sucking, hickeys, sub! tobio, cowgirl position, praise, needy! tobio, unprotected sex, hinata mentioned

MDNI | 18+ content

word count -> 6.2k

a/n: okay yeah lowkey i lost the plot a little bit but its tobio soo... also sorry if he's ooc i tried so hard

❥ song: apple cider - beebadoobee

Biology class was a pain in the ass, no matter what your major was. Whether it was an elective course or required for a biology major, it was god-awful. At least, it was god-awful for Tobio. He needed it for a science credit, and that class was the only one that wasn’t open. And it was a 6 PM-9 PM lecture, which was the greater of the two evils. So basically, he got the worst time slot for the worst possible class. And all because he slept in once class registration started for college sophomores. It's totally unfair.

But it wasn’t the stupidly long and late classes that pissed him all the way off, no. It was his annoying, stuck-up, sickeningly smart classmate who was the textbook definition of a know-it-all. Literal and metaphorical; you even dressed like one. Neck-length black turtlenecks with round nerd-like glasses and ankle-length skirts in tones that complement your skin so well. He hated you. He hated how you were better than him. And you were so smug about it. Your stupid little smirk would grace your features every time the professor praised you for getting another correct answer. Or when your professor praised you for “Breaking the curve yet again, spectacular! You’re going places.” God, that pissed him off—little miss brilliant, perfect you.

So one could imagine the rage he felt in his stomach when your professor made the both of you stay after class, well after the other students left, chattering about how lame the homework was and what parties were happening on Friday.

“Tobio, I asked you to stay after because your grades are…less than satisfactory,” your professor pushed up her glasses, gesturing to the piles of papers with his name scrawled out in chicken scratch. “I’m worried about your performance. If you continue on the path you’re on now, you’ll probably have to retake the class. That means you’ll fail three credits short and might have to graduate later than the others.”

Tobio shrugged, shoving his hands in his loose jeans pockets. “I can always take a class in the summer, can’t I?”

Your professor shook her head. “Unfortunately, no. I don’t work during the summer, and I’m the only professor that teaches this biology level. Besides, I know you have volleyball to attend to when you aren’t in class. It must be stressful, dealing with sports and academia.”

Tobio didn’t know what academia meant, but it sounded like school. “So, what? Are you going to tutor me after class or something?”

“Oh, no. As a professor, I cannot help students past my office hours. That’s why I’ve appointed my best student to tutor you until your grades are satisfactory,” she gestured to yourself. “She’s maintained a high ninety throughout the semester, so she should have no problem tutoring you.”

You waved at Tobio, smiling softly.

Tobio sighed and rolled his eyes. “No offense, professor, but is there any way that I can get somebody else to tutor me?”

“Do you two not get along well?”

“We just don’t know each other, that’s all. I think Tobio is just shy,” you stood beside him. “I promise I’ll do my best to help you improve your grades, honestly.” you flashed him another soft smile.

He thought the show you were putting on for your professor was impressive. “Fine, whatever.”

“Great!” your professor happily clapped her hands together. “In that case, why not start tutoring him tonight? I’m assigning an online quiz tomorrow that isn’t open note, so I hope you’ll score better than 60% this time, Tobio.”

You covered your chuckle with a false cough. His highest grade was a 60%. Oh, that’s pathetic. Adorably pathetic. “Yeah, we can walk to the library. Unless you have something else that you need from us, professor.”

Your professor shook her head and bid you two off, closing the classroom doors behind you. You and Tobio walked awkwardly to the library, his blue eyes glued to the ground below you.

“So, you play volleyball?” you tried to break the silence. He didn’t respond. “Did you hear me? I asked if you play volleyball.”

“Just shut up and walk. You hate this as much as I do. Stop pretending to like me. Our professor can’t hear you. No need to suck up anymore.” he brushed his black bangs out of his face.

You were taken aback by his words. “Okay, that’s fucking rude. Sorry for wanting to get to know you better, jackass.” you played with the necklace dangling from your neck, your eyes darting to look over at Tobio occasionally. He was tall, taller than you were. Built, too. You heard that he played volleyball in high school and won nationals a couple of times, and he was only a college sophomore. You thought he must work out regularly to keep his shoulders broad. He definitely had abs, too, rippling just under the compression shirt he wore-

“Oi, we’re here. Did your brain leave your head or something?” he grabbed your wrist, stopping you from slamming face-first into the library doors. “Watch where you’re going. Next time, I’ll just let you break your nose.”

“Gee, thanks. I feel so protected,” you sighed, walking to an empty study corner. Tobio took the beanbag, and you took the couch, taking out your flashcards and highlighters. “So, we’re currently on the human anatomy unit. This is one of the more complicated units, so I can’t blame you for struggling. One of the reasons I’m doing so well is that my high school offered human anatomy during my third year. I was good at it.” you praised yourself.

“Wow, really? Karasuno didn’t offer that.” Tobio leaned back in the bean bag, resting his arms behind his head.

“You went to Karasuno? I didn’t know you were from Miyagi.”

“I thought it would be obvious to you since you’re so smart or whatever.” he rolled his eyes, leaning forward. “Let's just get this over with. I have other shit to do besides getting babied by the class know-it-all.”

You slammed your flashcards down on the table, shooting him a glare. “Look, it’s not my fault you’re bad at biology. But I’ve been appointed as your tutor and won’t give up on you just because you’re mean to me. I’ve been called worse things. So suck it up and let me help you, you asshole.” you tossed your textbook at him. “Read this passage, and then I’ll show you the flashcards. Is that okay with you, or do you need further instruction, moron?”

Damn, he liked when you talked to him like that. He knew you were faking that kindness act just so your professor wouldn’t get upset with you. He was right. Tobio knew you had an attitude under all that nerd attire that made you look so fucking sexy. Wait, did he think you were sexy? No…right? You were his tutor. You were a total loser who dressed like that basketcase from The Breakfast Club. So why did he suddenly have the overwhelming urge to slam his lips against yours when you told him off? He shook his head, trying to erase the sinful thoughts from his mind as he read the passage in the textbook that lectured about menstruation. Ew, gross. Well, he guessed it wasn’t gross. It was natural. Besides, you would probably punch his lights out if he said it was gross. For once in his life, it was better to keep his mouth shut.

“Have you finished the paragraph?” your words snapped him out of his thoughts—a twinge of pink dusted his cheeks.

“Yeah,” he responded, closing the textbook. “I can’t believe you have to go through that every month.”

You shrugged your shoulders. “You get used to it eventually. At least I don’t have endometriosis,” you shuffled your flashcards, taking one out of the deck. “Okay, can you tell me the average amount of days that a person with a uterus gets their period?”

Tobio thought for a moment. “Uh…five?”

You slowly nodded. “Well, it’s closer to a week, but everyone is different, so I guess you’re technically right,” you pulled out another card. “Why do people with uteruses get cramps when menstruating?”

“Um…because the muscles in the vagina contract to…”

“To what?”

“To get rid of the lining…”

You clapped your hands together. “Very good! Did you already know some of this stuff?”

Tobio nodded. “I have an older sister. She gets really bad cramps, and the whole house turns into chaos whenever she gets her period. Chocolate usually helps…I would always make her chocolate milk.” He smiled to himself.

“Aw, that’s really nice of you. Your older sister is lucky to have a nice little brother, even if he’s a jackass to his biology tutor.” you snickered, putting away the flashcards. “Well, it’s been an hour already. I think we should wrap up. I’m hungry.”

“I’m not a jackass, shut up!” Tobio grew defensive, crossing his arms over his muscular chest. “I have to get to practice anyway. Hinata will start spamming my phone any minute if I’m late. He’s so annoying.”

You put your items in your bag. “Hinata? Like, Shoyo Hinata?” you pushed your glasses up to your face. “I know him. We eat lunch together sometimes. He’s hilarious.” you smile, and Tobio felt a jealous wave wash over him. You were the cutest girl he had talked to in a long time. Why did Hinata get to talk to you, too? Was he about to try something? Fucking Hinata.

“He’s actually really fucking annoying. He makes weird noises when he receives the ball like a toddler.” Tobio smirked, brushing the dust off his jeans. “But if you think he’s funny, you must be right. After all, you’re the smart one.” he teased.

You scoffed and rolled your eyes. “Don’t get pissy with me because you have a shitty grade in biology. So, what if you know how the menstrual cycle works? I bet you’re awful at the reproductive part of human anatomy.” you placed a hand on your hip. “We’ll meet here tomorrow at the same time. You get to learn about the vagina, which should be fun for you since you’re obviously a fucking virgin.”

“I am not!” Tobio huffed, staring daggers as you walked away. He wasn’t technically lying to you, but it also wasn’t the truth. Sure, he had done things with his mouth and hands, but he never went all the way. And Tobio was almost positive that you would bully him relentlessly if you knew that he was a virgin. And he also knew, way deep in his gut, that he wanted you. For whatever reason, he had to have you. You were so full of yourself and painfully smart, smarter than he would ever be. Tobio needed to fuck you so good that you would not doubt in your mind that he wasn’t a virgin.

The library was relatively empty, but it was a Saturday afternoon. Students who lived off campus were at their parent's house, and those who lived on campus were probably asleep in their dorms or doing other activities. It was a lovely atmosphere, especially without all the annoying frat guys using the library as a place to make out with girls in the nonfiction section. You and Tobio sat in the usual spot, except you both sat on the couch this time. Even though you didn’t particularly care for him, he was getting better at human anatomy, which you felt proud of.

“So, are you ready to learn about how we reproduce?” you opened your textbook to the bookmarked page. “I know we already learned this in high school, but it’s still an important part of the unit to review, just in case there’s a question on the exam next week that’s a curveball.”

Tobio sighed and took out a highlighter he bought exclusively for your tutoring sessions. “I can’t believe we have to go over this. We’re in college. We know how to fuck.” he blushed, tapping the uncapped highlighter on the thin paper of the textbook.

You cleared your throat. “Just because we know how the process is done doesn’t mean we understand the risks that come along with it. There are sexually transmitted diseases and ectopic pregnancies…there’s a whole list of things that can go wrong during sex. Luckily,” you pushed your glasses up the bridge of your nose. “Those things are relatively rare. Well, except for the STD portion. That’s why condoms are important, even when your partner is on the birth control pill.”

Tobio smiled slightly. “You seem to know a lot about this. Is there something I should know?”

Wow, he was never this smooth when it came to flirting. Usually, he was an awkward mess who stammered over his words and made a fool of himself.

You rolled your eyes and looked at him. “My high school just thought that being properly educated when it came to sex was important, that’s all. I’m not some sexual deviant if that’s what you were wondering. Would a sexual deviant dress like a librarian?” you gestured to your outfit.

Tobio’s eyes wandered to your tight-fitting sweater that fit snugly around your breasts and waist. The skirt you wore was thigh-length and oh-so-snug, and the stockings you wore underneath made you look like the prettiest librarian he had ever seen. “Do you want me to be honest, or is this one of those questions where I’ll be wrong no matter what I say?”

You closed your textbook. “No, be honest. Let me know what you’re thinking.”

Tobio took a deep breath, refusing to make eye contact. You were pretty, but damn, were you terrifying. “I…I think you look really fucking sexy when you dress like a librarian.” he squeezed his knuckles on his lap, looking down at his feet with a furious blush on his face.

You chuckled. “So you have a thing for librarians or something?” you moved closer toward the bumbling setter. “That’s not a bad thing, you know. Even though you’re incredibly stupid, you are…kind of cute.” you placed your hand on his trembling thigh.

“Don’t touch me there. It’s sensitive,” he whispered.

“Aw, you really are a virgin,” you softly purred, finding this whole ordeal amusing.

“I told you I’m not,” Tobio continued to lie. “I’ve…I’ve had sex.”

You sighed, pulling your hand away from his thigh. “You know, it’s okay if you are a virgin. I know I tease you about it, but it’s really nothing to be ashamed about.”

Tobio crossed his arms and grumbled. “My teammates say otherwise, especially the upperclassmen.”

You rolled your eyes yet again. “Tobio, they just say those things because of toxic masculine culture. You have to ask yourself if you honestly think you’re ready to lose your virginity if you’re emotionally ready for it.”

Tobio raised an eyebrow. “Why would I have to be emotionally ready? Don’t people fuck because they’re horny?”

“Well, yes, but it’s a very intimate act. You have to be mature enough to be vulnerable with your partner. This is why sex education is so important.”

Tobio racked his brain, thinking of what to say next. “Do you…want to come over tonight? T-to study, obviously. I have to get my grades up, or it’s my ass.”

You smiled, packing up your things. “We can just study in my dorm. I live alone, so it’ll be nice and cozy. Maybe we can do a practice quiz on female anatomy? I’m guessing you already know a lot about male anatomy.” you give him a suggestive smirk.

Tobio frowned. “Did you just say that I jerk off a lot?”

“You’re a nineteen-year-old in college. Of course, you jerk off a lot.”

“Shut up! God, you’re so pretentious.” Tobio shoved his hands in his pockets, leaning back against the couch.

“At least I’m not failing biology,” you stuck your tongue out playfully. “Come by my dorm building around nine. It’s the one by the dining hall, you can’t miss it. I’ll be waiting to buzz you in.” With that, you left, humming to yourself as if you didn’t give Tobio a million ideas on how to spend his time in your dorm. What if you brushed against his shoulder when going over terms, and his hand just happened to slide around your waist? Oh, it would be absolutely terrible if you got on top of him, caging him under your body as your lips trailed down further and further until they landed on his needy cock. Fuck, Tobio was hard just thinking about it. He grabbed a nearby throw pillow and whistled to himself, waiting for his erection to go down so he could walk to his dorm and prepare for tonight. In reality, nothing would probably happen…right?

It was 9:02 in the evening. The crickets played a tune outside your dorm hall as you sat down on one of the many chairs they had scattered on the lawn that were usually used during the springtime. The moon shone brightly in the sky, and the fireflies danced with the stars. Truely it was a perfect evening.

Except Tobio was fucking late. Sure, it was only two minutes, but what if he forgot? You didn’t have his contact information; emailing him was out of the question because that would be outdated. And so, you waited patiently outside for him to arrive. You couldn’t wait to lecture him.

“Yo,” Tobio waved. His backpack hung over his shoulders, and his cell phone practically dangled from his grey sweatpants. “Sorry, I’m late. My roommate was being an asshole, and we were yelling so much that I lost track of time.”

“You’re two and a half minutes late, dick,” you brushed the dirt off your knees, stretching. “I was considering going back inside and leaving you to fend for yourself.”

Tobio scoffed. “It’s only two and half minutes, damn. You really need to learn how to relax.”

You opened up the dorm building with your keycard. “If I relaxed, I wouldn’t be at the top of my class. Now, would I?”

“Whatever. Can we just get this over with? I hate studying.” he said defensively. It wasn’t technically lying; Tobio didn’t like studying, but he liked studying with you. He would never admit it, but you made the material easier to remember, and you actually cared about him getting decent grades for whatever reason.

“Don’t get your panties in a twist, princess. I live on the third floor, and the elevator is broken, so we’re taking the stairs.” you took off your hoodie and wrapped it around your waist, revealing your low-cut tank top. “C’mon. I don’t want to waste more time than we already have.”

“It was barely three minutes…” Tobio muttered under his breath as he followed you up the stairs, trying his best not to trip over the steps as his eyes constantly darted to your exposed cleavage. Fuck, you looked so fucking good. Did you even know what you were doing to him? Probably, you loved teasing him. Maybe if he got enough answers correct, you would let him bury his face in your breasts and suck little hickeys onto them.

“Okay, we’re here,” your dorm room was just at the end of the hall, nice and secluded. You jiggled the key in the doorknob and let him inside, the dorm walls decorated with posters ranging from your favorite TV shows to stupid ones you found while thrifting. “Make yourself at home. I’ll get my laptop to do online flashcards. If you get them right, you get to feed your little monster pet. Isn’t that fun?”

Tobio chuckled. “You have to rely on a game to study? And there I thought you were just books and, uh, other things.”

“Wow, so smooth.”

“Shut the hell up.”

You giggled and sat on your bed, patting the spot next to you. “Make yourself comfortable. This could be a while.”

“As long as it’s less than an hour, I don’t care.” he sat beside you, mindful of the space between. If he was any closer, he might be unable to help himself.

“Oh, honey, did you think you would be in and out of here in a tight thirty minutes? You could not be more wrong,” you mocked him, opening the flashcard application on your computer. “This will take maybe two hours so that you can learn all there is to know about the female body. Unless, of course,” you leaned in closer. “You don’t think you can handle it.”

Fuck, this is where Tobio dies. He’s going to die, and it’s because this sexy fucking nerd won’t give his virgin ass a break.

“I-I can handle it! I can totally handle it!” Tobio sounded so sure of himself, but the crimson blush decorating his cheeks gave it all way.

“If you say so,” you clicked on a flashcard. “Alright, what is the labia?”

Tobio thought for a moment. “Uh, it’s the folds of skin around the vaginal opening…right?”

You smiled. “Very good! You get to give the little monster a treat now.” You handed him the laptop. “You can click on what food you want to give him. I personally like giving him the rice cakes.”

Tobio chuckled at the tiny digital creature chewing on the snack. “This is kind of cute. I can see why you like studying now.”

You shrugged your shoulders. “Studies show that making learning fun actually helps the material stick in your brain for longer periods of time. Who knew?”

You clicked on another flash card once Tobio had finished feeding the virtual monster. “Oh, this is a fun one. How rare is the female orgasm without clitoral stimulation?”

“...why do I have to know this?” Tobio looked flustered.

“Just answer the damn question.” he looked cute when he was embarrassed.

“Uh, common…I think. I don’t know, I’m not a girl.”

You sighed and adjusted your glasses. “Wrong, sorry. It’s actually incredibly rare for a female to orgasm without proper clitoral stimulation. We often time have to fake it to please our current partner.”

He looked down at his socks. “That doesn’t sound very fun. Why do guys cum more easily than girls?”

“Because the sperm fertilizes the egg, and women don’t need to orgasm to produce the egg, obviously.”

“And how was I supposed to know that?”

You rubbed your temple. “Because the textbook is right in front of you, dummy. Anyways,” you looked at Tobio. “Don’t feel bad. We have sex toys and stuff so we can get proper orgasms.”

Tobio scratched the back of his neck. “Has…has anyone ever made you cum?”

You were silent for a moment. “No, not even once. I had a boyfriend who was convinced he knew where the clit was…he always got it wrong.”

“Sorry to hear that,” why did Tobio feel bad? He wasn’t your boyfriend…did he want to be?

“S’not your fault, don’t apologize.” you pat him on the back, the faintest shade of ballerina pink on your cheeks. “Well, we should probably get back to studying now.”

Tobio closed the laptop. “We could study a different way…o-only if you want to.”

“What do you mean? Like, without flashcards?” you were faking your innocence. You knew exactly what he was talking about.

“Are you seriously going to make me say it?” Tobio forced himself to look at you, drinking in your natural beauty. Holy fuck, you were so gorgeous.

“Yeah, I really am,” you leaned forward, licking your lips. “Go on, tell me how we can study a different way. I’m so eager.”

Tobio groaned to himself at the sight of your pink tongue licking your bottom lip, making you seem even more tempting. “We could, dammit, we could have sex a-and you could show me how to…y’know, make you feel good. O-only if you want to, I would never force you to. It’s not like I’m desperate for sex or anything. Who said that? Not me-” You cut him off by placing a manicured finger on his chapped lips.

“If you want to fuck, then let’s just fuck. I’ll teach you along the way, alright Tobio?” you placed your laptop on the dresser beside you, climbing into his trembling lap. Your soft hands cupped his flushed face, the scent of your vanilla hand cream filling his nostrils with a pleasant aroma. “Do you want me to fuck you, Tobio?”

“God, yes,”

With his approval, you gently pressed your lips against his. He quickly melted into the kiss, wrapping his muscular arms around your waist so your chest was flush against his. His lips moved slowly against yours as if he was terrified to do something that would upset you. You giggled into the kiss, shifting in Tobio’s lap to get more comfortable.

He groaned into the kiss, his hands squeezing your hips with feather-light force as your tongue bore into his mouth, dancing with his own before pulling away. Your arms secured themselves around his neck, fingers tugging on the loose strands of midnight black hair. “Did you like kissing me, Tobio?” you purred, your petal-like lips trailing kisses down his thick neck.

“Y-yeah, I really fucking liked that,” God, his whimpers would be the death of you.

“Do you know what a hickey is, Tobio?”

“Not really…” he felt ashamed of how little he knew.

You frowned at his downtrodden tone, rubbing his cheekbone with your thumb. “Hey, don’t say it like that. It’s okay if you don’t know what a hickey is. I’m your tutor, don’t you want to learn?” he nodded.

“So why don’t you let me show you then, hm? I’ll be gentle, I promise.” you kissed up and down his neck until you found a spot that made Tobio gasp. “Is this where it feels good?”

His sweatpants strained. “Yeah..really good,”

Your teeth nipped at the skin. “This might hurt, so tell me if it’s too much. Can you be a good boy and do as you’re told?”

Another whine escaped his puffy lips. “Yeah, I’ll be good for you.”

Your lips descended onto the previously marked spot, taking his skin between your teeth and sucking ever so slightly. His once light grip on your hips strengthened as you bit down on the sensitive flesh, sucking the tiniest purple bruise that would surely blossom into a beautiful hickey. You pulled away, catching your breath and brushing your hair out of your field of vision. “How did that feel, pretty boy?”

Tobio’s cock was painfully hard in his boxers. The grey sweatpants were not doing him any favors in terms of concealing his throbbing erection. “Shit, that felt so fucking good,” his hands traveled down to the bottom of your shorts, fidgeting with the cotton fabric. “Can I have another one, please?”

You pecked his nose. “Only because you asked so nicely.”

His head craned to the side to give you better access as you bit at the other side of his neck, suckling on the same place opposite the first hickey. Whimper after shallow whimper fled his lips, his calloused hands from years of volleyball sliding under your shorts to toy with the fat of your ass.

You gasped at the sensation, pulling away prematurely. “Somebody’s certainly handsy tonight.”

“S’not my fault,” Tobio looked away. “Just wanted to feel more of you, that’s all. Not my fault that you’re pretty.”

“You’re cute,” you pecked his lips, your glasses pushing up against the bridge of your nose. “Tobio, do you wanna continue being a good boy for me?”

“So fucking badly, please. I’ll do whatever you want. Just make me feel good.” Holy fuck, he was sure he had never been more embarrassed in his whole life. He would never say something like that. The power you held over him was unmatched.

You rolled yourself off his lap, propping yourself on the bed by your elbows. Teasingly, your hands reached under your shirt and pulled it off, your bra following after. The cold and arousing air of your dorm room grazed your tits, your nipples perking up at the temperature change. “Why don’t you take that shirt off too, hm? Don’t be shy now.”

Tobio didn’t need to be told twice. He practically ripped his shirt from his body. You didn’t even get a chance to admire his toned form before his lips were on yours again, his muscular body caging yours as his rough hands left trails of molten lava on your breasts.

“Fuck, Tobio,” you moaned into the kiss, wrapping your legs around his slender waist. “D’ya like what you see, pretty boy?”

He didn’t answer. His lips wrapped around your nipple, eagerly sucking at the sensitive mound while his other hand toyed with the supple flesh. You let out a content sigh as his mouth alternated between breasts, not leaving one abandoned for a moment.

“Fucking love these tits,” his voice rumbled against your cleavage, covering your scorching body with sloppy open-mouth kisses. “You’re so fucking pretty.”

Your hand danced between his messy hair. “Good boy. You’re being so good, Tobio.”

His hips rutted against yours, his clothed erection desperate for any kind of friction. “Wanna make you feel good,” he groaned as he tore his mouth away from your breast. “Please, teach me how to make you feel good.” he didn’t even care how desperate and pathetic he sounded. All he knew was that he needed you.

“Take my shorts and panties off,” you lifted your hips off the mattress. Tobio didn’t need to be told twice. He pulled your soft shorts off and tossed them on the ground beneath you, your panties soon dangling over your ankle. “That’s it. You’re such a good student, Tobio.”

Fuck, your body was to fucking die for. Your glistening heat was so incredibly tempting. He wondered what you would taste like…if you would permit him to taste you.

“Do you know what oral sex is?”

“Y-yeah, of course I know. I’m not an idiot.”

You nodded in satisfaction. “Now, do you want me to show you how to make a girl cum on your tongue?”

His nod was a bit too quick.

You chuckled. “Alright then,” your delicate hand spread over your pussy, circling your clit. “This is the clitoris. When you apply enough pressure to the clitoris, that’s when your partner will probably orgasm. Fingers sometimes do the trick,” you looked deep into his gunmetal eyes. “But the best thing to do is to suck on it with your mouth. Can you be a good boy and do that for me, Tobio?”

“Mhm, I-I can do that. I’ll make you feel so fucking good, I promise.” he lifted your hips so they rested on his thighs for support. The hot breath from his tongue sent electric shocks throughout your body, complimented only by his whimpers as he flattered his tongue against your soaking heat.

“Fuck,” you sighed, tossing your head back against your plush pillows as Tobio slowly dragged his tongue up and down, occasionally stopping to suck on your clit. Your hands flew to his unkempt hair as he grew greedy, quicking his pace. The calloused tips of his fingers squeezed the supple skin of your thighs as his nose brushed against your most sensitive bud, lapping at your sobbing cunt like a man starved.

“T-Tobio, fuck!” you cried out, arching your back further into the mattress as his pace quickened like a man on a mission. His tongue and lips worked against your core in a fierce heat, not being able to think of anything else except pushing you over the edge, just like you asked him to. Your thighs clenched around his head as his thumb found your clit, swirling electric circles. “I’m so fucking close, don’t stop!” his name fell like a mantra from your lips as he continued his brutal pace, groaning as you tasted too incredibly sweet on his tongue.

He lifted his head from between your thighs, his mouth covered in your slick. “Am I doing a good job? Do you feel good?”

You shoved his head back down. “Yes, just keep going. I’m so fucking close, Tobio, please.”

The sound of you begging was all he needed to drive you over the edge. He buried himself in your heat, his thumb being replaced by his middle and ring finger as he drew rough circles against your clit, his tongue darting up and down like a madman. With one final cry of ecstasy, you came crashing down as your orgasm sent shockwaves of pleasure throughout your molten figure. His tongue worked you through your orgasm, lapping up every last bit of your release.

You pulled him up by his hair, your face flushed with the deepest shade of pink he had ever seen. “Fuck…that was so fucking good. You’re such a good boy. Do you want your reward now?” Before he could answer, you flipped over so he was under you, your body still shaking from the aftershocks of your orgasm. His sweatpants were discarded, and boxers hung on his ankle.

“What are you doing?” Tobio whined as your thumb teased his throbbing cock, gathering precum on it as you tasted him. “Fuck, it feels so fucking good.”

You hovered above his length, aligning it with your entrance. “Shh, just think about how good I’m about to make you feel, okay?” you lowered yourself down onto his cock, hissing as your greedy pussy swallowed his length.

“What about, oh fuck, what about condoms?” Tobio whimpered, his hands finding your hips as you sat on his pelvis, the walls of your cunt squeezing around his cock.

“Well, you’re a virgin, and I’m on the pill. It’s safe to assume that you’re clean.” you groaned as you lifted yourself, the head of his throbbing cock sitting snug in your walls before you slammed yourself back down.

“Holy shit,” Tobio rasped, squeezing his eyes shut as you began to slowly bounce on his cock. “Y-you’re so fucking tight, oh my fucking god.”

You leaned down to kiss him, whispering sweet nothings against his lips as you raised and lowered your hips, creating a steady pace that filled you up so nicely. “Yeah, you like me fucking you?”

His grip on your hips tightened as you set a relentless pace, your dorm room filling with the echoes of skin smacking against skin as his cock disappeared in and out of your cunt. “Shit, I’m not gonna last if y’keep that up. Fuck!” he shouted as his cock brushed against your cervix. The sight of your bruised breasts bouncing in his face only drove him further to the edge of euphoria, taking your nipple in his mouth as you continued to ride him.

“Yeah? You want me to fuck you harder, Tobio? So fucking greedy.” you were met with a wanton cry as you slammed down even harder, his cock twitching inside of you. Your pace grew sloppy as he continued to suck on your breast, his calloused hands roaming up and down your backside, desperate for purchase.

“M’not greedy!” Tobio whined, practically sobbing into your harsh kiss as your walls clenched around him, milking him for all he was worth. “Gonna fucking cum, fuck! Can I cum inside? Can I please cum inside your pussy?” his pride has long since been thrown out the window, his release the only thing in his head. Tobio didn’t even wait for you to respond before his climax crested, shooting white hot ropes of cum into your pussy, his hips bucking up into yours as he rode out his incredible high.

The warmth in your core enveloped you as your bouncing ceased, letting him recover from the aftershocks of euphoria. His mouth was agape, and his gorgeous blue eyes could barely be kept open.

“You’re so cute,” your hands cupped his cheeks, kissing his nose as you got off of his ruined cock. His body was scooped into your arms, fingers drawing random shapes and patterns on his chest as he recovered. “Did that feel good, pretty boy?”

Tobio could only grumble in response. “So good, so fucking good. Love that pussy,” he whispered, curling up deeper into your arms as you tended to him.

“Do you need anything? A glass of water, a snack?”

“I’m not five years old…” he sighed, peeking up from your arms. “Can we just cuddle or something? I don’t wanna leave just now.”

You raised a brow. “No one said you had to leave right away. Where that stereotype came from, I will never know.”

Tobio shrugged. “I dunno either. It’s stupid, anyway. You’re so warm.”

“Are you sure this isn’t the same guy who was being such a hard-ass a couple of days ago?” you chuckled, fluffing his hair.

“No! Shut up,” he frowned at you, pecking your cheek. “Let’s watch a movie so I don’t have to keep looking at your stupid, pretty face.”

“Hey, Tobio,” you whispered in his ear. “If you get a good grade on that quiz next week, I can show you what my mouth can do.”

#haikyuu smut #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!!#kageyama tobio #kageyama smut #kageyama x reader #kageyama x reader smut #karasuno #tobio kageyama

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jjkilll · 2 months

Text

the one where your cat has jk’s tounge

- pairing I bestfriend jk x y/n

- warning I smut, oral (f receiving)

- song I cat got my tongue - trey songz

- wc | 2.1K (this was way longer than i intended... whoops)

——-—-—-—-✫-—--—-—-——

“i know you probably don’t want to hear this but that time i slept with jungkook-“ you screamed covering your ears. “nope nope. i don’t wanna hear it your right.” you scream at your friend maya.

“i’m just saying he gives amazing head, like if he wasn’t so non-committal i would have snatched him up by now,” she says. you slap her shoulder “come on you know he’s hot. i don’t know how you two haven’t fucked yet. i mean i wouldn’t be able to last ten minutes around him with his shirt off.” you roll your eyes, “he rarely has on a shirt and he’s never seen me that way.” you say.

“but you’ve seen him that way?” she asks. “no.” you lie. “oh shut up tell me now.”

“no it’s not even like that, he just- i heard him one time. he thought i wasn’t home and he was- he was umm-“ you trail off thinking of if you should even say what you’re thinking.

“um um- come on spit it out.” she urges

“he was jerking off, and he’s just so whiny. that shit sounds so hot but then once i remember that was him… he’s my best friend.” you explain.

“but he was like begging, i swear it was the hottest thing i ever heard.” you chuckle. “once he saw me he was like super embarrassed and asked if i heard him. i lied of course told him i had just got in.” maya whoops, “you have to fuck him. i just saying that woman to woman. that man can fuck.” you groan.

a text from him pops up on your phone

[j-kay] hey wanna watch a movie when you get back? my date got canceled.

“aww his date got cancelled,” you tell maya.

“poor girl just missed the best dick of her life.”

“enough about jungkook’s dick, maya.” she shrugged. “well i gotta go, he wants to watch a movie.”

“leaving me for a man. i thought we were friends…” maya dramatically sighs. “hush it’s just jungkook.”

“correction! big dick jungkook.”

“maya!!” you scream.

“okay okay, im sorry that’s it.”

“it’s not. i know you,” you say rolling your eyes.

“you know me so well.” she replies

“whatever see you later.” you say leaving the cafe

——

“hey your back!” jungkook says, of course, he’s shirtless.

“you didn’t text. i thought something was wrong,” he said watching you get settled in.

“no, nothing wrong,” you say trying to convince yourself.

“what’s wrong?” jungkook asks quickly.

“i just said nothing's wrong.” you both say in unison. somehow he already knew what you were going to say. “am i seriously that predictable?” you ask staring at him. “no, you just can’t lie to me.”

“nothing happened i went out with maya.”

“maya? like the maya i-“

“okay you slept together, i get it.”

“oh! you were talking about me.” he realized.

“whatever just let it go.” you say not even wanting acknowledge his realization.

“what did she say about me?” he asks following you to your room. “nothing.”

“she said something or you wouldn’t be acting so weird.” jungkook says. “she said i had a small dick didn’t she?” he groans. “no, stop asking.”

“you know i do the opposite oh whatever you tell me right?” he says with a chuckle.

“just tell me. whatever it is isn’t that serious i promise.” he explains.

“no.” you protest against.

“seagreen.” he says simply.

seagreen is a code word for you and jungkook, once one of you says it whatever the other has to reveal will come with no consequences. no one gets upset, you just listen and try to understand. you both get two each year. this was jungkook’s first of the year.

“no.” you say simply, you look at him in disbelief. “i don’t want to say it jungkook.”

“you can’t say no, i said seagreen. tell me.” he pushes. “i’m sure whatever she said wasn’t even that serious.”

“she said you give good head.” you crack under pressure. he looks at you with wide eyes before he laughs. he falls onto the floor laughing. “jungkook.” you call as he laughs louder.

“that’s what’s got you all upset. i give good head?” he laughs again.

“and you have a big dick,” you say and he starts screaming with laughter.

“i thought- i thought she told you some stupid shit. mean while it’s just that i have a big dick.” he hold his stomach trying to calm his laughter.

“seriously is that why you’re so upset?” he asks.

“no.” you say realizing now your going to have to tell him what’s really wrong.

“so what is it?” he asks.

“i don’t want to tell you.”

“y/n seriously i’m done with the back and worth. tell me what’s wrong.”

“don’t make me beg.” he says. your body shutters. “i heard you.” you say simply exhaling. “you heard me what?”

you look at him in silence for a moment. “y/n.” he calls you.

“i heard you masturbating, and you were like…” you trail off. he stares at you. “you were like whimpering and begging.” the silence between you is thick. “i thought-“ you start.

“you thought what?” he asks tucking his bottom lip between his teeth, laser-focused on you.

“i thought is was kinda hot. no like really hot, and im a girl. there’s only so much i can really take. you are always shirtless, you like drip sex. you all any of my friends talk about is your huge dick.” you rant.

“so… you’re upset with me… because i have a big dick?”

“no, you treat me like a dude! i mean am i not hot? you don’t respect me as a woman. im sexy and hot, yet you don't ever fuck me.”

“i don’t respect you? i cancelled my date for you. i try not to punch any guys who get up in your face on some bullshit. you know how bad i want to fuck you? huh, but i hold back because i do in fact respect you. i respect the fact that you’ve never made a move on me. i respect the fact that you’ve never seemed interested in me. so i’m sorry i fucked maya and not you. you have to open your fucking mouth because closed mouths don’t get fed.” he’s angry now. his neck is on fire and he’s getting ready to explode.

“you want to fuck me?” you ask.

“oh course i do! i have for years. so do all of my friends! taehyung asked me last year to take you out and i was on the bench for a week because i choked him in the lockerroom.”

“i haven’t had a date in months because of you?” you push him. “fuck yea! nobody deserves you. all they wanna do it get in your pants.”

“you make me so fucking mad sometimes. if anything you don’t respect me. you strut around in those revealing ass outfits with your ass hanging out. don’t even hold back your moans when you’re masturbating, i hear you all the fucking time. you’re a fucking hypocrite. when we play just dance you don’t ever wear a bra. you’re tits just fucking bouncing. do you know how hard it is to care about flo rida when a hot girl’s tits are bouncing in your face?” you look at him and laugh.

“what’s so funny, y/n?” he asks finally cracking a smile at your laugh. “it’s not- not the situation but it’s just- holy shit it’s just the question itself is like funny as fuck. “do you know how hard it is the care about flo rida when a hot girl’s tits are bouncing in your face!” you scream laughing. “it founds fucking ridiculous!” he laughs along with you. “it does i know.” you too both laugh so hard you fall the floor.

“come here,” he says after your laughs settle. you shuffle over to him and hug him. “i do respect you. you are the most beautiful and smart woman i’ve ever met. i really do want you and not just sex. i wanna do everything with you,” he says rubbing your back.

“you really cancelled your date?” you ask with a pout.

“to kinda put into perspective how many dates i’ve cancelled, i’ve never got canceled on. all me. that’s why amber from the coffee shop hates me.”

“that explains why all my teas are gross,” you say frowning your face. he laughs brushing your hair behind your ear. you smile at him. “how did you guys even get on the topic of me giving head?” he asks. “well you remember the guy i was with?” he rolls his eyes. “yea that dumbass dylan.” he laugh. “he didn’t want to give me head but always wanted me to give him head. he’d tell me he didn’t feel like it or that he didn’t do that type of stuff. i was just asking maya how it felt and that’s when she told me how good you were.” he nodded but then stopped. “wait you’ve never gotten head before?” he asked shocked.

“never.”

“i mean we can still change that if you’re down.” he offers. “if im down?! maya says your head is life-changing, lay it on me.” you say opening your arms wide. “you’re such a freak.” he says laughing.

“lie back.” he says lifting up the little yellow sundress that covers you. your white lace panties on full display. jungkook rubs over your panties and you moan. “oh shit, you sound so pretty. whose whiny now?” he asks as you buck your hips up onto his hand. he uses his middle finger to slide your panties to the side. “oh you’re soaked.” he says taking his middle and index fingers and sliding them between your folds, he licks the slick of you off his fingers. “you taste so sweet.”

you groan. “come on you’re teasing.”

“patience, baby. just relax,” he says calmly bending over and kissing your lips. they were so soft and plump and you love the feeling of his lips on yours. he kisses you deeply this time, sliding his fingers into you. you moan giving him the chance to stick his other fingers in your mouth.

“shh the neighbors will complain.” he teases fucking you with his fingers you’re a moaning mess. “aww my little toy.” you use your hand trying to push his fingers away as you become more sensitive. “no you can take it. you haven’t even had my tongue yet.”

“you can take it can’t you?” you ask taking his fingers out of your mouth. you moan uncontrollably and he pulls out slapping your pussy. “come on answer my question, baby i’m talking to you. too fucked out to focus?” he continues rubbing circles on your clit. “yes- please please i need you- please just keep going.” you beg, squirming under him.

without warning his fingers plunged back into you fucking you quickly. “look how wet you are my god.” He groans eyes locked on your pussy and how pretty you look submitting to him. his hand wraps your throat. he curls his fingers and hits your g-spot repeatedly. “right there! oh my god! oh fuck! i’m gonna cum.” you scream grinding against his hand. right before you come undone jungkook takes his fingers out of you. you clench around nothing trying to catch your breath. “jungkook, what the fuck?!”

you sit up and he giggles. “lay back baby, i want that cum on my tongue.” you moan bucking your hips up at jungkook lays on his stomach in front of you. he blows cool air on your pussy and you whine. “please don’t tease me. please let me cum.”

“okay, okay im sorry baby.” he smiled before kissing your thigh. he licks a long stripe up your pussy before spitting and sucking on your clit.

your mouth forms an O as you have trouble breathing. you breathe in deeply before moaning. “oh my god! what the fuck? oh my god!” you whine sitting up on your elbows and watching him as he fucks you with his tongue rubbing your clit with his hand. you grip his long fluffy hair in your fist. “i’m-“ you babble something unintelligible. “uh-huh” jungkook hums flicking your clit with his tongue as you cum all over his tongue and mouth.

you weakly fall back onto the floor, your thighs shaking as he continues to slurp you up, licking you clean. “you taste so good.” he says with a smile lying beside you.

you look at him, your eyes half wide. “you can only eat my pussy forever.” you whisper to him and he lets out a big laugh. “i’m serious.” you laugh with him. “you’ve like ruined me for anyone else.” you say.

“oh, my dick’ll drive real you fuckin crazy then.”

——-—-—-—-✫-—--—-—-——

#bts jungkook #jungkook #jungkook jeon #bts #jungkook smut #bangtan jungkook #jeon jungkoooook #bts army #jeon jungkook #bangtan smut #bts fic #bangtan #bts fanfic #bts smut

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andvys · 4 months

Text

Dancing with our hands tied | S.H.

Chapter seventeen ⭐︎ What am I supposed to do? If there’s no you.

Warnings: slight angst, mentions of unrequited love, mean!robin, slight jealousy, this chapter is mostly written from Robin's pov and there are only a few moments of Steve's and Blondie's pov

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: Robin uncovers Steve's secrets and more... but he doesn't get the reactions from her that he expected.

Word count: 6k+

Author's note: @hellfire--cult and I came up with some new ideas for the story and uh, buckle up and enjoy it... hehehe also thanks for helping me, my love

Series Masterlist ⭐︎ Previous Chapter ⭐︎ Next Chapter

♡

Steve’s smile seems permanent nowadays, never falling, always lingering, even when Keith is scolding him about something he had done wrong or hadn’t done at all.

His skin is glowing and his eyes are full of happy emotions, he seems giddy, always excited about something.

Until now, Robin was sure that she had seen him happy before – when he saw her again after she went on a two weeks trip with her mom, when his favorite movie came out and he dragged her to the theater, when he found the perfect brown coat that he had been looking for at every store for weeks.

And yes, he was happy in these moments, but this, the happiness that is stuck on his face now, is something else, something different, something deep.

And whatever it is that is making him happy, should make her feel the same way, because he is her best friend, and all that she wants for him is exactly this – happiness. But how can she feel any positive emotions, when he is keeping secrets from her? When he isn’t letting her be part of this? When he is cutting her out?

Robin was always sure that they would never keep secrets from each other, but it’s happening, it’s happening again for her, being pushed aside, being left out, losing a best friend – because this is what it is, right? She is losing him, he is beginning to cut her out of his life, not telling her things he would’ve normally not shut up about, because he talks about everything with her, at least he used to.

This is how it always begins, this is always the first step of losing a friend. She is no stranger to it.

But it hurts, it hurts worse than it ever did before.

Because this is Steve, someone she considers a soulmate.

Someone she thought would never do this to her.

“What’s with the grumpy face?” Steve asks, pulling her out of her depressing thoughts.

Robin raises her eyebrows, looking away from the passing trees, she sinks deeper into the passenger seat and turns her head to look at him, shrugging.

“Is everything okay?” Steve asks as he glances at her with a look of concern.

No.

She should say no and confront him but she doesn’t know how without making things awkward, without pressuring him to talk, without risking losing him sooner than later.

“Yeah,” she mumbles and reaches for the backpack between her feet, busying herself with it as she rummages through the tiny pockets to find her chapstick.

“Are you sure?”

She can’t help but roll her eyes at the skeptic tone in his voice, she keeps her head low, gaze locking onto the chapstick she has been looking for, she picks it out and leans back again.

“Yeah, just tired,” she murmurs.

Steve keeps glancing back and forth between her and the road, holding the steering wheel tightly as he shoots her a teasing smirk, lowering the volume of the song playing.

“Long night with Vickie?”

Her lips twitch and despite the annoyance bubbling inside of her, her cheeks heat up, growing darker until she’s blushing red. She applies her chapstick, welcoming the peach taste on her lips. She can feel his eyes on her, and it only makes her blush deeper as she hides her face from him.

It confirms his question and it makes him chuckle.

“I’m glad you’re having fun, Robin.”

“Shut up,” she murmurs under her breath, unable to fight the redness off her cheeks. She closes the chapstick again, putting the cap back into place, she leans down to put it back in her backpack when it falls from her hands and rolls under the seat, making her groan and curse in annoyance.

“Always turning into a klutz when you’re nervous,” Steve comments, causing her to glare at him.

“I’m not nervous.”

Steve chuckles, narrowing his eyes at her, “yes you are, I mention Vickie and you’re turning into a blushing, nervous little girl with a first crush even though she is literally your girlfriend.”

“That is so not true!” She gapes at him, despite it being true.

He shakes his head in amusement, “yes it is, in case you forgot, you’re my best friend, I know you like the back of my hand and right now, you’re nervous!”

Maybe his words should put her mind at ease, maybe they should be enough to show her that she is not losing him, after all, but it’s not that easy, is it?

She only rolls her eyes in response and looks away, turning back to the window and looking out at the downtown streets now. She feels relieved to see the Family Video sign, looking forward to jumping out of his car and throwing herself into work so she can stop thinking about her depressing thoughts and giving into the fears of losing him.

Maybe she is just overthinking, the way she always does.

The moment Steve stops the car, Robin gets out and slams the door, opening the one to the backseat so she can look for her chapstick. She leans down and squints her eyes, patting the car mats before she stretches her arm out under the seat, trying to find it.

Steve walks around the car and stops in front of her, his eyes flash with amusement as he takes in the sight of his best friend, her eyebrows squished together, tongue poking out between her lips, her body angled uncomfortably as she searches for her newest chapstick.

“I swear to god is there a portal all my chapsticks vanish to?” She grumbles.

Steve snorts at her words, “yeah, I’m sure they all pile up in the upside down somewhere.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised! Every time I buy a new chapstick it just fucking disappears!”

“That’s because you leave them everywhere,” Steve chuckles, placing his hands on his hips as he keeps watching instead of helping. His grin grows when she throws the middle finger at him.

The look of concentration on Robin’s face, transforms into something else, confusion and curiosity, her brows shoot up instead, her lips parting as she reaches for not only her chapstick but also something else, something soft, something lacy. She pulls it out from under the seat, hooking it around her pointer finger, she holds it up in front of her face, examining it before revealing it to Steve.

A lacy thong.

One that clearly belongs to a girl.

One that surely wasn’t there a few weeks back when she helped him clean his car.

So her suspicions weren’t right, after all – she would’ve been surprised if they were.

Steve has been so secretive about whoever it is that he is seeing, she knows that they don’t belong to any of the girls he was hooking up with at the beginning of this year, and she doesn’t even need to see his face to confirm something she already knows.

But if it isn’t one of them and if it isn’t a guy after all, who is he seeing?

Is it someone he is ashamed of?

Is that the reason why he is being so secretive, why he keeps sneaking around behind her back and not telling her the truth about something he wouldn’t have shut up about if it were anyone else?

“Robin?”

Steve’s voice snaps her out of her thoughts and she slowly turns around to face him, with the thong in one hand and her chapstick in the other.

His hands fall off his hips, his hazel eyes grow wide, his lips part and his cheeks grow a cherry red when he sees the flimsy material hanging off her finger.

For a moment, she forgets about his secrets and how much it hurts her that he is hiding from her. The look on his face is so comical, she can’t even help but let the giggles tumble from her lips as she raises back to full height, standing right in front of him as she laughs in his face.

His cheeks grow redder and redder, making her laugh harder.

“I-I uh–” Steve stutters, unable to come up with words to say.

“I-I uh,” Robin mocks him through her giggles, “whose are these?” She asks as she lets them dangle in front of his face, stretching her arm out.

Steve rolls his eyes at her, his blush continuing to grow beneath her gaze. His shoulders slump and his mind panics as he tries to think of what to say.

What can he say?

That these belong to Heidi or Linda or whoever else it was that he had boring sex with before you?

Steve can’t even bring himself to lie, not even to save himself and you.

He can’t mention another girl, just uttering these words would make him feel awful. He can’t do it. He just can’t.

“Hm?” Robin tilts her head, wiggling her brows at him.

As he stands in front of her and he looks into her curious eyes that are layered with something more, he can’t help but wonder what would happen if he just told her. He wants to talk about it, he wants to talk about you, he wants to talk about his feelings that he could only keep to himself so far.

But what would Robin think knowing how horrible he was to you? How horrible you have both been to each other?

She would try to talk some sense into him and make him stop this thing between you and he isn’t ready to let this go, he will never be.

So he turns around and leaves her question unanswered, knowing that she won’t stop until she gets the truth out of him and it makes him nervous but what can he do?

He doesn’t see the way her shoulders slump, the way her eyes cross with defeat, the way she sighs and looks down.

“Come on, we got more important things to do then talk about thongs, Robin.”

“Right,” she murmurs as her teasing smile slowly falls, she throws the black lace back into the car and slams the door before she follows him into the store, staring at his back as she walks behind him.

Steve greets Keith a little kinder than usual, he walks with his back straight and his head held high, he whistles as he makes his way into the office to clock in and she stays quiet, watching closely, observing him and the fresh hickeys on his neck, the ones that haven’t been there yesterday afternoon when he dropped her off at Vickie’s. It’s always the same exact spot, sometimes his neck is littered in them but there is always that one special spot that never misses the mark on his skin, that little spot behind his ear.

That’s how she knows that it’s only one girl that he is seeing and she is also the reason why he is turning down all the others that have been shooting their sickly sweet smiles at him. Something he wouldn’t have done a few months back.

“Are you bringing Vickie tonight?” Steve asks as he throws on his vest, “to game night, I mean?”

Robin furrows her brows, looking over her shoulder at him, “game night? I figured we’d never do that again after what happened with you and uh… Blondie,” she chuckles nervously.

Something in his eyes shifts, something in his demeanor changes for a moment. Sadness, anger and regret crosses his features and she sees it all so clearly but she isn’t surprised, she didn’t mean to strike a nerve but she knows she did.

He felt awful after the words he threw at you, that night.

And knowing him, he still feels the same even when you get along now.

But there is something else in his eyes, something she can’t figure out yet.

Steve breaks eye contact and he scratches the back of his neck as he keeps his eyes trained on the ground.

“I uh, yeah that will never happen again.”

She doesn’t quite understand the meaning his words hold.

And at that time, she also doesn’t know yet, that only a few hours later, she will finally get closer to the answers she has been seeking, that her eyes will be more open to what is happening right in front of her nose.

Because that night, she notices something she hasn’t paid much attention to before but a feeling inside of her, tells her that she should have done that a long time ago.

And maybe, maybe she is just seeing things that aren’t there, that her eyes betray her and want to give her something just so she can put her mind to rest but even after rubbing her eyes, even after squinting and trying to see with a clear mind, the sight in front of her is still there and very much real.

The noises from the living room, the chatter of her friends and the giggles of her girlfriend as Dustin tells her a story, fade into distance as she steps closer and closer to the kitchen where Steve had disappeared to, moments after you have left the living room to get another drink.

You’re standing by the window, face to face and way too close for two people who couldn’t even be near each other, a few months ago. A smile is resting on your face, matching his own.

Steve leans closer to you, whispering words that Robin can’t make out from this distance and it annoys her to no end because she wants to know what he said to you, what exactly made you giggle in a way she never heard you do.

This is strange, this is so very strange – it shouldn’t be, and maybe she wouldn’t even think anything of it had you not been fighting all the time not too long ago, because after all, you two could be just friends who are gossiping about something, the hushed whispers and the amused giggles indicate it at least.

But you aren’t friends, are you?

You are still just Steve and Blondie, forced to be around each other because of your mutual friends, forced to get along to keep the peace.

But maybe things are changing, maybe you are actually getting along now and not because of her or Eddie or even the teens, maybe you are just becoming friends, actual friends.

This is the only explanation to what she is seeing.

Anything else would just be… unbelievable.

And still, she decides to keep a closer eye on Steve and you.

Her suspicions and thoughts she deemed as ‘crazy’ become less and less crazy as time passes and she continues to pay attention to you both, how you talk to each other, how you act around each other, how you look at each other, how Steve behaves when he is around you.

It’s so obvious and it’s so right in front of everyone’s faces and still, she doubts that her suspicions hold any meaning, too insane are the thoughts in her head.

But then the signs start showing – from the pink scrunchie in his car, to the cherry chapstick on his nightstand and the second toothbrush in his bathroom, from the perfume that always lingers on his clothes to the cologne on yours, from the moments you are both not around to the lies he speaks into the phone when she asks why he didn’t come to movie night at Eddie’s place.

And as she grows more aware of his weird behavior and yours, she also notices that there is someone else who is acting differently – Eddie.

She notices the way he looks at you and Steve, the way the latter is getting warning glances and glares, the way you are getting soft ones filled with pity and it confirms it all to her.

You are Steve’s mystery girl.

Eddie knows, why can’t she know?

Does Steve feel embarrassed about you and your shared history of hatred?

Questions keep piling up in her brain and instead of confronting her best friend about it all, she keeps it all to herself, hoping that she won’t have to confront him at all, hoping for him to tell her about it all when he feels comfortable to, hoping that nothing changed between them, that she is still his best friend, that he will still talk to her.

But her wishes don’t come true, Steve doesn’t make the first move, he continues on with the secrets and the lies, he doesn’t notice the implies that she makes when she asks him what he is doing on evenings he isn’t with her and the group, or the way she subtly begins to mention you.

She doesn’t even need the confirmation anymore as days continue to pass, she figures it out on her own, she knows for sure now, her suspicions are no longer… suspicions. And yet, a certain moment, a certain sight that plays right in front of her, still shocks her.

In Hopper’s backyard is where you all find yourselves on a warm Saturday evening, the chatter is loud and the laughter echoes through the garden. The smell of freshly cut grass lingers in the air, as does the smell of sizzling meat from the grill.

Eddie brought Wayne with him, the older man chuckling at his nephew as he watches him stuffing his face with burgers, continuously complimenting Hopper’s ‘cooking’ skills to which the latter laughs.

Robin snorts at Eddie, she can’t tell whether he’s high or just really hungry but the faded look in his eyes gives him away, she blames Argyle for that.

“You should try his waffles!” El grins at Eddie, “Hop makes the best ones!”

“You mean the waffles he pops in the toaster?” Jonathan snorts beside her, making his stepdad chuckle.

“I mean, he puts a lot of stuff on them, it’s really good! Reeses pieces, sprinkles, heavy cream–”

“Ew,” Mike scrunches his nose, shaking his head at his girlfriend, “that’s too much.”

“Says the boy who puts maple syrup on his scrambled eggs,” Nancy laughs at her brother.

“Of course he does, Mike has the worst taste,” Dustin snickers before he takes a bite of his steak. “He also loves raisin cookies!”

“What’s wrong with raisin cookies?” Hopper asks mid chew, furrowing his brows at the teenage boy.

“Do not insult his raisin cookies,” Joyce points with a fork at Dustin, an amused smile appearing on her face.

“Oh,” Dustin frowns at the former chief, “you don’t have taste either, damn.”

While everyone watches the interaction between Dustin and Hopper, amused by the teenage boy and his harmless insults as his conversation with the older man continues. Robin nearly misses the whispers between you and Steve, the smile on your face as you say something to him that she can’t read on your lips.

You sit next to each other, very closely so.

It’s the same seats you sat in when Hopper and Joyce announced their engagement here, only this time, neither of you seems tense, you’re both relaxed, your features are soft, your smiles are real, your arms are touching and you aren’t avoiding each other the way you once did.

The pink scrunchie is in your hair, your lips are rosy red, from the cherry chapstick no doubt. Your eyes are glinting with happiness and it seems like a rare sight to Robin – she has seen you smile before, sure, but she had never seen you happy.

While she paid extremely close attention to her best friend, she didn’t really look closely at you, maybe she should have before.

She watches the way you push your plate away, leaving a few bites that you can’t seem to finish, you reach for your drink and lean back in your seat, placing your hand on your stomach.

Robin chews on her veggies, tilting her head as she tries to not make her staring too obvious but it’s difficult to look away from the both of you, especially when Steve does something that makes her eyes widen and her brows furrow in confusion.

If there is something that Steve always hated, then it was eating leftovers from someone else, he wouldn’t even share a drink or bite into something someone else had bitten into before and yet here he is eating the food you didn’t finish, eating the steak from your plate and you don’t even seem fazed by it, it’s almost as though it’s the most normal thing for you both, like this isn’t weird.

And she isn’t the only one who is staring in surprise, Eddie is looking at Steve with his big brown eyes.

Neither of you seem to notice and everyone else is too busy watching Dustin bicker with Hopper to notice her and Eddie’s wide eyes or the very couply behavior from you both.

One look under the table after accidentally dropping her napkin to the ground gives her the final confirmation when her eyes fall on Steve’s hand on your thigh and yours covering his own, your fingers playing with his.

Oh. Oh.

Maybe this should make her feel more surprised than it does, but really, the sight of Steve eating food from your plate nearly knocked her off her chair.

She is confused, so very confused and lost.

And more questions than ever before start running through her mind, nearly giving her a whiplash because it’s just too many at once and she doesn’t know how to deal with them, how to keep them to herself, they are starting to boil over and it prompts her to make a decision.

She’s had enough of his lies and his secrets.

She never kept anything from him, he never kept anything from her until this, until you. The sight of you suddenly fills her with anger, something she hadn’t felt before, especially not when it came to you.

You are the reason why her best friend is slipping through her fingers, why isn’t spending time with her the way he did before, why he isn’t talking to her.

And despite the growing rage you’re firing up inside of her, she can’t look away from you, watching how you whisper into his ear, watching the way you laugh with Eddie and Wayne, the way you help Joyce clean up and chat with Nancy, the way you hug El and Will goodbye and Max too before she hops on the back of Lucas’s bike and leaves with him and Dustin.

She almost wants to scoff when you get in the backseat of Steve’s car instead of the passenger seat that clearly belongs to you now, you leave your scrunchies here and your lipgloss apparently too as she looks down into the cupholder, rolling her eyes at the tiny bottle.

The sound of your laughter makes her eyes roll more intensely. Eddie jumps in beside you, neither of you are aware of the scowl on her face.

Steve notices though, but he doesn’t bring it up, not wanting to make her uncomfortable by asking any questions she might not want to answer in front of you and Eddie. She won’t even look at him, her eyes are glued on her rings as her fingers tap against her jean clad thighs, her jaw is clenched and he can practically feel the tension in her shoulders.

And it doesn’t go away, not even when he turns her favorite music on, not when he tries to crack a joke, nothing seems to lift her mood these days, and it worries him.

When he stops the car in your driveway, Eddie is the first to get out, clapping his hand on Steve’s shoulder and mumbling a goodbye to him and Robin. You follow suit, smiling at them both before your sneakers hit the cobblestones and you get out as well, about to shut the door when Robin’s voice stops you.

“Hey, Blondie.”

The tone in her voice is a mocking one, she only uses Steve’s nickname to tease you with it, but this sounds like something else.

You poke your head back into the car, eyeing Steve’s side profile before you train your eyes on his best friend, who is now looking back at you with a look in her eyes that is sending chills down your spine.

“Hmm?”

“Are you spending the night at Steve’s tonight?”

Your heart stops beating and your breathing stutters in your throat, your eyes grow wide just like Steve’s do. The chills that her looks just caused, running down your whole body and filling you with shock.

She raises her eyebrows at you, giving you a mocking smile.

Eddie stands behind you, frozen just like you are.

Steve holds the steering wheel tightly, staring at his best friend with a pounding heart – he knew she would figure it out, that it would only be a matter of time after what she had found in his car.

A sigh falls from his lips and he begins to curse at himself inwardly, feeling guilt rushing through him for lying to her, for putting you into this position, he can see the fear in your eyes and he doesn’t quite know what it means, but it makes him want to protect you from the anger in Robin’s features.

“Robs–”

“If you are, I’m sorry but I need to talk to my best friend tonight… if we are still considered that,” she snaps at you, catching you off guard once again when she turns around after cursing you with a glare.

Steve furrows his brows at her, pursing his lips as he shakes his head a little.

“Sweets,” Eddie mumbles behind you, clasping a gentle hand around your elbow, “come on.”

You blink, nodding to yourself as you gulp down the nervousness.

Steve looks back at you before you can leave and close the door, you see the way his eyes soften when they meet your own, the way his lips twitch and he tilts his head at you, mouthing a few simple words at you, ones that are enough to give you a sense of comfort after this.

‘It’s gonna be okay.’

It’s not just a few words, it’s a promise.

And for some reason, you find it easy to believe, despite the nervousness in your stomach.

Before you can say anything to him, before you can mouth something back to him, Eddie pulls you away from the car and shuts the door after Robin tells Steve to drive.

Your best friend puts a comforting hand on your shoulder, eying your worried expression as you watch the burgundy car leave your driveway, speeding down the road and getting lost in the distance.

A heavy sigh falls from your lips and you bring your hand up towards your face, biting your thumbnail in anxiousness. You turn around to face Eddie, seeing his face so clear despite the darkening night sky.

He nods at you, “it’s gonna be alright, Robin is just mad, I was mad too, sweetheart… remember that.”

“Yeah but–”

“No buts,” he shakes his head at you, “I don’t– I don’t know where you two are going with this but, I didn’t make you stop, she won’t either.”

Eddie doesn’t know why he is even encouraging this, knowing very well how badly this could end for you, but the need to comfort you feels so much stronger than thinking logically.

“Yeah,” you whisper.

He is right, you know he is.

You were anxious about losing him before, thinking that Steve might want to stop seeing you after Eddie found out – but he didn’t want to stop, he might not want to stop now either, maybe things will just go back to normal after this night, you won’t let a moment like this crush the hope that has been spreading inside of you in the past weeks.

You are the only one for Steve, right now, he told you so.

And there has to be a reason for it.

The hope in you, isn’t for nothing… right?

You won’t let Robin take that away from you.

Eddie’s brown eyes soften even further, he wraps his arm around you and starts leading you to your house, “now come on, we’ll get that ice cream pint from your freezer and watch some movies until we crash out on your couch.”

You smile at him, feeling grateful to have him here with you.

“I gotta thank Buckley for ruining your date night with Harrington, I missed our slumber parties.”

You chuckle, despite the uneasiness in your stomach.

“I missed them too, Eds.”

The tension in the car is so much stronger, so much bigger than it was before because now he knows why Robin was acting so weird, why she always seemed so annoyed and hurt, and he understands it, he really does, but he had his reasons to keep this all a secret from her, yet it does nothing to mend the guilt that spreads through his body.

He lied to her and the upcoming conversation at his house already fills him with so much nervousness that it makes him grip the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles turn white.

Is this the moment where he will lose his best friend? He wonders.

You didn’t lose Eddie, even though he seemed hurt about your secrets too, you talked it out and everything went back to normal – you didn’t lose Eddie and you didn’t stop seeing him.

But Robin’s reaction already seems so much worse than Eddie’s, she seems much angrier, much more hurt and the way she looked at you, even made him cower in his seat.

Was that jealousy on her face before?

Does she think that you took her spot in his life?

He parks the car and wastes no second to get out, taking a deep breath of the fresh air he is surrounded by now. He wants to stay here for a moment but Robin has other things in mind. She angrily makes her way up to his front door, marching up the stairs and waiting for him to follow and unlock the door – with a sigh, he complies.

His hands shake a little as he looks for the house key on his chain, he brushes past her and keeps his gaze down, licking his lips and clearing his throat as he prepares for whatever she is about to hit him with.

He wanted her to know, he really did, he had been dying to talk to someone about it but he couldn’t risk losing this, losing… you.

He steps into his home but doesn’t know which way to go, which way to turn to as the gnawing feeling in his chest begins to eat at him.

Steve throws the keys on the counter and turns on the light, flinching a little when she slams the door, he runs his fingers through his hair and turns around to face her.

He is met by her glare, an unimpressed expression resting on her features as she stands by the door, with her arms crossed over her chest.

“Do you want something to drink–”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” She interrupts him, showing a sliver of hurt when those words fall from her lips.

Steve opens his mouth to speak, but she doesn’t let him.

“I thought I was your best friend,” Robin mumbles with a hurt tone in her voice.

The tension in his shoulders grows as the need to prove to her that she is still what she always was to him turns him desperate.

“You are! You are my best friend, Robin!”

Robin snorts and rolls her eyes at him, “mhm sure, doesn’t seem like it anymore, best friends don’t keep secrets from each other, Dingus!”

How can he tell her that this is exactly what keeps you both together?

That the secrets are the only thing making you his?

Robin’s blue eyes are filled with nothing but rage and as she stares at the man she loves like a brother, she can’t help but scoff.

“I can’t believe Blondie’s pussy is more important than our friendship.”

Anger flashes in Steve’s eyes, the mocking tone in her voice makes him frown.

“What the hell is your problem?” Steve asks in disbelief, not knowing this side of her, this snappy and rude behavior is something new to him.

Her blue eyes widen and she laughs at him, letting her arms fall to her sides, “my problem is that you were both complete assholes to each other, in front of everyone! And suddenly you start dropping friends – your best friend to be with a girl that you hated! Should I count down all the horrible things you have said about her?” She yells, throwing her arms up. “Or better yet let’s talk about all the horrible things she said to you.”

“Don’t.” Steve warns her, not wanting to be reminded of his past mistakes. He doesn’t even care about the words you once threw at him, none of them came even close to the hurtful things he said to your face and behind your back, to Tommy and Carol, to Nancy and the teens, to Robin – he can’t forgive himself for it.

Robin buries her hands in her hair, looking at him wide eyed as she laughs again, though not in amusement.

He understands her hurt, he understands her disapproval of the lies and the secrets but he doesn’t understand her anger towards you. He thought she liked you, he thought you both were getting along.

“How long has this been going on for?”

Steve closes his eyes, taking a deep breath as he places his hands on his hips.

He doesn’t need to think about it, he knows exactly how many days and weeks have passed since you started seeing each other.

“A little over two months.”

Robin nods with widened eyes, a breathy chuckle falling from her lips before she starts shaking her head, “wow.”

“Eddie found out by himself, just like you did… we weren’t going to–”

“Tell anyone? Why not?” She asks, growing suspicious of the shakiness in his voice and the panicked look on his face.

“Because, Robin, it's just… sex!” He says in frustration, like those words are meant to convince her but she can tell that he is struggling and it raises different types of questions in her head. “At least that’s what it was supposed to be…”

He had meaningless relationships and flings before, he felt conflicted about girls and sex a few times but she never saw him like this, so panicked and anxious, so defensive about a girl he once couldn’t stand.

So she lets the questions tumble from her mouth, pushing him into giving her the answers that she wants and she watches his reactions closely, the way his brows pinch together as his patience starts to wear thin, as the desperation and the frustration clings to his features and his cheeks grow red.

She can tell that he is trying to keep something to himself but that he is beginning to struggle, it’s going to burst out of him soon enough.

“What’s your problem with her anyways?” Steve snaps at her, shaking his head in confusion. “I thought you liked her!”

Yeah, Robin did like you but something about you makes her blood boil now. Those Friday nights Steve never missed to spend with her, slowly stopped. Those small little out of nowhere car rides to the stores in town, or little escapades to the city never happened again. She might have become friends with everyone else in the group… but no one understood her like Steve had.

And now she knows the reason for her loss… had been you. A person who does not deserve Steve, not even as a friend, not after the past you two had.

“Why are you so defensive about her? I mean are we talking about the same person? She’s had called you so many fucking things in the past, and – being her friend? I might have accepted, now just fucking her!? With what purpose!?”

“There’s no purpose when it comes to that, Robin. It’s just sex and you are over fucking exaggerating!” Steve’s face was getting redder, darker, and his chest was working faster as it took in quicker breaths.

“Over exaggerating!? Well, I am sorry for voicing out the fact you and I have not been hanging out like we always have! All for a girl you hated and she hated you back! And let’s not mention that she is in the same fucking friend group Steve!” She yells at him, taking him aback slightly, “What’s going to happen when you break things off!?”

And he can only blink a few times, gulp, look at her and try to process her words. He slowly shakes his head, making Robin’s tilt to the side in confusion.

“I am not planning on breaking things off, Robs.” And his answer only angers Robin, because she knows he is a few words away from saying what she thought he was feeling. That he likes you. That he got hooked. Stupidly so.

“Oh, so I guess the sex with her is fucking phenomenal then! Didn’t think Blondie had it in her–”

And Steve explodes.

“I want her, Robin!” He yells as the truth begins to leave the sacred place inside of him and he can finally speak them into existence. “For fucks sake, after Nancy I never thought I would feel anything of the sort again, and she makes it feel right! All of it! I don’t want her to leave, to leave this, to leave me! I don’t know what you want me to fucking tell you! What else do you expect from me!? To tell you that I’m in love with her!?”

His voice echoes through the hallway and then, silence.

Nothing but utter silence follows.

Two pairs of shocked eyes staring into each other.

His heavy breathing stops and his heart does too for a moment.

Steve knew it, he knew he was falling for you, that he fell for you and despite it, he wasn’t aware just how bad it had gotten him already, that it was more than feelings, more than a crush, it’s love.

Realization begins to dawn on him and he breaks eye contact and looks away from Robin’s stunned face and focuses his eyes on nothing in particular as he looks at the ground.

“Holy shit, Steve…” Robin mumbles as her angry eyes soften and sadness and pity takes over, only for him.

She expected everything but this.

From the moment she figured it out, she knew that there was more than sex, but she didn’t think that there was this. That his feelings run so deep, that love of all emotions is involved.

“I-I’m… in love with her,” Steve murmurs not to her but to himself.

Robin can’t tell what he is feeling, knowing that he has only figured it out himself.

But she knows what she is feeling.

Out of all the nice girls he could have, it just had to be you.

A girl incapable of love.

A girl who will only be another on his list to break his heart, to make him suffer and leave him in tears.

She won’t let that happen, she won’t let him get his heart broken again, especially not by you.

But how will she do that?

There’s shock on his face but happiness in his eyes, his lips twitch and curl into a smile as he lets himself fall into emotions he thought he’d never feel again.

He is hopeless, as he looks back up at her and she sees the gone look in his eyes, she knows he is hopeless and done for.

“Fuck… I’m in love with her.”

♡

tagging friends and mutuals

@prettyboyeddiemunson @taintedcigs @mysticmunson @corrodedcorpses @maroon-cardigan @thecreelhouse @ibellcipem @joekeerysmoles @munsonlore @sherrylyn0628 @munson-mjstan @agirlwholovesrockstars

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fic #stranger things angst

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