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folkloreguk · 3 years

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an angel for a demon (3)

A/N: Here's the last part of this small series! You don't necessarily need to read all of them to understand this one, but it does probably make more sense if you do. As always, feedback is deeply appreciated! Have a good day x

genre: smut, optional bias (m) x reader (f), demon!bias, angel!reader, unprotected sex, oral (m receiving), reader gives her first bj

words: ~ 6.7 k

PART1 (M)

PART2 (M)

“I’m going out to pick up some food and stuff, do you want to come along?” you heard him ask. You had your legs up against the wall, your back on the bed, and a magazine in your hands. The women on the pages had you gushing, on the verge of hypnotization. You swore if you looked at those infatuating pictures one minute longer, you’d be swallowed whole by them.

When you had worked your way through some science books and were still hungry for more to read, H/N had brought you some magazines, mostly about fashion but also gossip and lifestyle tips. Turns out letting a clueless angel read about what’s supposed to be good for women was not a smart idea. Up in the clouds, from where you used to watch earth’s women, they had all looked equal to you – beautiful, intelligent, and capable. Now, down in the reality of it all, things appeared much more complicated. Which angel could have known it took diets, workout routines, anti-aging creams and the perfect outfit for your body type to be viewed the same way you had always looked at women from above? And most importantly, how did any woman manage to uphold all these expectations the magazines named? It was all too much and seemingly impossible. Abruptly, you were pulled out of your train of thoughts.

“Y/N? Did you hear me?” he asked, peaking his head through the door. “What are you doing?”

“I’m sorry,” you said, putting down the magazine on your chest. “No, I’d like to stay here.”

“Alright,” he said, “Would you like me to bring you anything from the store?”

He walked over to you and sat on the bed. His hands softly brushed over your hair, down your cheek and neck, barely touching your collarbones. He was in his black, intimidating clothes, per usual, but his eyes held nothing but fondness for you.

“Actually, maybe there is something,” you said. “Look.”

You picked up the magazine and pointed at the page.

“Can you buy me a dress like this one? They say it would fit me best. And could you get some makeup for me? I don’t know much about it, but maybe you-“ you said. Usually, he was one to listen carefully to every of your words, as if you were the most interesting person he had ever met. This time, he interrupted you.

“Stop. Where is this coming from?” he asked. “I want you to forget all those things you’ve read in those magazines, okay?”

You were confused, thinking you were learning by reading those articles. Gently, he caressed your face. “You know I’ll buy you anything in the world, right? But only if that’s what youwant. Everything they tell you to do, everything they tell you to buy, it’s brainwashing. You will wear whatever dress you find pretty, and if you want to wear makeup, that’s fine. But you will only do those things if you want to do them, okay? There’s nothing you need to change about yourself.”

“But they say you need to start early to get a nice body, and to prevent aging,” you said. “They say men will admire me.”

“We’re immortal, my angel,” he said. “And even if we weren’t, what’s wrong with growing old? Wouldn’t you want the traces of your experiences to be visible on your skin? Those companies, they all just want your money and so they try to scare you into believing you’re not good enough. But truth is, you always are. All those times people tug on their skin in front of a mirror, or whenever they break a sweat trying to lose weight, or when they compare themselves to those who look different from them – they’re already good enough. They’re perfect. This worlds wants you to never be at peace with who you are. But you need to promise me you won’t succumb to those nonsensical tactics to make you hate yourself. And don’t you ever wait for a man to give you approval. That’s your job and your job only.”

You listened, wide-eyed and intrigued. No magazine could ever speak so honestly, and you believed every word he said. After all, you trusted him much more than some random author of an article that was trying to sell you the latest weight loss-magic-powder.

“Okay, I promise.” You sat up and leaned your head against his shoulder. “I’ve never even really thought about it, but I think I’m pretty.”

“Not thinking about it might just be the best way to go about it in this world,” he said, and placed a kiss on your forehead. The feeling of warmth lingered on your skin seconds after he had already pulled away.

“I change my mind, then,” you said, “Do you think you can get me a dress like this?”

You showed him a different picture this time. It showed a lot more skin than the one you had pointed out before. You only realized this when he was already smirking at your choice.

“I’ll see what I can find,” he said. “That’s an interesting option, angel.”

“Hey! I just like the color, alright?” you defended yourself, making him chuckle. Over the course of four weeks, you had come to know his insinuations and his little jokes better. But at the same time, you couldn’t deny the incredible sensation his eyes on you gave you. When he goggled at you because you had decided to wear his shirt for a day, or the way he watched you welcome him with open arms when he came home.

You now understood that certain words or actions, or even just an article of clothing – or lack thereof – could conjure an insatiable hunger in his eyes. At first, it was a little scary, having a demon stare you down as if he wanted to eat you up. But now that you knew what his hands felt like on your skin, and that his lips were made for much gentler actions than to hurt you, you wanted nothing more than to coax the starving demon into playing with you, any chance you got. And perhaps that dress in the catalogue would do just that, and not only bring you joy. It was a win-win, really.

“I’ll be back in the afternoon,” he said. “Don’t miss me too much.”

“You know I always do,” you said.

“I’ll give you all the missed attention when I get home, alright?” he said, bending down to your ear. “You can have whatever you want, then.”

To be honest, half of the time you didn’t know what you wanted him to do. But with every time his hands explored your body you learned more. There were so many things humans did to make each other feel good, you doubted you’d ever be able to try everything. His promise made you wish he was already back home when he had barely stepped out of the door. One last grin and nod and he left you alone.

What did angels do on a Saturday noon? Usually, you’d be patrolling your village, entertaining yourself by watching children play tag, admiring lovers walking hand in hand or discovering a family that had just adopted a small animal. Their human eyes shined when they felt happiness, and it was infectious to you. You wanted to send your blessing to all of them, make sure they never felt anything but delight, but you knew that wasn’t how business worked down there. Some things were even out of your control. Now, on earth, you were ready to take whichever hardships were to come if it meant you could have been with your demon lover.

You rubbed the sleep out of your eyes. You had only gotten up an hour ago. Last night, you had been kept awake for long. He was untiring when he was between your legs. You had learned that he didn’t need nearly as much sleep as you did, and when he set his mind to making you come by his administrations, he didn’t waver to do so. But losing sleep in exchange for pleasure was okay with you. Time became meaningless, either way, when you had your face buried in a pillow, tears threatening to spill over from how good he made you feel. Sometimes he made you come while sitting in his lap, then you’d cling to him like a baby and muffle your whimpers by pressing your lips against the skin of his shoulder. He loved telling you ‘Look at me’ right when you were falling. It was hard to keep your eyes from rolling to the back of your head or not to collapse in his arms, but for him you would try your best. Often you found your thoughts lingering on the memory of his gaze when you came apart under his touch. It had something of fascination and protectiveness, and you’d never get enough of it.

Great, now you wanted him again. And he wasn’t here. How had you gotten this way? On occasion you wondered if one of the other angels had already spotted you and the sins you were committing. You wouldn’t call them sins now, or ever again. It wasn’t like you wanted to adapt to a demon lifestyle. But you felt at home for the first time, here on earth. It was the perfect grey zone between heaven and hell.

As an attempt to appease your needy mind, you picked up your magazine again. Just because you shouldn’t believe everything they said didn’t mean you shouldn’t have read it at all, right? You flipped through articles on fitness and the newest fashion, but after skimming the pages for only a few seconds, you were done with those tips. He wanted you because of who you were – an angel – and you doubted than any beauty routine could make him more obsessed with you than he already was. But then you read something most curious to your angel eyes. ‘How to make him feel best – tips from a porn star’ the title said. Whatever in the heaven a porn star was, they seemed to be some sort of expert on pleasuring men, and you, always eager to learn something new, were intrigued from the very first word.

But soon you had to admit, you weren’t at all sure what they were referring to with those words and actions. When you and your demon boyfriend had sex, he usually did most of the work, while you took whatever teasing or pleasure he inflicted on you. He had said he liked it this way, but now you weren’t so sure. Or was this ‘10 things to do become a blowjob-pro’ – list just another attempt of society to brainwash women? You weren’t one to initiate talk about sexual stuff, but maybe you’d try to question him on the meaning of what you had read.

You flipped another page and finally you had arrived at a page you could work with. It was a bunch of comfort food recipes. Right away you fell in love with the picture of the freshly baked cinnamon rolls in the top right corner. H/N had promised you to teach you how to cook, but so far you hadn’t made much progress. The difficulty level read beginner, and five minutes later you stood in the kitchen. With some music in the background your enthusiasm only sparked more. Baking was new and came with slight overwhelmingness and the stress of making sure you weren’t forgetting to add any ingredient. But the Christmassy scent of cinnamon and the feeling of making something from scratch made you happy, and with rapt attention you finished your first completed recipe ever.

You wiped some flour off your forehead. Hopefully H/N would like the cinnamon rolls too, because as tasty you found your creation, there was no way you were able to devour them all by yourself. As if on cue, you suddenly heard the key slide into the lock of the front door. Probably prompted by the heavenly scent, he called your name.

“Here,” you answered, mouth full of a bite of cinnamon roll. When he walked in, he already had his famous smirk on his face. It was your favorite. You knew it was reserved only for you.

“What did you make?” he asked. But he had his answer when he saw the baked goods in front of you. He set down the bags and put his arms on your waist from behind. With a hum, you lifted the cinnamon roll to his lips, and he took a bite. He almost moaned at the taste and you grinned.

“Do you like them?” you asked, already knowing the answer but still awaiting more praise. You squealed a little at how quickly he spun you around. His nose touched yours and your heartbeat raced.

“It’s like they came with you straight from heaven,” he said. “Hmm…I missed my angel.”

His lips when he kissed you tasted like sugar and spice and you melted straight into his touch. You only noticed he had run his finger over the gooey leftover icing when it was already too late. He was a demon after all. And if demons were good at one thing, it was causing mischief.

“Hey,�� you protested at his hands on your neck. Then your reaction quickly altered as his finger slid lower, down to your collar bones and to where your low-cut shirt started. “Great, now I’m all sticky.”

You didn’t understand at first that messing with you wasn’t his full intention. But he tilted his head to the side and ran his hot tongue over the icing on your skin, and you gasped suddenly. This wasn’t just a joke. He wanted you. He made a humming noise, as if the sweetness combined with your own taste were only complimenting each other. When he pulled down the neckline of your shirt a little, so he could have every last drop of the sugary substance on your skin, you couldn’t help but whimper. You wanted so desperately for him to do it again, that you thought about sticking your own fingers into the bowl of icing and smearing it on your chest. His eyes were playful when he looked up at your reaction.

“Oh no. If you’re all sticky I guess you’ll need a shower, will you?” he said, “What a coincidence. I was thinking of taking one, just now.”

You had never taken a shower with him, or anyone, for that matter. But you had a feeling that the both of you wouldn’t be keeping to yourself, standing naked in front of each other. You didn’t mind. And you guessed your approval was written on your face, because he pulled you in and kissed you hard. Again, you remembered the article you had read. Was now a good time to ask him about it?

While you were contemplating, his tongue slid over your bottom lip and met yours. You had been too shy to ask before, but now you were speechless. Gently, he grabbed your hand and led you out of the kitchen and into the hallway. You were a mess of lips and tongues and hands and feet stumbling over each other. Every few meters you stopped to push yourself close against him. It was like a game of who could go without kissing each other for longer. And you were both lousy at it.

He loved pushing you up against the wall, trapping you between his arms on each side of your head. This way, he could brush up against your shaking body and you had nowhere left to go. Needless to say, you had no intentions of getting away, no matter what. He knocked the breath out of your lungs, and you kissed him back like you could breathe him in instead. As if he had become your new source of oxygen, or whatever it was you really needed to survive. It these moments, air seemed like a subsidiary matter. So long as you had his hot tongue licking down your neck and his busy hands on your ass under your dress, nothing else truly mattered.

Your kisses were open-mouthed and far more confident than they had been only weeks ago. You now knew how much he liked when you grabbed his hair tightly, or when you whispered his name against his devouring lips, as if it was the only word you had ever been taught. Like it was the only word you ever wanted to know. Before you had even made it to the bathroom, half of your clothes were scattered somewhere along the way.

“I can’t believe I just had you yesterday and here I am already missing you this much again,” he mumbled against your earlobe, teeth playing with your soft skin. “You really are otherworldly. There’s no other explanation.”

His words made you feel proud. The pleasure was one thing you had come to love quickly, but then you noticed the power you could have over him, by merely existing. It was almost unbelievable, but there he was, hard and needing you, day by day. Again, your mind wandered off to the magazine article.

“Can I ask you something?” Your voice must had been different from your usual timid tone when you were in the middle of something unholy.

“Anything, angel,” he said. He let his lips linger on your cheek, half an inch from your mouth, and your stomach twisted in how badly you wanted him to sip on your lips like he was starving.

“Do you like always doing everything when we- ,“ you said. He gave you a puzzled expression, so you tried to explain yourself better. “I mean, if you ever want me to do more, you can ask me to. I don’t know everything yet, but I can learn.”

You weren’t even sure if you understood what the heaven you had just stammered. His look reminded you of the one he had when you asked him to buy him the dress and the makeup that morning.

“I love what we have, little angel,” he said, “What’s making you think you need to do anything differently?”

How were you supposed to explain what you had read when you hadn’t even properly grasped it yourself? You opted for taking his hand and walking him to the bedroom. There the magazine still lay, like an ancient cursed book you weren’t sure you wanted to know front to back. You picked it up and quickly handed him the article. Feeling your cheeks heat up, you opted to take a seat on the edge of the bed.

His lips curled into a devilish grin upon eyeing the page, and you thought the ground might swallow you whole. Maybe you shouldn’t have said anything at all and spared yourself the embarrassment. But at the same time, you were eager to know.

“I thought I told you, magazines are just trying to make you doubt yourself,” he said, raising his eyebrows.

“I know, but if there’s anything I can do to make you feel as good as you make me feel, I want to do it,” you confessed. He bent down, cupping your face.

“No one’s ever felt as good to me as you have, angel,” he said, “You’re heaven to me. Do you understand that?”

With your mouth squished together slightly, you nodded your head that was in his hands.

“By the devil, you’re so adorable,” he said. “If you really want to know, though, I’ll show you.”

Even more eagerly, you nodded again. He chuckled. You couldn’t handle how handsome he was – all messy hair, bare chest and black eyes that made you dream of the most unholy things possible.

“You remember how I kiss you…down there?” he asked. You hummed, cheeks on fire. “And how I’ve asked you to put your hands on my cock before?”

You did. But it had been brief, only a few pumps and small touches, until he had become too needy. You had been whining so deliciously for him to fuck you and so he had to have you on the spot.

“In the way you touched me then…you could use your mouth on me. Make me come with your perfect lips and sweet hands,” he said. “If that’s what you want, too.”

“I do!” you said with enthusiasm that only an angel at the feasibility of making someone’s day could bring on. “Let’s postpone that shower.”

The pride in his eyes lasted for approximately two seconds before the raw hunger replaced it. He climbed onto the bed and pat his thighs. On command, you settled on his lap. The simple feeling of his bulge under your center, even if interrupted by some fabric, made your head dizzy and your stomach drop. You kneaded your hands, not sure where to touch him first. But just as he always did to you, you had the impulse to start by his head and go lower from there. Although you were on top of him, he looked amused at your shy eyes.

“Can I kiss your neck, like you always kiss mine?” you asked.

“Be my guest,” he said, grinning like he had just won the lottery. Your lips met his skin and you used your tongue the way you had felt him do it. His scent was intoxicating. It made the empty bedsheets you breathed in sometimes, when he left in the middle of the night for his demon antics, seem like nothing. You used your hands to stabilize yourself as you moved lower. The hiss he let out when you felt up on his abs and waistline almost scared you. Then you realized it was a good sign. Only for the blink of an eye you dared to graze your teeth on his skin. His reaction was immediate.

“Shit,” he cussed, “That’s my angel.”

So, he liked that. You couldn’t wait to tease him by biting him in the future. Provoking a demon would have sounded like something close to a death wish to you, had you thought about it months ago. Now, with a demon as tame as they come beneath you, the thought only excited you. As he liked to do, you touched him through his boxers while you continued your journey down his chest and stomach. The guttural moan he released made your head spin and you never wanted him to be quiet. Usually, you weren’t in a mind state to notice his groans, or your own noises were covering his.

“You’re doing so good, little angel,” he said, short of breath. Once again, your effect on him surprised you. Where was the intimidating, big bad demon you had been taunted by?

“I’m gonna fuck you so well for this,” he said, “Even the angels in heaven will hear you scream. Wouldn’t you like that?”

There he was. You pressed your legs together at the simple mention of him inside of you, but if he thought you were going to answer, he’d be waiting endlessly. You still had enough respect for your angels not to think of them in this moment. Nonetheless you hummed weakly. When you got to his hipbone, you hesitated. You drowned out your doubts by kissing him there, while you contemplated what to do next. Your hand was still wrapped around his clothed cock. It was rock hard, and a wet spot had formed on the fabric from how much he needed you. When your touch became softer, and you pulled your hands away slowly, he lifted his hips, not wanting you to stop. You supposed this was the part where you took off his boxers. At least he didn’t complain when you pulled them off his legs, so you assumed you were still on the right track.

Watching his face for signs of approval, your hand wrapped around his length. He almost seemed electrified at your touch. His jaw dropped slightly, and his hooded eyes somehow appeared even darker than usual.

“Just like that,” he said, “And now move your hand up and down.”

So you did. As you regarded your hand around his shaft, all you could think about was how it used to be. How did your hands, that were usually folded neatly in your lap while you looked down on earth, end up doing such ungodly things? And how come you didn’t even for a second feel guilty?

“Angel, you’re so good to me,” he moaned. Angel. That’s what he loved to emphasize. But was that what you were, still? Maybe you would simply stop putting yourself in a box. Perhaps you were just you, doing what you felt was right and would make you happy. And right now, having a demon clench his fists in your hair and saying your name in that tone, you couldn’t think of a lot of incidents that had made you happier. Was this the part where you should use your mouth? You weren’t sure, but your eyes jumped from his cock to his face and it caught his eyes.

“You can take me in your mouth if you want. If you ever feel like stopping, just do so,” he encouraged you, “But remember, no teeth there, okay?”

You grinned and nodded. You parted your lips and your tongue placed kitten licks on the underside of his member. When you reached the top, you took him between your lips, mirroring the motion of your hands around him. You were surprised at how comfortable you were, when ten minutes ago you were ready to personally descend to hell from embarrassment. There was something enticing about the power you possessed in that moment. You understood humans just a little better, once again. Knowing that the way he bucked his hips and his groans were caused by you and only you had you smiling inwardly. It was a way you had never caught yourself smile before. You felt brave, and like you could do anything, with a demon so at your pity.

It didn’t take long for you to figure out where he was most sensitive. Whenever you pressed your tongue against the tip of his cock, he let out a sigh. It was almost like relief, as if he had been waiting for you all his life. And now here you were, granting him all his wishes. You bobbed your head, but kept your attention on his sweet spot, his moans just too delightful not to evoke them on purpose.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he said. Often, you looked up at him. His lids fluttered from the pleasure, but he seemed to like it when you made eye contact. For a moment, you lifted your head, needing some air. Gently, he caressed your face, like you were made of precious porcelain.

“Which one of my dreams did you escape from, little angel?” he asked. You smiled sheepishly, lowering your head. Again, you wrapped your lips around his length. You wondered what he was thinking about. Was his mind as free from any worries as yours whenever he fucked you? Was he able to form any coherent thoughts or was his brain going into the same mental blackout you always experienced?

You continued the way you had, sucking the tip of his cock while your hand pumped him. From time to time, you took a breather and pulled away. Little did you know what you were doing to him. With the short intervals of your lips on him and the pauses in between, you unknowingly made everything more intense for him. It was a dangerous game of edging him you were playing, and you were outright unaware of it.

But why would he have complained? In that moment, you were his personal guardian angel, making sure all his needs were fulfilled. When he saw your lips, all red and puffy, he asked himself where you had been hiding all this time. You peeked up at him through your angel eyes and he felt his entire world become whole in front of him. He was completely and absolutely at your mercy, inebriated by your entire being. Never in his long time on earth had he seen someone so ravishingly beautiful, yet so unaware of their might. He swore to himself in that moment, he’d do anything to make you love him forever.

As divinely as you were treating him, he suddenly wanted you in a different way. And if you continued your sweet actions, he wasn’t sure if that would still be possible. He gently cupped your head, making you look up. You hummed in question.

“You’re doing so well,” he said, “Let me give back to you, won’t you? Does my angel want some attention, too?”

You would have been lying if you said you weren’t practically touch-starved at this moment. And having been taught to always be truthful, you nodded before you even knew it.

“That’s what I thought,” he said, “Why don’t you take off the rest of your clothes?”

When you got up to slip out of your dress, your legs were weak. You hadn’t even done anything, and yet your body felt heavy. All you wanted was to go back to him and have him so close, it felt like he could have been a part of you. As much as you had felt on top of the world minutes ago, his hungry eyes made you shrink inwardly. But it wasn’t out of fear. It was almost admiration, or rather anticipation. You knew he knew your body inside out, and you couldn’t wait for him to prove it to you.

“Come here, angel,” he said. You climbed back onto the bed. “Turn around for me, okay?”

You were on your knees, sitting up right, facing the headboard. His breath on your shoulder sent a shiver down your spine. Then his hands snaked around your body from behind you. A small whimper left your lips when he ran them down your chest, fingers drawing small shapes on your breasts. They continued their way down your stomach and to your parted thighs. The cold air was hitting your dripping core, and had you not had enough self-control, you would have moaned at the mere sensation of his fingertips on the inside of your thigh. But maybe that was just what he was waiting for. After all, he was still taking his time with you. But in this instance, you knew what you wanted, and more importantly when you wanted it.

“Please,” you said. You weren’t sure what to say but starting with a ‘please’ was never a mistake.

“Please what?” he asked. You couldn’t see his face, yet you knew his devilish grin that must’ve been plastered on his face. He never missed a chance to make you shy. “Is this what you want?”

He slid two of his fingers down your slit slowly. It would forever be a mystery to you, how such a simple touch could put you in such a mental state of disarray. You whined at how needy you were, fighting the urge to press your legs together. In a second, his fingers were coated in your juices. When he pressed them against your opening, but didn’t push any further, your head spun with frustration. An impulse yelled at you to grab his hand and show him how you wanted him, but you sensed there was a specific aim in his teasing. Above that, you weren’t close to that brave. Purposely lightly, he rubbed circles onto your clit. Your head fell back onto his shoulder and your breaths came out in little, desperate noises.

Before meeting him, you never knew this sort of inability to control your body. Having power over your motions was an obviousness to you. But as with so many things in life, you had been wrong. Or rather, you had not known better. Now, with his lips brushing over the side of your exposed neck, you were willing to let him do whatever he wanted to do to you. If there was a noise or reaction he wanted to coax out of you, he could do so. And if evoking your little melodic whimper was his aim, he was on the right path, fingers teasing your pussy and flicking over your clit. You knew he wouldn’t hurt you. In fact, he had a head so full of ideas of things you could do together, you doubted you’d ever start to get bored here.

“I want you…inside of me,” you said, surprising yourself. This was your desperate body taking control of your motor speech center, that little region in your brain that allowed you to let out what you wanted to say. Your cheeks were hot for only a moment, then you realized if it got you what you wanted so badly, speaking your mind was probably a fantastic idea. You should really do it more in the future, you thought.

“What my angel wants, my angel gets,” he said. Just for a few seconds, he moved his fingers much faster. You yelped at the sudden pleasure, your hand wrapping around his wrist. His other hand reached for your hand, softly taking it away as you became a whimpering puddle in his arms. You were ready to fall, give in to the pleasure and let go. It was what you so desperately wanted. But as quickly as it had begun, he removed his hands. His attention was gone, and you were left yearning for more.

“Lift your hips,” he said, softly touching your sides. A part of you wanted to cry out, hold him responsible for denying you your sweet release. But you knew it would be no use, and he would tell you to wait either way. You were still on your knees, but straightened up, arms hanging by your sides, waiting for his touch. He was right behind you, his upper body against yours. When you felt his cock run over your slick folds, you sighed at the awaited sensation. The stretch when he filled you up felt so perfect, so out of this world, you reached for his hand to hold on to.

“Why didn’t you ask me earlier if you wanted me so bad?” he asked. He squeezed your hand as his other pulled you flush against his back while he pushed himself further into you. He’d thrust against you for a while, only to pull out completely, and repeat the whole process. It was sending you into complete overdrive.

“Because I wanted to make you feel good,” you said. “Only you, for once.”

You moaned when he snapped his hips against your ass, picking up the pace. In an attempt to support your jittery legs, you grabbed the headboard in front of you. Your breathing came out in short huffs, uneven and a little shaky.

“You’re so sweet and selfless…my patient angel,” he said, his fingers coming in contact with your clit again. His touch was an allure to you, and you wished you could have stayed this way forever. No thoughts, just his body and his dark voice to sedate your mind. “I’ll give you anything you want. You know that, right?”

You hummed and nodded. “Yes. And I’ll do the same for you.” Your words were interrupted by your small whimpers. There had been a time you didn’t know what it felt like, when you didn’t even know there was a such thing of having someone inside of you. Now you couldn’t get enough of him. You were already so sensitive that every time he quickened his thrusts and moved his fingers on you slightly faster, he had you hanging right over the edge. And he could tell by the way you held your breath when you were close. He didn’t want you going there just yet.

“As much as I love your mouth around my dick, this is my favorite way of having you,” he said. He used both of his hands to dig into your sides, pulling your hips closer to him every time he dragged his cock through your walls. You agreed. Should any of your angels ever catch wind of this, they would ban you to earth – or worse, send you to hell. So be it, you thought. You’d be like your lover. One of the creatures of the darkness, thought to be the personification of sin. Even if they ripped your angel title from you, they could never steal away what you had now.

Yes, you were meddling with a demon, but also having the time of your life. It was vastly better than spending your days judging humans for being themselves and for humans living the true way they want to live, instead of abstaining from the simple pleasures of life. Their true colors shown, they weren’t harming anybody, but rather making the world a more acceptable and open-minded place. You aspired to be like them.

“This is my kind of heaven,” he said. It’s what he always called you. Heaven. He groaned when you clenched your walls around him, your inevitable high drawing closer.

“This is my new heaven…you are,” you replied. He chuckled darkly, probably relishing in your confession. The thought that he could make an angel reject the very place they should have belonged filled him with a sense of superiority.

“Look how well you’re taking me,” he said. His hand wrapped around your body, pulling you tighter. He slipped his hand between your legs again, and you almost felt like collapsing, had he not held on to you. On instinct, you closed your eyes and let the feeling crash over you.

“Let me see you come, little angel,” he spoke in your ear, just for you to hear. You would do anything for him. You quivered and buckled at the severity of the feeling, but he had you. Your moans were high and dragged out, as his digits pressed harder onto the sensitive nub on your center.

“Take just a little more for me, can you?” he asked. You obliged willingly, nodding your head while it was still full of nothingness. Even as he kept fucking you, it was pure bliss for another while. It made your legs shake a little, but you felt so safe there, in his embrace, the sensitivity was alright to handle. You could tell by how sloppy his thrusts were becoming that he was almost there, too. He was pressing you against his chest as if you were all he ever wanted. His moans sounded like home to you as he came. He said your name and bent forward, reaching for the headboard, but you both tumbled into the bedsheets together instead. You giggled at your shared clumsiness and you could feel his chest move from laughing as he was lying on top of your back.

“Fuck, that was amazing,” he said, “You’re amazing.”

You turned your head and his lips brushed along your temple, kissing you softly. He brushed a strand of hair out of your eyes so you could look at him. Seeing his beautiful face had you falling into an even deeper state of serenity.

“I want to cuddle,” he said, and it was probably the sweetest thing you had ever heard a demon say. As he rolled off you, you followed his movements and settled in his embrace. A thin sheen of sweat glistened on your skin, but neither of you cared enough to get up just yet.

“I love what you’ve done to me,” you said.

“What is it I have I done to you?” he asked, fingers drawing nonsensical patterns on the side of your bare hips.

“You changed me. But not in a bad way. You let me be who I want to be and showed me that that’s okay,” you said, “You made me understand. Some sins aren’t that sinful at all.”

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alpacaparkaseok · 3 years

Text

The Pact - Date #7

Pairing/Genre: OT7 BTS x reader (not poly), idol!BTS, best friend BTS

Word Count: 7.2k

Premise: The truth about the pact the boys have about you has been revealed. What happens when you agree to go on a single date with each of them?

Warnings: a bit of talking down on yourself, the confusion continues, general fluff with a touch of angst

a/n: this is the final date. guys...how is this going by so fast?? please let me know your thoughts on the date, on everything else overall...and I’ll see you soon? Next Saturday is the finale!

Date #7

series masterlist ∆∆∆ join the taglist

Note from the creator of this stupid idea:

I loved her first.

“Who do you think it was? Any ideas?”

“I…” you shrug. “No?”

Gina arches a brow, staring you down from across your kitchen table. “So, that was a lie.”

You can’t stop the laugh that bubbles up from your chest, Gina also chuckling. It’s a relief, the fact that she doesn’t hesitate to call you out. You’re grateful that you finagled her number from Jin, shooting him a text that looked a lot like this:

Me: Burn this after reading

Me: We can’t have any evidence !!

Kim Seokjinnie: ok, hi. I’m not burning my phone weirdo. I’ll just keep it away from Jungkook. What’s up??

Me: Hi. You know what I meant.

Me: Can you give me Gina’s number?

Kim Seokjinnie: Sure, I’ll send you the contact in a second. You two gonna hang out or something?

Me: Hopefully…do you think it’s weird if I just ask her out of the blue? Will she not wanna come?

Kim Seokjinnie: Nah, she’s pretty chill. I bet she’ll come

Kim Seokjinnie: *Kim Seokjinnie shared a contact with you*

Kim Seokjinnie: do you need anything before I burn my phone?

Me: no, thank you!! I owe you one. I’m short on friends rn, hopefully she’ll come over

Kim Seokjinnie: I’m sorry  miss you. We’ll all get to hang out once this is all over, I promise.

“Yah! I really don’t know. I mean they’ve all be so…”

“So what?”

You sigh, sounding like some kid in a dreamy teen movie. “Perfect?”

“There’s no such thing,” Gina huffs, leaning back in her chair. It’s a bit rickety, you’d found it at a yard sale with Namjoon and Jimin. You had just moved into your apartment, and realized that you were a little low on furniture. Together, you’d managed to find three mismatching chairs that made you grin each time you saw them.

It was a little odd at the time, you didn’t want to buy three chairs. Two seemed like plenty. They convinced you though, and looking back you understand why they were so adamant.

Wasn’t it rule #3? “Limit one-on-one interaction”? Three chairs made it so that there was always space for at least two of them.

Suddenly you look at the most average things in your house with different eyes.

Groaning, you rub your hands over your face. You’ve probably smudged your makeup, but you don’t care. It’s Friday night, you can do whatever you want.

“Unfortunately, I really think that there might be.” You let out a dry chuckle. “Seven dates with the world’s most perfect men. I knew I was screwed from the beginning, but this, I mean, I didn’t expect it to go this far.”

“On the bright side, you only have one more to go.” Gina gets up, stretching before moving to put her plate in the sink. She’d picked up some takeout on her way to your house, proving to you that you two are going to be friends for a long, long time.

“I’m terrified because of that. What happens after tomorrow’s date? I know it’s up to me, but I feel like I’m waiting for someone to come tell me the next step.”

Gina hums in agreement, shooting you an apologetic look. “Maybe I shouldn’t have pointed out how flirty they were at the haunted house. You never would have gotten into this mess.”

“No,” you wave her off. “It’s not your fault. Jungkook let it slip anyway, after the door closed on us in the basement. Ugh, I still get freaked out thinking about that. Has that happened since?”

Gina pauses over the sink, back turned to you as she runs her plate under the hot water. After a moment she shuts it off, turning around to wipe her hands off on a dish towel before leaning up against the counter.

“Erm…”

Your stomach drops. “What.”

“It’s just…” she crosses her arms and uncrosses them, unsure of what to do with her hands. “The door is connected to a little button on every employee’s key fob. You know, just for some extra scare factor.”

You meet her sheepish gaze with a blank stare. “So you’re telling me…”

“It’s just a part of the tour,” Gina shrugs. “Wait, what happened? He told you about the pact when the door closed? That’s…that’s honestly not the most romantic setting-”

“No no, we had a little moment after the door closed, and we almost kissed. But he stopped himself and said the I didn’t have to worry about him making a move. When we got out, I asked him why, and that’s when he mentioned the pact.”

“Huh.”

“Yeah.”

“So tomorrow is the last date, correct?”

“Yup.”

“Look,” Gina notices your worried expression. “Do yourself a favor. Let go. Don’t waste tomorrow thinking about what’s gonna happen next. Focus on the moment, ok? Then how about we get together next week sometime to talk everything over? If you feel like that might help, that is.”

You definitely made the right choice in inviting Gina over. You can already feel your stress levels going down.

“Ok.”

You’re up early the next morning, earlier than you’d like. You’re not sure how long you’ve been sitting on your sofa, basking in the golden morning sun and watching the little dust motes float in the air, but it’s certainly been a while.

For once, it’s quiet in your mind. You’re not sure why now, why today. There’s no doubt you’ll be your typical bumbling mess once Yoongi picks you up, but for now all is peaceful.

It’s the last date. Somehow, despite how much you’ve enjoyed these little escapades, you feel relief at the thought. Knowing that you’ve made it nearly to the end without doing anything remarkably stupid (you’re still mortified that you and Jimin got kicked out of that basilica but oh well), and now you’re so close.

For now, you slide your worries under the rug, to be left there for the weekend. You curl your legs under you and lean your head back against the cushions to drink in the sunlight. It warms your skin, leaving you feeling even better than before.

Yoongi is supposed to be here around four. Jungkook had sent you a quick text earlier in the week checking that you didn’t have any plans for Saturday afternoon and night. You didn’t bother to tell him that you always had all day open for them.

While the exchange had been short, you couldn’t help but wonder if he was blushing just as much as you when his contact popped up on your screen. In an instant you were plunged into the memory of clinging to him just outside your front door, Jungkook’s shaky breaths the only thing keeping you planted in reality.

Either way, it was safe to say that you were a blushing mess despite the simplicity of the text. He kept it strictly professional, not once alluding to the events of last Saturday. But you could still hear those words he uttered when he asked if you ever thought about what might have happened if he’d kissed you in the haunted house when he had the chance.

“I do. Every day.”

Of course you thought about it. You let out an amused huff on the couch, laughing to yourself. Who wouldn’t? But the only thing was the fact that you were thinking about a lot of things. Not just Jungkook.

Or his lips, for that matter.

The couch rustles as you get up, deciding to change out of your red sweatshirt for a green one. You’d been instructed to dress warm, which made you wonder what was planned for today. Outside everything looks warm and pleasant, certainly no need for anything too heavy.

By the time afternoon rolls around, you’re tempted to call up Gina for a late lunch or something. To say you’re antsy is an understatement; you’re positively losing it. The clock on the wall has decided to try its hand at stopping time altogether, and you think it’s doing a pretty good job of it. Every time you glace over, seemingly no time has passed.

This time, you really start to wonder if no time has passed. You swear it’s been stuck at 3 o’clock for a while-

The sound of someone knocking on your door has you nearly tipping over from where you perch trying to grab the clock.

For some stupid reason, you’re frozen to your spot at the far end of your living room. Holding the clock in your hands, you jump a little as a second tentative knock sounds.

To your utter mortification, your mouth opens and you yell out, “Come in!”

You’re still frozen in place when the door opens and Yoongi pokes his head in. His eyes immediately land on you, a sheepish smile that he has a hard time containing immediately breaking out.

“You’re not planning on throwing that at me, right?” He asks, making you glare down at the clock you cling to.

“Oh.” Your knuckles have turned white, and somehow your heart has decided to try its hand at sprinting a marathon. “No. I- it’s broken. I think.”

Yoongi shuffles inside, closing the door gently behind him before wandering over to you. His pale complexion makes the pink on his cheeks easy to spot. Somehow the fact that he’s blushing makes you blush.

“Do you have batteries around here?” He asks quietly, hiding his amusement.

“Maybe in the kitchen?” You brush past him, handing off the clock. “Would you mind getting the old batteries out?”

He mumbles out a sure, plopping down on your sofa while he gets to work on the clock. He’s wearing a similar outfit to you, which makes you smile. It’s not very often these days that he sports a bandana and you wonder if he somehow knew that you love the way he looks in it. His hair looks particularly fluffy as it kisses his forehead, the dark bandana giving him an air of coolness you know you could never pull off.

Rummaging around your kitchen drawers, you pause when you realize what you’re doing. Are you stalling? What’s the rush to fix a clock when you have Min Yoongi in the other room waiting to take you out?

Closing the drawer, you take a deep breath and shake your head.

“Sorry Yoongi,” you call out, trudging back into the living room. “I’m an idiot.”

He looks at you over his shoulder, a smirk tugging at his lips. “What’s your reasoning?”

“Ouch.”

Yoongi chuckles, setting the clock down on the coffee table before getting to his feet. “Wow, is it just me or…”

You wince. “This got off to a bad start, huh.”

“Yeah.”

Looking at each other from across the room, you realize just how much you’ve missed him. His witty sarcastic remarks, his honesty.

Him.

“Can we start over? Go knock on the door again.”

Yoongi’s already on his way, huffing out a laugh as he steps outside. “Alright, see you in a second.” The door clicks shut behind him, and you’re suddenly left with the silence of your house.

As Yoongi timidly knocks on the door, the same sense of calm you experienced this morning settles over you.

The seventh date. No more guessing who’s on the other side of the door, no more anxious glances in the mirror to check that everything looks flawless. It’s just you, Yoongi, and the door between you.

There’s already a smile on your face as you open that door, finding Yoongi standing with his hands in his pocket. He returns your grin, feeling like a fellow conspirator in a heist that has yet to be planned.

“I’m here,” he announces, then adds with a chuckle, “finally.”

“Took you long enough,” you tease, reaching out to grab his jacket and pull him inside. He feigns a horrified expression at your flirty nature, but you just roll your eyes. You’re not sure who wraps their arms around the other first, but the next thing you know, you’re wrapped up in a tight embrace.

I missed you, is what you want to say, but the words get caught in your throat. The lump that’s formed there only grows thicker with emotion as Yoongi’s gravelly voice rumbles against your hair.

“How’re you holding up?”

Your arms fall around his waist, ever aware of his shoulder. Even though he says he’s completely healed now, you aren’t taking any chances. It’s quiet for a long moment as you struggle to find an answer.

“I…fine. I’m fine.” You pull away and arch an eyebrow at him, pleased to see that is cheeks are still rosy despite the serious look in his eye. “How are you holding up?”

He lets out a breathy laugh, dropping your gaze. “Fine.” Then, when he catches your disbelieving stare, he states as innocently as possible, “What? Aren’t we lying to each other tonight?”

“You suck.”

“See!” He exclaims as you step out of his grasp to grab your things. “You always do that when you’ve been caught in a lie!”

“Ugh, yah! I wasn’t lying,” you turn around to face him, walking backward toward your room. “I’m fine, really.”

He shrugs. “And so am I.”

You stifle your laughter as you enter your room, grabbing your things and wondering if you should grab a coat. “Do I really need a coat?” You call down the hall.

“Yes!”

Pursing your lips, you snatch the puffy monstrosity from your closet before turning to head out. Double checking that you have everything you need; your eyes can’t help but glance at the item sitting atop your dresser.

You stick your tongue out at it. A few seconds later it’s tucked safely away in your top drawer and you’re heading out into the hallway. Your stomach does an uneasy flip as you recall the words that are practically burned in the backs of your eyelids now.

I loved her first.

Yoongi gets up from off the couch, waiting for you beside the door. His dark eyes survey you as you walk toward him. “Good to go?” He asks quietly. Clutching your coat a little tighter to your chest, you nod.

The two of you head out, locking up your apartment and settling in the car that Yoongi drove over. Before long, you’re out on the highway, speeding toward your destination.

Which, you’ve just realized, is still a mystery to you.

“Sooo…” You begin, smiling lazily at Yoongi. You take a moment to admire his hands that are wrapped around the steering wheel. “Where are we going?”

A smile tugs at his lips, but he manages to contain it as he adopts a serious expression. He glances over at you. “We’re going to see the sea.”

“We’re…” you stutter, furrowing your brows. “We’re going to see the sea?”

A breathy chuckle escapes him. “Yeah. But it’s a long drive, so are you down to listen to a murder-mystery with me?”

“YES.”

You’re still pretty sure that it was the nosy maid that did it by the time you arrive at your destination. Two hours, one murder-mystery short audiobook, and several snacks later, the sun is well on its way to the horizon when Yoongi pulls off to a sandy parking lot filled to the brim with cars.

There’s tons of people mulling about, several of them appear to be young families who smile fondly as their children laugh and play in the sand. There’s a couple of food-trucks that have popped up on the beach, which sport long lines. Yoongi observes them woefully, seeming to come to some sort of understanding with himself before moving to get out of the car.

“Woah, what’s with all the people? Is this beach always this busy?”

It’s a beach you’ve never been to before, the pristine sand glowing as the sun makes its way across the sky.

“Today’s a special occasion,” Yoongi explains, popping the trunk and rummaging around. “We should probably pick out a spot now before all the good ones are taken.”

You come around to the back of the car to meet him, taking the blanket he extends out to you. Leaving your big coat in the backseat, you hope he doesn’t scold you and tell you to put it on. Right now it’s windy, but fairly warm. No need to look like a living marshmallow just yet.

Before you can inquire after what the special occasion is, Yoongi passes you a couple of water bottles and begins rattling off instructions.

“How about I jump in line to buy us some dinner,” the way he says it so casually has your heart skipping a beat for some reason, “and you head down the beach to scout out a decent spot?”

“But what kind of spot do you mean? Is there a show or something?”

Yoongi pauses, closing the trunk and running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, something like that. A show. Just find a spot that you like, I’ll come find you with our food, ok?”

“Ay ay, captain.” You trudge away, hoisting the blanket up higher in your arms as you begin to look for an empty space. The immediate surrounding beach area appears to be pretty packed, which has you marching farther and farther away from the parking lot.

You grin as a couple of children race past you, giggling as they fly their kites. It’s looks like it’s a little boy and with his younger sister, trying their best to keep their kites afloat in wind. Waving at them, your smile only grows as the boy sheepishly turns away and the girl cheerfully waves back.

It feels like you walk for years before finding a clearing. You were definitely looking for a semi-secluded spot, not too keen on spending your long-awaited date with Yoongi surrounded by strangers. It doesn’t even occur to you to ask someone what the big deal is about today before you’re laying the blanket out. Not wanting to leave anything unattended just for it to blow away, you decide to just be patient until Yoongi finds you.

The sand is warm beneath the blanket as you plop down, resting with your face turned toward the sun as you let out a content sigh. Despite the chill of the wind, the sun warms you right up.

“Why are you alone?”

Peeking one eye open at the little voice, you’re delighted to see the same little girl from earlier standing a little ways away. She watches you with a meek expression, her kite forgotten at her feet.

“Oh, I’m not alone,” you explain. “I’m just waiting for my friend to come find me. He went to go get food.”

“Oh.” The young girl shuffles her feet. “My mommy says that I need to get all my wiggles out before the show.”

You chuckle. “Really? What show are we watching tonight? Is it Disney?” That would certainly make sense for all of the young families here tonight. Did Yoongi bring you to a beach-front outdoor movie?

“No, silly!” The girl giggles at your questions. “The sky’s coming to say hello!”

“What?”

“That’s what my mommy said. She said, ‘Young-mi get your wiggles out, the sky is coming to say hello soon!’”

You blink, a little amused by Young-mi’s earnest response. “I see…I didn’t know that the sky was coming to say hello tonight.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Oh,” you crane your neck toward the parking lot, but it’s too far away to see Yoongi. “My friend brought me, as a surprise.”

“Wow,” Young-mi utters in a reverent tone. “Can I meet your friend?”

“I don’t see why not.”

With a gleeful shout, Young-mi takes off running, her kite skipping along the ground behind her. She runs toward her family, her mother grinning at the sight before reaching out to pull her into her arms. You watch on with a forgotten smile, wondering for a split second what that would be like.

If you squint, that could be Yoongi sitting beside Young-mi’s mother, throwing his head back with laughter at something his daughter says to him. Their son crouches in the sand nearby, digging around as though searching for gold.

Laying down with a soft sigh, you close your eyes and let the little daydream take over. Here, at the beach. Telling your children that this is where you had your first date; laughing as they make disgusted faces when Yoongi plants a loud kiss on your cheek-

“Did the nosy maid get to you?”

Yoongi stands above you with arms laden with food. He blocks out the sun, the rays coming around to make him appear like an angel. Judging from the delicious smells radiating from the food he carries, you think he actually might be.

“Ah, so you agree that you think it was her that murdered Duke Rittington?” Your voice sounds a little croaky, a testament to the fact that you were just dozing a moment ago. Leaning up to ease some of the food from his arms, Yoongi snorts.

“No. It was obviously the son. Why can’t you see it?”

Rolling your eyes, you pat a spot next to you on the blankets. Yoongi takes the seat without hesitation. “Because, the son seems like too easy of a suspect. Whereas the maid-”

The screams of Young-mi as she rushes toward you cut you off. “You have a boyfriend?!”

“Oh, no.”

Yoongi leans over, still busy arranging the bags of food – is that a cheeseburger you see? – around the blanket. “Who’s that?” He mumbles.

“I, uh, made a friend while you were grabbing food,” you explain with a small smile.

Now Young-mi reaches your blanket, dropping to her knees as she gazes up at Yoongi with wide, innocent eyes. “Hi, my name is Young-mi and I’m four years old. I’m the second tallest in my class.” Young-mi prattles off information, her large eyes never once leaving Yoongi’s face. “Are you her boyfriend? I hope you’re her boyfriend.”

Yoongi lets out a startled laugh. “You do? Why’s that?”

“You’re so pretty.”

Now both of you burst out laughing, Young-mi looking utterly confused at your outburst. Yoongi covers his face with his hands, shaking his head.

“What? What’s so funny?” Young-mi questions.

You grin at her. “You think he’s pretty?” The little girl nods enthusiastically. “I do too.”

Yoongi peers over at you at this comment, an unasked question in his eyes. The pink in his cheeks has intensified, as has your own blush.

“Aren’t I supposed to be the one complementing you?” He asks under his breath. You shrug.

“You brought food, so now we’re even.”

Young-mi lingers a little while longer, asking a few questions and drawing in the sand. Munching down on your cheeseburger, you eye Young-mi’s kite.

“Do you mind if I try to fly your kite for a second?” The question is out of your mouth before you can fully process it, but Young-mi looks up at you excitedly.

“Yes!!” She squeals, immediately dragging the little handle over to you. “You have to run really fast, that’s what my mommy told me. Then it’ll fly!”

Glancing back at Yoongi as you clamber to your feet, you don’t miss the fond smile he wears as he watches the interaction take place. You wave at him, heading off down the beach with Young-mi. Once you’ve walked far enough, you wink down at her.

“Ok, you run on ahead and I’ll catch up in a few seconds.”

The girl wastes no time running off, her laughter making you feel lighter than you have in weeks. Once she’s far enough off, you take off after her. She heads straight toward her family, who smile at you as you attempt to get the kite off the ground.

Sand flies up behind you as you race, and you catch a glimpse of Yoongi with his phone out, recording you with a wide smile on his face. The sun has hit the horizon now, a dizzying array of colors sending your mind into a joyful frenzy. Up ahead, Young-mi has successfully made it to her family and is waiting for you to catch up. She jumps up and down as the kite soars above you, the little pinwheels attached to it spinning around in the wind.

A bit more energy overtakes you, and you sprint the last few yards toward Young-mi, unable to stop the laugh that jumps out of you. You feel so free, here on the beach. It’s almost like you’re up there flying with the kite-

“Wait!”

Someone shouts it, you’re not exactly sure who, but by the time the plea registers in your ears, it’s too late. Foot catching in the hole that Young-mi’s brother had been digging earlier, you feel a twist of pain before tumbling to the ground.

You cry out, barely managing to catch yourself before faceplanting it. The handle from Young-mi’s kite digs painfully into your hand, but that’s the least of your problems at the moment.

Young-mi’s family rushes over to you, but before they reach you Yoongi is dropping to your side.

“Oh,” you pant, “hi Yoongs.”

“Are you alright?” He’s also panting, and you wonder if he had begun running after you before you even fell, foreseeing your path. “Your foot…”

“I am so sorry!” Young-mi’s mother stoops down on your other side, her husband right behind her. “We completely forgot that Doyun even dug that hole! Can you move? Are you in pain?”

From where you’re laying belly-down on the sand, you can’t help but feel the burn of embarrassment in your cheeks. “I…move? Yeah, I can – ah never mind.” You wince as you attempt to get to your feet only for the dull ache in your right foot to flare up to a fiery red pain. Yoongi immediately reaches out for you, unsure of what to do. His hands ghost over your leg, but retract when you hiss in pain.

“Here, my husband-” Young-mi’s mother points over her shoulder to the man in question. “He’s a nurse. Honey, could you…?”

“Do you mind if I take a look at your ankle?” The man asks in a gentle voice. “Just to make sure nothing’s broken.”

With a nod, you allow both him and Yoongi to help you swivel around to sit the correct way, the blush you already have deepening even more when Yoongi takes up a spot at your back. He gently pushes your shoulders back until you’re leaning into his chest, his arms coming to wrap around you in a protective manner.

When you wince as the man delicately presses down on your already swollen ankle, Yoongi begins talking.

“So, is it just me, or has this entire night been a disaster?”

You let out a choked laugh. “No, Yoongs. Well, maybe it has, but it’s all my fault. I can’t believe I fell, how embarrassing…”

“Oh, are you two out on a date? Er, sorry for prying…”

Both you and Yoongi awkwardly chuckle. “No, no…um, yeah. We are.”

“It’s our first date, actually,” Yoongi adds as an afterthought.

“How exciting! Honey, it’s their first date, did you hear that?”

The man currently inspecting your ankle spares the two of you a kindly glance. “Good for you two. You make a good looking couple.”

“But I swear I’ve seen you before,” the mother comments, squinting at Yoongi. “Where do I know you from…”

You can feel Yoongi tense up behind you, but he doesn’t say anything yet. Instead he takes to finding your hands (which you’ve slipped into your sweatshirt pocket to avoid accidentally punching the man poking and prodding at your foot), eventually curling his hands around yours and steadily unclenching your fists.

“Oh! I know it! Do you do commercials?”

Yoongi lets out an audible sigh of relief, which makes you smile for half a second before a particularly hard prod at your ankle sends you into a tailspin.

“Yeah, I’ve done a few commercials.”

“I knew it. How’s it looking, honey?”

Her husband sits back on his heels, giving you a nod. “Nothing appears to be broken, you just twisted it pretty good. Babe, grab that icepack out of the cooler. You should keep ice on it for a while to counter the swelling.”

A second later you’re handing a little bag of ice. “I don’t wanna take your ice,” you comment lamely. Yoongi chuckles in your ear, pulling back from you and standing.

“It’s just a disposable pack we used for the cooler,” the mother explains, waving off your concern. “No need to worry. We’ve got plenty more. Now, go enjoy your date!”

“Yeah, try your best to have fun. And keep ice on that, on and off for the next couple of days. It shouldn’t give you too much trouble after that.” With a wink toward Yoongi, your temporary nurse gives him a little nudge. “You seem like a good man. I think you’re in good hands here, miss.”

Young-mi bids you a mournful goodbye as you limp away with Yoongi, quickly coming to find that sand isn’t the kindest to people hopping around on one leg. You’ve made it all of four hops while clinging to Yoongi before he stops.

“Hop on my back,” he commands, stepping directly in front of you.

You blanch. “But Yoongi…your shoulder.”

“It’s fine. Just hop on. You don’t need to limp all the way back to where we’re sitting.” When you hesitate another moment, he looks back at you over his shoulder, his dark eyes sparking in the sunset. “Jagiya.”

Well, the man puts up a convincing argument.

Yoongi crouches down so you don’t have to jump, and with a bit of careful maneuvering you manage to hop onto his back. His hands grip your thighs, hoisting you up a bit higher which makes you gasp a little. Your arms instinctively wrap around his neck, careful to avoid putting too much pressure on shoulder.

Setting off toward your abandoned blanket and food, you can’t help but feel a rise of disappointment in your chest.

“Yoongi?” You mumble, almost sounding like an embarrassed child.

“Hmm?”

Hiding your face in the back of his neck, you groan. “I’m sorry.”

Yoongi’s steps falter before he continues on, confusion evident in his tone. “Sorry? For what?”

The calm that you felt earlier has completely shattered at this point, and you grit your teeth against the pain in your ankle and the onslaught of emotions that surface. What happened to picture perfect? Why couldn’t you focus?

Other than sitting in the car together, you feel as though you’ve hardly touched base with Yoongi. You haven’t seen the man in nearly two months, and yet here you are distracted as ever. Distracted with your dumb broke clock, distracted with the audiobook, distracted with a kite.

Yoongi stops in his tracks as he feels hot tears against his neck. “Jagiya?”

“I- I’m so sorry, Yoongi,” you blubber. “I’m an idiot! I c-can’t focus on anything tonight and…and now I’ve made everything fall apart by going and getting h-hurt…Yoongi, it hurts so bad. A-and now I’m complaining, which is making everything worse!”

You’re surprised when Yoongi doesn’t say a single thing, instead picking up where he left off as he trudges on toward the blanket. In response to his silence, you continue in your repentant monologue.

“And you waited in line to get us fooood,” you bite down on your lip as you fight the urge to wail. “It’s probably c-cold now, and you waited for s-so long to get it…I feel like such a bad person…if you don’t wanna continue the date, I u-understand. I promise I won’t tell anyone if you want! J-just, I’m so sorry, Yoongi. I’ve completely ruined this, and you drove t-two hours to get me here….” You’ve reached the blanket now, Yoongi gently sets you down, and you hobble on one foot as you half-expect him to grab his keys and set off toward the car. “I just can’t think straight because I read that stupid pact and-”

“Woah, back up.”

Swiveling around to face you, Yoongi has a frown etched into his face. It makes you want to turn and run, to crawl into a cave to die from embarrassment, but it’s the fact that you can barely manage to stand on one foot at the moment – let alone run – that has you standing still.

“You read the pact?” You blink, hopping a little. When Yoongi sees your struggle he reaches out to you, steadying you. “Here, let’s sit.”

“W-we’re staying?”

Yoongi gazes down at you, the look in his eyes turning unspeakable soft. “Yes, jagiya. Unless you aren’t feeling up to it anymore?” He looks as though the thought of leaving now pains him, but he waits patiently for your answer.

“I wanna stay.”

“Good. Now, what’s this about you reading the pact?”

Having successfully turned into a sniffling mess, you wipe away your tears with an angry swipe. It’s time to come clean.

“I found a copy in Jin’s room-”

“What were you doing in Jin’s room?!” Yoongi whispers frantically, growing more concerned by the second. You wave him off.

“-and I took it! I knew I shouldn’t, but I just wanted to know, you know? So I stole it but that was stupid because then I saw that thing on the back…the little note.” Your words trail off, unable to even say the word lovewhen Yoongi’s looking at you like he’s unsure of whether he wants to laugh or cry.

“The little…note?”

“Yeah, you know…” You shake your head, moving on. “And since I saw that, I’ve been a mess. Like, an actual mess. I finally called Gina help just to get some help, I needed someone to talk to because you know, I can’t talk to you guys right now which is stupid. But I’m still so lost and I screwed everything up and my ankle hurts Min Yoongi!”

You’ve stunned yourself into silence with your outburst, Yoongi across from you looks a bit lost himself as he sits back on his heels. It’s clear the moment he comes to a realization.

“The note.”

It’s all you can do to breathe normally and not burst out into tears again. Yoongi’s expression turns mournful when he sees you.

“Oh, jagiya…” leaning forward, Yoongi somehow manages to pull you into his lap. Wrapping his arms around you and tucking your head close to his chest, Yoongi pulls you in as close as he can. He sways gently back and forth, a hand coming up to cup your cheek to make you look at him.

You do so begrudgingly, feeling like nothing more than a large child. However, the moment you meet his eyes, it hits you like a lightning strike.

“Do you remember,” he begins quietly, “that time when your final paper accidentally got deleted? All you had left to do on it was add the reference page. You were distraught, remember?”

Of course you do. It’s the stuff of nightmares. Countless hours spent laboring over a final essay for a class you loathed, only to make a stupid mistake and delete it all. All of it, all nineteen pages were gone in a blink. Your hard work along with it.

“I remember you called me, a sobbing mess. Obviously I thought you’d hurt yourself, the way you were crying about killed me.” He tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear, leaving you completely enraptured in his spell as he continues speaking. “I fought with Namjoon because I needed to go see you, but we had a schedule. It was an interview, I don’t even remember for what or with whom, but I was so angry. I seriously thought I was gonna punch him. Then I remembered he goes to the gym a lot more than me, so I didn’t.”

He manages to make you crack a small grin at that. The sight spurs him on. “But I’ll never forget the sight I saw when I finally made it out to your house later that night. It was like what, two in the morning? No one knew I was even going over, which obviously I did on purpose. I didn’t want to get into another argument. When I walked in your apartment, you were sat at the kitchen table. Remember?”

The memory is vague, tinged with exhaustion and disappointment, but it’s there. You’d set up camp at your kitchen table all day, missing all other appointments just to try to rewrite your paper. You were half delirious at that point, staring at the screen seemed equal to burning at the stake.

“I’ve never seen you look more exhausted in my entire life,” Yoongi chuckles. “I remember I was ready to write the paper for you, I was so sad for you. But when I made it over there, I was floored to see that you’d already written it. Not only that, but you’d written twenty-seven pages. Twenty-seven! Who does that?!” He shakes his head at you, looking absolutely shocked.

“When I asked you why you would do that, you just shrugged and said, ‘why not reach for the stars?’ Then you submitted it, stood up, walked over to me and gave me a hug before going straight to bed. I was so shocked that I just stood there for ages, trying to fathom what had just happened.”

Yoongi sighs, glancing up at the night sky. You admire his jawline from this angle, nuzzling in a little closer to him for warmth. He notices that you didn’t bring your coat out with you, giving you a playful glare before gently rubbing his hands up and down your arms.

“Why did you tell me that?”

You can feel his shrug. “You are more capable, more special than you will ever know. I’ve always kept that in my heart, over the years. Why not reach for the stars? Jagiya…”

Yoongi shuffles a little bit before cupping your chin and pointing toward the horizon where the sun has slipped down. The night sky is becoming more visible by the second, a few stray stars winking down at you.

“Look.” He points at a certain spot in the sky just in time for you to see a streak of breathtaking light.

A falling star.

In the span of a few minutes, you’re completely speechless as the sky continues to darken and your eyes are glued heavenward. Gradually, more and more falling stars dart across the sky, taking your breath away. As they continue, you recall Young-mi’s words. The sky is coming to say hello.

Yoongi reaches for your hand, easily enveloping it while tracing the outline of your knuckles.

“You,” Yoongi breathes out, sending tingles down your spine. “Are the stars I’ve been reaching for ever since that night.”

Heart thundering against your ribs, you turn to look at him only to find his eyes also trained on the heavens. He speaks the words softly, almost to himself, but you still catch them.

“You’re a star, all the way up there…and I’m all the way down here. Maybe all I’m meant to do is admire you from afar. But for tonight, just for a moment, I’ll hold you.” His eyes slide down to meet yours, glinting with pure starlight. Cold and beautiful. Hurtling toward you, burning up in your atmosphere and leaving you wondering what would happen if you let him in.

If it would lead to utter destruction or the most beautiful thing you’ve ever witnessed.

All words have escaped you at this moment in time, but you don’t feel the need to scramble for some sort of a response. Instead you settle for snuggling in a bit closer, allowing Yoongi to hold you a bit tighter.

Tonight, he’ll hold you close to his chest while what will later be recorded as the most prominent meteor shower in recent history rains down above you. The dark night sky is set aflame with streaks of silver as falling stars graze the earth, sharing a sweet goodnight kiss as they hurtle through space. You marvel at the seemingly never-ending parade the night sky puts on, relishing the way Yoongi keeps your warm as he also marvels at the wonder above you.

There’s no words that are exchanged for the entirety of the meteor shower, the only form of communication found in the patterns Yoongi traces out against the back of your hand and the way he gazes down at you from time to time. As though making sure you’re really there.

It’s a long while before the meteor shower begins to fade, and it’s only when you hear Yoongi softly calling your name that you realized you’ve dozed off.

“It’s over, jagiya,” he coos, brushing hair away from your eyes. “Let’s get you to the car, then you can sleep the rest of the way home.”

Somehow you two manage to make it to the car, you yourself being much more coherent by then due to the sharp pains in your ankle. You realize that you two are some of the few people left at the beach, making you wonder when everyone else left.

Your eyes are half-closed when Yoongi begins to drive away, your hand finding his atop the console.

“You know you don’t need to worry about us, right?” Yoongi mumbles out, glancing over at you with a worried expression. “We’ll support whatever you decide to do. Remember what I said before? You’re the most capable person I know. You don’t need us, not really. Just…be happy.”

You mumble out something incoherent, not completely realizing that he’s referring to the aftermath of the pact until you’re already asleep.

The next thing you know, you’re parked in front of your apartment and Yoongi is grinning down at you from the passenger side door.

“C’mon,” he urges, helping you out of the car. “Careful with the ankle.”

“Mmm.”

It takes a bit of careful maneuvering to get up the stairs to your apartment, but you manage to make it. Leaning up against the door, you fumble for your keys.

Once you’ve found them, you hand them straight over to Yoongi. You’re far too tired to attempt unlocking your door at the moment. He laughs at your behavior, shooting you a proud gummy smile when he unlocks the door. You don’t even have to ask before he’s assisting you inside, helping you hobble to your room before turning to leave.

“Thank you, Yoongi. For everything.”

Yoongi smiles down at his shoes. “We’ll swing by tomorrow to check up on you if that’s ok?”

We.

Your stomach flips to remember that you’re over now with these dates. Now what-

“Or just shoot me a text? I know that might be awkward if we all show up…”

“Thank you. I’ll text you?” You sigh, running your hands over your face. “Yoongi, I…” You trail off, staring up at him from your bed as your mind and heart races. There’s just no words.

With a soft smile, he leans down and pecks your nose. The innocent gesture has your ears turning red, which widens his grin.

“I know.” He whispers back.

And then he’s gone.

And you’re left here, suddenly colder than ever.

main masterlist

the dates are DONE. please let me know your thoughts, I love hearing from you! Tomorrow I'll be opening up a poll for your top two dates, so stay tuned for that!

alsooo stay tuned this week because I may have a lil bonus chapter for you guys

taglist: @baepsaetay @dreamcatcherjiah @kookie-vuitton @thecaffeinatedscribbles @moon-write @fangirl125reader @heishichoulevi @knjkitten @sacha-cff @vik7797 @eusticenatalie @hesmyphenominiall @miriamxsworld @kayahay @secretlycrazyhummingbird @marianeamine @hqtetsurou @protontippens @beginwithamin @delacyrose224 @luvtaeha @fanfictionreader05 @mininimmy @dreadity @starlight-night0 @luzaroon @seaoffangirling @prachi05 @fangirl125reader @bluehairedotakugem @hunnibxbe @kayahay @fanfictionreader05 @seokjinmoonfics @littletinyhobi @honeyhalcyon @yoontaethings @herrmionejgranger @beepbeep11 @extraordinary_reads @vntwishlist @aussiebeachbabes @hitsussi @hannah2291 @alwaysasadaesthetic

#bts x reader #bts fluff #bts dating au #Yoongi x reader #bts ot7 x reader #bts friends to lovers au #yoongi friends to lovers au #bts as your best friends #bts imagines #bts fanfic #suga x y/n #yoongi x y/n #armywriterssupport

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inkandpen22 · 3 years

Text

Permanent Chaos (4/?)

Pairing: MGK x Female!Reader

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: mild swearing, mentions of underage drinking

Part Summary: Sam hosts a party and Y/N makes a not-so-great acquaintance of a certain rock star.

Masterlist

Sam’s house is filled with people. I know the majority of the partiers, the rest I can recognize from whatever field of entertainment they’re in. The music is blasting over the speakers and the voices fill the remaining space.

I search around for him. I manage to find him in the family room on the couch. He’s chatting with a group of people, including Penelope. I make my way over, shuffling between bodies. When I appear out from within the crowd, Sam gleams.

“You made it!”

“I did!” I giggle.

We hug and he introduces me to the girl beside him. “Y/N, this is Cara.”

As if I don't know who Cara Delevigne is, I may be busy but I don't live on Mars. I smile at her kindly. “Nice to meet you!”

“You too! I’m a huge fan of your work on TSL!” She gushes, giving my hand a gentle squeeze.

The Seasons of Life is often shortened to TSL, just a side note.

Cara’s accent is so pretty! She’s already a model then she has to have a British accent as if she wasn’t perfect enough!

“Aw, thank you so much!”

Sam slips by me. “I’m going to go get us a drink!”

"Oh wait, Sam!"

“I know what to do!” He shouts back without stopping. I should know better. With how much time we spend together, he would know my order.

“That kid,” I sigh to Penelope and Cara.

The two giggle and we go on to talk about this and that. Fun enough, Cara leaves for Paris tomorrow for a fashion show. Must be exciting to travel so often and to wear the most amazing clothes. She’s quite funny. Her personality is so vibrant and warm. I can see us being good friends.

A loud voice echoes through the house and the three of us look toward the archway to see who it’s coming from. Bodies block the view so I turn my attention back to the girls. Penelope and I discuss the photoshoot in two days and Cara talks about her experiences with Vanity Fair.

“Hey, Cara!” A voice greets behind me.

I don't turn around, but I can feel their energy hovering over me. They shuffle to stand right beside me. I glance up, but can't recognize them.

Cara stands up to hug them. “Good to see you! How are you?” She keeps him in an embrace.

“Great, great!” The guy, who’s back is to me for some reason seems familiar. I can’t quite put my finger on it.

“You know Sam?” She questions as they part.

“Not really, I came with a few friends.”

I look over at Penelope for a hint as to who it could be. She shrugs and watches the two interact.

“Speaking of, have you seen him? I should say hi.” The man asks.

“He went to the kitchen to get a drink for him and Y/N.”

The man turns around and he peers down at me on the couch. I should’ve guessed it… MGK. The hair and a million tattoos should've been a dead giveaway. That bright blonde mess of a hairstyle.

“Colson, this is Y/N Voss,” Cara introduces us.

He glances down at me with a smile. “We’ve met actually,” he claims.

My head tilts, I can’t recall when we've met properly.

“Today after I performed on James’s show,” he describes, towering over me.

“Oh! Awesome!” Cara sits back down next to me.

All I can do is stare at Colson in confusion. “If you count glancing at one another from across the room once as meeting,” I reply a bit snarky.

He gives me a toothy grin and eases down onto the cushion ottoman right across from me. “It was more than one glance,” he argues.

“You would know, you’re the one that never looked away," I fire back.

Cara and Penelope exchange a glance, snicker, then leave the scene together. They offer their goodbye before giggling away. They're smart.

Colson seems to have not noticed or at least doesn’t care. He moves to take Cara's spot on the cushion next to me. “You would’ve had to been looking to have noticed that I never looked away.”

My head rolls back, with a mocking laugh. “Well aren’t you a genius!”

He rests his arm on the back of the couch behind me. “I like to think so.”

“One vodka tonic.” Sam interrupts, holding out my drink.

I take it bitterly. "Thanks."

“Sam huh?” Colson stands up and the two shake hands. “I’m Colson, nice to officially meet you, man!”

Sam treats him like an old friend which annoys the heck out of me. Colson so far has only shown his arrogance to me. “You too! Great seeing you today at the show. Your performance was amazing.”

“Thanks, your interview was hilarious!” Colson fakes charming better than some actors.

“You watched?” Sam asks.

“Yeah, I stuck around just off-camera. You two are great!”

Watching these two talk each other up is a bromance waiting to happen.

Sam gestures to me with his glass. “Y/N here is the real comedian. There’s never a dull moment with her."

“I'm sure.” Colson peers down at me with a bright smile. "We’ve only just met and she’s already sparked a debate with me.”

I narrow my eyes at Colson, what’s he trying to start?

Sam settles down on the ottoman where Colson was. “What about?” He is all for the conversation and is jumping headfirst into the tiff between us.

Colson smiles but I see the mischief in his eyes.

“It wasn’t a debate” I rise to my feet in front of the boys. “If you would excuse.” I step away from the couch a little irked.

“Oh come on now Baby, I’m only joking,” Colson calls not bothered.

“Oh no,” Sam laughs behind me. “Best not call her that or any pet names for that matter. She hates them!”

I don’t even acknowledge them on my walk out of the room. Cocky, annoying, ugh! It’s been maybe five minutes and he’s already managed to irritate me. Maybe all the things they write in the tabloids about him are true. A spoiled, arrogant, womanizing jerk. A piece of the worst parts of the industry. I'm going to go find the girls and stay far away from Colson Baker.

________________________________________

On the set of the Vanity Fair shoot, the atmosphere is lively and carefree. The theme is an 80’s vintage style and since it’s coming back the magazine is mixing old with the new. Sam and I are in an old-fashioned record store and it’s wicked! The walls are teal and remind me of an old Taco Bell. There are rows and rows of just vinyl records. My hair is teased in an 80’s rock band kind of hairstyle. 80s music has been playing on set all morning to set the mood. I'm living for it!

A lady approaches me with a huge light wash denim jacket.

“No way! I get to wear this!” I gush.

She helps me put it on and I’m dying from how awesome this shoot is.

I immediately go to Sam's trailer. “Sam! I’m rocking the denim on denim look!” I show off my high-waisted light wash denim shorts with a black bulky leather belt around my waist.

He laughs. “I appreciate the denim on denim but I have to say my favorite part is the old Bon Jovi T.”

The photographer, Adam, comes up with this brilliant idea for me to stand on the crates of records. Where the two rows in the middle of the store meet, there’s enough room for me to stand. Once I’m up there and I can find the balance in these red heels, they have Sam join me.

“Sam, grab her leg and look up at her as though you’re keeping an eye on her,” Adam instructs.

The camera flashes and between snaps, I change my facial features.

“Good! Good! Let’s get some shots from the counter!”

Sam helps me down from the crates and I hop down. We get a shot of me laying across the counter with a red sucker in my hand and Sam hovering over me. This shoot is incredibly fun and I can’t wait to see the finished product.

Sam and I change outfits and Adam asks if he can get a video for the website and YouTube channel. Of course, we said yes. It’ll be a montage of an interview of us individually and then of us just messing around throughout the store with 80’s music playing in the background. Adam has me sit on an 80’s style floral couch they set up in front of a backdrop in the back room. The whole setup is very comfortable and intimate. Only us, a few lights and a camera with the radio playing. Sam is in makeup and dress for the part of the video of us being candid.

“You can sit however you like!” Adam instructs, meaning I’m sitting too formal with my posture straight and legs crossed. “Act like we’re just hanging out or something.”

I adjust myself and crisscross my legs, slouching a bit.

“Much better!” he compliments, staring down at the camera. He hits up on a stool and positions his camera on the stand. “What’s it like to be on the cover of Vanity Fair?”

“The whole experience is unreal! I remember having a subscription to Teen Vogue growing up. My friends and I loved them!”

“Would you describe your style as modern or classic?”

“Classic for sure!” I gush.

Adam snickers. “What’s your favorite decade for fashion?”

I laugh and gesture down at my outfit. “The 80’s.”

“Does anyone from the 80’s inspire your style in particular?”

I tap the tips of my fingers together and hum. “That’s a toughy! I guess I would have to say Demi Moore for the hair. Specifically, her haircut from About Last Night… that’s where I got the style for my hair actually. Another big one would be Cindy Crawford, such a fashion icon!” I could talk about fashion all day and the icons idolize.

“Heels or sneakers?”

“Depends on the occasion. Sneakers for everyday things, I could never live without my trusty Converse. Yet, I would wear heels if I’m dressing it up a bit.”

"Are you more of a girly-girl or tomboy?”

“People who know me well would say I’m a girly-girl but I also don’t mind downplaying it from time to time. I’ve gotten better lately at relaxing and no being so “on” all the time.”

“Hair up or down?”

“Half up, half down,” I wiggle my eyebrows playfully looking into the camera.

Adam chuckles behind the camera. He changes topics. “You’re from South Carolina originally...”

My heart sinks a little at the mention of home, but I hide behind a smile. “That I am.”

“You haven’t been back in almost a year, do you miss it?”

I play with the ends of my hair, examining my lap. Avoiding the camera lens. I look at anywhere but there. “If I were to miss anything about South Carolina, it would be the gorgeous landscape and southern food."

“You have three siblings, correct?” Adam asks next.

“I do, an older brother and sister, then a younger brother.” I list.

“What do they think about the show and your career?”

I nod. “They support me but the distance is hard. As you said, we haven’t all been together in almost a year.”

“Do you have any plans to go visit home soon?”

I sigh, “sadly no, my work keeps me quite busy.”

The interview goes on and we discuss how my style has evolved since I was a teen starting out in the business. I’ll admit, the topics about home and family sucked. Work and personal life are two separate jobs, my worlds can’t collide. I never bring South Carolina into it.

______________________________________________

After the shoot, I received a call from Cara when we were finishing up the photoshoot. Last night, Cara, Penelope, and I had a blast! I completely forgot about the whole tiff with Colson once I reached them in the kitchen. Since then, we’ve been three peas in a pod. While we were talking on the phone, she invited Sam and me to dinner at The Ivy.

“A small gathering of friends,” she told me and asked for us to be there by seven.

Jump ahead to now and Sam is parallel parking the car. I hop out and wait on the sidewalk for Sam to walk around. Our hands' interlock and the paparazzi take notice of us when people on the sidewalk pull out their phones.

“Y/N! SAM! SAM! OVER HERE!”

“HOW’S FILMING GOING?”

“It’s good to be back on set!” I cover my eyes with my clutch.

“YOUR INTERVIEW WITH JAMES CORDEN WAS GREAT!”

“SOCIAL BLEW UP AFTER THE INTERVIEW!”

Sam asks for the guys to make a path so we can get through without issues. He releases my hand and presses his palm to my lower back protectively.

“WE’VE ALREADY SEEN Cara AND PENELOPE GO IN!”

“A FEW PEOPLE ACTUALLY!”

“ARE YOU ALL MEETING UP?”

“Maybe, maybe not!” I look into one of the video cameras and wink.

The guy behind it gets a hoot out of my expression.

Sam and I reach the restaurant and the men let us go in unbothered.

“WE’LL LEAVE YOU ALONE TO YOUR DINNER!”

“Thanks guys, see you later!” I wave to them and their cameras shoot rapidly.

The noise dies down when we go back further into the restaurant. Sam spots Cara in the back and guides me back there. Tables are lined up in a long row and the majority of the seats are filled.

Cara, cool as a cucumber pulls me into a hug. “Hey Y/N! So glad you two could come!” She sits Sam and me across from each other near the middle. She insisted that I sit by her so we could chat. We get to talking about the Vanity Fair shoot today then she’s pulled away when another guest arrives.

The waitress comes up behind me and requests my drink order.

“I’ll have a sweet tea please.”

“We only serve unsweetened.”

I hate it when they say that. “That’s fine, thank you!” Sam eyes me and I pout about having no sweet tea.

“You realize there’s sugar right here.” He slides me the packets of sugar.

“Yes but it’s not the same. There’s sweet tea at every restaurant where I’m from and I come here boom! Sweet tea is nonexistent!”

"What’s the drink that’s carbonated?” He’s asking to be annoying because the west coast and the midwest disagree on the name.

“Pop!” I glare at him.

“That’s right! Pop! Sounds like you’re saying pot every time.” He laughs at his own joke, finding himself humorous.

“It’s soda by the way," he corrects.

“Uh uh,” I refuse to change my ways, “it’s pop.”

The empty chair next to me slides back and when I glance up to see who’s doing it, an instant headache hits my brain.

Sam greets Colson warmly with a handshake. I shoot Sam another glare. He’s acting neutral but that shouldn’t be a choice in this case. He was my friend first!

Colson removes black Ray-Bans from his face and positions them on top of his head.

“Hello Y/N.” Colson sends me one of his charming grins so many teen girls swoon over.

“Hi,” I reply, not attempting to hide my disinterest. I curve my body away from him and towards Cara, legitly giving him the cold shoulder.

The dinner goes on without a hitch surprisingly, considering the circumstances. Penelope leans down over the back of my chair to say our goodbyes.

I turn around in my chair to face her. “See ya tomorrow.”

“See ya,” she rubs her hand up and down my arm.

She and I exchange kisses on the cheek. “Love you!” We say in unison as we part.

“Later Sam!” She wiggles her fingers at him in a wave.

Sam and I stick around a while longer since Cara and I have gotten into a deep conversation about our shared love for vintage things. A conversation about our collections of records alone went on for twenty minutes. I hadn't noticed that it was just four of us now. Sam and Colson have been talking most of the dinner.

A pair of hands rest on my shoulders and steal my attention away from Cara. “Y/N, you ready to go?” Sam asks.

“We’ll head out too!” Cara announces with her sights directed behind me.

I look over my shoulder and Colson is standing beside Sam. The four of us walking out together… how convenient.

I grab my clutch, sticking close to Sam to dodge Colson.

The four of us walk toward the front of the restaurant and right when we reach the steps leading outside, Cara announces that she forgot her purse.

“I’ll be right back!” She urges us to go on without her.

The cameras waited for us as I assumed they would. They’re capturing every minute of us waiting for Cara.

I place my hand on Sam’s shoulder, “would you go help her?”

“You sure?” His eyes flicker between me and Colson.

“I’ll be fine,” I assure him and he promises he’ll only be a second.

“Go to the car so you aren’t bothered,” he refers to the paparazzi.

“I’ll walk her,” Colson offers.

Sam gives him the go-ahead as he goes off to help in the search for the purse.

I’m left with the one guy I was avoiding. I grip the keys in my hand and walk down the brick steps to the sidewalk. I hear Colson behind me and stop to address him. “I can walk myself to the car.”

He raises his arms mocking a surrender. “I don’t doubt your ability to walk, just helping out.”

“I don’t need your help,” I scoff, starting to walk again.

“I never said you did,” Colson sassily replies.

*Click* *Click* *Click*

A man runs around me to get a photo of me straight on.

“Y/N! Y/N! WALKING IN WITH SAM AND LEAVING WITH MGK, ANY EXPLANATION?”

I pause for a moment, making eye contact with the man behind the camera. Is he honestly trying to start drama? What lies are he going to sell? I’m only going to the car because Sam requested. The only reason Colson is even near me is that he’s so freaking persistent.

I push back the aggravation and force my lips into a kind smile. I can’t have a single moment of weakness. I can’t give in to my emotions like others. “Sam is helping Cara with something inside. Colson was kind enough to walk me to the car.”

“HOW LONG HAVE YOU GUYS KNOWN EACH OTHER?”

I purposefully answer quickly so Colson doesn’t even have the chance to think of a response. “Not long, we met the other day backstage at The Late Late Show. We have a lot of the same friends and had no idea!” I peek over at Colson and he gives me a knowing look. I dismiss it and go on with my charade. I will not let this jerk mess with my career.

“ANY CHANCE OF HAVING COLSON GUEST STAR ON THE SHOW?”

“That would be great!” I lie my butt off, “having more friends on set would be fun!”

“COLSON, HOW’S YOUR NEW ALBUM COMING ALONG?!”

“We’re in the recording stage right now. Should be released sometime this summer," he answers.

“FOLLOWING UP WITH A TOUR?”

“Of course!” he chuckles.

I unlock the car and move around the guys to reach the door.

“WE’LL LET YOU GUYS GO ON. ENJOY THE REST OF YOUR NIGHT!” One of them departs.

“Thank you! You too!” I wave goodbye.

Some stick behind to get a few last pictures but for the most part, they all disburse. The ones remaining, however, keep their distance.

I yank on the handle of the door and Colson holds it for me. As if he's a gentleman. I begin to climb in, prepared to yank it shut in his face.

“Friends huh?” Colson chuckles.

I turn around abruptly and check around the general area of the sidewalk for any cameras. Seems the remainder of the guys have left. I shut the door and Colson removes his hand in a rush.

“No, not friends! I only said that to please the public," I huff.

“Ouch!” he acts offended, placing his hand on his heart. “I did find it interesting that you claimed we met backstage the other day so I was right!” He chuckles, believing he caught me.

“No, no, no, no!" I shut that thought down quickly. "The only reason I made that up was that it’s not good for my image if I admit I was at a party. People tend to assume that heavy drinking and drugs occur at parties. I can’t be associate with that scene!”

“Oh, so it’s alright to lie?” He crosses his arms and snickers, glancing down the street toward the restaurant.

I roll my eyes, of course, he doesn’t understand, why would he? “You don’t get it” I scoff, dismissing him. I turn and reach for the car handle again.

“So what if you were at a party? People drink, if some have a problem with that, that’s their problem. Oh! I forgot! You're America's Sweetheart! The perfect angel princess with a spotless record,” he mocks.

I slam the car door shut, having hit my limit. I keep my voice hush. “It’s not that simple! I'm not like you! I can't be caught partying! If the country, the world, sees the truth then my image is ruined! I've been doing this since I was a teenager! I worked way too hard for far too long to lose everything over a stupid mistake!”

Colson’s face falters from his usual carefree expression to one of seriousness.

“Found it! Let’s go!” Sam announces loudly to the whole block.

I toss him the keys and glance back to Colson who stands there in a stillness I have yet to see from me. His stare makes me want to hide. I feel as though I’m under a microscope being studied.

“Toodaloo Y/N! ‘Till next time my pals!” Cara strolls down the sidewalk.

It’s evident she’s had a couple of drinks. She sways further down the sidewalk and comes to a stop once she notices Colson isn’t following.

“Later Cara!” Sam shouts over the top of the car behind me.

Colson and I stare at each other I’m guessing for different reasons. He appears lost in thought and I’m desperately trying to figure out why. If I look away, I fear he’ll break to pieces or something.

Cara pauses. “Colson? You coming?”

He holds out for a moment but finally breaks eye contact with me. "Yeah."

When I’m no longer staring into those black works of art I regain my ability to move. I hurry into the car and Sam says his goodbyes again over the top of the car. I buckle my seatbelt when he climbs in. Watching strangers walk up and down the sidewalk, I’m perfectly aware of Sam starring me down.

He pulls onto the street. “Are we gonna talk about it or are we doing silence?”

I reach over and turn up the radio.

“Of course you make your own option.” Sam watches me, waiting for some sort of explanation.

We come in at the end of a song and the next one is oh too recognizable. The classic rock sound that is a part of all of Colson’s music plays through the car speakers. His vocals enter the soundwave and I groan loudly over the music before turning off the radio.

"No music then!" I snap.

__________________________________

Masterlist

Tags: @canyoubuymetoast @bri-3530 @asil1652 @andstilltryingtofindmyself @nadia2021 @olafsidehoe @mgkobsessed @fairywriting101 @ferrell-cat @naylanae-0308 @tonystarkswife10 @alexsa5 @brocksbabyyy @stormrider505 @magnificenthumancopangel @sarcasticfangirlus @lilramencup95beech @missyviolet123 @skeleton-gxr @glitterybearllamaflap @margaritaville20 @amoresix @thysagclub

#mgk smut #mgk fanfic #mgk imagine #mgk #mgk x reader #mgk aesthetic #machine gun kelly #imagine #fanfiction

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vroomvroomkachowboi · 3 years

Text

The Gift of Magi

smut, fluff, angst: fluff ig

pairing: draco malfoy x reader (fem)

word count: 1.8k (1897 specifically)

summary: it’s valentine’s day soon, y/n decides to sell something to get draco a gift, since she’s poor, she sells a valuable item to buy him something, and draco’s gift relates to the item she sold (this is based off of that one christmas story “the gift of magi”, except its valentine’s day and draco is obviously not poor)

warning: i think curse words, and i barely proofread my one shots so, and math sort of

a/n: i hope y’all know what story i’m talking about because then it would be embarrassing for me lmao. (if you’re confused just search up mickey’s once upon a christmas, you’ll probably recognize it) omg the amount of math i had to do for this one shot is ridiculous, but i’m actually really proud of this, also he won’t be very draco-like

Valentine’s Day would be a lot sooner than later. The day of love would be here in 2 days and Y/n still needed to buy a gift for Draco, her boyfriend. Unfortunately, she was just as poor as the Weasley family. She felt bad, Draco loved to spoil her even on regular days, since the Malfoy’s were filthy rich. She just wanted for their first Valentine’s day to be perfect, she almost couldn’t send him anything during winter break. He, however, sent her many gifts that she wasn’t expecting. She just knew Draco was going to spoil the shit out of her for Valentine’s Day.

Thankfully it was Saturday, and she could go into Hogsmeade, and fortunately for her, Draco had to stay at Hogswarts to study for an important test in potions class, which gave her some time to go and look for a gift. The first place she’d go is to Honeydukes, she’ll buy him his favorite candy first and see how much money she’ll have left over and find him a suitable and cheap present.

When she arrives at Hogsmeade, she runs into Honeydukes and begins collecting all his favorite candies, she paid for them and left, trying to find a store that sold a good enough gift for her boyfriend. From the corner of her eye, she saw it.

The perfect gift for Draco.

Her friend had told her about a new jewelry shop at was right by Madam Puddifoot’s Tea Shop. She walks over the window to get a closer look. On display, at the window, she stared at the ring. A silver snake ring. It had a real Victorian style, the snake would loop around his finger 3 times, each scale was defined from the tip of the tail, to it’s end of it’s face, and the snake had emerald eyes. It was truly meant for Draco.

Her heart dropped when she looked at the price. 150 galleons?! How would she afford the ring, she only had 20 galleons left, and she had to save it for a while, where would she get 130 galleons?

She began to fidget with her necklace. A habit she did when she was nervous. It was a gorgeous minimal gold necklace with a moon on it. She found it on the street when she was younger when she visited the muggle world as a trip. Draco loved it as much as she did.

Coincidentally she saw a sign at the window saying “We buy jewelry as well!”, the idea popped into her head at that moment.

She walked in and saw the beautiful jewelry around her, she never got to go into stores like these since she barely had any money, she became so distracted in the beautiful earrings on display, that she didn’t notice a middle-aged woman standing right next to her, not until the lady cleared her throat for her attention.

“Hello, young lady. How may I help you today? Looking for something in particular?” The lady spoke in her strong London accent. Y/n blushed in embarrassment. “Yes. I’m getting a present for my boyfriend. I saw the sign, and I want to sell this,” She said, unclasping her necklace, and handing it over to the lady. The lady put her glasses on, which made her eyes look twice as large, as she inspected Y/n’s necklace. With a wave of her wand, the lady tested for real gold in her necklace. The woman looked at her necklace for a good minute before looking back up at Y/n.

“It is real gold. I will give you 140 galleons for this.” The lady said. Y/n eyes widen. That was a lot of money! She didn’t even know that she had something so expensive hanging around her neck for so long. For a moment, Y/n thought about saying no, but she thought about how perfect the ring would be for Draco and said yes. The lady handed her 140, giving her in total, 160 galleons.

“Is that all I can do for you miss?” The lady asked. “Uh, I saw that snake ring in the window. I’d like to buy it please.” Y/n said to her. The lady opened up a cabinet on her side of the table. “Size?” She asks. Y/n tells her Draco’s ring size and pays her the 150 galleons. Leaving her with 10 galleons left over, she leaves Hogsmeade and goes back to Hogwarts to prepare Draco’s gifts.

Valentine’s Day finally arrived. Draco had his owl send Y/n a letter, telling her to meet him at Astronomy Tower after the end of classes. She waited all day to see her boyfriend, unfortunately, they didn’t have any classes together, but he did say hello in the morning, and they both pecked before telling each other “Happy Valentine’s Day”.

But finally, the end of the day came, and Draco and Y/n planned on eating their favorite foods and exchange gifts at the Astronomy Tower. She ran out her final class, and into her dorm. She wanted to get all dolled up for the date, she did her makeup and put on a cute and date-worthy outfit, since it was a date and Draco was always dressed up in one of his black suits. Finally, she put on an outfit she felt and looked good in and she knew Draco would also enjoy it too.

She went up the spiral staircase that led up to the tower, Draco was there, leaning on the railing, wearing his all black suits. She let her presence be known as she ran up the stairs, Draco saw his girlfriend’s head pop up and smiled.

Before they said anything, Y/n ran up to Draco, and threw her arms around his neck, embracing him in a bear hug, he returned it by wrapping his arms around her waist. One of his hands made it’s way up to pet her hair, “Hey love, happy Valentine’s Day.” He whispers. She let go of his a little to face him but connected her lips with his, which he immediately kissed her back, holding her face with one of his cold, large hands.

“Come sit, darling. I brought you’re favorite, y/f!” He says and lets go of her. He sits on the large blanket he brought, and she sat on the opposite end, with their foods sitting between them. They talked and laughed for a while, until he brought up the topic of gifts. “Can I go get my present for you, my love?” She nods. He gets up and grabs something from a dark corner. He pulled out a huge teddy bear, a box of all her favorite candies, and a bouquet of all her favorite flowers.

She knew it. Draco did go all out for her, she can’t say she surprised. “Awe thank you, Draco! Wow, you didn’t have to get me so much.” She says. “But I wanted to darling. I love to spoil you, the look on your face is all worth it. Plus I don’t mind, I have plenty of money.” He says back. She gets up and grabs Draco’s hands, kissing both of them. “Thank you, I couldn’t ask for a better boyfriend.”

She saw Draco’s heart melt right there, she kissed him before he said something cheesy. As always, Draco puts his skinny pale hand to her face when they were kissing, something she always loved. “I love you.” He says as he pulls back. “I love you too, Dray.” She says, smiling at him.

He looks down at her outfit, “I forgot to mention, that I liked your outfit love. You walked in, and I thought I saw an angel.” She laughed at his words. “Thanks, baby. But enough with the cheesy compliments.” They both laughed at her words. “I didn’t get you as much as you got me, I only got you 2 things.” She pulls out her purse, pulling out all the sweets she bought at the shop. His eyes lighten up. “Awe love, you got all my favorites in here!” He thanks her and puts the baggie of candy down on the blanket with the food.

His brows furrowed in confusion. “Uh, wait. I thought you said 2 gifts?” He questions. Pulling out the box containing the ring, she hands it to him. “I really hope you like it. I almost couldn’t get my hands on it. I saw it at Hogsmeade when you were studying for the potions test. I saw it at the window, and I thought, ‘that was made for Draco.’” She says, suddenly feeling nervous about Draco if liked the gift she got him.

Draco smiled as he pulls the ribbon, and opened the box. He gasped and looked at her, and back the ring. He grabs the ring and slipping onto his left ring finger. “Oh Merlin, Y/n. I love it! But it looks expensive, how much was it?” He questions, suddenly curious since he knew she was just as poor as Weaslebee.

“I sold my necklace for it. I didn’t even know my necklace cost 140 galleons! I wanted to make our first Valentine’s Day perfect...” As she rambled on about the necklace and ring, Draco’s smile dropped, and Y/n noticed it. “What’s wrong, Dray? I know you liked the necklace but I did it for you.” Draco didn’t say anything, only to pull out a white rectangular box from the inner pocket of his jacket.

He hands it to her, and she opened it skeptically. Now she knew why he was so upset. To match her necklace, Draco brought her gold star dangling earrings and gold charm bracelet with the planets. Y/n didn’t know whether to be happy or upset, she loved her gift, but now she felt dumb for using her necklace to buy his ring. “Shit, Draco. I don’t know what to say, I’m sorry.” She says, she couldn’t even look him in the eyes, just stared at the floor.

“Y/n, I understand you don’t have that much money, you don’t need to buy me expensive gifts for you to show your love to me. I already know you do, I would’ve been content with the sweets. I love the ring though, I was just really surprised.” He says and uses his hand to get her to look at him. Her eyes were watery, she was at the verge of tears. “I just wanted to make our Valentine’s day perfect. You spoil me so much, I just wanted to do it in return.”

He whispers a “It’s okay darling, come here.” And pulls her in for a hug. She returns it back, just wanting to feel his arms around her. “I was gonna gift you this,” She pulls back to pull out her wand and whispers, “Accio photograph.” In just a second or two, a framed photo landed in her hand. Draco grabbed it and look at it.

It was a photo of them two the first month they started dating, they made silly faces and laughed in the photo, Draco smiled at the memory. “Awe, darling, I love it!” He says, throwing his arms around her. She does the same and apologizes again. “Don’t you worry, my love. I’ll just buy it back, for you.” He whispers and pulls his head back a little to kiss Y/n. “I love you, happy Valentine’s Day darling.”

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whumperooni · 3 years

Note

Aaaaaa hi lil Rooni!! I hope you’re doing good 🌸 I was thinking, what about the LOV finding out shy and reserved reader posts sexy cosplay photos online??

I’m doing good!!!! Thank you bb- I hope you’re doing good too!!!!

And I think they’d love, love, love a shy little closet cosplayer!

Toga obviously loves the chance to dress up and play with makeup. Sure her quirk let’s her change into anyone else, but it’s not as fun as actually making yourself up by hand! When she finds out, she’ll absolutely hound you to let her help you with your costume and your makeup- you can guarantee she’s going to fluster you with compliments and wandering hands. She won’t tell a soul about it either- though she’s on the verge of squealing about your secret hobby nearly every second.

Twice thinks it’s hot- no it’s lame- no it’s fuckin’ hot- lame and dweeby- hot and sexy- nerdy and- Well. You get the picture. He’ll absolutely spill the beans as soon as he finds out.

Mr. Compress is surprisingly thrilled by the discovery! He has a flair for the dramatic and getting to see your cosplay will give him a special kind of joy! And, my, he can appreciate a beautiful woman posing so provocatively. “My, darling, I never would have guessed you’re so naughty- such a shy, good girl most of the time. Though, I can’t say I don’t mind this side of you either.” Ever the gentleman, he won’t tell a soul- though he’ll want to sit in on your photo sessions in exchange, of course.

Kurogiri knows what cosplay is from Shigaraki. He’s surprised when he finds out, but he’s shocked by it. Very supportive of you and secretly fond of a few certain sets- he’ll keep his mouth sealed and won’t even tell Shigaraki despite knowing how pleased it would make him.

Like Toga, Magne is so excited when she finds out! Will absolutely want to help you out and gives you so many tips for makeup and altering your cosplay! Brings a lot of fun to it and helps perk up your confidence with all the compliments she lavishes you in. Tells Toga, but doesn’t tell anyone else!

Spinner- oh my gosh poor Spinner. Nosebleed when he finds out. Gets lightheaded and harder than he’s ever been before. You can bet he got a little crush on you whenever you joined the LOV and you can bet seeing you dressed up so skimpily and posing so naughtily will be a KO for our scaly friend. His sweet, shy crush likes to cosplay? You just went from princess to angel in his mind. He won’t tell anyone at all, but he’ll guiltily jerk off at night to you and your photos. Won’t be able to look you in the eye anymore and will probably only be able to speak to you in tiny, short sentences.

Dabi’s absolutely gonna blackmail you when he finds out. Well, after he fucks his fist to a photo of your cute lil tits. He’ll print off each and every set of yours and he’ll dangle a photo in your face right in the bar, will have you squeaking and dragging him out of the room while everyone else watches with a cocked brow. He’ll show you his stash and he’ll promise to let everyone know- not just the LOV but everyone. Unless, of course...well, unless you spread your pretty little legs for him. Unless you suck his dick and let him fuck your face. Unless you put on those sexy little outfits of yours and let Dabi takes his own photos ♡ Dabi won’t tell anyone...as long as you keep being his cute little cockslut ♡

And, finally...

Shigaraki.

I’m going to keep this short because I could go on for fuckin’ ages about what he’d do to you.

Just know that you’re getting bent over and fucked as soon as he finds out. Just know that he’s picking out your cosplays from now on. Just know that he’s not letting you post them anymore- only he gets to see that. Just know that you’re not going on missions anymore- you’re going to kept dressed up and fucked out, stuffed with cum and covered in his greedy drool ♡

#tw blackmail #tw dubcon/noncon #Anonymous

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dimigex · 3 years

Text

I Won’t Lie - Kakasaku

It’s finally done!! I started this piece years ago but never finished it. It’s the follow on to my story Distraction, but you don’t have to read that to understand it at all.

Distraction, I Won’t Lie, Part One, Part Two, Epilogue

Here’s the first part, the rest is linked above and also available on FF.

"So, have you put the moves on the Hokage yet," Ino questioned, applying black eyeliner with a practiced flip of her hand. Her aqua blue eyes stood out in sharp contrast, seeming larger than they had any right to.

Sakura groaned from the bed, falling back to cover her face. "I never intended to put the moves on him," she mumbled, hoping that Ino wouldn't be able to see the crimson flush of her cheeks. "And, it didn't work anyway. Kakashi doesn't know that I exist."

Ino jerked the pillow away and leveled her best friend with a stare. "He definitely knows that you exist, but you need to remind him that you're a woman now, not a little girl." Her gaze swept over Sakura from head to toe. "Why don't you put on something a little more interesting tonight?"

"What's wrong with what I have on?" Sakura frowned at her outfit. Okay, the leggings that she wore were more comfortable than provocative, and her mother would have approved of her shirt, but that didn't mean there was anything wrong with it. She always dressed like this when they went out. It wasn't her fault that Ino had more outfits than any other girl that Sakura knew, and an uncanny way of making everything look sexy.

"Nothing," Ino answered, with a smile curving her cherry-red lips. "As long as you want to die old and alone."

Sakura threw the remaining pillow at Ino's face, narrowly missing. "Shut up, Ino-pig," she grumbled, reverting to the insult that had become a friendly nickname over the past few years. Sakura tugged at her shirt for a moment, chewing her lip "If I agree, can you make it look like I'm not trying too hard?"

A grin split Ino's face. "Of course. We have to find just the right outfit to show off that body you worked so hard for."

Before Sakura could protest, the blond pulled her off of the bed and toward the closet. Nearly an hour later, Sakura examined her expression in the mirror, shocked at the illusion that Ino had created. Long lashes framed her green eyes, making them stand out against her pale skin. The faint dusting of freckles that Sakura usually hated had taken on a soft glow from the highlighter Ino used. Glossy lips completed the expression, in a shade lighter than Sakura ever thought she could pull off. Ino hadn't stopped there. She'd transformed Sakura's hair as well. The pale tresses piled on top of her head, falling in artful curls around her face.

Ino pulled Sakura from musing about how she looked like an entirely different person by tugging on the dress. The blond dragged the black fabric to the side, baring one shoulder. It draped Sakura's body, accentuating enough to suggest that she had more curves than she really did. Chuckling, Sakura pulled the fabric toward her knees. Ino slapped her hands away. "Stop that, it's supposed to be short."

"I can't wear this," Sakura complained even as she turned to admire herself from the side. It hugged her body in a way that none of her other outfits had.

Shaking her head, Ino walked over to the closet and tossed a pair of heels to Sakura. "You can, and you will. No one will be able to keep their eyes off you, especially not Kakashi."

Color flamed in Sakura's cheek, hidden somewhat by the makeup. "What if he isn't there?"

Ino's devious grin made Sakura nervous. "Then you'll go home with someone else. You look too damn good to go home alone tonight"

-------------------------------

When Ino and Sakura swept into the pub nearly half an hour late, dozens of heads swiveled in their direction. Ino linked an arm through Sakura's and pulled her into the room before she could back away in a fit of self-consciousness. Her gaze swept over the people gathered for Naruto's birthday, trying to ignore the butterflies fluttering in her stomach. Kakashi wasn't there yet or not coming at all, everything they'd done had been a waste of time.

Forcing the hopelessness down, Sakura caught sight of an overbearing ball of sunshine cutting through the room. Naruto's grin probably had more to do with the atmosphere than alcohol, but she couldn't be sure. He threw an arm around Sakura's shoulder and pulled her into a side hug. "I was beginning to think nobody from my team was going to show up tonight."

When Naruto released Sakura, his blue eyes slipped lower than her neck. The blush on his whiskered cheeks was obvious even in the dim lighting. "You look nice tonight. I mean, not that you don't always look nice-" Sakura's laughter cut off the awkward exchange, and Naruto managed a nervous smile before rubbing the back of his neck. "I don't think Sasuke is going to make it tonight."

"Unfortunately, Sasuke's mission has him delayed outside the village." The proximity of Kakashi's voice made Sakura jump. When she turned, she realized that he stood just inside the doorway behind them. Their gazes locked, and Kakashi's eyes widened, perhaps only just now realizing that she'd been the one standing with Naruto. While pink hair was unusual in the village, a few girls had started imitating Sakura after the war. She hated it, but the element of surprise was nice.

Ino unwound her arm from Sakura's and moved away to speak to someone that Sakura didn't recognize. Completely oblivious of the tension of the moment, Naruto caught Kakashi with his other arm and pulled them both into a hug. Sakura felt the warmth of Kakashi's chest against her side. "I'm glad you two made it, at least."

Kakashi pulled away, chuckling in the back of his throat. "Of course I came, I have to keep an eye on you kids to make sure you don't get into any trouble."

"We aren't kids," Sakura grumbled, challenging Kakashi with a glare through her mascara lengthened lashes. "We're adults now."

"That's right, sensei. We don't have to listen to you anymore." Naruto laughed, giving Kakashi a cheeky grin.

Kakashi frowned, the barest movements of his mask. "I'm still Hokage, though."

"For now." Naruto's banter eased the conversation into playful jabs that allowed Sakura to stay silent. Kakashi hadn't even responded to her comment about being an adult now. Her heart sank lower in her chest.

As the men exchanged barbs, Ino reappeared from wherever she'd been. Grabbing Sakura's hand, she led them to the bar. "It's pointless," Sakura complained, leaning close so that the words would only be loud enough for Ino. "He'll always view me as a kid. I'd be better off chasing Sasuke."

"Absolutely not," Ino hissed, vehemence dripping from her voice as she raised a hand to order drinks. "Sasuke isn't even on the radar for you. Do not put yourself through that again."

Sakura nodded and toyed with the silver teardrop earring that Ino had loaned her. She knew that Sasuke was a bad idea. The boy had never acknowledged her, not really. And now, it was the same with Kakashi. At best Kakashi saw her as the child that he'd mentored years ago. At worst, the annoying girl that she'd been during those early days. She'd never change that.

"Let me tell you my secret, Forehead." Ino shoved a shot glass into Sakura's hand. "It just takes five seconds of insane courage to get whatever you want. That's it. Just five seconds of bravery, then the hard part is over. You either have the thing you want or you don't, but at least you'll know."

"Is that how you landed Sai?" Sakura asked, closing her grip around the glass of liquid courage without questioning what was inside it. The idea that Ino actually liked Sai and wanted to be with him when there were so many men that she could have had was something that Sakura had trouble wrapping her mind around.

Ino laughed and tucked a strand of hair behind one ear. "Yes, Sai. And, all the others."

Gossip suggested that Ino had worked her way through half of the eligible shinobi in the village. There was a great deal of truth to it. Ino had dated Shikamaru for a couple of weeks before the pair decided that friendship was less troublesome than a relationship. She and Kiba had been fireworks from the beginning, fighting almost constantly. Choji was too gentle, Lee too exhausting, Shino too quiet, and the list went on and on. Somehow, Ino landed on Sai and found that the man matched her surprisingly well. Sakura had already noticed the girl looking for him in the crowd.

"Drink," Ino commanded, nodding toward the alcohol. Sakura steeled her nerves and tipped the glass up. The liquid burned the entire way down, making her gasp for a breath. Ino clapped her on the back. "Good, now let's go and find someone to make him jealous over."

"Ino, no." Sakura pulled away from her best friend with a firm shake of her head. "It doesn't matter. It's just a silly crush."

The look on the blonde's face suggested that she didn't believe Sakura's excuse, but she didn't force it. Sakura let her gaze wander over the people brought together to celebrate Naruto's birthday. He had touched so many lives, and since the war, most people recognized that. Naruto had wanted to do something at Ichiraku, but the stand was too small for all their friends. They'd made arrangements for the celebration to be held here, but white bowls of ramen dotted most of the tables.

Kakashi drew Sakura's eyes like a beacon. He stood in the shadows beside Captain Yamato, heads close together as they spoke. It had surprised Sakura to learn that the men were old friends, especially since Kakashi held so many people at a distance. Sakura and Naruto had grown closer to him, of course, but there didn't seem to be many others. Tsunade and the other jonin perhaps, but the ease between Kakashi and Yamato spoke of actual friendship. Sakura felt a twinge of jealousy. Why couldn't it be that easy for her?

Ino leaned close, the scent of alcohol drifting from her lips. "You know, Yamato isn't bad looking either."

Sakura considered the words. While Yamato didn't hold the aura of mystery that Kakashi did, his easy smile and kind eyes made him attractive in his own way. Even so, no matter how much Sakura watched the pair, her eyes strayed to Kakashi. As she'd expected, he'd worn his uniform to the party. The sleeves of his black shirt were rolled up against the heat of the room, while his hands were tucked into the pockets of matching pants. Kakashi's mask remained in place, of course, but the headband that used to slant across half of his face was missing. Two charcoal eyes stared out at the room, silver hair falling into them.

"Oh, it's definitely just a little crush," Ino teased, pulling Sakura from her longing gaze. "Why don't you just go and talk to him? Ask him to dance or ask him back to your place. Just do something besides staring at him."

When Sakura started to protest, Ino rolled her eyes. "Come on, I've seen you kick ass so many times, but you're scared to talk to a boy? The worst thing he can do is turn you down. And, if that happens, it's his loss."

It isn't that easy, Sakura started to argue. Only, she knew that it was. She'd been pining after Kakashi for months, treasuring stupid, little moments that probably meant nothing: the way that his arms had curled around her on the training field, how his eyes lit up when he laughed at her joke about Tsunade trying to kill them both with reports, or the startle when her fingers had brushed his wrist. Those things made her wonder if there might be something more, but Kakashi was impossible to read. The sudden intake of breath when Sakura touched him could just have easily been discomfort as desire.

"I think I need another drink," Sakura declared, putting away the miserable thoughts for another day.

It didn't take long for the pleasant warmth of alcohol to loosen the tension that seemed permanently attached to Sakura's shoulders. She relaxed enough to dance a couple of turns with Naruto. He was far more awkward on the dance floor than any shinobi had the right to be. After two dances, Sakura begged off and pushed him toward Hinata. A few months ago, the girl had finally gotten brave enough to let Naruto know that she liked him. The pair was slowly turning into a couple, but the transition was painful to watch. They were both too shy for their own good.

Sakura stumbled back toward the bar, surprised to admit that she was having more fun than she'd thought she would, even if Kakashi ignored her. As she reached for her glass, Ino flashed a pleasant grin that warned Sakura that the girl was coming up with a plan that Sakura wasn't going to like. Without explaining anything, Ino linked their arms and dragged Sakura back into the crowd. Three steps into the walk, once she realized where they were going, Sakura tried to stop the inevitable. But, it was too late. Ino stopped beside Kakashi and Yamato.

The men looked up in surprise, their conversation stopping abruptly. Sakura felt Kakashi's gaze on her face for several heartbeats before it slid toward Ino's. With another signature grin, the blond moved into Yamato's personal space. "You sent my boyfriend on a mission just before the party, and now I have nobody to dance with. It seems only fair that you take his place." Ino held out a hand expectantly.

"Um-I-uh-it was unavoidable," Yamato stammered, a delicate pink blush tinting his cheeks. Sakura almost rolled her eyes. It was pathetic to watch how easily Ino turned him, or any man for that matter, into a stuttering mess simply by batting her eyelashes. She'd thought Yamato was better than that.

To Sakura's surprise, it was Kakashi who spoke next. "I think she has a solid case." Yamato gaped at the man, but Kakashi continued as if he hadn't seen it. "You deprived her of enjoying the evening; you should make up for it. Within reason, of course."

As the implication hit home, the pink on Yamato's cheeks deepened to crimson. Sakura struggled not to laugh at his expression. Ino cleared her throat, moving her hand closer. For a moment, Sakura wondered if Kakashi was going to have to push the man forward. Finally, Yamato dipped his head and took Ino's hand. Sakura couldn't stop her mirth as the pair disappeared onto the dance floor. "He's going to be furious with you later, you know that right?"

"It's good for him. Yamato is too shy." Kakashi leaned his shoulders against the wall, and for a moment Sakura couldn't take her eyes off of the smooth stretch of his body and the way his armor shifted with the movement. Half a second later, she realized that he'd said something. Deciding that it probably wasn't important, she nodded and he continued. "Of course, she doesn't mean anything by it, does she?"

Sakura shook her head, watching as Ino attempted to guide Yamato's hands toward her hips as she moved to the music. He kept moving them back to her waist, embarrassment obvious. Sakura chuckled under her breath. "No, she's quite taken with Sai actually."

"Our Sai?" Kakashi asked, eyebrows rising in surprise.

Sakura nodded, watching as Yamato finally relaxed into the dance and loosened up a bit. "She and Sai balance each other well, like Naruto and Hinata."

Kakashi followed Sakura's gaze toward the bar where Naruto and Hinata were talking. The blond leaned against the edge, telling some kind of story while the girl gazed up adoringly. Two years ago, she'd been too frightened and embarrassed to speak with him, and Naruto too stupid to realize why. With a little gentle prodding, they'd finally caught on.

Kakashi made a sound that might have been agreement in the back of his throat. "You're all pairing off these days, falling in love and getting married."

"Not all of us," Sakura grumbled. Frustration bled into her voice as she continued. "Some of us accepted the weight of duty instead."

A silver eyebrow arched skyward as Kakashi turned to face Sakura. A look of understanding crossed his features, but Sakura doubted that he realized she was talking about him as well. Undeniably handsome, Kakashi could have his pick of women in the village, but he remained alone. He had thrown himself into the role of hokage, even though he hated it. Sakura had done the same at the hospital, though she enjoyed her work for the most part. The two of them weren't as different as he seemed to think.

A stir went through the room. Naruto pushed away from the bar, his voice cutting through the din of music and conversation. "You made it!'

As much as Sakura wanted to continue admiring Kakashi, her attention drifted toward Naruto. He stood in the doorway, arms thrown around-Sakura's mind temporarily shorted out, taking several seconds to catch up with her eyes. Sasuke stood in the spill of light, Naruto's arms wrapped around his shoulders. Raven dark hair and equally black eyes swept through the crowd, taking in everyone and everything. His gaze slid over Sakura, then returned and lingered.

Despite everything, Sakura blushed under Sasuke's gaze. Beside her, Kakashi shifted away from the wall. A hand pressed almost imperceptibly against Sakura's lower back as Naruto approached, Sasuke trailing behind like a shadow. Sakura half turned toward Kakashi.

Naruto interrupted the pair before Sakura could get her thoughts in order. "Look guys, Sasuke made it back in time."

"So, he did," Kakashi answered for both of them, voice cool but not quite unfriendly. "Welcome back."

Sasuke turned, oozing arrogance as he inclined his head toward Kakashi. Dark eyes roved over Sakura a second time, an almost smile curling his lips. Even so, Sakura read the tension in his shoulders. Despite the years that had passed, Sasuke remained something of a pariah in the village. There were some groups who would never forgive or forget the time that he had spent trying to destroy the Leaf, despite Naruto's efforts to change their opinions. Sakura knew that Kakashi had helped save Sasuke from execution or life in prison, but the Hokage's intervention had ended there.

"Sasuke!" Ino appeared from nowhere, throwing her arms around Sasuke in a hug that the man shrunk away from. "Welcome back."

Sakura flashed her friend a thankful smile at the interruption. "You're looking well," Ino continued, pulling all of Sasuke's attention to herself by keeping her hands on his upper arms. "Can I get you something to drink?"

"Maybe later," Sasuke answered, voice sounding strained as he shrugged away from Ino's touch. When she released him, the man turned and smiled. "Hello, Sakura."

Sakura couldn't remember how to draw a breath. A thick strand of black fell across Sasuke's eye, adding an air of mystery to his already captivating appearance. Warmth suffused her face when he moved closer, near enough to reach out and brush her cheek if he'd wanted. "Hi," she answered, toying with a silver bracelet circling one wrist.

Sasuke slid between Sakura and Kakashi, angling his body to face hers. "How have you been?"

"I've been doing well." Sakura's answer barely scratched the surface of everything that had happened in her life since the last time she saw Sasuke. She couldn't seem to remember a single event that she wanted to talk about. Yamato approached the small group and squeezed in beside Kakashi while running an appraising eye over Sasuke. He didn't acknowledge the Uchiha's presence. Instead, he leaned closer to Kakashi and whispered something in his ear.

Pulling her attention away from the exchange, Sakura realized that she'd been asked something. It would be rude not to keep talking to Sasuke, so she smiled. "How about you? How have you been?"

"I stay busy following up on leads," Sasuke answered, revealing nothing about his time outside of the village. Maybe he thought that Sakura wouldn't accept his reasons for leaving her behind, or maybe, he didn't care if she did.

After all, how could Sakura expect Sasuke to understand the hours of work that she poured into the hospital, sometimes losing a patient despite her best efforts? Would he care that she pushed herself in training as hard as she's ever done in case they went back to war? Sakura imagined Sasuke teasing her efforts to create orphanages in Konoha. Would he understand Sakura's version of sacrifice when it didn't align with his?

Sakura's eyes drifted back to her group of friends. Naruto stood beside Ino with a silly grin on his face, undoubtedly because Sakura and Sasuke were talking together. He still believed the two of them could make it work somehow. Yamato and Kakashi watched them both without seeming to do so. Sakura couldn't help but wonder if they deemed Sasuke as a security risk, even after all this time. Her gaze settled on the tension in Kakashi's jaw, wondering why he seemed on edge.

Kakashi understood the passion that drove Sakura to fight for those causes. Or, if not, he humored her. Sakura and Kakashi had worked hand in hand to train additional medical shinobi, create orphanages, and work through various issues at the hospital. She'd assumed that Kakashi wanted to see the same outcome that she did. Would Sasuke want that? Did it matter? He wouldn't be in the village long enough for it to make any difference.

Despite the way that things between them had changed, Sasuke still reduced Sakura to a lovesick teenager. It wasn't that her feelings had stayed the same, but Sakura had spent half of her life chasing after Sasuke. She couldn't shake the memory of nipping at his heels, of being willing to throw everything away if he'd only acknowledge her. As Sasuke spoke, Sakura's mind responded on autopilot, answering with soft laughs and smiles.

After several minutes, Ino caught Sakura's attention and half nodded toward Kakashi. He and Yamato had fallen silent, allowing the conversation to flow around them without interruption. Sakura raised her shoulders in a helpless shrug, silently asking what she was supposed to do about the situation. Ino frowned, then leaned in to speak. "So, Sasuke, did you know that Naruto and Hinata are dating?"

The question cut off the conversation. Surprise flitted across Sasuke's face as he looked over at Naruto. The blond's cheeks flamed crimson and he sputtered over his words "Well, Ino is dating Sai," he managed, red from his hairline to his chin.

Ino grinned, tossing her long hair over one shoulder with an air of dismissal. "You say that like it's a bad thing. Sai happens to be far more interesting than you'd anticipate. Not to mention adventurous."

The suggestive nature of Ino's comment made Naruto choke on his breath. His eyes bulged and Sakura couldn't help but laugh; he was still so innocent. Naruto grabbed Sasuke's arm. "Come on, it's definitely time for a drink."

Without waiting for an answer, Naruto pulled the Uchiha toward the barkeeper and further away from Ino's insinuations. Laughing, the girl watched them go. Then, she turned back to Yamato. "I thought you were going to dance with me? And, you," Ino studied Kakashi, "should dance with Sakura so she isn't left alone over here."

For all the nudging that Kakashi had done when Ino asked Yamato to dance, the man seemed less than enthused about taking his own advice. "It isn't befitting of the Hokage to indulge in-"

"Oh no you don't, senpai," Yamato interrupted, already pulling Kakashi away from the wall. "I did my duty, and now it's time for you to do yours. Off you go."

Yamato's brown eyes shone with an inordinate amount of amusement, and Sakura didn't know whether to be thankful that he was pushing Kakashi toward the dance floor, or embarrassed at being some type of twisted payback. Either way, the indecision lasted only a moment. Ino grabbed Yamato's hand and guided him toward the dancers, leaving Sakura alone with Kakashi on the edge of the room.

Kakashi rubbed the back of his neck as he turned to face Sakura. Embarrassment raised the temperature of the room several degrees until it felt impossible to draw a breath. "You don't have to dance with me," she murmured, trying not to sound as disappointed as she felt.

"Ino and Yamato would never let me hear the end of it if we didn't." Kakashi held out one hand, and Sakura slid hers into it. Her pulse pounded in her ears when he leaned closer. "Besides, we only have to dance long enough to get them off our backs."

Sakura didn't trust her voice to speak without breaking, so she nodded and followed Kakashi onto the dance floor. Music blared over the speakers, bass line making her heart pound in tempo. She drew a deep breath and looked into the eyes that had been hidden for so long. Even now, months later, Sakura hadn't gotten used to seeing more of Kakashi's face. She remembered the intensity of his gaze on the training field and the way that she'd wanted to pull him close and lose themselves in the storm.

Just five seconds of insane courage, Ino's voice whispered in the back of Sakura's mind. She could press her body against Kakashi's under the guise of dancing and admit that she wanted more than that. Butterflies the size of elephants trampled over Sakura's chest. If Kakashi rejected her, it would hurt, but she could mask the pain long enough to make it home. Then, she'd be free to deal with fallout. She had done the same thing over Sasuke nearly a year ago. But, if Sakura never took a chance and told Kakashi, she'd never know if there could have been anything between them.

Kakashi spoke, interrupting Sakura's momentum. "You look different tonight."

"Ino begged me to let her try something special for Naruto's party." Sakura chewed her lip, wondering if the words were technically a lie. She wanted to look more enticing as well, more like Ino and less like herself, in hopes that she'd capture Kakashi's attention.

The tempo of the music increased; Sakura allowed her body to follow. She felt the hem of her dress riding up her thigh and tugged it down with one hand. Kakashi followed the movement then snapped his eyes back to her face. He asked something, but the words were lost in the din of the crowd. When Sakura scrunched up her face in confusion, he leaned closer. "For Sasuke?"

For you, Sakura thought, holding the words tight between her lips. The accusation in Kakashi's tone surprised her. "I didn't know he'd be here."

Kakashi inclined his head at the words, expression unreadable. He rested his hands at Sakura's waist without a hint of familiarity or desire. Kakashi moved to the music, half a foot between their bodies. Sakura flashed back to the way his arms had wrapped around her like a glove on the training field. He moved on protective instinct, not to get close to me. The realization left a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Sakura surrendered to the rhythm of the music, turning to present her back to Kakashi's chest so she wouldn't have to meet his gaze. She closed her eyes, willing the ache in her heart to stop. This entire situation was so stupid. Ino was right about everything; Sakura needed to tell Kakashi how she felt so that she could pick up the pieces and move on. She had done it before, and she could do it again.

Fingers curled against Sakura's hips, the thin fabric of her dress hardly masking the feel of Kakashi's touch. Sakura wasn't sure if he pulled her back, or if she moved of her own accord, but she felt the warmth of his breath against her neck. She focused on the sensation, electricity rushing through her body. His damn flak vest separated Sakura from the heat of his chest, but she imagined that she could feel it anyway.

The song ended and the weight of Kakashi's hands fell away as if it had never been. Light pulsed around them as another song started. Sakura turned back to face Kakashi, drawing a shaky breath. "Do you think that dance met their requirements, or should we do another, just to be sure?"

Sakura's name left Kakashi's lips in a strangled sound. Whatever he'd been planning to say was lost when someone bumped hard into his back. He stumbled through the almost nonexistent space between them. Sakura heard an apology, but she couldn't match the voice to a face before her arms were full of Kakashi. She stumbled backward under his weight, tripped over her heels, and then they were falling. Vaguely, some panicked part of Sakura's mind wondered if she was about to give everyone in the room a free peep show.

Kakashi twisted in the air so that Sakura wouldn't be crushed beneath him. His left shoulder absorbed most of the impact half a second before she hit his chest. The air whooshed out of Kakashi's lungs in a soft hiss as their bodies pressed together. Exposure forgotten, Sakura felt his hands grip her, one near her shoulder and the other dangerously low on her back. They were close enough for their noses to brush, Kakashi's eyes wide. The charcoal tone wasn't as dark as Sakura had anticipated, but shot with silver through the iris. She noticed the outline of Kakashi's lips beneath his mask. Kami, it would be so simple to—

"Hokage-sama?" Genma's familiar voice cut across Sakura's thoughts. The man pushed through the crowd to reach Kakashi's side, undoubtedly on guard duty for the night. Sakura raised her head to glare at his poorly conceived timing.

Kakashi released Sakura like he'd been burned, hands coming to the floor instead as he pushed into a sitting position. She half fell into his lap from the sudden change of position. "I'm fine," he answered the unasked question. "I'm hardly old enough to get injured from falling down."

"Especially beneath a beautiful woman," Genma quipped, flashing his senbon-studded grin. Then, his leer slid toward the woman in question and his expression changed to something contemplative as he offered a hand. "Oh, hey, Sakura."

Sakura had no choice but to accept Genma's offered hand. Cheeks flushed with embarrassment, she let the tokujo pull her away from Kakashi. Belatedly, she remembered to adjust the slinky dress lower on her thighs and higher over her chest. Hopefully everything had happened so quickly that she didn't have any reason to be embarrassed. A small crowd gathered around them. Kakashi pushed through them as the music started back up; Sakura followed him to the edge of the room.

"You aren't hurt are you, Hokage-sama," Ino gushed as she hurried to the pair's side. Her brow creased with worry when Kakashi tried to wave her off. Sakura barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes at her best friend. The ploy was obvious.

"I'm fine," Kakashi grumbled, looking distinctively embarrassed by the attention. "I'm not made of glass."

"Still," Ino pressed, reaching out like she might touch Kakashi's arm. "You hit your shoulder hard when you fell. I saw it."

Sakura could see the wheels turning in Ino's mind. No, please, Ino, don't do this. Sakura's silent plea fell on deaf ears. Kakashi raised his arm to prove that he could, but Ino didn't drop the subject. "You should let Sakura take a look at it, just to make sure. I'm sure she wouldn't mind."

And, there it is, Sakura grumbled internally. Annoyance bled through Kakashi's embarrassment as he tried to wave the blonde's concerns away. Sakura interrupted the exchange before it could get out of hand. "Doesn't anyone care about me? I fell too."

"I could take a look at you," Genma offered with a cheeky grin from his position at Kakashi's shoulder. "In fact, it'd be my pleasure."

"No," Sakura and Kakashi answered in the same breath, dragging a knowing laugh from Genma. Kakashi looked almost as surprised as Sakura felt. Cheeks warming at the insinuation, she continued. "I don't need anyone to look at me, I am fine. But, shouldn't you be more worried about me?"

Genma chuckled in the back of his throat. "Because you're such a delicate little flower? I saw the damage you did to the training grounds the other night. I think I'd rather take my chances with Kakashi, to be honest."

"Probably for the best; she's stronger than you think." Sakura's stomach clenched at the unexpected praise from Sasuke. She hadn't noticed that he and Naruto had rejoined them in the chaos.

"Damn right she is," Ino answered, fighting to keep the attention on anything but Sasuke. Her eyes met Sakura's with silent pleading. While Sakura knew what Ino wanted, some things were easier said than done. Sasuke watched them with a smug satisfaction on his face that Sakura couldn't begin to understand as Ino continued. "What will Tsunade say if you leave Hokage-sama injured until tomorrow?"

Kakashi shook his head as Sakura groaned under her breath. She loved Ino, but sometimes the woman went a little overboard with her matchmaking. "Tsunade would say that it's nothing, and no more than I deserve if I can't keep my feet under me. But, if it'll put your mind at ease, I'll get it checked out."

"It would," Ino breathed out, her concern almost palpable. Sakura wondered why the woman didn't become an actress; she certainly had a knack for it. Ino pulled her forward. "There's no time like the present."

Kakashi cast a withering glance at Ino, then faced Sakura. For a moment, the rest of the room disappeared. Even the overwhelming presence of Sasuke shrank to insignificance. The sheepishness that Sakura had noticed earlier had evaporated, replaced by something darker in Kakashi's gaze. Though Sakura couldn't put her finger on it, the expression made chill bumps erupt on her arms. "Would you mind?"

It wasn't the first time that Sakura had healed Kakashi, not by a long shot. But, it was the first time that he'd asked. Sakura's heart did somersaults in her chest. "I don't mind," she breathed, forcing strength into her words. "But, not here. I need somewhere quieter, with better light."

Kakashi inclined his head as if the words made perfect sense. Naruto groaned, his voice turning whiny. "You're going to miss my party? This is the first time we've all been together in years."

"We won't be gone long," Kakashi assured the boy. "Just long enough to satisfy Sakura."

Ino choked on her laugh, eyes shining. Sakura's cheeks flamed crimson at the insinuation. Kakashi either didn't notice or didn't want to draw attention to it. He nodded toward the door. "Come on, let's get this over with, shall we?"

--------------------------

As she and Kakashi emerged from the pub, Sakura drew a breath of the chilly air. Naruto had been the only one to raise an objection to them leaving the party together, but Sakura felt the heat from a dozen gazes as they crossed the room. When they stepped into the street, Sakura's hand slipped out of Kakashi's, and neither made a move to retake it. He stared at the darkness, the stars above, and the benches by the door as they stood under the hazy light of the neon sign.

"I'm sorry that this took you away from the party," Kakashi began with a sigh. When his gaze turned to Sakura, it swept over her body in a way that suggested that he hadn't missed the tiniest facet of Ino's hard work. "You clearly wanted to be there."

"I can always go back later," Sakura answered, knowing that she wouldn't. She didn't want to face Sasuke or Ino after leaving with Kakashi, regardless of what happened next. Kakashi's shoulders seemed to tense at the response, but Sakura wasn't sure if it was her imagination or not. Undeniable nervousness settled in her gut.

Kakashi rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. "You don't really need to look at my shoulder. It's fine, but I needed an excuse to get out of there."

"I know," Sakura agreed. She would have realized if Kakashi was hurt, probably before he did. "But, I gave my word, so we should at least check it."

"Do you want to go to the hospital?" Kakashi moved down the street as he asked the question, forcing Sakura to follow on his heels. He didn't turn back when he continued. "Or, would my apartment be okay? It's closer."

Sakura's breath caught in her throat. She knew where Kakashi's apartment was, of course, but she'd never set foot inside of it. That he'd allow her into his world, even for a moment, stunned her. He continued walking, shoulders tight and hands stuffed into his pockets as he waited for an answer. "Your apartment is fine."

The silence gave Sakura unwanted time to think back over the night's events. She had seen appreciation in more than a few eyes when they noticed the changes that Ino had made, but she couldn't be sure that any of it had registered with Kakashi. He'd said she looked different, not better, not beautiful, just different. That word could mean a million things, or nothing at all. Ino was right though, if Sakura couldn't have Kakashi, she could always go home with someone else. Hell, even Sasuke had noticed and appreciated the extra effort in her appearance. There was only one problem, Sakura didn't want to go home with anyone else.

Sakura nearly walked into Kakashi's back when he stopped in front of her and nodded toward the steps leading up to his apartment. Though she knew it was entirely platonic, Sakura's heart pounded in her throat as she followed him higher. Kakashi unlocked the door, flicked the lights on, and pushed it wider. Sakura slid under his arm and into the room, taking in a million details at once.

Kakashi closed the door behind them and bent to remove his sandals. Sakura admired the smooth stretch of his body for a heartbeat longer than she should have. Tearing her eyes away, she rested one hand on the wall and bent down to unbuckle her heels. It felt good to be out of them, if it was only going to be for a few minutes.

"Does your shoulder hurt at all? They're notoriously fragile as far as joints go." When Kakashi didn't speak, Sakura opened her mouth to repeat the question, then had another idea. Five seconds of insane courage. She took two steps forward and reached for Kakashi's arm, the healing glow surrounding her hands.

When Sakura touched his shoulder, Kakashi startled and jerked away. 'I'm fine," he ground out. "You don't have to—"

"Your heart is pounding," Sakura responded in awe, letting her fingers fall away from his arm. The touch had been brief, but the spike in Kakashi's pulse was obvious.

Kakashi forced a harsh breath through his nose. "You're supposed to be checking my shoulder, not my heart."

Five seconds of insane courage. "Your shoulder," Sakura repeated, trying to think over the blood roaring in her ears. Just five seconds. She reached for the straps of Kakashi's flak vest.

#My writing #Dimi Writes #Naruto #KakaSaku #Kakashi Hatake #Sakura Haruno #Mutual Pining #Don't read this at work #Smut #and fluff #There's a lot of fluff

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hooniee · 3 years

Text

— ꒰‧⁺paris run away *ೃ༄

↷ heeseung x reader ⋯ ♡ᵎ

↷genre: fluff | comdey ⋯ ♡ᵎ

↷ warnings: not proofread | none! ⋯ ♡ᵎ

↷ synopsis: (y/n) just graduates from high school and feel incomplete but doesn’t know what’s missing. a trip to paris might be able to fix that ⋯ ♡ᵎ

↷ author note: this is @enhypenwriters event of the month! strangers to lovers <3 i think this was my favorite to write out of the three pieces but i feel like it’s lacking some flare :( i think it still turned out okay though. i hope you enjoy <3 ⋯ ♡ᵎ

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .*

you should have listened to sunoo when he said that it wasn't a good plan to travel to a foreign country on impulse.

you wouldn’t say you’ve ever been the most courageous person in your life. determined to break that trend, you planned this super out of the blue trip without much thought.

yeah. maybe this was a bit TOO courageous.

you didn't comprehend what compelled you yet here you were, arriving at paris charles de gaulle airport.

you stared at the large windows of the airport, viewing the plane that you had just left.

the gate for the concluding passengers had been locked by the flight stewardesses.

one of the stewardesses obtained eye contact with you, before shooting a smile and lightly bowing her head.

you absentmindedly returned the gesture, mind elsewhere.

bustling throughout the airport were people hurrying to their connecting flight or slumping into their lover's arms

people carried two or more suitcases with various bags strapped on their bodies, nothing on you besides a petite sling purse and one small carry on suitcase.

as weaved your way through the mass of stressed travelers, you briefly thought to yourself

how the hell did you get here?

2 days earlier

clusters of kids outfitted in blue gowns and caps could be recognized a mile away.

the graduation from high school to university.

your friend minji encloses her arm around your shoulder, your arm resting on her waist.

minji’s mom was stood in front of the both of you, gesturing wildly as she tried to take the ‘perfect graduation photo’ as she had put it

"okay pose! get a little closer, perfect. 1, 2, 3" your friend's mom counts.

the camera shudders which creates a beaming light to flash, eyes faintly twitching.

shrieks could be heard throughout the campus as girls queued up to take their final photographs with the popular guys.

minji's mom draws back the camera and we check the picture.

"it's cute," minji exclaims, peering at it a bit more closer. you nod your head in approval.

you would miss minji, one of the friends you could constantly count on in math class when you neglected to do your homework from binging korean dramas.

"i'll send you the picture later (y/n)! don't forget about me alright? you have my socials and you can always talk to me," minji grasps your hands

you smile, feeling sad at the departure of your best friend, "of course minji, don't forget me either"

"i could never," she brings you into a secure hug.

"sweet pea perfume," you say and she chuckles. sweat pea was minji's preferred perfume and you would miss that aroma.

"i have to go now, but i'll see you around okay?" minji says.

you could notice tears well up in her eyes and she fans her eyes to prevent the tears.

"don't cry ji, i'll start crying," you joked. "i live near here and you can always visit me! my door will always be open."

she smiled, "the same goes for you." her mother shouts her name before she has to go.

"alright, see you around," you wave to her as she leaves.

on the opposite side of the garden, your mom signals to you with your bouquet of red roses in hand.

"are you ready honey?" she asks you and you smile, nodding your head.

the car ride was in pleasant quietness, light radio music fluttering in. you had taken off your cap and laid it in the car seat next to you accompanying with your bouquet.

you had glimpsed outside to see your campus still arranged with your classmates, beaming and posing for additional pictures.

you bitterly smiled.

for the first time, graduation didn't appear like one of those liberating scenes of a movie,

1 day ago

you sprawled on his bed, staring straight up. a fan in your hand, fanning the perspiration that threatened to come.

your eyes match the fan's speed directly above your neighbor and best friend, sunoo's, bed.

his air conditioner was broken. with the avail of those elementary paper fans and the only fan stationed in the house, you were able to find comfort

you questioned if he ever got frightened of it dropping on him when he slept.

sunoo occupies the bathroom that's joined to his room, applying some light powder.

your mind strays, more thoughts simmering in the back of your brain. you sigh for the 10th time and sunoo being exasperated, allows out a loud groan.

it draws you out of your daze and you snap your head towards him."

"what is with you? what is on your mind sunshine?" he shuts his cushion, flinging himself on the bed.

"are you ever scared of the fan falling on you?" you felt the bed dip

"no, it's been like that for years, and don't change the subject. what's wrong?" sunoo retorted

"what makes you say that? i'm fine, " you answer

"uh-huh," sunoo rolls his eyes

it's the blatant eye-roll rather than the hushed one, he implied business

"you've been sighing for the past ten minutes, spill," sunoo says

of course, sunoo could recognize your distress. what sort of best friend would he be if he couldn't distinguish your emotions?

you huff, " okay then"

"i don't know why but i just feel stuck? i just graduated high school and nothing feels different, i mean it doesn't have to, but what do i do now? maybe i just watched too many movies"

sunoo tsked, " (y/n). sweetie, i graduated last year and i'm still stuck here. i do nothing besides go out or stay in my room. no in-between."

"but you have something sunoo. you have a bunch of your friends, you're an instagram star and i don't know, it's just different, "

it was accurate, sunoo was extremely popular. he had a bunch of friends and acquaintances from being the vice president.

sunoo inflated up on social media for his content from makeup to dance practices, a versatile instagram star.

you conceal your face with your hands before emitting a loud groan.

sunoo remarks, "i don't know how i can help you (y/n)? maybe you should try to rest a bit"

"easy for you to say, you, who isn’t dealing with a mid-life crisis, " you whine.

"this isn't a mid-life crisis, this is a post-graduation crisis which is totally normal. how about going out of town? obviously not to paris or whatever but maybe, what was her name again? minjoo's town!" sunoo suggested.

"obviously not to paris"

"not to paris"

"to paris"

"paris"

what about paris? paris was considerably away from your town and had a ring on the tip of your tongue.

you had sprung up, grasping sunoo by the shoulder and shaking him, "you're a genius sunoo! paris is a genius idea."

sunoo's eyes widen and he shakes his head while attempting to pry your hands off of him.

"no, you have to think rationally-"

you released sunoo from your hold which let him stabilize his spinning head.

"and i am! i need something new. being in this town for my whole life makes me realize, maybe i just need a spontaneous trip. "

your words scarcely blur together, adrenaline rushing through your blood as you understood this could jolt you out of your post-graduation slump.

"but-"

"no buts! pass me my laptop,"

present-day

you are currently disliking your choice, anxiety rushing through your veins, but it's too overdue to have other opinions.

you had landed in france and this was a life-altering moment; a chance of a lifetime.

peering nearby, you squint at the tiny english translations of the signs. you pull out your phone.

you open up the camera to see if zooming in would improve it for your eyes. as if on cue, your stomach rumbles vaguely making you startled.

you panicked as the pocket that was previously supplied with snacks became loaded with empty wrappers.

maybe if you would be lost in this wonderful city, you might as well try some of their famous pastries.

your muscles had retracted, the result of finally getting some movement after being restrained in a metal machine that was adjacent to the fiery sun.

you stumbled across this petite bakery and enter, sparingly bowing your head.

the owner was an older lady with her greying hair that designed it to resemble ashy highlights, pulled into a loose bun.

"que puis-je vous offrir?" she smiles.

"i'm sorry, i don't speak french?" you admit, embarrassed

as much as you assumed duolingo and rosetta stone could benefit you on a flight to paris, the only thing you could accomplish to say without messing up is "bonjour"

"that's fine mademoiselle! what can i offer you?" the lady shifts to englsih

you let out a sigh of relief, appreciative for blundering into this bakery.

"may i have your most popular pastry to go and a water bottle?" you smile, fishing out some euros.

you had looked down to the currency that you had exchanged before embarking on the plane.

"of course mademoiselle!" she says, reaching behind the counter and with her gloved hand, seizing a chocolate croissant.

"that will be 4.12 euros!" she rings you up in the cashier.

"is this the right amount? i'm not very good at counting euros," you revealed your hand where the money was.

she nodded her head and took the money, printing your receipt out. before giving you your receipt, she interviews you with a question that you weren't confident in answering"

"if you don't mind me asking, why are you here in france? not to sound rude! but i'm just curious"

you softly smile, sensing the kindness illuminating from her tone of voice. she wasn't rude at all and she was asking a simple question, but your brain struggled to obtain an answer.

"well, i would say i'm here to explore? i just finished high school and life felt incomplete. my best friend jokingly said "go to paris" and so I booked a ticket."

you look back up at her to see her delicate gaze. the rustling of the paper bag stopped the moment of silence

"that's amazing mademoiselle! france is the city for that. you must visit the notre-dam cathedral while you're here, it's beautiful. and maybe even find some love?"

she winks at you and you engage with a small giggle.

just like the show "emily in paris," you could merely fantasize about living a life like hers but it was an altered universe. she was an employed woman and you; a fresh graduate from high school.

"maybe! but i'm not looking forward to dating right now"

it wasn't a lie nor the truth. you would love to date someone right now but dating someone from a foreign country with a language barrier? not the most desirable idea. the owner laughs, handing you your pastry and water bottle.

"thank you for dropping by here mademoiselle! please enjoy your time in france,"

"merci beaucoup" you stumbled out, providing a small wave out.

the airport seemed to be more crowded than before. slowly opening the wrapping, you take a bite of the chocolate croissant and let out an audible gasp.

unquestionably, one of the greatest pastries you have tried in your life.

you promptly pull out your phone, snapping a picture for your instagram story. it was an adorable picture with the bakery in the background with the chocolate croissant in hand.

with "just landed" as your caption, you posted it to your close friends story. almost a second later, sunoo request to video call you.

you were welcomed by a piercing shriek into the phone.

"YAH I WAS JUST GREETED BY YOUR PARENTS WHO SAID YOU WERE AT A SLEEPOVER FOR A COUPLE DAYS? SLEEPOVER MY FOOT? YOU'RE IN PARIS-"

sunoo screeches over the phone and you timidly grimace, turning down the volume as people begin to stare.

"sunoo, i'm currently in a public airport with no earbuds plugged in, can you please STOP screaming?" you whispered audibly to him.

"OH, I FORG- sorry," sunoo sheepishly responds.

"my parents would never let me go this far so i just had to lie that i was going to a sleepover at minji's house which is out of town. plus i'm only going to be here for two days," you consult him.

"you saw me buy the tickets sunoo. why are you scolding me now? shouldn't you have tried to stop me while i was in the middle of buying the tickets?" you added.

"well now i want you to come back, who am i supposed to hang out with for the next 2 days?"

though it was dark in the setting sunoo was in, you could practically see his pouting face.

"you could hang out with jake? or sunghoon? aren't they both your friends?"

jake and sunghoon went to the same school as sunoo and you're buddies with them. you've known each other since middle school but jake and sunghoon were always closer to each other just like you and sunoo.

"jake and sunghoon hyung are busy on a vacation together in the bahamas"

you stifled a laugh in, "good luck being alone for the next two days."

"not funny (y/n)! besides that point, what if you get caught?"

"don't worry, i won't get caught because you're the only one who knows about this .as long as you don't rat me out sunoo," you scowl at him.

"i won't, i won't, i promise but you have to buy me something? deal?”

you roll your eyes, "deal mr. sunoo-shi, i have to go now. i need to try to find my hotel"

"be safe, love you!"

"i will! love you too"

you sulk after the call ends. without your best friend on your side, you felt a little feeble and lost but it's not time to be pondering like that.

paris awaits and you couldn't linger at the airport the whole day.

first challenge

getting to your hotel was a struggling. wandering around a city with no basis of the language besides "hello" and "thank you so much", didn't do enough for you.

first, you had to find a taxi that could converse in english. most people had turned you down as you couldn't speak french.

thankfully, it was a fortunate day and you met this kind lady who had coffee-colored curly locks, gentle chocolate eyes, and light freckles scattered around her face.

"do you speak english?" you crisscrossed your fingers, your legs close to giving out after scrambling for taxi drivers

"yeah, i do mademoiselle! would you like to hop in?" she extended a friendly smile and you had never felt bricks lift off your chest faster.

she opened the back of the taxi and you scouted in, permitting your purse to lay on your lap.

the women examined both directions of the road, looking out for passing cars and entered the driver's seat.

"where are you heading mademoiselle?"

you swiftly pull out your phone to your notes, "hotel le walt paris?"

you corked your eyebrow, making sure it was the right name before she nodded her head.

"a very famous hotel huh? right near the eiffel tower. i recommend that you wait till it gets dark and sit on the balcony to see the eiffel tower with lights. it's beautiful"

you smiled at the kind words of the lady, "i will surely try that! thank you miss..?"

"elena! elena is fine and you mademoiselle?"

"i'm (y/n)"

"it's nice to meet you"

"likewise"

the entire ride, you felt at some peace finally conversing with someone who understood english,

after a 30 minute drive, you had arrived at your destination.

feeling a sad departure from this mellow woman, who turned out to be 19 seeking to make some pocket money in the summer, she was one of the first people that you had grown connected with throughout this ride.

"elena, though it was a short time, thank you for keeping company"

you present her with a warm smile as she unlocks the door for you. you exit the taxi, clasping at your phone.

"here, give me your phone."

you softly planted it in elena's hand. you were perplexed about why she showed you your home screen until you realized you had a password.

you enter your password, giving it back to her. she did a bit of clicking and you could see her hands typing something in before returning the phone back to you.

"that's my instagram, stay in contact with me alright?"

you felt the sides of your lips curve into a slight smile. you dragged her into a soft hug.

"thank you elena"

she visibly hesitant before easing into the hug. she softly rubbed your back.

"i have to go, i might get fired if i stay here too long"

you bided her a fare-well. thirty minutes was an extended time to get a know a person.

and that was the first friend you met in france.

second challenge

checking into your hotel wasn't as difficult. most people could speak english and besides the uncanny looks that you received from the clerk, check-in was pretty smooth.

"here you are mademoiselle" the bellman lowers your suitcase in front of your hotel door.

"merci beaucoup," you smile and he returns the gesture before leaving you.

you look down in your hand where you are grasping the card tightly. you scan the card against the door meter and it flickers twice.

red, green

the door clicks before you push on it and reveal your hotel room.

at first glance, your mouth dropped.

the hotel room seemed better than it did on the online photographs which was a rare possibility.

though it was a small room, it was renovated beautifully.

overhead the king-sized bed, there was an extensive painting of the eiffel tower. a blue chair that held a place directly by the bed along with a little wooden table.

the hotel was fine but you definitely weren't

"(y/n) shut down in,"

"3"

"2"

"1"

before thinking, you throw yourself on the bed having the jet-lag kicking in. the bag offers a 'thump' sound as it connects with the ground.

'ouch that hurt'

you fish through your pocket, pulling out your phone. it was hardly twelve pm and you were already fatigued.

what was your strategy? you were in france for two days and you don't have a plan to do anything.

first things first, you needed to sort out this jet-lag.

1) taking a shower

showers are always a great way to awaken and could shake you from this daze. you endured a scream as your water turned to be ice cold. someone must be utilizing the hot water. that shower unmistakably woke you up

2) skincare

after getting out of the shower, skincare was the secondary way to wake up. cleansing with toner, dropping essence into the skin, and implementing a nice coat of moisturizer to lock-in.

3) fueling with food

food can beat anybody out of slumber if they're fueled with enthusiasm but you didn't have any food on you? that indicates it's time to go out and explore france.

unfastening up your suitcase, you drabble on what you can wear.

reconciling with a simple pair of denim shorts and a light pink tank top, you catch a fast mirror selfie.

being content with the ultimate product, you smile to yourself.

"phone, key, wallet," you whispered, securing the thoughts of having everything.

everything was arranged to go and it was time to tour paris.

third challenge

cruising through paris would be by notably the toughest challenge while you were here.

you had your phone to navigate solely with wifi and you couldn't be that favorable to be able to meet people who could speak english all the time.

you had entered a small restaurant, where you worked to communicate with people in defective french but they moderately understood what you wanted.

after that fiasco trying to order a chicken frricassee, you were able to appreciate your time there along with sending a picture to sunoo who reacted with,

"can that be the souvenir you bring back to me TT?"

you chuckled at the message, knowing typical sunoo, and finished up eating.

eating wasn't the one exclusive thing available in france. there were various activities but you were too afraid to venture any future for the hotel. getting lost too was easy.

that being said, eating after eating all you could do was roam around the city. it was around 2pm and you could spot a diverse crowd of people.

you could see kids. in uniforms that just got out of school or a cute couple that was experiencing their date.

you slightly squint and cover your eyes as the sun is at its highest point.

yes, paris was lovely and you would prefer to travel more but but you didn’ toriginally have a plan

for a couple of hours, you completed wandering around the area where your hotel is. you wished at moments like this that you would have jungwon, sunoo's friend, with you to help navigate you.

jungwon was also a friend you guys met in middle school but he went to your school. very mature for his age and great at preparation.

before you knew it, the sun had died down and it was time to retreat to the hotel.

'ah right! elena told me to look out at the eiffel tower as it gets darker'

you softly tread back to your hotel, observing the blisters at the back of your foot.

you could clearly sense the entire day of walking take a toll on your body.

you scan your key card and fling your bag to the floor as soon as you get inside. you open up your suitcase to change into suitable sleeping clothes.

you briskly cleansed your face and tied your hair back.

you had approached the balcony, guessing how to cautiously open the glass door.

you gradually shift the handle to the right and the door made a scanty creek. you gingerly put more stress on it, opening the balcony wide.

a distinct gasp could be heard from you.

subsequently taking a step onto your balcony, the frail breeze made you quiver in the long black tee that adorned your top half and the sweatpants that settled on your waist.

the balcony was small, barely able to move besides staying still.

you had peered to your right, glancing at the eiffel tower.

elena was correct. the eiffel tower was breath-taking at night. for the first time when landing in france, you could feel in harmony. below you was a crowded street.

it was only 8 pm yet you could feel your eyes droop as opposed to the bouncy pair of kids that ran through the moobs of people.

the radiant yellowish glow of the eiffel tower was able to save you from dozing off. you softly hum 'fly me to the moon,'

'fly me to the moon,' didn't have significance, it felt appropriate in the second.

you hadn't regarded it but a figure had gently peeked out of the other balcony, attentively listening to the silky melody that you were humming.

"nice song"

a voice interrupts and your humming had come to a halt, eyes widened.

you had turned to the origin of the voice and discovered the culprit

the balcony alongside you.

"thank you"

you glanced over, granting him a slight smile before he returns it.

"new to paris?"

he questioned, now you guys facing each other.

"yeah, just arrived this morning, and you?"

you asked before he softly smiles.

"not really, i've been here multiple times but the feeling is something i'll get used too."

you hum as a response

"how did you know to speak english to me? do i really act like a foriegner?"

you were growing more drowsy but this stranger was fascinating. who else could say they met someone and talked to them from a balcony romance?

"english song, random guess"

you nodded your head, not certain if he could see you but that was all you could muster up.

there grows stillness beside the bustling street below until the stranger breaks it.

"i know this sounds weird but since you're new here, would you like to go out with me tomorrow to travel the city?"

that question felt like ice water was just splashed onto your face. the proposal startled you.

the stranger didn't appear like a bad person. been to paris varied times, can acknowledge good music and good at conversation.

as much as this stranger flatter you, how could you trust him?

"as much as i would love to, how do i know that you're not trying to kidnap me, even worse, kill me?"

he stifles a laugh.

"hey knock it off, this is a very serious question, balcony boy"

you snicker, desiring to know the answer than anticipated.

"i promise you that i won't try to kidnap OR kill you. i'm just offering and you can even pat me down before we go out together."

this was by far one of the most peculiar offers you had received but this was THE stranger offer you came to france seeking.

you know sunoo would not advocate for numerous reasons and you can hear his voice already

"number one, dangerous"

"number two, dangerous!"

"number three, DANGEROUS!"

but sunoo isn't here right now. you chose to grab the opportunity. france had provided you luck today.

"alright then"

a moment of silence goes by before you hear him clearing his throat.

"you're serious right?"

he glances at you and your eyes lock. though you can't see that well due to the absence of light, you nod.

the eiffel tower gave you enough light that you could make our curious eyes, tall nose, fair skin that radiated in the soft lighting, and full lips that were curved into a smile

"i'll see you at the lobby at eight,"

next morning

to say you were nervous was an understatement, you were terrified. you agreed to a stranger who claimed to know paris like the back of his palm. you met him off your balcony and now you were agreeing to go a date with him?

"you must be out of your mind!" sunoo exclaimed through the phone.

"well yes i must have been at 8 pm last night when fatigue was hitting the hardest but how can i say no now?"

"i don't know maybe, I DON'T KNOW YOU STRANGER DANGER?" sunoo shouts

and like you foretold last night, sunoo was not a big supporter of this idea. over the course of fifteen minutes, you had been continuously scolded by him.

you cringe, " sunoo, i promise that i'll be fine. i just need you to help me pick out an outfit"

sunoo rolls his eyes, "what are your options?"

though sunoo wasn't supportive of this, he couldn't let you go on a date without style.

you held up two choices; a blue floral dress that settled to your mid-thigh and a pink tennis skirt with a white cami shirt.

"well do we like this guy or do we like LIKE this guy?" sunoo questioned.

"what- well i literally met him last night? so i don't even like him, we're just going out for this one day since he offered"

"uh-huh, then the blue floral dress, it's hot there right?" sunoo says

"super hot," you groan.

you glance at the time, 7:00 am.

"i have to start getting ready sunoo, i'll update you later alright?" you smile

"alright, try not to get killed but have fun too! love you"

"love you too," you say back before hanging up.

you quickly hop in the shower and make sure to not take too long.

doing skincare, putting on the outfit, and spraying a little bit of perfume, you are ready to head out the door.

one last check to make sure you have all the things.

7:58 am

you quickly head down to see several people in the lobby.

a bellman, a pair of teenage girls who seemed like they were dragged here, a couple around the mid-40s trying to check-in, and a teenage boy that rested on one of the lobby seats.

it was evident who the balcony boy was but you just called out to be safe.

"balcony boy," you say.

the teenage boy that was seated turns around before flashing you a smile.

"miss singer,"

you airly chuckle at the nickname.

observing him in person was a lot different. you could see his long body proportion, bright eyes, sharp jawline, with fair skin that complimented his rich brown hair.

a distinct experience from seeing him on the balcony.

"i'm (y/n)! and you?" you ask

"i'm lee heeseung"

63 notes · View notes

ghostly-roses · 3 years

Text

1. Introduction

Name (last, first): Bunjaku

Nickname(s): Daifuku (a traditional Japanese sweet)

Age: 17-19

Species: Human

Gender: Nonbinary Male

Pronouns: He/Him, They/Them

Sexual Orientation: Pansexual Polyamorous

Birthday: June 28

Life Story: Bunjaku is a minor returning character in the hubtown and is usually sought out by Jakotsu because of his sexuality and openness about his attraction to other men. He was sold into a brothel by his family when caught in a relationship with another teenage boy of a high ranking family who was engaged to a girl of a similar ranking family. He and the boy talked about leaving their town to be together, but after the boy’s father heard of this, everything fell apart. The boy was forced to face Bunjaku in a sword match to the death for his ‘betrayal’ to his family. He only managed to leave a cut on Bunjaku’s cheek before he turned around and said everything between the two of them was a lie. He was just trying to run away from responsibility and his duties to his family. Just because he was being childish didn’t mean Bunjaku needed to die. Due to this event and his family disowning him, Bunjaku doesn’t feel like he can emotionally let people too close to him. Otherwise, he would be in a relationship with one (or more) of his clients.

Though the word nonbinary didn’t exist at the time when asked, Bunjaku explains he doesn’t strongly feel he is male or female, but somewhere in the middle or neither. He does use male pronouns, but when strangers address him as ‘them’ he secretly feels validated. His nickname Daifuku was given to him by Jakotsu because of how sweet he is.

He works as a kagema, or male prostitute, in the hub town (Kyoto as of now). He presents himself much like Jakotsu. Bunjaku is very flamboyant, but very soft spoken. He wears a loosely tied yukata with one sleeve on, one sleeve off, and his hair tied back in a low ponytail that he often brushes over his right shoulder.

Fun Fact: Bunjaku’s reincarnation, named Bushimichi (Buu for short), is/was a part of a fanfiction called Inu Generations where Jakotsu, Bankotsu, and Kagura are granted new lives and are tasked with taking care of and raising InuYasha’s granddaughter and Sesshomaru’s grandson. Buu is romantically interested in Bankotsu, and helps Ban embrace his bisexuality (I ship him with Jakotsu, and since Ban states he finds Kikyo attractive, bisexual it is. Welcome to my shit headcanon.)

2. About Him/Her

Alignment: True Neutral/Neutral Good

Personality: Sweet, Soft-spoken, Nurturing, Positive, Encouraging, Reasonably Distant, Social Butterfly, Extroverted (but has ambivert-like tendencies), Bit of Goofball

Good Habit(s): He has a tendency to brush his ponytail over his right shoulder. He usually does it out of habit, but when embarrassed, surprised, flustered, or experiencing strong emotions he’ll either grab at it to somewhat hide his face and/or play with the tip of it. It’s also a strong tell if he has something on his mind when he’s by himself.

Bad Habit(s): He’s not in a place that he can be completely open with anyone. He has people in his life he’s close with, but he does keep a bit of a distance so he won’t get hurt by others. Bunjaku is willing to talk about this and his past if in the right mood and mind set, but if not he’ll say it’s too painful and that he’s trying to move pasted it. He has periods of laziness where he spends a lot of time sleeping and just generally lazing about.

Like(s): He actually likes his job. It has its bad sides, but he really likes to get to know his clients. He likes to make them feel welcome, and hear their stories. When he’s not working he’s either chatting with the yujo or their clients.

Dislike(s): He hates not being taken seriously because of how he looks, how he presents himself, or his sexuality. It’s one of the few things that actually gets a rise out of him. He doesn’t want to be a ‘man’s man’.

Hobbies: Socializing, Sleeping, Playing with Cho

Strength(s): He is a very friendly and positive person that people gravitate towards.

Weakness(es): Due to his babyface, some of his male clients and other males have tried to forcefully have their way with Bunjaku. The women of the brothel are increasingly protective of him, and will secretly check on him and his clients.

Special Powers/Abilities: N/A

Extras: People usually have a distinct perception of him. He is the living embodiment of a cavity, and is too sweet. He’s also not the biggest fan of sweeter foods.

3. Dreams and Talents

Ambition/Life-long Dream: Find a loving partner(s) and settle down

Occupation/Job: Kagema (Male Prostitute)

Best Class(es): Daggers and Knives

Worst Class(es): All other weapons

4. Family and Friends

Parent(s): Mother, Father

Sibling(s): Two Sisters

Relative(s): Aunt, Cousins

Pet(s): Cho, a stray kitten he found trying to catch a butterfly.

Best Friend(s): N/A

Friend(s): Mitsuha, Amaya, Jakotsu, Shin’ichi

Crush(es): Jakotsu and some other clients

Rival(s): One or two of the yujoes

Enemies: N/A

5. InuYasha Information

If you're a demon, what kind of demon are you?: N/A

Alliance: Yujo of the brothel, and most of his clients

Do you have jewel shards?: No

If so, how many?: 0

Weapon(s): Dagger (Only for protection, he wears it around his upper thigh when walking around.)

6. Looks and Appearance

Body Type/Looks: Ectomorph/Rectangle/Average Height, but on the thinner side (He’s meant to look like the stereotypical uke from yaoi.)

Blood Type: O-

Height: 5”6

Weight: 150 - 160 lbs

Outfit(s): Peach Yukata with a Plum Blossom (Ume) Motif

Accessories: Red Hair Ribbon

Makeup: None

Scent: Regular human

Hairstyle(s): Low ponytail

Scars, Tattoos, Jewelry and/or Piercings: Scar across his right cheek

Appearance [if you don't have a picture, just delete this]: Androgynous as fuck

7. Extra Information

Theme Song/Quote: “As with the butterfly, adversity is necessary to build character in people.” - Joseph B. Wirthlin

“Just living is not enough,” said the butterfly, “one must have sunshine, freedom, and a little flower.” - Hans Christian Anderson

Cherry Blossom Shower - Okami Soundtrack

Favorite Food(s): Savory and Sour Foods

Favorite Color(s): Peach, Light purples

Favorite Number(s): 8

Favorite Season(s): Spring

Favorite Holiday(s): Flower Festivals

Favorite Time of Day: Dawn

Theme: Flowers?

What would you like to happen? [Any specific ideas? Anything particular that you'd like to happen? It can just be a word, too. Something for me to work from.]:

8. Character Opinions [What Your OC thinks about the characters]

Band of Seven: They’re all friendly with me, but I only have connections to Jakotsu and Bankotsu. Though, they all agreed I have a nice ass. That was a fun night!

Bankotsu: I don’t know him the greatest, but I tried to comfort him about his possible attraction to the same sex. He was very defensive and confused about the exchange.

Jakotsu: He is a regular client of mine when in town. Though he can be rough with me, he always makes sure I feel comfortable and effectively babies me during aftercare and anytime we’re in public together.

After Story: Five or six years after hearing the news of the Band of Seven being executed, Bunjaku is approached by what seems to be an old client he hasn’t seen in years with a woman by his side. The old client is named Kazuo and the woman is Tsuya. They ask to speak with Bunjaku after he’s done working.

“So what didn’t you want to talk about, Kazuo? Wanting to catch up?”

He and his wife looked at each other awkwardly before explaining the ‘situation’. Kazuo introduced his wife, Tsuya, to Bunjaku. Bunjaku was thrilled to know Kazuo has a partner and has settled down. Kazuo went on to explain that despite being married, he still had strong feelings for Bunjaku, and that his wife was comfortable with the idea of him having a male partner. Bunjaku was incredibly taken aback, and fingered at his ponytail out of habit.

“U-uhmm,...if we were going t-to do this, I-I’d like to-uh...get to know your wife first. J-Just so everything is, uh, no one is, we aren’t, uh-I’m not overstepping any boundaries.”

Tsuya chimed in, “He’s just as sweet and cute as you said he was!” causing Bunjaku to blush even more than he already was, and hide his face behind his ponytail and hands.

Kazuo and Bunjaku’s relationship started out slowly. Communication between the three was open and honest. While he and Kazuo were getting more intimate, Bunjaku and Tsuya were getting closer, and some sparks began to fly. Soon enough, the two come to the conclusion that they were falling in love as well. The three of them eventually sat down and the husband and wife declaration their mutual love for Bunjaku. The trio of now lovers agreed that all partners were allowed to be intimate.

The triad lived very happily together for about a year or two until Tsuya fell pregnant. They didn’t know if the child’s father was Bunjaku or Kazuo, but all of them were excited about the new arrival. Bunjaku’s mention of the name Aiko (love child) was what they decided to name the baby girl when she was born. They had one more child between them, another girl named Honoka (harmony flower). It wouldn’t be until years later that the father of each child became more evident. Aiko looked and acted more like Bunjaku, while the same could have been said for Honoka and Kazuo. The girls were two years and three months apart.

Years later while shopping with a young Aiko, Bunjaku saw a face that used to haunt his dreams. It was the boy, now man, that was the first love of his life and the reason for the scar on his right cheek. The man recognized Bunjaku, stopped him, and awkwardly explained that he did indeed love Bunjaku and apologized about the scar. The interaction was bittersweet for the both of them. It gave them both some kind of closure, but it left the man wondering what could have been if he stood up for the two of them when they were young teenagers.

A/N: Thank you for reading and sorry about any typos! I can only find so many errors when editing things myself.

InuYasha Bio Template: https://www.deviantart.com/aamlchu/art/InuYasha-Character-Bio-Template-805061013

Amaya and her bio: https://www.deviantart.com/aamlchu/art/Amaya-with-Chibi-Ban-Jak-and-Sui-With-Bio--800211364

#inuyasha #inuyasha oc #yashahime #inuyasha Jakotsu #Jakotsu #Bunjaku #non-binary #nonbinary #non binary character #oc #my art #my oc art #polyamory #triad

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youidiotprince · 3 years

Text

A Very Merry Ca$hqu€€ns Christmas

“No, Nora! Stay out!” Ava yelled from floor, scrambling to shield her nearly wrapped gift from Nora’s curious gaze. Nora had announced her presence with a quiet knock as she pushed open the door, hoping to catch Ava off guard and glimpse her gift.

“Why can’t I see, hm? If the present isn’t for me. . .” Nora teased, crossing her arms over her chest, feet still planted in the open doorway.

“Because I…” Ava floundered for an explanation that wouldn’t incriminate her, but she couldn’t string together the words. “Just because! It’ll ruin it either way, so you just have to get out.”

“If you say so.” Nora turned to leave, but as she closed the door behind her, she added, “I’m taking this as confirmation that you’re my Secret Santa, though.”

“Nora,” Ava groaned, grabbing the nearest item and throwing it at the now-closed door. When it fluttered to the ground only a foot or so in front of where she sat, she realized it was the glittery green bow she still had to stick atop her present. She’d opted for a more classic look, with red and white striped wrapping paper, thick and shiny, a purchase she’d splurged on for her gifts this year because she’d always liked the crisp lines and folds the more expensive papers made when wrapping. Nora’s gift, which she’d already put under the tree earlier that day, was wrapped in snowman-covered paper, something she’d had leftover from the year before, and maybe the year before that.

Ava peeled the backing from the sticky part of the bow and placed it, perfectly centered where the lines of ribbon intersected on top of her rectangular package. She could faintly hear the tinkling bells of the festive music Nora had just started playing, and she knew that was her cue to hurry it up.

With the package cradled under her arm, she left her room and called out to Nora, “Hey girl, what do you need me to do?”

Nora rounded the corner from the kitchen and eyed Ava’s now perfectly wrapped gift. “Ooh, that looks gorgeous,” Nora said with a mischievous look. “I can’t wait to open it.”

“Yeah, you wish,” Ava taunted with a smile. She placed her gift under the tree and brushed her hands clean of it. “Have you heard from the others yet?”

“Mm, they’re both on their way, they should be here any minute.”

The girls busied themselves plating the snacks they’d prepared and the cookies they’d baked until they heard a knock at the door, the thuds sounding in time with the cheesy Christmas carol playing over the speaker.

“Merry Friendsmas!” Mailin and Fatou shouted together, smiles spread almost as wide as their arms. Mailin modeled a headband with reindeer antlers stuck on top and red makeup on the tip of her nose, and Fatou wore a red and green patterned sweater trimmed with glittery tinsel around the neck, the wrists, and the bottom hem. They both held up their presents, Fatou’s in a wintery blue and silver giftbag and Mailin’s wrapped in what looked like newspaper or scrap paper of some sort. They’d dressed on theme, matching Nora’s all red look paired with a Santa hat and Ava’s cozy plaid Christmas pajamas. After a quiet beat during which they took in all their different looks, the girls erupted in excited chatter all at once, talking over each other in order to compliment and dissect their different outfits.

“That must be so itchy,” Nora told Fatou as Fatou told Ava how much she envied her cozy attire.

“Your nose!” Ava exclaimed to Mailin as she reached out almost close enough to touch it before Mailin flinched away.

“No, don’t ruin it yet. I forgot the lipstick at home,” Mailin admitted sheepishly. “Although it looks like I could just borrow Nora’s.” Nora puckered her red lips in response. She backed out of the way so they all could come in and make themselves comfy. They left their coats and boots in the entryway.

“Mulled wine, anyone?” Nora asked from the kitchen as Mailin and Fatou added their gifts to the pile in the main room and sat on the couch next to Ava. “I’ll be having hot chocolate, so that’s an option too.”

Ava and Fatou shared a look before Fatou answered for both of them, “Two mulled wines, please.”

“Oh wait, I’ll come help,” Mailin said as she leapt up from the couch and joined Nora in the kitchen. “Also, I’ll have a hot chocolate.”

Once they brought the drinks out to the others, they all settled into their easy rhythm, talking about the little details of their lives that had happened since they’d last seen each other, recounting some of their best and worst holiday memories before they met each other. Nora opened up about the year that her mother hadn’t gotten anyone any gifts and Kiki, trying to fix everything, went out and bought Nora a box of colored pencils and a coloring book and Zoe a bracelet-making kit with the small amount of money she had. It hadn’t been much but it had meant the world to both of them. Zoe made each of the sisters a bracelet, and she wondered if Kiki or Zoe still had theirs. Fatou shared that one of the best presents she ever received was a book about marine biology with lots of pictures of marine life. She told them that her brother made fun of her endlessly about it, but he was always looking over her shoulder as she’d read through it.

When they felt like they’d run out of stories, they sang carols and karaoke in pairs until Zoe hollered from her room for them to quiet down, and while the singing might have stopped, they didn’t actually adjust their volume much. Eventually, feeling like a little kid who’d been trying their best to wait patiently for the chance to open presents but who just couldn’t hold it in any longer, Ava admitted, “Girls, I can’t take it anymore. We need to do the gift exchange already.”

“Oh, you’re right!” Mailin gasped, as if she’d completely forgotten about the main event of the evening.

Nora clapped and then wiggled her fingers together excitedly, looking slowly at each of her friends. “Who wants to go first?”

“I will,” Fatou said, straining to reach the gift she’d left with the others. She finally snagged the handle with the tip of her finger, so she pulled it over and sat back upright. “Okay, drumroll please.” The girls started pounding their fists on their legs or on the floor, whichever was closer. “This is for… Ava!” Fatou held the gift out to her with a flourish, beaming.

“Chibi,” Ava said warmly, taking the decently sized bag from Fatou’s hand. It was stuffed with white tissue paper which Ava crumpled into a ball and handed to Nora, who was collecting the trash. Beneath all of that was the edge of a sleek black frame, which Ava pulled out carefully. The frame enclosed a photo of the stars in the night sky with a date underneath: October 2, 2020. Ava brushed her fingertips over the glass, hovering just above so as not leave a smudge.

“It’s a print of the constellations on the first day we all hung out together, when we stole that money,” Fatou blurted. “I know you’ve been looking for things to decorate the place with, and that day is so important to me, to us. This seemed like a good gift because we both love the universe and space and astrology so much.”

“Fatou, this is incredible.” Ava’s voice was full of genuine awe. “Seriously, this is perfect, I love it so much. We should all have one of these, honestly.” Nora and Mailin were craning their necks to get a better look, so Ava passed the print to them. As they admired it, Ava turned to Fatou. There was no way Fatou could know just how much this meant to her. How lame and lonely and insecure she felt before as she tried to rebuild her life here without a solid friend group, how difficult it was to watch other people find these friend groups that seemed like they’d last for life while Ava had paper thin friendships that were haunted by the words of her bullies, the doubts and fears they’d implanted in her. Ava felt as though this group of girls, this group of best friends, had finally allowed her to embrace herself with the confidence she had only ever faked before. Fatou couldn’t know how much that day meant to her in particular, but still, it felt like maybe she did, at least a little bit. “Thank you, Fatou. Really.”

“You’re welcome, Ava,” she said as she rested her head on Ava’s shoulder and snuggled closer, patting Ava’s knee tenderly.

After a few moments, Ava offered, “Okay, I’ll go next, and we can just go whoever receives the gift can give the next one? If that works out.” Everybody nodded so Ava grabbed her gift and settled back down on the couch. “Okay, this lovely, award-winning wrapping is for none other than… Mailin.”

“I get the best wrapped one,” Mailin said as she excitedly took the present from Ava and shook it next to her ear. When she brought it back down in front of her, she hesitated. “I almost don’t want to open it! But alas,” she said, and with that she ripped open the paper to reveal a jewelry box with a brand label printed on it that she’d never heard of. When she lifted the lid, she saw two sets of earrings, one set of green and blue tie-dye rectangular pendants with “climate” engraved in one and “justice” engraved in the other and one set of large globe earrings.

“They’re made from completely recycled materials, and the proceeds went to a campaign for climate justice here in Germany. And they just seemed so you,” Ava explained, motioning between the new earrings and the earrings Mailin was currently wearing, which were big candy canes dangling from her ears.

“No, these are awesome, I’ve been trying to develop my collection of fun earrings. These are fun and make a statement. Thank you. Okay, my turn.” Mailin jumped up to grab her newspaper package. “Special eco-friendly wrapping,” she boasted. “Hope you enjoy.” With that, she handed the gift off to Nora without much ceremony, which added its own bit of surprise.

“For me? Ah, okay, I’m excited,” Nora said as she tore into the newspaper. Underneath it all was a thick stack of shipping labels, some used and some unused. The used ones were obviously an attempt at recycling, which Nora appreciated. The sticker at the top of the stack already had a note on it, which must have been written by Mailin, as it said, “Coupon for free shipping label retrieval and delivery for a year. Ask and you will receive.”

“Those are what you used to do your drawings on when you left them around the city, right? I know you’ve probably worn yourself out with all the drawings you’ve done for our shirts, but as a token of appreciation for all of that, I will provide you with shipping label sticker things whenever you need them.” Mailin finished her explanation with a proud smile.

“This is really thoughtful, Mailin. I’ll definitely take you up on this coupon offer,” Nora said with a wink. She then turned to Fatou. “So it’s just you and me,” Nora joked, handing her gift off to Fatou.

“This box is light, I wonder what it could be,” Fatou said as she ripped off the paper. She was only teasing Nora about the weight of the box, but when she opened it all the way and looked inside, it really was empty. Just completely empty. Fatou looked up, confused, and made eye contact with Ava. Ava’s stomach lurched. It couldn’t be. Had Nora forgotten a gift? She wouldn’t do that to Fatou, would she? And if she had forgotten, why would she just wrap an empty box? She hated herself for thinking it, but after everything she’d been through, she couldn’t keep the thought away that maybe this was a prank, that maybe Nora’s friendship with all of them was some kind of prank. It was just a nagging thought in the back of her mind, it couldn’t possibly be true, but she still couldn’t ignore it, not completely.

At the same time, Fatou and Ava turned to look at Nora, trying to work out what exactly was going on, but she was engrossed in something on her phone, her lips turning up into a smile. How could she be so callous?

“Nora,” Fatou started, voice quiet and hesitant. Before she could say more, three phones buzzed with a new message, and Nora looked up, smile growing. Fatou had planned to ignore the text, but now she was suspicious. She grabbed her phone from her pocket and opened the message, her phone redirecting her to WhatsApp. There, in the ca$hqu€€ns groupchat, was a collection of stickers, some actual photos and some drawings, of axolotls. The drawings had the axolotls pulling funny facial expressions, emoting in different ways. A smile here, a frown there, a wink and a stuck-out tongue. Fatou felt Ava exhale beside her.

“I’m sorry for the empty box, I wanted to give you something to unwrap even though the gift was virtual, but my timing ended up being kind of off with that one,” Nora said, sheepish. “And they’re not exactly emojis, but they’re close, right?”

“My axolotl emoji,” Fatou said almost dreamily.

“Nora, these are awesome,” Mailin chimed in from beside her.

“Thanks. If you want any other facial expressions, just let me know.”

A content silence stretched between the girls, everyone feeling comfortable and warm, processing the gifts they’d just given and received.

“Guys, this was so great, I… you don’t understand how happy I am right now. You guys are the best.” Ava’s heart swelled with something that felt like pride, maybe, that these were the people she chose, that these were the people who chose her. Of course Nora wouldn’t let any of them down like that, not on purpose. None of them would. They all loved and respected each other too much. “The ca$hqu€€ns were written in the stars, you guys. We were fated.”

At Ava’s moment of vulnerability, all of the girls rushed to wrap her in the tightest group hug, falling all over each other and ending up in a messy pile of cuddles. Limbs tangled and faces smushed, and when they finally started to pull away a bit, Mailin took one look at Ava’s cheek and sighed.

“Oh no, I smeared my nose on your cheek.”

#alteradventcalendar #druck #druck fic #cashqueens #ava pereira #fatou jallow #nora machwitz #mailin richter

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artificialqueens · 3 years

Text

Pretty in Pearls, Chapter 4 (Jankie) - Plastiquedoll

read on ao3 💄| previous chapters

A/N: hi! here's a new chapter and I'm planting the crygi seed for the future *wink wink* I hope you enjoy it and thank you for reading it <3

-4-

“Good morning!” Jan greeted Nicky outside the café with a smile on her face.

“Hey! You woke up earlier today; I didn’t catch you on your way out the dorms.” The blonde noticed.

She was wearing a fuzzy cardigan sweater she had seen on Jaida before, light blue jeans, and white sneakers. Her hair was still wet which made Jan think she might have spent the night with her girlfriend before meeting her.

“Yeah, I had to return some books to the library so I left when Rosé went to class.”

They walked in and were welcomed by the familiar warmness of the interior of the coffee shop. Almost a month had passed but Jan was always comforted by the charm of the place. It was a crowded morning but they were able to squish at one little table near the entrance. They had just sat down when a fuming Jackie crossed the door, at first she didn’t see them but as soon as Jan waved at her she shuffled toward their direction and plopped herself in the empty chair.

She was wearing brown flare pants along with a white shirt and a yellow batwing cardigan with a floral pattern. Her brown hair had been violently ruffled by a gust of wind, the loose locks fell all over her face completing a look that matched her current mood.

“What are you doing here?” Nicky asked.

Jan was wondering the same; all of Jackie’s classes took place in the morning, it was early for her to be out.

She grunted a few words while holding a scrunchie between her teeth as she attempted to untangle her hair.

“What?” The girls asked at the same time.

Jackie tied her hair into a ponytail and sighed. “I got kicked out of class.”

Jan looked at her with disbelief. “What?” She repeated.

“Remember that professor that hates me for making –according to him- «snarky comments»? Well, he finally found a reason to express his dislike for me and asked me to leave.” She crossed her arms on her chest. “I wasn’t going to stay quiet when –in addition, to invisibilize women in art- he also tried to erase the queerness of the artists. No, not on my watch.”

“What a pig.” Nicky shook her head. “I can’t believe he had the nerve to kick you out because you called him out.”

“Oh, trust me, this isn’t the end of it. I’m filing a complaint and leaving that class. I’m done.”

“I’m sorry, Jackie. I know you liked the subject, too bad the professor is a jerk.” Jan tapped her shoulder softly.

The brunette got stiff by the sudden touch. She cleared her throat before speaking again. “Anyway… it sucks because I need the credit and it’s the only class that fits into my schedule.”

“Maybe there’s a way to fix it, talk with the administration or something.” Jan did what she did best, being undeniably positive.

“Yeah… maybe. But enough of that, I need a cup of coffee.”

As if she had read Jackie’s mind, a waitress approached and it wasn’t any other than…

“Hello, girls!”

“Crystal? You work here?” Jan asked.

The girl nodded. “I started yesterday.” She smiled brightly.

She had a blue apron with the café’s name on it over her clothes and Jan swore her hair –covered in colorful hair clips- was different than last time she saw her not even two days ago.

“Congratulations! That’s great!”

“Thank you. I had to drop one of my classes but I needed the job.”

Jackie grunted. “Please let’s not talk about dropping classes.” She began massaging her temples.

“Right! I’m here to take your order.” She pulled out a tiny notebook covered in glitter from her pocket and a unicorn gel pen. “I’m ready.”

“I think you have to say «what can I get you?»” Nicky commented.

“Oh, you’re right… Let me try again. What can I get you?” She repeated in an extremely polite voice.

“I’ll have a hot chocolate please.” Jan pointed at the menu.

“And I’d like a hazelnut latte.” Jackie followed.

“For me, a caramel macchiato.” The blonde finished the order.

“Perfect… so hot chocolate, hazelnut latte, and caramel macchiato.” Crystal checked her notes. “Right away.”

“Thank you.” They said and with that, the ginger left and then turned around.

Jan watched her go.

“I should get a job too.” She pouted. “I don’t want to ask for extra money from my parents, they are helping with the other half the scholarship and they are paying for my brother’s tuition too.”

“I work at the mall near here and there’s always something to do there. You could come with me later and ask around.” Nicky mentioned.

“I didn’t know that, what do you do?”

“I’m on the cosmetics section. I do people’s makeup during the weekends and convince them to buy products.”

“Of course you do…”

“What would you like to do?” Jackie inquired in the meantime she rearranged the sweeteners of the table.

“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “I’ve had part-time jobs before. I used to work at an ice cream parlor. That was fun not to mention I had free ice cream. Then I worked at the post office, that wasn’t as much fun, it involved a lot of boxes… and during my senior year, I was the secretary of a dental office that… well, definitely wasn’t fun but I got to meet the same customers that were regulars on the ice cream parlor.”

Jackie and Nicky burst into laughter.

“You’ll do well…” The blonde assured.

“We can write your resume later and print it in the copy room.” Jackie suggested.

“That’s a great idea. Yeah, let’s do it.”

At that moment, Crystal returned with their drinks.

“Well, let’s see… I’ll put these over here, here and… here.” She placed the cups carefully and sighed with relief when everything stayed in place. “Great… Let me know if you need me.” She hummed.

“Thank you, Crystal!” Jan was going to leave a good tip for her friend.

When she turned around, they all exchanged misplaced cups in the blink of an eye.

“She’ll get better… hopefully.” Jackie added some sugar and took a sip of her coffee.

Jan drank some of her chocolate; the whipped cream created a mustache above her cupid’s bow and got the brunette looking fondly at her before taking a napkin and cleaning the corner of her mouth. Nicky raised an eyebrow but before she could say something, someone else showed up.

It was a girl that most definitely looked like a supermodel with her matching glen check pattern outfit consisting of a cropped jacket and a mini skirt with accents of yellow fabric and a belt with chains hanging from it along with a pair of black thigh-high boots. Her blonde hair framed her face and was tied on the back on a half up half down hairstyle.

“Hey, Nicky, did you finish the assignment for today’s class? And if you did, did you have any difficulty submitting it?” She looked upset, stressed.

“Uh… no. Maybe it’s because that paper is due tomorrow and the submission time starts… tomorrow?”

“Oh, thank God.” She sat on the only left empty chair with no need of an invitation and sighed letting all the air out of her lungs.

Their little table couldn’t accommodate more people so they squished even more.

Nicky turned to Jackie and Jan. “This is Gigi, she’s a classmate of mine and she actually lives in the same dorms as us. Gigi, do you remember my friend Jackie? And this is Jan, resident of the C dorm.”

The other blonde girl waved. “Hi, sorry… that was rude. I was freaking out due to that assignment.” She took a deep breath. “Hi, Jackie… I do remember you and Jan, we’re neighbors.”

“That’s great!” Jan smiled at her. “So you’re a fashion major too?”

She nodded. “I’m a sophomore as well but I’m a year younger than everyone else because of technicalities and my mom sending me to kindergarten one year earlier.”

“We’re the same age then. That’s cool.”

Gigi smiled, she was beautiful.

“How are you adapting to-” She was going to ask Jan something when she lowered her head in an attempt to hide behind Jackie. “Oh shit.”

“Gigi, what is it?” Nicky whispered.

“She’s here.” Gigi tried to descend even more.

“Uhm… who’s here?” Jackie looked around.

“She! She’s here right now… Oh God…” The girl seemed nervous and her cheeks were tinted in soft pink. “So, uh… there’s this girl who lives in our dorm I guess and I’ve bumped into her a couple of times before but… I don’t know, she’s like…” She blushed harder.

“Gigi Goode... The Gigi Goode is possibly… intimidated by someone?” Nicky gasped.

“Shhh… shut up… no… yeah… maybe. I don’t know. I’m gay and single, leave me alone.”

“Wait but how does she look like?” Jan also tried to find her among the crowd. They all were whispering.

“Oh my God… she’s coming… she’s walking in this direction, why is she walking in this direction? Never mind she has an apron.”

But it was Crystal who appeared next to Jan. “Hey guys, everything’s okay over here? Do you need something else?” She inquired, completely clueless.

The three remaining girls looked at Crystal, then at Gigi, and then at Crystal again as if it was a ping pong game.

“Oh, hey! I hadn’t seen you there, would you like me to bring something for you?” She asked Gigi while pulling out her Crystalcore things.

The blonde girl nodded and recovered the posture a little. “Uh… matcha… that’s the green thing… yeah… latte. Green tea?”

“Matcha tea latte?”

She nodded mechanically again.

“Alright, anything else?” The other girls shook their heads. “I’ll be right back.”

“Thank you.” Gigi’s voice sounded high-pitched.

Once Crystal left, all eyes were on the blonde once again.

“Oh my… I fucked up, didn’t I?”

Nicky’s jaw had dropped to the floor. “Wait, hold on a minute… you like her?”

“Shhh… God, Nicky, she could hear you or something.” Gigi pressed her hand on her chest, feeling her heart beating fast. “I didn’t know she worked here.”

Jan was trying to contain a smile, her lips turned into a thin line, meanwhile, Jackie stirred her lukewarm coffee.

“Uh… You know that’s my roommate, right?” Nicky smirked.

At that moment, Gigi almost fainted. Her face went from reddish to pale in a second and her eyes were full of terror as if she had seen a ghost.

“Excuse me, she’s your what?!”

“My roommate? Crystal? The girl with orange hair? I’ve told you about her. The one that put stickers on the notes she leaves me? She forgot her key three times in the span of a day? The one that –allegedly- accidentally shot a confetti cannon in our room and since then it feels like the place coughs confetti here and there? Rings your bell?”

That had been a good day, Jan recalled.

“Wait- That’s your Crystal? Your Crystal is my Crystal?” She covered her mouth after saying those words.

Jackie and Jan exchanged an amused look.

“Your Crystal?” Nicky tilted her head.

“I mean… that’s not what I mean…” She cleared her throat. “please don’t tell her I have a crush on her this is already too embarrassing for me… I could die like a Sim… of embarrassment, it’s a real thing, you know?”

“Relax, I won’t say a word and I’m sure the girls won’t either, right?” Jan and Jackie nodded.

Gigi seemed relieved. “Thank you… I can’t believe she’s your roommate.” She buried her face in her hands.

“I can’t believe you feel intimidated by her, she has a One Direction poster in our room.”

“There are so many things clicking in my head right now please leave your message after the tone. Beep.”

Jackie moved her hand in front of her eyes without getting a response. “I think you broke her, Nicky.”

“She’ll be fine. Plus, Crystal is bringing her tea right now.”

“Fuck…” She said as if was a reset command.

“Here you have.” The ginger placed the smoky cup in front of her. “I hope you enjoy it.” She smiled and winked before leaving.

Gigi gulped.

“Uh, Gigi, I’m not an expert but judging by the color of the beverage, that’s not what you ordered.” Jackie pointed out.

But the blonde wasn’t even looking at her. “I don’t care; this is the most delicious drink existing in the entire universe right now.”

“What’s that though?” Nicky tried to touch the cup but Gigi slapped her hand.

“No touching.” She glared at her classmate.

“Yeah, I feel like we’re going to be good friends.” Jan thought about it aloud.

“Alright, all set.”

Jackie let a big sigh out of her chest when she left the administration office; Jan had been waiting for her outside. They had gone there straight after leaving the café when Nicky and Gigi left for their class. On their way to the building, she had tried to cheer Jackie up by telling the entire confetti cannon anecdote in full detail but even afterward laughing at loud the brunette still seemed afflicted.

“I’ve submitted my complaint and the head administrator told me that the board will look into it. Until then, they said that most classes are already full so they’ll have to look for a different solution and they’ll contact me via e-mail or I’ll have to drop by next week.”

“Well, that’s good, isn’t it? They’ll tell you what the next step is. It can only get better from here.”

“I hope so.” She shrugged. She didn’t sound fully convinced, though.

Jan checked the time on her phone. “Hey, we still have some time before your shift starts, we can hang out or something…”

Jackie bit her inner cheek. “I don’t know…”

Jan touched her shoulder gently. “Jackie, I hate you seen you like this. There has to be something that makes you feel at least one percent better.”

She looked at her with her big puppy eyes and Jackie couldn’t say no to her.

“Okay… there’s something that always makes me feel better.” She gave in.

“I’m listening.”

Jackie’s eyes sparked.

“No way…” Jan looked around. “This is awesome!”

They had gone upstairs –climbing several stairs-, to a place that wasn’t on the maps of the campus. Jackie had led the way without revealing a single detail –even when Jan asked many, many questions on their way there- she had said it was a surprise and that she didn’t want to spoil it. Finally, as they were climbing those endless stairs, her mood got a bit better.

They reached a single green metal door, it was locked but the brunette pulled a key from her set and opened it. The door led to a little hidden rooftop garden with a few hanging plants and flowers in terracotta pots, there was also a set of recycled wood chairs and an unvarnished coffee table rough around the edges. But without any doubt the most stunning part of that small place was the view, it was the perfect spot to contemplate most of the green areas of the campus including some of the park across the street nearby the café. It was almost noon and the sun hit the opposite side but in a few hours, it would be probably the best viewpoint of the sunset.

“What is this place?” The younger kept inspecting everything.

Jackie closed the door behind them. “It used to be a project made for a group of students to raise awareness about the use of recycling materials but since they all graduated no one really knows it exists. I accidentally discovered it last year when I took a photography class and spotted it with my camera from that crossroad.” She pointed with her index finger. “I did some research and the janitor gave me the key after asking… when I was done with the assignment, she let me keep it with the promise I would do some maintenance once in a while and keep the plants alive. And since then, I come here when I need to be alone or when I’m upset… like today.”

Jan stared at her. “I’m sorry that you had to drop that class.”

“I didn’t want to quit, you know? I thought I was going to be able to handle it, by giving up I feel like I let him win…”

“No, you didn’t. You don’t have to stand that mistreatment.” She looked the brunette in the eye. “I’m glad you did it; don’t let it be a defeat, it doesn’t have to be one.”

“Thank you.” A weak smile appeared on her face.

“I’m gonna hug right now, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“No, you don’t have to…”

“But I want to. C’mon, come here.” She extended her arms widely. “If you don’t let me hug you I’m going to hug myself and it’s going to be lame and I’m going to be sad.”

Jackie chuckled. “Okay, I guess…”

“Yay!” Jan jumped directly to her and wrapped her arms around her.

Jan’s shampoo smelled like almonds and honey. Her embrace made Jackie feel warm inside. Clouds could’ve been made of cotton and the sky was the bluest she had ever seen.

“You see? This is nice.” The younger still held her.

“Yeah, nice…” Jackie closed her eyes and for a moment, it was all right.

They stayed there for a little while. Jackie would have to go to the copy room soon and Jan had her class after lunch. During the time they were there, Jan played some music on her phone and they talked about what had happened earlier in the café. They agreed that it was sweet that Gigi had a crush on Crystal; Jackie watered the plants and told her the story of how she had met the blonde through Nicky. Later on, she sat on one of the chairs while Jan played hopscotch with the cracks in the concrete; she sang softly the song that was playing Hey There Delilah.

“You have a good singing voice,” Jackie mentioned.

“Huh? Me? Oh… I didn’t… I just sing for fun sometimes.” She suddenly felt coy.

“I mean it. It sounded lovely.”

“You’re just being nice. You haven’t heard Rosé or Lagoona, they are amazing.”

“They could tell you. I’m sure they’d agree with me.”

“I could never sing in front of them.” She looked mortified.

“You’d do well.”

“Are you serious right now?”

“I wouldn’t lie to you.”

“I don’t know…” Jan shrugged.

The music stopped and the alarm she had set went off.

“We have to go.” The younger announced. “I’ll walk with you to the copy room and then I’ll grab something to eat.”

“Okay. Let me close the door.”

She waited until the brunette was done and they started walking downstairs.

“I wish I could work with you, wouldn’t that be fun?” Jan casually mentioned.

“Well, you’re there all the time anyway.”

“Does it bother you?”

Jackie shook her head and smiled. “No, not at all.”

“I don’t understand it.” Jan lied on the table of the study room. “I have applied for every job available at the mall and still, no response and no results.”

“Ow, baby,” Rosé ruffled her hair. “I’m sure you’re going to find something soon.”

Lagoona lifted her gaze from the textbook. “I wish I could help but the restaurant where I work is full.”

“I thought you hated that place?” Jan turned toward her.

“I do, but the tips are good.” She highlighted a sentence with her pastel marker.

She was already studying for an upcoming presentation. Rosé was memorizing the lines of a play and she got Jan there to read the other part. Now they were on a break. The pink-haired girl was drinking peach soda from a can in the meantime Jan whined for her failed job search. Lagoona –whose blue hair was beginning to fade a little- googled some job offers in the area and read them at loud.

“There are a few that sound pretty disgusting if you ask me. I didn’t know the classified ads could be this kinky.” She frowned and put her phone down.

“Hey, what about that place?” Rosé snapped her fingers. “Goona, do you remember? The diner that’s a couple of blocks from here? We used to go there all the time during our freshman year.”

“Oh, yes. That was a nice place, didn’t we stop going there because your ex-roommate worked there?”

Rosé’s expression turned sour. “Yeah… but she got fired or quit, I don’t know. The point is, they were always hiring people, maybe you could ask there?”

“And you’ve waited this long to tell me?” Jan cried. “It’s been three agonizing days.”

“They are open now so you could-”

“Bye, guys! See you later.” She grabbed her things, threw them into her backpack, and dashed out just to return a couple of seconds later. “Yeah, so I don’t know where it is.”

Jan held her breath before walking past the door.

The diner was decorated in a retro style. It had black and white floor tiles, a long bar, red stools, chairs and booths, round tables, neon signs, vinyl albums and posters of classic Hollywood stars on the walls, lamps hanging from the ceiling, and even a functional jukebox. A few people were sitting at the bar, it was still early for dinner so almost everyone was having a milkshake or some ice cream.

Jan was welcomed by a girl with dark wavy hair in a striped red and white dress with a little white apron on. The name «Denali» was written on her tag.

“Welcome to Lucky’s, would you like a table or a seat on the bar?” She smiled and a pair of dimples appeared on her face.

“Hi, I was wondering if you have a job application for me or… if you were hiring right now?”

“Oh,” She lowered her notebook. “You wanna work here? Okay, just give me a second. You can sit over there.” Denali pointed at one empty table.

“Sure.” Jan held her backpack close to her body and moved to the booth.

Denali returned shortly after with a pen and a paper sheet in her hands.

“In normal circumstances, you’d have an interview with the manager but since he’s God knows where and I’m in charge in the meantime, I’m going to let you complete this form and then ask you some questions…”

“Alright, yeah.”

“I’ll be back in a moment.”

Jan filled the form with basic information, her full name, birth date, age, address, phone number, e-mail, etc. When she was done, she observed Denali serving customers, she moved like her feet weren’t touching the floor, with a full tray on her hands as if it weighed nothing, all with a giant smile on her face. She made it look easy.

“Everything alright?” She asked before sitting in front of Jan.

“Yes, I’m done.” She returned the paper sheet.

Denali scanned it, collecting information. “Janice? Okay, you’re a college student.”

“Jan is fine. Yes, I’m a freshman.”

“Aw,” She tilted her head. “I’m going to write my notes in front of you if that’s okay.” Jan nodded. “You haven’t worked as a waitress before, right?”

“No, but I’m a fast learner and I believe I compensate my lack of experience with enthusiasm, I’ve been told.”

She wrote something “Next, uhm… Why do you want to work here?”

“I need a job to pay for my things. As I said, this is my first year of college; I have a partial scholarship and my parents are supporting me from home but I don’t want to become a burden for them.”

“Do you mind if I ask about your scholarship?”

“No, not at all. It’s for baseball.”

“Work!” She nodded. “The last one, you wrote here your potential time schedules and, according to the rules, if you only work have twice per week you’ll have to take two Saturdays per month. Are you fine with that?”

“Sure, I can take any shift that day.”

“Well, Jan, the good news is that I sense we’re going to be besties, so I wrote «overqualified», «fast learner» and «tight schedules but willing to take Saturday’s shifts» which always is a plus.” She smiled at Jan. “I believe you’re going to get a call very soon.”

“Oh my God! Thank you.” Jan grinned. “I really appreciate that.”

“No worries. You’re lucky -no pun intended-, a girl just quit but being completely honest, she was a real bitch. You can’t be worse than her.”

“I’ve heard that before and… I’m okay with that.”

“Alright. I hope I see you soon.” She winked and returned to serve tables.

Jan left the diner with the biggest smile on Earth.

#rpdr fanfiction #jan sport #jackie cox #jankie #crygi #college au #lesbian au #slow burn #pretty in pearls #plastiquedoll #concrit welcome

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fandom-puff · 4 years

Text

Ada Thorne Social Media HCs

This is part of a collaboration with @cheekypeakyblinders @peak-a-blinder and @champagneholland 💕💕 all of the characters we’ve done will be listed below 💓

Right let’s just say this now: Ada uses lots of kisses on literally EVERYTHING

comment on YouTube? ‘Lovely video xxx’

Replying to the fam? ‘yeah I’ll be there xxx’

Arguing with her brothers? ‘I’ll rip your fucking balls off xxx’

Loves a bit of gossip- she’s on the chat that doesn’t have tommy, grace and Michael, as well as a gal’s only (plus Alfie) chat

Her and aunt Pol are a force to be reckoned with online

Within two minutes of this conversation, they know Lucy’s middle name, star sign, mum’s best friend’s dog’s birthday and her gcse results

QUEENS of finding info on the socials

Her and Freddie (he’s alive shut up) are GOALS

They text all the time during the day, if one’s working late the other will get a goodnight text and maybe a video of them doing a kiss up to the camera awww

They’re so in LOVE

Their Instagram pics are EVERYTHING

Like, grace’s attempts at being a popular influencer w a perfect marriage are not a PATCH on Ada

And she isn’t even TRYING

She posts lots of pictures and videos of Karl

Cute captions like ‘my favourite boys🥰’ ‘no body I love more than these two x’

Like grace tries to copy that but tommy doesn’t pose and Polly calls her out lol

They have a mum group chat called ‘yummy mummies’ where they exchange tips, pics and stories about family life

It’s a godsend when Karl starts teething

Definitely is an avid pinterest user

She uses the voice recording feature on messages so Karl can ‘send’ little babbled messages to her uncles and aunties

Has a side blog where she posts all sorts to do with current global affairs and politics

Arthur sends her petitions and if she shares them to her story, she’ll credit him for sharing it with her bc she knows her big brother needs to know he’s doing some good in the world

She absolutely DRAGS haters and bigots- if they use the bible as their argument, she’ll throw bible verses right back at them to call out their hypocrisy

Cough Linda cough

Several charities have actually partnered up with her to raise awareness

She’s aiming to be an ambassador

She and Freddie often send eachother news articles to see what the other thinks

Ada Thorne is not ashamed to show her body

I don’t mean like nudes on main (they get sent to Freddie ;))

I mean like she’ll post pictures showing off her stretch marks, her scars, her rolls, her quirks, her moles, her freckles... she wants to empower people

She’s no stranger to a slightly sexier post too- often before nights out she’ll post pictures showing off her red lipstick or her outfit and she doesn’t care if others don’t like it because she is not ashamed of her body

If people tell her to cover up or wear baggier clothes or less makeup or do her hair differently or not mix metals etc, her response is always ‘no x’

Freddie always comments on these pictures too:

Basically, Ada Thorne is an influencer without really meaning to be one, spreading her message of body positivity, loving what you have in life, and ultimately eating the rich and ousting the bigots, all while being relationship goals with her loving husband, posting super cute records of her child’s development, helping boost people’s self esteem, educating people and dealing with peoples bullshit like an absolute queen

This is part of a collab! Be sure to check out the other wonderful pieces in this lil series!!

Alfie Solomons by me

John Shelby by @cheekypeakyblinders

Michael Gray by @champagneholland

Finn Shelby by @cheekypeakyblinders

Tommy Shelby by @peak-a-blinder

Grace Burgess by @champagneholland

Arthur Shelby by @peak-a-blinder

Isaiah Jesus by me

Tag List: @the-makingsofgreatness @peakyswritings @haphazardhufflepuff @diksy1112 @zodiyack @soleil-dor @hiddensapphic @fckingpeakyblinders @snugleo @alittlebirds @satanxklaus @glamsaturn @thegirlwithoutaname87 @queenofmankind @awkwardretro @captivatedbycillianmurphy @xshinytrashcanx @hanster1998 @cheekypeakyblinders @champagneholland

Be on my tag list

#ada thorne #ada shelby #ada shelby headcanons #peaky blinders headcanons #peaky social media #collab #social media au

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zrtranscripts · 3 years

Text

Radio Abel, Season Eight

Part 5 of 5

PHIL CHEESEMAN: I don't know if it's just because New Canton's at the center of the government in the UK -

ZOE CRICK: I'm still getting used to that.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: - but now that I think about it, people do seem to be putting more effort into the way they dress these days.

ZOE CRICK: I've noticed that. For a while, I thought it was because people wanted to spruce themselves up for the royal visits, but King Jamie hasn't been visiting as much since Amelia left for... for whatever it is she's doing, and people are still looking rather flamboyant.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: One of the cooks makes his own hats out of food wrappers.

ZOE CRICK: Exactly. People are having fun, and they're less worried about looking cool than they were before the apocalypse.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: I think those hats are cool!

ZOE CRICK: That's the point. Taste is much more subjective now. [laughs] We don't have TV or newspapers, and it still takes half an hour to send a picture over ROFFLEnet, so it's harder to follow trends. People are using their imaginations instead.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Speaking of imagination, here's a track by someone with lots of it.

ZOE CRICK: Maybe Z-Day’s made self-expression more important, not less. We can't control the V-types, and we might be confined to our settlements most of the time, but we can decide how we look, so people go to great lengths to execute their vision. It's like how women in pre-apocalyptic prisons used to improvise cosmetics out of Smarties and shoe polish.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: How do you know what women used to do in prison?

ZOE CRICK: Oh, I was talking to Maxine about it.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Dr. Maxine has been to prison?!

ZOE CRICK: No, she... [sighs] That's not the point. I'm saying that for a lot of people, clothes, hair, and makeup are important creative outlets now that we're restricted in other ways. They also help people feel normal, now that -

PHIL CHEESEMAN: - now that V-types are roaming across the UK.

ZOE CRICK: Exactly.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: [sighs] Here's a song to make us all feel a bit more normal.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Imagine if Vogue was still in print. Do you think they'd employ zombie models?

ZOE CRICK: Yeah, with headlines like, “Gray is the New Black.” [laughs] They might struggle to find advertisers.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Okay, business side might be a bit tricky to sort out. What about the editorial?

ZOE CRICK: They'd have post-apocalyptic fashion tips.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: “The Best Looks to Scavenge this Season.”

ZOE CRICK: “Make Your Own Makeup.”

PHIL CHEESEMAN: “10 Ways to Wear a Sports Bra.”

ZOE CRICK: Not sure about that one, Phil.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Okay, yeah, there’s probably just one way to wear a sports bra.

ZOE CRICK: As far as I know.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: The other ideas were good, though. Well, maybe we should think of other style tips for our listeners.

ZOE CRICK: Why not? [laughs] Here's a song to get our creative juices flowing.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Listeners, Zoe and I tried to come up with fashion tips, but this isn't our area of expertise.

ZOE CRICK: Speak for yourself.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: All your ideas involve drawing cats on things.

ZOE CRICK: That's not true. I also suggested embroidering cats on things.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: My point, listeners, is that maybe Zoe and I could use your help. Send us your post-apocalyptic fashion tips.

ZOE CRICK: We'll be sharing them right after this.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Welcome back to Radio New Hope, where we're sharing tips on how to stay stylish in the zombie apocalypse.

ZOE CRICK: A lot of the suggestions we've had so far come from runners who need to be able to move quickly, evade zoms, and stay comfortable on long runs.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: You might think, as I did only a few minutes ago, that running is not compatible with expressing yourself through fashion, but you'd be wrong.

ZOE CRICK: Indeed, there are lots of ways to have fun with your running gear that don't affect speed or safety. Even if you're out by yourself and no one else can see you, a little bit of flare can lift your mood and make you feel more like yourself.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Running On Sunshine suggests, “Novelty shoe laces are a fun way of adding color to your running outfit. You can often loot them from the children's section of sports or shoe shops, but they're also easy to make from a sturdy ribbon. Use a bit of tape or wax for the aglet.”

ZOE CRICK: Just be sure to tuck your new laces into your shoes the next time you visit the kitten pen.

ZOE CRICK: Today on Radio New Hope, we're taking suggestions on how to jazz up your running gear.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: This next step is one for more creative runners, and it comes from Art Rate.

ZOE CRICK: Art Rate?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Yeah, like heart rate, because they're a runner, but also an artist.

ZOE CRICK: [sighs] I don't know if we should be reading out people's usernames. We're just encouraging bad puns.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: This episode is about self-expression, Zoe, whatever form it takes, even terrible puns.

ZOE CRICK: Hmm. What does Art Rate have to say for themselves?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: “Decorate your running outfit with permanent marker, embroidery, and whatever embellishments you can get your hands on. As long as your number is still clearly visible to your comms operator, there's no limit to what you can do. Wearing something that truly reflects your personality can give you motivation on the most difficult runs.”

ZOE CRICK: That's a nice idea. I'll forgive the pun.

ZOE CRICK: Progressive Runner writes, “Hi Phil, where did you get a Dream Theater T-shirt? I'm also a fan of prog metal and have been on several runs to find old gig venues to see if there are any T-shirts left. Unfortunately, all I've found are hordes of zombified metal heads. I used to love a good mosh pit before the apocalypse, but it's just not the same when everyone's trying to bite you.”

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Uh, first off Progressive Runner, please stop putting your life at risk in pursuit of merch. It's not worth it, and that's not what the bands would have wanted.

ZOE CRICK: Especially since they no longer make money from T-shirt sales.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Exactly, which is why I don't mind letting you know that my T-shirt is a fake. Before the apocalypse, touring musicians relied on the merch stand to support themselves, but now that most of them are dead, it's no longer unethical to make knock-offs.

ZOE CRICK: Did you make your T-shirt, Phil?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: One of Amelia's stylists did. She's very handy with the fabric paints.

ZOE CRICK: Oh? What did you give her in exchange?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: I had to promise to play this next song.

ZOE CRICK: What's our next fashion tip, Phil?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Uh, it's more of a PSA. “Hi Phil and Zoe, I run Support Network, a sports bra exchange service. We travel between settlements to provide runners with the best fitting sports bras. Simply visit our message board on ROFFLEnet, tell us which sizes your settlement has and which they need. It might take us a while to get to you, but we have a huge selection of style and color in every size. For some reason, post-apocalyptic Britain has no shortage of sports bras.” That's a great initiative, don't you think, Zoe? [keyboard clicks] Zoe?

ZOE CRICK: Sorry. I was just posting a request to their message board. Fellow sports bra wearers of New Canton, I suggest you do the same.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: And while you do that, here's a song about sharing.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Our next post-apocalyptic style tip comes from In Stitches, who says, “Here are just a few reasons why knitting is one of the most valuable skills you can learn in the post apocalypse.”

ZOE CRICK: “One, you don't necessarily need to send runners off in search of equipment. Knitting needles can be whittled from sticks, and if your settlement has sheep, wool is a renewable resource.”

PHIL CHEESEMAN: “Two, the act of knitting has many cognitive, therapeutic, and - if you join a knitting circle - social benefits.”

ZOE CRICK: “Three, designing knitting patterns can be a great creative outlet, and since they can be conveyed using just symbols, they can be quickly shared over ROFFLEnet.”

PHIL CHEESEMAN: “Four, larger needles can double as anti-zom weapons, as long as you aim for the eyes and remember to clean the blood off them before you get back to your knitting. The last thing you want is to make an infectious jumper by mistake.”

ZOE CRICK: That's, uh, resourceful. We'll be back with more fashion right after this.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: If knitting's not your thing, our next correspondent has a great idea for making some stylish winter clothes. “Next time you're out on a supply run, make a detour to a toy shop and pick up some plushies. A little reverse taxidermy - "

ZOE CRICK: Oh no!

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Plushies aren't real animals, Zoe.

ZOE CRICK: I know, but I couldn't look one in the eye and take out its stuffing.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Uh... our less sensitive listeners can use this method to generate bundles of fake fur, a versatile fabric that'll help you stay warm and, thanks to the pre-apocalyptic trend for cuddly unicorns, colorful.

ZOE CRICK: I think I'll stick with the knitting.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: If it makes you feel any better, no plushies were harmed in the making of this next song.

ZOE CRICK: Polished in the Apocalypse says that a manicure adds a splash of color to your running look without impeding your movement.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: I'm surprised we didn't think of that one ourselves. One of Amelia's first acts as prime minister was to open a nail bar at New Canton.

ZOE CRICK: She was accused of extravagance at first, but it's actually become a community hub. People go there to relax and come away feeling a little more, well, polished.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: I've only just noticed, Zoe, each one of your nails is a different color.

ZOE CRICK: I couldn't choose. Amelia reserves all the Chanel nail polish for herself, but there are still plenty of other varieties for the rest of us.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Well, the rest of us in New Canton, maybe. What about everyone else?

ZOE CRICK: Until Amelia makes nail bars mandatory for all settlements, why not grab a few bottles of nail polish the next time you're on a low stakes meds run to a chemist? Just be sure to apply it in a well-ventilated area.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: A word of caution now from Nine Fingers, who says, “Jewelry adds sparkle to any outfit and can be a great way of expressing your individuality, especially if you make your own. However, think twice before wearing it on a run. Necklaces are easy for zoms to grab, earrings can be torn out, and rings are a risk if you're using weapons. Trust me.”

ZOE CRICK: Oh dear.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Listeners, if you're fond of jewelry, maybe keep it for when you're safe in your settlement.

ZOE CRICK: That’s sound advice. Also - naming no names, Runner Thirty-Seven - don't scavenge jewelry off dead zombies, no matter how on fleek it is. You're asking to get infected. And on that note...

ZOE CRICK: It's not just jewelry that you can enjoy when you're not at risk of zombie attacks.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Loads of our listeners have written in to suggest items you can use if you'd like a more flamboyant settlement look.

ZOE CRICK: Silk flowers.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Craft supplies.

ZOE CRICK: Stickers.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Fridge magnets.

ZOE CRICK: Christmas decorations.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Basically, listeners, as long as you're not using something that might be better deployed for a more practical purpose, there's no limit to the fun you can have with your personal style.

ZOE CRICK: Speaking of fun, here's a song that always puts a smile on my face.

ZOE CRICK: Our last suggestion comes from Fairy Zom Mother, who writes, “No one has space for a large wardrobe anymore. That doesn't mean you can't wear something special if the occasion demands. It's nice to dress up once in a while, so why not implement a share and swap system at your settlement so people can borrow clothes, shoes, and accessories?”

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Wonder how long it would take to get that set up in New Canton. I've actually got a special evening planned soon.

ZOE CRICK: Ooh, is it a date?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Maybe? I'll tell you all about it during this next song.

ZOE CRICK: Um, I think the orange ones might be a bit much.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Oh, and we're live.

ZOE CRICK: Sorry about that, listeners. Recently we've learned that there's a way for everyone to express themselves through fashion, even in the post-apocalypse, but we'd like to add that not everyone has to.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: That's right. Some people don't even bother to brush the cat hair off their jumper before they come to work, and that's just fine.

ZOE CRICK: The cat hair is a deliberate part of my aesthetic, Phil. Our point is that everyone's priorities have changed. Most dress codes died with the apocalypse and few of us mourn them. You're no longer likely to be turned down for a job because you couldn't get your hands on an expensive suit for the interview. Nowadays, people are valued for doing what they do best.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: And on that note, let Zoe and I do what we do best and play you a song.

ZOE CRICK: Until next time, listeners.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Hello again, citizens.

ZOE CRICK: Phil, before you say anything else, there's something important we need to discuss.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Is this about getting a pet for the show again? Because I thought we settled that.

ZOE CRICK: We haven't, but no, this is about something very upsetting I found on ROFFLEnet today.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Oh, the Radio New Hope fanfic? Hmm. There's one of you and me being turned into zoms on air that is both deeply disturbing and shockingly well-written.

ZOE CRICK: Again, no. What I found is a thread on ROFFLEnet called “Radio New Hope Has Changed” full of people - well, full of two people - who think we've lost our touch. Look, Just_Saying_108 says, “It breaks my heart. Zoe and Phil aren't what they used to be.” And then Radio_No_Hope says, “It all started when they got into bed with Amelia.”

PHIL CHEESEMAN: I'm assuming in my case they mean metaphorically.

ZOE CRICK: Phil, we need to take this seriously. If our listeners aren't happy, we're not happy.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: It's only two people, Zoe.

ZOE CRICK: That's two too many.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Actually, I've got an idea.

ZOE CRICK: Wonderful, I knew you'd think of something. Tell me right after this.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Listeners, some of you think we've changed, and while change can be good, we want to make sure we're still giving you the content you deserve.

ZOE CRICK: That sounds vaguely threatening.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: That's why we're going to crowdsource our content again. I have reopened our inbox for suggestions on what Radio New Hope should do next. We're open to anything. Except turning zom on air.

ZOE CRICK: Phil, nobody's going to ask for that.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: You haven't seen the comments on that Radio New Hope fanfic. Anyway, listeners, please send in your thoughts. Who knows? Your idea might become our next segment.

ZOE CRICK: We did get some great suggestions last time. It'll be good to round up some new ones.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Exactly! Now everyone put your thinking caps on, and here's a song to get you in a creative mood.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: All right, listeners, it's time to open the suggestion box and find out what you'd like to hear on Radio New Hope... Huh.

ZOE CRICK: Is that it? I thought we'd get a few more suggestions.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Well, maybe it's a sign we're not so bad after all.

ZOE CRICK: No, we can't get complacent. Some listeners aren't happy with us.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Two listeners.

ZOE CRICK: It's just that with all that ROFFLEnet talk of us having changed, I thought we'd get a bit more feedback. Still, we'll go with what we've got.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: We need to drumroll first.

ZOE CRICK: Seriously?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: There are few things in life that can’t be improved with a drumroll. Scientific fact.

ZOE CRICK: Fine. Drumroll, please.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: [mutters rapidly] Drumroll drumroll drumroll drum drum drum drum drum cymbal!

ZOE CRICK: [laughs] Zom_Truther writes, “What if you ate some of that red fungus live on air? We know the prime minister is lying about the danger and hoarding it for herself.”

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Well, that's a bad idea. What did I say about us not turning zom on air?

ZOE CRICK: Yeah, Truther, we're not going to eat red fungus. Amelia isn't lying... about that, at least.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: That's right. And uh, please don't test your theory out for yourself.

ZOE CRICK: We'll be back with more of your hopefully less reckless suggestions after this song.

ZOE CRICK: Time for another look at our surprisingly meager suggestion box. Come on now, we know you have great ideas, so send them in. This one from Zombologist. “I love that doctor advice show - ”

PHIL CHEESEMAN: The Drs. Maxine and Paula one? Us, too. Listeners, if you're not tuning in to that show as well as ours, you're missing out.

ZOE CRICK: Definitely. Anyway, the letter says, “I love that doctor advice show, but they only focus on the bodies and minds of the living. What about the study of zombies? I think you should bring a zombie into the studio and do some tests. I have a few experiments in mind. See attached for details.”

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Oh... Oh, that's... Was that diagram the right way up? How would that even work?

ZOE CRICK: I'm not sure, but I think those are electrodes, or possibly poisonous snakes? Either way, Zombologist, we have a pretty strict no zoms in the studio policy.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: What can we do? Hands tied.

ZOE CRICK: Much like the zom in that illustration, I think.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Yeah, that's about as close as I want to come to that scenario. Let's clear it from our minds with this song.

ZOE CRICK: Well listeners, a few more suggestions trickled in during that last song.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: We are seriously considering some of the less extreme ones, such as an interview with King Jamie or a Z-Day retrospective.

ZOE CRICK: This one is from Inquiring_Mindz - with a Z, naturally. “What about a show that gives a look at the human side of politics?”

PHIL CHEESEMAN: So far, so good. At least there are no zombies involved.

ZOE CRICK: “I'd love for us to get a closer look at Prime Minister Spens’ flat. It must be lovely. She has marvelous taste, after all.”

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Let me see that. [paper rustles] “You could describe the art, the architecture, any documents that are lying around, the paint, the paint colors, any plans you might find in the drawers...”

ZOE CRICK: Come on now, Inquiring, you're asking us to spy on Amelia. Even if I did do that - which, of course, I wouldn't - there's no way I'd out myself by sharing it on air.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: How restrained of you.

ZOE CRICK: What can I say? I prefer not to incur the wrath of the most powerful woman in the country. Nice try, Inquiring, but we're broadcasters, not espionage agents. And that's all of them, right?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Right. Right, thanks to everyone for your suggestions. Uh, even the more... creative ones. Let's celebrate your ingenuity with this next number.

ZOE CRICK: You'll never guess what.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: I'm sure I won't.

ZOE CRICK: You weren't a very funny child, were you? I went back on ROFFLEnet to see if that thread had more positive things to say about us now that we've been through the suggestion box. However, turns out I misinterpreted the whole thing.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: So people don't think Radio New Hope has changed for the worse?

ZOE CRICK: They do, but it's not the broadcasts they think have changed, it's us. They think we're doppelgängers.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Like Zoe and Phil's evil twins?

ZOE CRICK: Exactly. It's not clear if they think we've been brainwashed into thinking we're real Zoe and Phil or if we're in on it, but Radio_No_Hope says, “There's no way Amelia would allow a free press unless she could control it, and that means controlling Phil and Zoe.”

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Well, they do have a point, but ci-ti-zens, do not fear, we have not been replaced by ourselves.

ZOE CRICK: How do you know?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: What do you mean, how do I know? I know who I am.

ZOE CRICK: Or do you? What if you just think you do? Listeners, we'll get to the bottom of it right after this next song.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Let me get this straight. You think I could have been replaced by a double without you noticing? You noticed when I changed my hair parting last month.

ZOE CRICK: Now that I think about it, that could have been a sign you were Phil 2.0.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Hmm. If that's the case, anything could be a sign. How do I know you're not Evil Zoe?

ZOE CRICK: My name's still spelled with a Z. Evil Zoe would definitely swap out the Z for an X... I think.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: You're not sure?

ZOE CRICK: Radio No Hope said it. There could be brainwashing involved.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: So let me get this straight. You think Amelia found doppelgängers of us?

ZOE CRICK: Or cloned us. Always a possibility.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Of course, and then she brainwashed said doppel-clones because - ?

ZOE CRICK: Because she wants to control the press. Although there might be an even more devious reason. We are talking about Amelia, after all. I'll think it over during this next song.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Have you figured out why Amelia might possibly want to replace us with brainwashed clones?

ZOE CRICK: No. I mean, yes, but one of the reasons only works if we meet the clones, and the other one requires mint and a trampoline. I wonder if the fact that I can't figure it out is a symptom of the brainwashing.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: That's convenient.

ZOE CRICK: And I wonder when it began. Do you think it all started when Amelia gave us this hideous red furniture?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Green.

ZOE CRICK: What?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Hideous green furniture.

ZOE CRICK: I don't know what you're talking about. The furniture is red. Maybe new Phil is colorblind?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: You're kidding, right? It’s green.

ZOE CRICK: Am I kidding, or are you different now?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: You know what? There's an easy way to settle this. I'm going to ask someone who has been in here what color the furniture is. Don't you move. Just, uh, play a song and I'll be right back.

[door opens]

ZOE CRICK: [giggles] Now that he's gone, listeners, between you and me, the couches are definitely green. I know that was a tiny bit rotten of me, but I couldn't resist. While we wait for Phil's triumphant return, here's a song that any version of me would love.

[door opens]

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Oh my God, you're right.

ZOE CRICK: Right about what?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: About the doppelgängers. Everyone confirmed it. The furniture in here's red, but I see green, so I must be colorblind now. Maybe all clones are.

ZOE CRICK: Wait, who did you ask?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Uh, Nadia, Runner Thirty-Seven. They said it's red. Now that I'm a clone, I wonder if I still like the same foods. Remind me, how do I feel about jam?

ZOE CRICK: You're... you're joking, right? Because the couches are green. I was just pulling your leg.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Wait, so you see them as green, too? Maybe we're both clones.

ZOE CRICK: I guess. I -

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Or maybe we're from an alternate reality, one where people don't play pranks on their lovely radio cohosts because they might get paid back in spades!

ZOE CRICK: [laughs] You - you almost had me going there! [sighs] Well, I guess I might have deserved it. A little.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: A little?

ZOE CRICK: Oh, no comment. All I can say is that I'm happy in this universe with the best cohost ever. This next song is for you, Phil, because you're one of a kind.

ZOE CRICK: That whole business with the doppelgängers has got me thinking, Phil.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Not again.

ZOE CRICK: No, not that we're clones or anything like that. I've been thinking about conspiracy theories. Do you think there are more of them now after Z-Day?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Probably. Look at all the things we've gone through. Uh, Sigrid, Moonchild, the Curly Wurly shortage. That's enough to make anyone a little paranoid.

ZOE CRICK: I don't know. I think maybe it's the opposite. All of the conspiracies since Z-Day were eventually exposed. Even if we were replaced by clones, someone would find out and tell people about it.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: You have a point. Kind of reassuring in a way.

ZOE CRICK: I hope so. For the concerned ROFFLEnet folks, don't worry. If Phil and I are ever replaced by clones, you'll find out about it soon enough, probably from someone at Abel.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Very true. We're counting on you, Runner Five.

ZOE CRICK: And if the worst should occur, avenge us!

PHIL CHEESEMAN: But in the meantime, we hope all of you carry on enjoying Radio New Hope with the real Phil and Zoe. This one's for everyone who's dedicated to staying true to themselves.

#zombies run #zrs8 #s8 radio #s8 radio part 5 #zr transcript

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daminettes · 4 years

Text

Coming Home (1) - Hunger Games AU

hey guys! francine and i (aka @fsketchart) decided to collab for @april-angst-apocalypse!!! we kinda snapped doe

she wrote marinette’s pov while i wrote adrien’s pov, and we both wrote damians. i hope you guys like it!

It's the annual 100th Hunger Games. As per every twenty-five years, they will be doing a special reaping. This year, two families per District are chosen to sacrifice a child from each family to fight to the death in the arena. After training for years, Damian is prepared to fight. But is Marinette prepared? Will Damian choose to save himself? Will either of them come home to their families? Afterall, there can only be one winner in the death match.

WARNING : Hunger games includes murder, we don't condone it & we don't write it in detail. However, if it can still be triggering for you this is not the best fic for you. No shame if you're uncomfortable with it! You take care of you and your needs first! The hunger games has 24 children from ages 12-18 tossed into an arena, and are forced to battle with only one tribute allowed to keep their life. If you're not comfortable, we hope you find an AU that better suites your tastes!

WARNING 2 : If a character is killed off, it's to highlight that everyone that was killed in the hunger games (as there can only be one winner) was killed off NOT because we "hate" the character, but because we felt like it would be more important to remember that the people killed were not faceless characters. There were good people killed off, the hunger games doesn't ever really have a true victor. Everyone loses someone or something in the end. So if a character you like is killed off by someone else it's because we didn't want characters to kill off faceless people. We don't want anyone to forget that the people who are killed were real people with families.

Marinette stepped down the wooden steps, slowly as they creaked. Her mother and father were there, gathering their belongings.

“Come on, grab your things, we need to leave within the hour,” her father spoke. Sabine blew out the candles, leaving only the natural light through the windows as their source of light. Tom flipped the sign outside to closed, as he put on his worn jacket. Marinette adjusted her braid, jumping when Sabine walked behind her and adjusted the ribbons. Sabine tied a red ribbon in her hair with tears threatening to spill. Sabine, silently held her daughter’s face in her hands, staring into her eyes, as she kissed her nose and walked away to the door. Marinette followed her mother and father to the door, shutting it quietly behind her.

As they walked in the streets, no child raced ahead of their parents. No child was jumping with joy. They gripped their parent’s hands tightly, as they all stepped into the streets, making their way step by step to the center of the city. Everyone was silent in the entire town, everyone scared. The only sound heard was the tip taps of the shoes in the streets. Everyone was heading in one single direction.

Many wore designer clothing, perfect colors, perfect hair, perfect shapes. They were expected to be above perfection, nothing else was allowed. Most people in their town were clothing makers.

This was, of course, was expected of District 8. District 8, the textiles and fashion district. Marinette’s family was one of the few who did a different profession, baking. The Capitol expected nearly every family to deliver the finest quality of luxury clothing for them to wear. No one dared rebel against the Capitol’s orders, not after the previous rebellion, where the Capitol wiped out the 13th District, who created nuclear weapons. Each district was assigned a different task, each one was a slave to the Capitol’s wishes. Marinette shudders at the thought. So many were left dead from that fight, no children were spared.

Marinette gripped her father’s hand. This year was the 100th annual hunger games. Normally, each year they held the hunger games, where ages 12-18 would compete in the hunger games in bloodshed. Two tributes, one male and female, of each District, would have their name reaped from a bowl and forced to compete in a death battle for the Capitol’s entertainment. Another reminder that the Capitol controlled every aspect of their lives. The Hunger Games only ended when one tribute was chosen. Some people put their names’ in multiple times in exchange for food. Other Districts like District One or Two, the wealthiest Districts, would volunteer to be part of the Hunger Games, believing that joining in the blood battle would be a high honor. Marinette shook her head at the thought, before facing forwards once more.

Ahead of her, she saw Adrien. He was walking with his father, with bags under his eyes. Marinette couldn’t blame him, he lost many important family in the Hunger Games. Marinette has lost many people close to her in the Hunger Games as well. She walked over to him and took his hand, nodding assuringly. Adrien refused to make eye contact, as his father pulled him closer to him.

Marinette remembered when they first met. Marinette was doodling the people passing by the bakery. She saw a beautiful boy with bright green eyes. She immediately began drawing him, paying close attention to his eyes. She could remember those eyes so clearly, and furiously drew on the paper, no longer bothering to look up at her reference. She was so caught up in her sketching she didn’t even notice when said boy walked inside the bakery. She finally noticed when he appeared over her shoulder, absolutely flattered by her work. His green eyes lit up as he started posing, asking her to draw more. He spent the entire afternoon at the bakery that day.

When they finally turned seven, her parents let them play in her backyard without supervision, as long as they remained there. They would lie on their backs, with the grass tickling their toes. They could smell the fresh air outside, the sounds of birds chirping and the grass blowing from the wind. The sun hit their faces so brightly, as they stared at the skies. They would spend hours, cloud watching. Marinette adored the boy with green eyes and vowed to remain by his side.

Marinette and Adrien were cloud watching once more when they were ten, when Marinette noticed a small, tiny cloud out of the corner of her eye. She smiled at the little heart-shaped cloud and tugged on Adrien’s jacket to show him. When she looked at him though, his eyes were elsewhere. She followed his line of sight, to see a beautiful girl standing near the fence of the backyard. She was drying clothing outside, the breeze carrying her midnight hair behind her. Each of her steps were elegant and graceful. Each step was with purpose. Never once did she trip or fall. With perfect posture, she carried on her day. When she looked over and noticed Adrien staring at her, she smiled softly and shook her head while chuckling.

Adrien quickly became fascinated with the girl with green eyes that could rival his own. He tried to get to know her, and each day, he would come over to Marinette’s house, talking all about the girl with green eyes. Marinette would just smile, and listen, chiming in here and there.

She never held it against him and moved on after a long time. She tried her best to support him as his sister and began distancing herself from him. But she always made sure to be there for him when he needed her.

As they neared the center of the city, Marinette braced herself. Up ahead, she could already see the Peace Keepers up ahead. The Capitol Peace Keepers were threatening District Citizens, ordering them to file in place, as the escort and advisor for District 8 stood at the podium. They fired off warning shots at their feet as the children screamed. Ivy who was selected as the coach for District 8, adjusted her hair as she stared at District 8’s citizens with disgust. She ruffled her hair and touched up her makeup, with bright colors in her outfit. It highly contrasted the outfits of District 8, who were all cloaked in dark colors, in hopes of blending in with the crowd.

Marinette followed her parents in line, blending in with the other terrified children, as the reaping began.

~~~~~~~~~~~

“Adrien, wake up.” A voice came that followed with a knock from behind his door. “We are leaving in an hour, get ready and go down to eat breakfast.”

“M-Coming Father,” Adrien muttered while struggling to get himself to wake up.

It's The Reaping Adrien thought to himself. He dreaded this day. Of course, his father refused to let him volunteer for the Hunger Games, not after what happened to his mother, but still, there was something that scared Adrien today. It was his first time being eligible for the Hunger Games. Just a short few months ago, he turned 12. Now he could very well be walking to his death. The chances of being picked were slim, but there was still a chance.

Adrien sighed and pushed the dark thoughts that came to his mind away and got out of his warm soft bed. Light shined through his large window as he walked across his large empty room. He slowly walked towards the closet and picked out his outfit for the day. He reached into his closet and grabbed out the suit Natalie had left for him. His father would never let him leave the house without looking up to standard. He carried them with him as he made his way into the shower, and let the warm water try to calm his thoughts.

Adrien stood in the shower for about ten minutes before actually washing himself off. He just stood there and thought about how much his day could change him. His tears blended in with the water, as he pleaded to whatever god that may be out there. Please don’t let him end as his mother did. He was still young when she died, but he could still remember fragments of that day. His mother was pregnant at a young age with his father, and they were planning a beautiful wedding. Everyone was supposed to be there, his friends, his neighbors, even the Dupain-Chengs. But then came the reaping. Almost no one thought Emilie would get picked. Almost every year the lower class was selected, the rich seemed untouchable. No one could fathom the idea of Emilie being chosen. And yet she was. And not a single person volunteered to take her place. And so Emilie fought, and died in the Arena, after having just given birth to Adrien in the arena. Gabriel was sobbing as he locked himself in his home, a home that was meant for a family. Adrien, although young, remembered rewatching the hunger games on his father’s computer, and standing horror. Watching that old video was one of Adrien’’s greatest regrets. He knew some of the people in that arena from business deals, and he saw how they quickly turned into murdering monsters. He turned off the warm water and was hit with a cold breeze, he quickly shivered and threw on his towel as quickly as he could. He made his way to his room, got changed, and headed downstairs.

Adrien quickly made his way down to the dining room and quietly sat himself down into his seat.

“Good morning, father,” Adrien spoke quietly, while shoving a piece of toast into his mouth and taking a sip of his tea.

“Good morning, Adrien. Slow down we don’t want you choking. Agrestes are not slobs.”

“Apologies, father...”

After the short conversation, they both settled in awkward silence, Adrien slowly eating his toast while Gabriel read a book that Emilie used to enjoy. After finishing his toast and tea he beckoned Natalie forth to bring his dirty dishes to the washing machine. Adrien cleared his throat, before looking at his father. Gabriel turned to him with tired eyes.

“Father...if you don't mind...before we leave may I take a few minutes to visit mother's statue in the garden?”

Gabriel paused for a long time, as he stared at the table. Natalie put a hand on his shoulder, and Gabriel looked up at Adrien.

“Alright, but make it quick. We need to make it to the center in time for your reaping.”

“Thank you, father!” Adrien said while running towards the gardens.

As he made his way towards the garden he was hit with the pleasant smell of roses and daisies. His mother's favorite.

He slowly made his way towards the statue and plopped himself down.

“Hello, mother. I miss you, like a lot… Please give me your strength to get through this. I hope you miss us too. I love you,” Adrien heard Natalie call his name. “I'll see you soon, mother,” Adrien spoke while standing up and brushing away any leftover dirt from his pants.

Adrien and his father made their way to the center, with Natalie and the Gorilla following close behind them.

They walked in silence with the other hundreds of families. Suddenly, Adrien felt something grip his hand. It was soft and warm, as he looked down to see Marinette. Adrien felt his father pull him closer to him. Marinette dropped his hand and gave him a small, forced smile. Adrien returned the smile before she walked off.

Gabriel turned to Adrien, softly speaking. “Adrien, no matter what happens today. I will always love you.”

Adrien was surprised, before hugging his father. “I love you too, father.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

Damian sighed while looking up at the ceiling in his room. It was 6:30 in the morning and he had no idea how this day would go. Just a measly two years ago he would’ve been excited, almost grateful for this day to come. Yet now, after meeting his father, he dreaded this day. He let another sigh escape him while he pushed himself away from his bed.

Training with Talia was hard. Extremely hard. Damian would spend multiple days with non-stop training for these games. Talia told him that to compete in the games? It would be an honor. Many people in his District, District 1 of luxury goods, would pray to get chosen. He should be prepared. He is prepared. But he doesn't want to be prepared. Because after meeting his father, he realized how bitter it would be to die in those games, to turn into a monster in those games. He’s seen what the arena has done to Talia and his grandfather. He never wishes to become them. Two years ago, Damian would’ve volunteered for the hunger games. But now? He will do anything to avoid them. He is the last child in the Wayne family to be eligible for the games, with Tim turning 18 just a few months ago. Damian was determined to stay with his new family, but that doesn’t mean the fear doesn’t go away.

Bruce knocked on the door to his room. Damian called for him to enter. Sitting down, Bruce sighed. They sat in silence, neither sure what to say. Bruce starts.

“Damian, I want you to know, this has never been easy for me. It’s never easy for anyone. And I know that this will be your first year entering into the Hunger Games. It’s been hard, with several children. It hurt me, even more, when Jason was chosen one year, and when no one volunteered to take his place. But I promise you this, should you ever get chosen, I will make every deal, pay off any price, do anything it takes to make sure you don’t go in those arenas. I will do anything to make sure you come home safely.” Damian stared at Bruce, with nothing to say. “I promise,” Bruce spoke, holding out his pinky.

“Father, what are you doing?”

“Your grandmother used to make pinky promises with me when I was much younger. A pinky promise is never broken, Damian. I promise you, you will come home safely to us.” Damian nodded, and looped his finger with his fathers’.

Soon, Alfred called to them to begin the journey to the center of the city. Everyone began dressing in their finest jackets, as they made their way to the door.

Damian sighed, leaving the entrance of his house. His brain was telling him not to move. To stay there. But his feet moved on his own, following his family .

“Hey, it’s okay, baby bird. Don’t worry about it. You won't get picked.” Jason said ruffling his hair.

“He's right, Damian,” Tim chimed in.

“Hey, and even if you were picked, there’s a lot of children who want to fight in the Hunger Games, someone is bound to volunteer!” Dick included.

“Thank you. I appreciate it,” he spoke while lowering his head to try to prevent the tears from shedding.

“Don't worry Damian. We’ll protect you,” Bruce said while kneeling down to his level. “Don't worry. We promised to, remember?” He said while showing him his pinkie. “And we don’t break promises.”

Damian nodded. Instead, he avoided eye contact. “I understand, father.”

“Now let's go!” Jason cheered.

They all started to walk ahead leaving Damian behind. Damian took a deep breath, as he quickly sped up his pace to catch up with them.

Soon enough, they were reaching the center. They could hear the warning shots ringing out from the center of the District. It was time to start The Reaping.

#maribat #maribat april angst apocalypse #daminette #maridami #marinette x damian #adrien agreste #yall mlb stand better not attack me

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inspired-by-the-music · 4 years

Text

For You: 4 O’Clock

Chapter 3: Secrecy

Taglist: @jineunwootrash

I walked downstairs with the reasons why I shouldn’t be required to attend Donghae’s birthday party pressed on the tip of my tongue.

The Reasons:

I saw Donghae so often that seeing him for a split second at a work party (where he would dash from guest to guest) seemed kind of ridiculous

SuperM was setting out on a world tour at daybreak, and I couldn’t afford to lose hours of sleep. My face was already swollen, drowsy from staying up all night playing Truth or Dare with the guys.

I was still working on the third reason, but it would probably be something along the lines of “What’s the point in going to a birthday party if I can’t even eat cake because of this stupid diet?”

I didn’t get to voice any of my reasons to convince Mom to let me stay home, though, because I dropped my jaw on the floor when I found her sitting on the living room couch. She was still wearing the red tracksuit she wore when she drove me home from the campsite. She wore a pale green clay mask.

“What are you doing?” I checked my phone because if Mom was laying around, I must have been mistaken about the time. Nope, the screen said, I was right. “Donghae’s party starts in 30 minutes.”

She joked, “Oh, you don’t like my outfit?” before registering my unamused expression. “I’m not going, Lei. I’m sick.” She forced the least convincing fake laugh of all time, and I rolled my eyes. How gullible did she think I was?

“Fine.” I plopped down onto the couch next to her, saying, “Then I’m sick, too.” I didn’t go so far as to fake a cough, but I doubt she would have been convinced even if I had been truly unwell.

“Oh, no.” Mom kicked me off of the couch with her (mismatched) socked feet. “You used your fake flu excuse to get out of ‘Knowing Bros’—”

My entire body cringed at the mention of Heechul’s variety show. I loved Heechul, but that show— with great effort, I had managed to have a successful career without appearing on a single episode, and I planned to keep it that way.

“You need to go to Donghae’s party, anyway.” Mom lectured with facts I already knew well: “He’s never been anything but kind to you, so grab his present off the kitchen table. There’s a car outside waiting for you.”

Just to be clear: I wasn’t trying to weasel out of going to the party because I didn’t want to see Donghae or celebrate his birthday. I never would have said this out loud for fear of sounding like a total freak, but I really, really hated work parties. Although the atmosphere was always uncomfortably formal, even for birthday parties, boys (namely, Sehun) tried to blur the lines in strictly professional relationships.

Maybe I shouldn’t have been so bothered. Maybe I should have tried to understand that they were grasping at romance the only ways they could— even if it was a fake, pseudo-romance explored in the shadows of an S.M. banquet hall. But I was bothered, and I didn’t understand, and I didn’t want to go.

And, more pressingly, I didn’t want to see Taemin again. Except I did. Just not so soon, and not before I could figure out how to thank him for his jacket. Not before I understood why I wanted him to smile (the real smile) at me. Not before I understood why he wanted my ribbon.

Wanting to avoid Taemin wasn’t just cowardly; it was impractical, considering that I would have to see him every day for the next few months on our North American tour. I would have to face him sooner or later, talk to him sooner or later, and there was no point in delaying our next conversation.

I opened my mouth to complain— or least to ask how I was supposed to get home after the party— but Mom had turned her attention back to the paperwork in her lap. Maybe she was genuinely too busy to go to the party, even though it was for work, even though it was hosted on Donghae’s behalf. I didn’t know, and I didn’t want to ask if she was still avoiding Donghae.

I felt like the longer I stayed with her, the likelier I was to ask if she was the idol who never debuted. I didn’t see what good could come from asking, so I ran out of the room, grabbed the small wrapped gift from the table, and crawled into the back seat of the company car in the driveway.

“Damn, Lei,” Lucas whistled when he found me in the corner of the banquet hall where the light didn’t quite reach. “You look good!”

When he tried to pull me into a hug, I swatted him away. “This is why we have dating rumors, Lucas,” I scolded, knowing that he would shrug my concerns away while laughing.

Lucas’s eternal smile broadened as he teased, “If anyone figures out where Taemin got his bracelet, your dating rumors won’t center around me anymore.”

The only comfort was knowing that even if my blush broke through my makeup, Lucas wouldn’t have been able to see it in the dim lighting. “Stop saying that. There’s nothing like that there.”

“That’s what you keep saying.” Lucas raised a disposable red cup to his lips, so his next words were muffled. “But that dimple in your chin— the one that only deepens when you lie— says otherwise.”

Cupping a hand over my chin, I hissed, “There is no dimple!”

Lucas laughed at my reaction, and I realized that he was just messing with me. While these dating rumors were my greatest source of stress, they were just another thing for him to laugh about. I never wanted to be the reason Lucas’s laughter died, so I had to learn to play along.

This was the issue: Lucas understood my point of view; he just didn’t share it, and I couldn’t force him to.

Once he realized that I couldn’t force laughter, Lucas tried to get our conversation back on track. “Anyway, you called me over here to talk about Mom and Donghae. Does that mean there are updates?”

I shrugged and shuffled closer to him so I didn’t have to speak louder than absolutely necessary. “I still don’t know why she’s avoiding Donghae, but she didn’t come to the party—”

My attempts at secrecy were thwarted when Lucas repeated, loudly, “She didn’t come to the party?” He clamped a hand over his mouth when I cut my eyes at him. As he should have in the first place, he whispered, “She didn’t come to the party?”

“Yeah.” I nodded, tucking behind my ear a curl that had escaped my bun. “She even faked some kind of illness. She did one of those lame coughs—” Lucas hacked frailly into the sleeve of his shirt— “Yeah, exactly like that. She’s definitely not sick.”

Lucas’s brow furrowed so tightly that I imagined steam might blow out of his ears from over-exerting his brain. “But why? What could Donghae have done?”

Before I could say that I had no idea, a voice spoke from the deeper shadows, “I can find out if you want.” Sehun stepped into the light.

As I rolled my eyes at the sight of him— the second to last person I wanted to see that evening— Lucas snorted into his drink.

“What do you say, Lei?” Like a character from a movie— some kind of spy film whose plot I couldn’t quite follow no matter how hard I focused— Sehun offered his hand to me. “I’m close to Donghae. I can ask him what’s going on with him and Momager if you really want to know.”

I shook my head at the offer. Dropping his hand to his side, sure to slap it against his black dress pants, Sehun drew his eyebrows together curiously as if to ask, “Why do you always reject me?” The words didn’t have to leave his mouth; he asked them frequently enough while making that face— brows arched more than usual, lips pressed in a thin line— that I knew when they were blaring in his mind.

Unable to bear the silent exchange, Lucas tried to explain to Sehun, “She doesn’t want to owe you any favors, dude.”

I know it sounds cynical, but Lucas was right. Nobody liked to admit it, but in the entertainment industry, nobody does anything for the sake of accomplishing a good deed. Everybody is always looking to get ahead somehow, usually by performing these little favors, and I never wanted to be involved in anything like that— especially not with boys (like Sehun) who only wanted to see how close I would get to dating them.

Sehun rolled his eyes at my cynicism like he always did. “How do you know that I’m not offering out of the goodness of my heart, Lei? You know I would do almost anything to make my fans happy.” He smiled at me, and my heart might have fluttered if I harbored the slightest budding feelings for him. As it was, my glare hardened, and I wanted to slap Baekhyun for telling Sehun that he was my bias.

Shaking my head, I brushed past Sehun to find Donghae. I thought that after wishing him a happy birthday in person, I could have justified leaving the party early.

I wasn’t surprised (just disappointed) that Sehun trailed closely behind, asking, “Why am I your bias, anyway, if you dislike me this much? Is it because of my visuals? That’s it, right? I’m the most handsome guy you’ve ever seen.”

“As a matter of fact,” I rounded on Sehun, frustrated that he grinned at the attention as he held his hands up in mock surrender, “it’s your eyebrows. I like your eyebrows.”

“Oh.” Sehun laughed, leaning against a nearby table. “So this is what we’re doing? We’re listing what we like about each other?”

“No,” I said sternly.

I knew that the more I resisted, the more he would pursue me. This was a game. I hated it, and I hated that my natural temperament made it drag on forever.

“I don’t dislike you, Sehun, but when you act like this—”

“Like what?” He smirked. “Like the man of your dreams?”

“Like the total opposite,” I replied maybe a little too harshly. The festivities around us died down as some guests tried to listen to our conversation and even more relocated to carry on joyfully without having to hear us.

I always felt bad at this part— when I snapped because I felt cornered, and Sehun stood still, staring at the ground like I had drawn blood. If I hurt him, then why did he keep flirting me? If this wasn’t a game, wouldn’t he get tired of rejection?

If it was a game, it wasn’t fun for me. I didn’t like rejecting Sehun, and I didn’t like that I had to avoid him at events like this, but the fact remained: I wasn’t interested in him like that. I didn’t know how else to tell him. I didn’t like that he made me into this villain— or, worse, this unattainable ideal— just because it made me more interesting to him.

I wasn’t something to chase: I was a person. Why couldn’t he understand that? Did I really have to explain it to him?

Sehun met my eyes when he said, “I won’t give up,” for the thousandth time.

I started to beg him to give up— or to at least stop blurring the lines between fantasy and reality— or to at least outright say that he liked me if that was the problem— but I didn’t get the chance. Donghae, Heechul, and Baekhyun crowded around the table, so I swallowed my concerns.

“Wait a minute.” Heechul’s gaze flickered between me and Sehun. Dimples formed in his cheeks. “This isn’t the boy I usually see you with, Lei!”

Baekhyun laughed. Nudging Heechul, and, cupping around his mouth as if he was divulging a secret, Baekhyun explained, “This is another one of Lei’s suitors. Apparently she and Lucas are ‘just friends,’ much to the fans’ disappointment, and Sehun is ‘just her bias,’ much to Sehun’s disappointment.”

Sehun and I, at least, were united in the simultaneous rolling of our eyes as Baekhyun and Heechul cackled together.

Sehun promised, “I’ll text you later, Lei,” and stalked away without responding to Baekhyun’s and Heechul’s harmonizing whistles.

Donghae, who had been shifting uncomfortably since arriving at the table, asked the dreaded question, “Where’s your mom?” while Baekhyun and Heechul were too busy harassing Sehun to notice.

Whatever he had done to upset Mom must have been an unwitting accident; Donghae smiled at the mere mention of her. For a second— a split second— I hated Mom for sending me into this situation where I had to break Donghae’s smile by answering, “She’s not here. She, um, isn’t feeling well.”

“What?” Donghae, Heechul, and Baekhyun asked in unison.

Heechul slipped away from the conversation without arousing Donghae’s or Baekhyun’s attention; their wide eyes were too focused on me to notice anything else. I wondered how mad Heechul would be when he drove to my house just to find Mom sitting (perfectly healthy) on the couch, probably watching episodes of their drama without him.

“She’s not feeling well?” Donghae repeated. Tiny dimples formed in his chin as he realized, frowning, “She’s never missed one of my parties before. This one year, she came even though she had the flu, and I had to beg her to go home!”

“It’s very unlike her to miss a work event.” The sadness in Baekhyun’s voice was so exaggerated that I met his gaze anxiously. What was he up to? Mock concern flooded his eyes as he said, “She must be really sick, huh, Lei? Coughing and everything?”

Oh. I realized when the corner of Baekhyun’s lips twitched upward that he overheard my conversation with Lucas. I guess he had already proven through his successful kidnapping plot that he could keep his big mouth shut when he needed too; now, he proved it again by quietly eavesdropping on me and Lucas and using his knowledge to make me squirm.

Note: Baekhyun was dangerous not just because he was cute. He was also sneaky.

Unsure of how to maintain Mom’s lie when Baekhyun knew the truth, I nodded subtly.

“It’s so weird how health can take such sudden turns for the worst.” Baekhyun shook his head and pounded his fist on the metallic navy blue table cloth. “Momager seemed fine when I talked to her earlier—” he paused to stage a dramatic gasp before asking, “You don’t think we’ll have to postpone the tour, do you? If Momager is sick, how can we leave first thing tomorrow morning?”

“Tomorrow morning?” Donghae’s eyes rounded as they looked to me for confirmation. “You’re leaving on tour tomorrow?”

I nodded, and I would have apologized to Donghae— even though I couldn’t explain why I was sorry— but Baekhyun interrupted by asking, “You don’t think she’s faking, do you? Do you think she had a hot date or something?”

Donghae gasped, “What?”

Glaring at Baekhyun, I answered through gritted teeth, “My mother would never prioritize any date over her work obligations.”

I didn’t expect Donghae to react by dropping his gaze somewhere on the table and wheezing, “I’m more than a work obligation, right?”

“Yes, of course, absolutely,” I wanted to tell him. “You’re so important to us— to me and to Mom. You are a member of the first group she helped debuted, and you have been such a fixture in our life, and you’ve never been anything but kind and—”

Oh. My stomach tied in knots as I understood why Mom didn’t want to come to the party. The knots tightened as I realized how similar Mom and I were. Neither of us wanted to worry about anything other than performing our jobs well. Neither of us knew how to respond when somebody tried to cross that line between colleague and— I don’t know— boyfriend, so we always ran away.

Oh. My heart sank as I wondered if I ever made Sehun frown the way Mom made Donghae frown with her mere absence. I doubted it, but the thought was still sickening. Maybe— maybe Mom thought that Donghae wouldn’t notice her absence among all the other party guests, but that misunderstanding didn’t lessen his very real disappointment right before my eyes. Maybe— maybe you don’t have to try to break a heart.

Baekhyun must have been oblivious to mine and Donghae’s shared discomfort. He rattled on, “Maybe Momager isn’t as virtuous as you, Lei.” Although Donghae and I bore into him with our glares, Baekhyun suggested, lips pressed out in a tiny pout, “Maybe she’s more like the idol who never debuted.”

“This again?” I set my jaw and narrowed my eyes at the ceiling before telling Baekhyun, “I don’t know why you’re so hell-bent on believing that my mom is some failed trainee, and I don’t know why you’re stupid or cruel enough to keep saying it right in front of me, but you’re really pissing me off.”

Storming out of the party after yelling at my leader the night before our world tour was probably the worst thing I had done in my entire career. I knew that even as my pulse sounded angrily in my ears, but I was too angry to swallow my pride and apologize to Baekhyun.

Maybe I thought that the cool Autumn air outside would soothe my temper and enable me to do what would encourage a peaceful tour with SuperM. Maybe I knew that I wouldn’t return to the party no matter how many hours I wasted under the stars, trying to throw away the feelings I couldn’t express.

Whatever I thought would come from running from my explosive emotions, I didn’t expect Donghae to find me. I didn’t expect him to say, wearing the same gentle smile as always (as if he hadn’t been frowning just moments before), “Come on. I’ll drive you home if you really don’t want to be here.”

I stared at him, unable to blink, because those were exactly the words Taemin said by the lake last night before untying my wrists. I stared at him because I was trying to map the similarities between Donghae and Taemin. I couldn’t quite articulate it, but the same thing that made Donghae’s eyes tender made Taemin’s smile brilliant. What was it about them that I couldn’t understand— that I wanted to understand?

Had I been thinking clearly, I might have been able to understand. I might have considered that Mom probably didn’t want Donghae near our house; then, I wouldn’t have accepted his offer to drive me home.

Often, I wonder what would have happened if Donghae hadn’t forced his way past Heechul into the house. I wonder if the truth would have come out some other day— some other way— instead. I wonder if events played out as they should have. I wonder what I could have done differently.

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