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cupidjyu · 7 months

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clair de lune

changmin x reader

summary: you and changmin are polar opposites in the dance studio. you're graceful and with a "perfect" image while he goes off on his own way, experimenting with different styles. you hate him and want nothing to do with him. until he chooses you to be his partner in a duet.

genre: dance rivals au, their dance styles are opposites (ballet/hiphop etc), enemies to lovers ish, unknowing pining, self-esteem issues (stop self projecting!), slight hurt/comfort, if you ever watched pride and prejudice (2005) you will recognize scenes, "moonlight" notes: based on the classical song clair de lune, fun fact: i can play the piano! also ik u want me to open requests but gimme like another two weeks to not be exhausted from studies PFF hope you enjoy! word count: 13k (it just keeps growing im sorry)

“Again.”

Wiping off the bead of sweat that traveled agonizingly slow on your forehead, you glanced at the woman—your instructor who was also the bane of your existence–with a furrowed brow. She only stared at you sternly, causing you to sigh with frustration as you turned back to the mirror.

You stretched your arms, trying to make that picture-perfect angle that would satisfy her, and then you pointed your toes, just like you had been told to do since you were young. And then you began to move, your fingers outstretched, your back in a neutral position, and your shoulders–

“Again.”

And this time, you couldn’t constrain the groan that escaped from your lips. You let your muscles relax as you broke out of position to face her with a slightly annoyed frown.

She marked something on her clipboard. Oh, how you hated that clipboard. You once took a glance at it and you had almost cried in bed for the next two days over her incredibly harsh remarks. Constructive criticism, she would say. That… that was just bullying in your opinion.

“Are you giving up?” She practically barked, her voice loud and obnoxious.

“I’m not–” You rolled your ankle, making sure you didn’t injure it. “I’m just tired. We’ve been practicing for hours.” And then you turned your neck, slightly wincing at the pang of soreness.

You could’ve sworn her eye twitched as she faked a smile. “For hours because you’re simply not adequate enough to–”

“I am,” You interrupted, your face contorting with exasperation.

She gazed at you with slight surprise. And then she sighed, running a hand through her graying hair.

“Then why do you keep messing up?” She spoke softly this time, but it was enough to shoot straight through your heart.

“Because I–” You bit your lip, looking down at your pointe shoes. You couldn’t even finish your own sentence because you yourself weren’t sure.

Your instructor stood up, picking up her bag with heavy eyes. “At this rate,” She exhaled lowly. “I might have to give this solo to someone else.”

You widened your eyes and you were immediately rushing to her, hands clasped together. “No, please,” You pleaded. “I– I promise I’ll perfect this. No mistakes. Promise.” You emphasized the last word so clearly that it echoed throughout the room.

She stared at you with skepticism.

“Then go,” She uttered. “Start practicing. In two days’ time will be your evaluation and then we’ll decide.”

With a huff of determination, you watched as she opened the door and left. Turning back to the mirror, it was then that you realized just how worn out you looked. Your hair was a mess, the front pieces slightly sticking to your forehead from the “practicing for hours,” which you weren’t exaggerating about at all. Your cheeks were flushed from the constant activity. But despite this, you rolled your ankle once again and began to dance.

Vigorously.

A bit too vigorously.

Every twist and turn started to become more sloppy, more painful. As the song progressed, you found yourself stumbling more and more over your own feet and your lungs began to feel like they would collapse in on itself.

But you kept going, determined to keep this solo that you’ve worked so hard to get a spot for.

And it was going well! Amazing actually! Or maybe you were just telling yourself that because soon after your fake words of affirmation came the tripping of your feet and the falling of your whole body against the floor. Your shoulders stiffened as your hands came in contact with the floor and you groaned.

Luckily, you weren’t exactly hurt anywhere. But you were frustrated. Your friend would always tell you to just take a break but you couldn’t afford that. Instead, you made a move to get up again until your eyes wandered over to where a water bottle had rolled its way over to you.

Still completely agitated, your hand closed around it and threw it as far away as you could. You watched it skid, all the way down until it hit someone’s shoes. Pointe shoes were nowhere to be seen. Just simple sneakers. And you knew exactly who it was.

“Just when I thought I was being nice,” Changmin hummed, picking the bottle up. “Guess this is mine then.”

His voice was just so�� cocky at the moment that you couldn’t help but glare up at him as if to non-verbally tell him to just leave.

The two of you were different. Not just from the pointe shoes and sneakers or from the tight balletwear and the comfortable t-shirt. It was just a lot. While you specialized in the more graceful choreographies and genres like ballet and contemporary, he was the more powerful, sharper one who thrived in hip-hop, popping and the like. And while you spent most of your time perfecting intricate moves, he was frequently finding ways to make his performance more… out there.

Polar opposites, some people would say.

The only thing that you two had in common was being popular. Not your biggest feat, in your opinion, but it was the truth. In the dance studio, if either of your names were spoken, it was immediately recognized. The both of you were praised, criticized, and talked about on the daily, whether you liked it or not.

Opposites attract, was what other people would say.

But that wasn’t true. At least for the two of you.

He was just so… arrogant.

“You look worse for wear,” He remarked with an amused smile.

“Thanks for pointing that out,” You snapped, brushing yourself off as you stood up, wincing at the forming bruise on your knee. “What are you doing here?”

“Walking by,” He simply replied.

“You could have just walked by the room then. Not in it.” You took that extra second to look him over. He must have been heading for practice because unlike you, he wasn’t sweaty and didn’t look like a mess. His hair softly fell over his forehead and he had those typical bulky headphones that he always wore to ignore you around his neck.

He smirked. “Just wanted to see how horrible you were doing.”

Fuming, you completely threw away the thought that he looked particularly nice that day. Clenching a fist, all the failed moves in the mirror came rushing back to your vision like waves of the ocean.

“Satisfied? Did you see all the mistakes I made?” You bitterly laughed. It was often just bickering with him. But with your instructor’s voice ringing through your ears obnoxiously, you couldn’t help but snap. With a sigh, you motioned to the door harshly. “Great. So leave.”

You had expected him to retort back. But instead, he just looked at you with an incomprehensible expression. And then his eyes traveled down to the water bottle still in his hand. Out of nowhere, he threw it to you and you scrambled to catch it.

“At least take this,” He replied quietly, no malice behind his tone.

To say you were confused was an understatement. “Did you put anything in this?”

He laughed. “What? A love potion?”

“No,” You sputtered, toying with the cap of it. “Like a sleeping potion or–”

“And who’s going to take care of you when you’re asleep?” He raised an eyebrow.

“You.” You glared with narrowed eyes.

“You’re funny,” He sarcastically replied.

“Are you too much of an asshole to?” A smile tugged on your lips. “Is that why?”

“I’m perfectly capable.” He rolled his eyes. “Just not for you.”

You nodded, fully expecting his answer. And then you jabbed a finger at the door. “Get out then. I need to practice.” Without bidding him goodbye, not even a single wave, you turned around to start the music again.

But then you heard his voice again, calling out to you from across the practice room.

“Moonlight.”

At first, you just thought that he was rambling, saying random things to bother you. But he said it again when you didn’t respond.

“Moonlight,” He said again, a teasing tone suddenly appearing in his voice. With an annoyed exhale, you turned to face him. That was when you came to the revelation that he was addressing you. As moonlight.

“Me?” You furrowed your eyebrows.

“Yes, you.” He tilted his head slightly. “Good luck with your practice, moonlight.”

Your hand was already raising, threatening to throw the music speaker into his face. “Don’t call me tha–”

“Moonlight,” He repeated. “This song. Clair de lune?”

“What about it?” You eyed him suspiciously.

His gaze searched yours silently for a moment. You’ve always hated it when the two of you locked eyes. It always left you feeling weird inside. Agitated, probably.

“It means moonlight. Which… reminds me of you.”

If you weren’t so exhausted, you would have noticed the way he nervously fumbled for the door and you also would have noticed his small stumble out into the hallway.

–

The lights blared across your vision and the bass of the music pounded from your stomach, all the way down to your ears which only worsened your growing headache. You dreaded this party. But, no matter how many times you complained about it, it happened every single year. Annually, it was a good luck party for those performing at the recital.

You didn’t want to go and you usually never did. But since that solo was meant for the recital, you had forced yourself to dress up and finally open that party invitation with the gold lettering.

You kept to yourself, occasionally waving at fellow dancers and friends. But even while there was a particular amount (read: a lot) of people questioning you about your performance and whether you were dating a famous celebrity (you weren’t), you managed to slip away and grab a drink.

You couldn’t even tell the color of the liquid because of the bright lights flashing about. But hey, at least it tasted good. Weaving through the crowd, you were desperate to find a more secluded place. But that was when you ran into someone.

Him.

Changmin. Of course, you rolled your eyes, he would be here. He had a performance too. Which frankly, you didn’t care about. At all.

Your eyes skimmed over him for a moment, taking in his party attire. His hair was finally styled up and you were almost jealous over how well the purple lights complimented him.

He looked at you with slight surprise before schooling his expression into something obnoxious. Or teasing. You couldn’t quite tell.

“How’s the solo going?” He spoke with an amused smile. Thankfully, the music had died down. You wouldn’t know what to do with yourself if you had to lean even closer to him just to hear his infuriating insults.

“Amazing,” You immediately replied, maybe too fast and not very convincing. It had gone badly. Fewer mistakes but still much too many. But who were you to tell him that? Not when he would use that as his new monthly taunt. And out of sheer politeness, you smiled disdainfully. “Are you performing?”

He raised an eyebrow at your obviously faked, higher-pitched voice.

“Drop the formalities.” He shook his head. “But yeah and it’s going to be better than yours. Though, I’m missing a dance partner.”

“A duet?” You tilted your head in confusion.

He nodded, a small, amused smile appearing on his lips. “Why, desperate to sign up?”

“No,” You retorted, scoffing. “Why would I ever want to dance with you?”

He simply shrugged with a smile, which only infuriated you more. With a huff, you stepped forward, furrowing your eyebrows.

“I hope you know that dancing with you is like stepping on a piece of dog sh–” You were interrupted. By your own yelp of all things. It was a common occurrence that when interacting with Changmin, you often forgot your surroundings. It was like this cloud of anger engulfed you constantly.

For example, right now, you completely forgot that you were at a party.

A guy dancing, probably having the time of his life, suddenly bumped into you, causing you to stumble over your own feet. At that point, you sort of just gave up, choosing to accept the embarrassment. But, that was when you felt a hand rush to your side to steady you.

It only briefly brushed against your waist but it sent sparks down your whole spine. Inhaling sharply, you snapped your head to look at Changmin.

“What are you doing?” You hissed.

“What?” He stared at you. “Nothing.”

“You touched me,” You spoke in utter disbelief. The feeling of his fingertips just merely grazing you left you stuttering and you weren’t quite sure why.

“So you don’t fall flat on your face,” He muttered, leaning closer, right up to your ear. Immediately, you were engulfed by his cologne that… much to your demise, smelled really good. “Wouldn’t want to ruin your pretty face.”

You felt your mouth go dry and you harshly pulled away, swallowing thickly. And now, you were incredibly grateful for the bright lights of the party because you couldn’t bear for him to notice your embarrassed expression. Visibly or not, you weren’t sure. Your cheeks felt oddly warm though.

“Well, I hope you–” You cursed yourself for stumbling over your words. “I hope you ruin your… your horrific face.” God, you mentally slapped yourself.

He only grinned. And this time, his hand actually closed around your waist. At first, you thought he was teasing again but you realized that yet again, someone was going to bump into you.

“Don’t lie,” He whispered, quiet enough only for you to hear.

“I’m not.” But your voice wavered.

“Definitely.” His lips pulled up into a teasing smile–one that you couldn’t help but think was attractive–and he walked away.

With a groan, you fixed your clothes and turned around. You let out a low breath, completely overwhelmed by the sight. The crowd was larger than before and the music only increased in volume. And so, holding a hand to your chest–ignoring the weird pounding of your heartbeat from… past events–you navigated through the bout of dancing and laughing people.

At some point, you found yourself in another room, the thumping music only heard through the walls. No matter if you were one of the most popular, successful dancers of the studio, you were still closed off. Like right now, you were pretty sure your instructor would ridicule you for literally hiding behind the curtains, sipping another drink.

Leaning your head back against the wall, you allowed yourself a deep breath as you tried to forget everything. The struggle of your dance routine, the immense and loud party, him and his stupid playful smile.

But of course, that same him happened to pop up again. But this time, he was with Juyeon. Juyeon was a sweet man and you didn’t mind conversing with him. You had seen the way he danced powerfully yet gracefully at the same time despite his long limbs. His only flaw was that he was friends with… him.

“You still haven’t found a partner?” In the corner of your eye, they walked by, causing you to hide further.

Changmin sighed. “I’m trying.”

“What about Y/n?” Juyeon asked, nudging him with a small smile. “They seem suitable. Beautiful too.”

Your rival paused in his tracks, turning to Juyeon with an unimpressed look.

“Beautiful, but completely intolerable.”

It took all of your willpower not to jump out and throw your glass cup straight into your face. You were about to be flattered, maybe even confront him and tease him for calling you beautiful. But to counter that right after with intolerable?

You hated him.

–

The party was slowly dying down, now reduced to slow music for those couples who kissed in the hallways. You would think they stopped that after high school but apparently they still do so now. You were sure you looked like a mess but you couldn’t care less as you spotted Changmin in the background, leaning against the wall and simply observing the crowd.

Approaching him, you stood next to him. He only regarded you with a glance.

“What about her?” You spoke up, gesturing to a girl. She was talented, most definitely. You’d seen her do all sorts of dances, specializing in the art of tango which you admired.

“Helping me now?” He muttered.

You ignored his question, choosing to stare ahead. With a sigh, he shook his head.

“Her style is completely different from mine. So no.”

“That’s what you look for?” You scrunched up your face. “You know it’s boring when your styles are exactly the same.”

He turned to you and you tried to ignore the fact that when his hair was slightly disheveled and the top few buttons of his shirt undone, he didn’t look half bad. Still, his looks didn’t quite fit his irritating personality.

“Then what should I look for in a dance partner?” He looked at you, bored.

You thought for a moment. And then you let your hand trail down to his sleeve. Grasping the fabric, you pulled him closer.

“Someone who compliments your own dancing,” You whispered. He stared down at you in surprise. This time, his expression wasn’t an act to make you annoyed. His wide eyes, lips parted… were all real as his gaze traveled across your features, gulping nervously. “Even if…” You paused, marveling in the way his cheeks flushed under the party lighting. “They’re completely intolerable.”

He inhaled, about to walk forward. “Y/n–”

But you were already stepping away, creating that distance that you were most familiar with.

–

Often, dance played out in steps. One-two, one-two-three, et cetera, et cetera. The wave of your arms and the placement of your feet moved in these rhythmical steps. Or at least, you tried to get them to move in the right rhythm. It seemed that the only thing that was on time was the fast pace of your breath.

Breathing heavily, you stood up to face your three evaluators. Two of them had a somewhat satisfied look on their face, barely writing anything on their clipboards. But one… her. You grimaced, remembering the sight of her constantly picking up her pen in the middle of your routine, even frowning and shaking her head.

Your hair was messy and probably damp with sweat from the vigorous evaluation but you still stood tall. Up until that one word, that left everything crashing down on you.

“Out.”

Stricken, you turned to face your own instructor.

“What?” You stuttered.

She stabbed her clipboard with the pen, tip down. “I said, you’re out,” She spoke in an obnoxiously calm voice. “I already found someone else to take your spot the other day.”

“But I–” You sighed in frustration, stepping forward, ignoring the searing pain of your joints from all the constant practicing that resulted in absolutely nothing. “I tried so hard for this. You taught me this solo, how could you–”

“I’m sorry,” She interrupted firmly. “Next time, Y/n.”

You watched each of them. There was some sense of remorse behind their expression but you could see something else. Something that pertained to… greed, money. You always knew that this dance studio–with its esteem and popularity–always would have those people who bought their way in. Those people who wanted your solo so badly that they obtained it with a simple check from their bank.

But you couldn’t change anything about that. So, with a deep breath–one that was concerningly shaky–you stepped backwards to the door.

“Fine,” You muttered. “It’s fine.”

Before you could even register it yourself, you were running out the door, the sound of it slamming behind you. Again, like those rhythmical steps, you tried to breathe in and out, tried to compose yourself. But, as soon as you turned the corner, away from any watchful eyes, you found yourself sliding down the wall.

Bringing your knees up to your chest, you buried your face in your arms, allowing a few tears to slip. It was refreshing, really. You were always expected to be the perfect, most graceful dancer of the studio. But sometimes, it was hard to keep that up.

You let yourself relax, sniffling occasionally as you remembered all the hard work that turned into pointless frowns, sighs, and pen-writing. But then the sound of footsteps approached you. Still, you didn’t bother to look up.

“How’s the solo going?” A familiar, dreadful voice. You felt the warmth of a shoulder bump against yours as the person sat down next to you. Even through your muted ears, you could hear the thump of his head as he set it back against the wall.

With an exhausted exhale, you looked up, only to come face-to-face with Changmin. You already knew it was him but just the sight of your rival still brought you a scowl as you looked back down into your lap.

“Is that the only way to start your conversations?” You spoke softly.

He only stared at you wordlessly. You could feel his eyes on you, studying the tears that trailed down your face.

At his lack of response, you groaned. “It went horrible. I lost it. Happy now?” You bitterly smiled, wiping at your cheeks harshly, wincing at the burn of the fabric of your sleeves. When you turned to face him again, you realized that his face had fallen.

“You… lost it?” He asked quietly.

You forced a roll of your eyes. Though, you knew it was useless to try to pretend that you felt perfectly content with this.

“Yes,” You breathed with frustration. “Yes, I did. So go. Laugh in my face and leave.”

But you didn’t hear a single huff of amusement. It was completely silent. Except for the shifting of clothes–the shifting of him moving closer to you. Now, his whole side was pressed to yours and again, you were reminded of how nice he smelled.

“I won’t laugh,” He whispered.

“Okay then.” You glanced at him briefly. “Fine. What are you doing here then?”

He turned to you slightly and you flinched when you saw his hand lifting up towards your face. You stayed frozen once you realized that he was picking up a thread of fabric stuck in your hair. Probably from your constant rubbing of your tears.

“Small talk,” He eventually replied, his voice surprisingly soft and… gentle.

You snorted, slapping his hand away. “With your rival?”

“Best to learn your enemies,” He humorously responded.

And even with your tears drying on your skin, you laughed. It was quiet, slightly weak from emotions of failure. But you still laughed. Because of Changmin of all people. With a sigh, you patted at the drying tears.

“God, I probably look like a mess.”

“You don’t.”

You turned to him in slight surprise before narrowing your eyes. “How can I trust you?”

“Just do.” He smiled.

You hummed, shutting your eyes with exhaustion. “Then I’ll take your word for it.”

“It’s quite the opposite actually,” He continued. Perking up, you grinned playfully at him.

“And what do you mean by that? What’s the opposite of looking like a mess?”

“Looking…” His voice was barely a whisper now. “Looking pretty.”

Your breath hitched at his words. You didn’t know what you were expecting but you weren’t expecting that. But again, he was your rival. He was probably just teasing you.

“Are you saying I’m a pretty crier?”

He paused. And finally, without any dark rooms or party lighting, you could see the flush on his cheeks. “No comment?”

You laughed softly. But your content expression quickly turned into a small frown. “Shouldn’t you be practicing right now? You have a performance for the recital.”

He never answered your question. Instead, he looked down to where your hands and elbows were bruised from constant practice. Then he faced you with an incomprehensible look in his face.

“But you’re not performing at all?” He asked instead.

Biting the inside of your cheeks to keep the tears from bursting out of your eyes again, you shook your head.

He grew quiet again. You always hated how hard it was to decipher Changmin. He often trailed off and wouldn’t say anything, leaving you to decide if he was either going to throw another insult at you or finally leave you alone.

With an annoyed huff, you finally asked him, “What’re you planning?”

“Nothing.” He faked a smile. “I’ll… see you around?”

You stood up, your legs wobbly from the drained feeling after you poured out all of your emotions in the span of a few minutes. “Not for a while,” You sourly remarked. “I’m useless now. See you in two months.”

He tilted his head, his faux smile turning into an amused, almost mischievous one. “See you tomorrow.”

You were never one to question his odd responses. He just got the time wrong. That’s all.

—

You watched numbly as your ballet shoes tumbled to the floor. With a clenched jaw, you reached down to pick it up and shove it into your bag before turning back to your half-empty locker.

As you stood there, contemplating if you needed to bring home any of this stuff since you weren’t going to be dancing for a while anyway, your thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door.

Looking up, there was a woman poking her head in.

“Y/n?” She looked straight at you.

“Me?” You pointed at yourself in disbelief. For a second, a spark of hope appeared in the depths of your heart. But it quickly flickered away. Maybe she was about to shove it in your face that you weren’t supposed to be here today. Which, you weren’t. But, you just needed to pack up some of your belongings.

“Y/n.” She smiled in strange relief. As if she was searching for you for a while. “You’re needed in the practice room.”

When you only stared at her in utter confusion, she laughed, completely relaxed which only caused to spiral into more perplexion.

“I forgot to mention which one! It’s the one at the end of the right hall.”

You only raised an eyebrow at her, clutching your bag. Why was she acting so natural? As if telling you that you needed to report to practice when you were told very clearly that you were out as if that was the most normal thing in the world.

“I don’t… I don’t have anything to perform though?” You stared at her.

She gazed back, looking at you as if you had just confessed the worst murder of all time.

“Yes you do?” She replied. “Come on. You’ll be late.”

Maybe this was all some sick joke. Still incredibly confused, you followed her out onto the hallway, all the way down to an unfamiliar practice room. This whole section was dedicated to something else. Something that wasn’t… ballet or contemporary.

She gestured for you to open the door. Looking at her with a bored expression, you pushed the door open and in just a split second, you were gaping at the person who stood at the doorway.

Oh my god.

Your hand tightened around the doorknob, threatening to slam the door closed in hopes that this was all a bad dream. But the door refused to budge.

Changmin. Changmin had placed his foot down to stop it from moving an inch. He tilted his head and lifted an eyebrow.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He looked at you completely seriously. Which you hated. Because you had really hoped this was all a joke.

“What are you doing here?” You still attempted to shut the door. But he still held it open.

But suddenly, another man appeared. You didn’t recognize him but you assumed he was Changmin’s own dance instructor. He had on a bright, enthusiastic smile, much unalike to your own who constantly had a stern, disappointed frown.

“Y/n!” He spoke marvelously. “Splendid choice, ‘min.”

Changmin only glanced at you, slightly sheepishly and with his ears were tinted red. He quickly recovered though which made you wonder why he was shy in the first place.

“Surprise surprise?” He smugly grinned.

You were absolutely speechless, unable to say anything. All you could do was stare—gape at him with a dropped jaw.

“What?” You blurted out.

Changmin almost laughed at your reaction. But still, he led you out to the hallway. Hopefully for some sort of explanation.

“You’re my new dance partner.”

Okay, that wasn’t the explanation that you wanted.

“You’re what?” You practically exclaimed.

“You heard me,” He whispered. His eyes darted to the practice room briefly. “He’ll be teaching you the moves for the first few days and then we’ll practice together,” He explained in a completely calm voice.

What was up with everyone and acting completely natural in such an absurd situation?”

“Are we not going to talk about the fact that you chose me to be your dance partner,” You deadpanned. “We’re supposed to hate each other.”

“Then still do,” He sighed. “But trust me on this.” He stepped closer and in the corner of your eye, you could see his hand twitch—almost like he was going to grab yours.

“How many times will you ask me to trust you?” You asked quietly. “That’s not very easy, especially after you’ve practically insulted me all these years.”

“I know, and I’m—“ The apology that threatened to escape his lips was interrupted by the door opening. His instructor poked a head out with an excited smile.

“What’s taking you lovebirds so long?” He wiggled his eyebrows. And now that you looked closely, you could read his ID card that read, “Eric.” He looked oddly young to be an instructor but you didn’t question it, too focused on the fact that you now had to dance with your one and only rival.

Changmin scowled. “Give us a minute won’t you? I’m still older than you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” He sighed before disappearing back into the room.

Changmin turned back to you, looking at you with soft eyes that only caused your stomach to twist even more.

“Yesterday,” He breathed. “You looked…”

“Like shit? I know,” You snapped.

“No! You—“ He groaned. “I can’t explain it right now. But Y/n.” Again, his hand twitched to hold yours.

“What?” Your voice was meek. Why were you suddenly so nervous?

“I’m not blind to see that you’re talented. And who was it who told me that I should find someone who complimented my dancing?” He paused and winced sheepishly. “Even if completely intolerable.”

“You think that I compliment your dancing?” You whispered. “But we never danced together before.”

“All the more reason to test it out?” He gave you an unsure smile.

You bit your lip, completely conflicted.

“Changmin… I don’t know.”

He looked at you, his gaze gentle. “If you want to back out, that’s fine. I just—“ His cheeks were flushed again, a pretty pink. Pretty? “I wanted to do something. For you.”

Your eyes searched his, looking for any spark of amusement. But, he still looked back at you earnestly.

“Aren’t we rivals?” You asked again.

“Are we?” He simply replied, never providing you with an actual answer.

“We are,” You breathed out, but the way your voice trembled slightly wasn’t very convincing.

“Whatever you want,” He whispered. “So what do you say, dear rival?” The way he said the last word wasn’t convincing either. None of this was convincing.

You sighed, defeated and unable to find a reason to say no. Hanging your head low, you noticed the way his hand ghosted over yours. Was it there all that time?

“Fine,” You muttered. “But don’t expect much.”

He hummed teasingly. “I expect a lot from someone as talented as you.”

And much to your horror, you felt yourself blush. Shoving him with an annoyed (embarrassed) scowl, you stepped away, finally noticing just how close he was to you.

“Shut up,” You said. “Let’s keep this completely professional.”

“Whatever you want,” He repeated, smiling softly.

—

You hated to admit it but the duet was fun. It was so unlike what you usually learned. You were used to the perfectly practiced poses, the straightened back, and the straining of all your limbs to get that pristine, elegant image that you were supposed to keep up. But this dance… was more freeing. It had a romantic aspect to it but it was fun and energetic while still telling a story through the choreography.

A love story of all things.

However, you did notice that it was hard to learn the dance alone. Even if you asked Eric to dance in place as Changmin temporarily, he would refuse, saying it would ruin the “chemistry” between you two.

What chemistry? There was none. You were sure of that.

But even the voice in your head wavered over that statement.

Now, the time that you dreaded has arrived. The one when you would actually have to practice the choreography with your dance partner.

To say it was awkward was an understatement. It was appallingly difficult.

The two of you wouldn’t stop bickering. It wasn’t really Changmin correcting your dance like you had thought. It was just… bickering.

“What if I stepped on your foot right now?” You grinned.

“Don’t,” He groaned. “It already hurts.”

“But it would be funny.”

“My ankle is twisted,” He replied with a frown, grimacing.

Immediately you were widening your eyes and stepping forward. You didn’t even notice that you were looking him over with worry.

“It is?” And just like he had done before, your hand ghosted over his. “Why didn’t you get it checked? You should be resti—“

Except he only regarded you with a smug smile.

“Is someone worried for me?”

You stared at him, your mouth agape. And then you grumbled, stepping away, only to feel a spark through your wrist where it brushed against his knuckles.

“Your ankle isn’t twisted,” You gritted out.

He grinned wider. “It’s not but I appreciate your worry anyway.”

“I was not worrying,” You muttered, looking away.

He huffed. “And my name isn’t Changmin.”

You rolled your eyes. “Let’s just get this over with.”

“Get what over with?”

“This… move,” You mumbled, letting your eyes travel down to his hand. What was up with you and his hands? You didn’t know either.

And by this move, you meant the move where the two of you would have to hold hands and he would twirl you and pull you close, and— you hated everything about it.

“Don’t we just—“ He was the one who took the lead, guiding your hand gently to his. But he paused in his tracks once he felt your pinky link with his. And like he was electrocuted, he pulled his hand back.

You held back a smile, finding this awkwardness all too painfully amusing.

“Do we intertwine the fingers or…” He trailed off.

“Or just hold palms?” You offered, cringing at how warm your face felt at the moment.

“No, we’re supposed to—“ He reached forward, grabbing your hand in an odd way, his fingers hilariously stiff.

“Ah,” You whined. “It feels weird.”

He huffed, his ears red. “Of course it does. We never…”

If Eric was monitoring the two of you right now—which he said he would in an hour or two—he would have bursted out laughing at the sight. The both of you facing each other, hands fumbling with frustrated faces—one would think you were playing a game of rock, paper, scissors.

“What are you doing?” You whispered, staring at the way he just poked one finger into your palm.

“What are you doing?” He whispered back, glaring at the way your fingers closed around his ring finger.

“I can’t—“ You groaned. “I can’t do this with you.”

“You have to. Just—“ And like a leap of faith, he finally reached forward properly and grabbed your hand in his. After all those instances of your hands merely hovering, it felt almost… nice to feel his warm skin properly. His hand was comforting and you watched with wide eyes at the way he so naturally intertwined his fingers with yours.

Your breath was caught in your throat and you observed silently as he brought your connected hands up to his chest, holding it close. He looked up at you, his gaze softening.

“Like this?” He whispered.

“Yes,” You replied, almost breathlessly.

He gave you a small smirk. “Then focus.”

And without a warning, he brought your hand up and twirled you around. You stumbled slightly but managed to gain your balance as he pulled you in, right up to his chest. Instead of just your hands, it was your whole body against him.

“See?” He smiled down at you, slightly out of breath. “Wasn’t so bad right?”

“Professional,” You breathed out. “It’s because I’m being professional.”

“Mhm,” He eyed you teasingly. His eyes trailed down. “Do professionals still hold hands even after practice is done?”

You gasped quietly, embarrassment flooding through you.

“Oh, I—” You tried to pull your hand out of his grasp but he only tightened further, keeping your hand in his. His hold was gentle and warm, which put a funny feeling in your chest. You narrowed your eyes. “Changmin,” You warned.

“It’s comfortable,” He murmured and before you could protest, he was bringing your hand up to his lips. He pressed a soft kiss to the back of it.

Your breath hitched in your throat. “You’re so annoying.” You glared.

He only pressed another kiss as a response, leaving you stuttering.

–

Another thing you hated to admit: you had grown closer to Changmin. Blah blah, you’re still rivals of course. Just maybe… with more smiles and friendly remarks. That’s normal, isn’t it? For enemies?

The dance routine drastically improved. The two of you were comfortable with holding hands now, moving past each other with fleeting touches. It became almost natural. But then again, that was just what happened when you were being professional. Obviously.

But still, nothing could compare to the growth of your relationship with him. You didn’t hate it. It felt nice to have someone who understood you. You learned more about him as a person. You learned that he was always exhausted after dancing and then learned that he often forgot to eat anything after practice. They go hand-in-hand. So it became–much to your disliking–your job to bring him a small snack every day so that he wouldn’t faint.

He learned more about you as a person too. He learned that you weren’t used to freestyling or experimenting since you were so trained to have a picture-perfect image. When he learned that, it became–much to his… liking–his job to make you laugh and relax whenever you got too caught up in your internal expectations.

He wasn’t so bad after all.

He was still annoying though. Just like right now.

“Just once,” He pleaded. “Try it.”

“I’m not– used to the choreography being changed. Or anything being changed.” You gave him a nervous look, your fingers fidgeting restlessly. “And you know that.” Your voice quietened as all the memories of people criticizing you came rushing through.

His gaze softened as he studied your anxious-ridden features. “I do know that. But that doesn’t mean you can’t.”

You looked at him skeptically. “I’m not like you.”

“You’re not,” He agreed. “You’re you. And that’s what I find amazing.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “That’s not–”

He shook his head, taking a step forward. He opened his mouth to speak but you shushed him with a simple glare.

“And don’t you dare ask me to trust you,” You ridiculed.

He gave you an amused smile. “How’d you predict that?”

“Because you’ve asked me plenty of times,” You deadpanned.

“Ah…” He grinned. “You’re right. And every time I do, you reply that you don’t.”

You grew silent at that. And then you let your eyes trail down, away from his gaze. You noticed that whenever you did so, he never let his own eyes wander. They were always on you. Across the room, the hallway, even when you were sitting right in front of him.

With a deep breath, your cheeks beginning to flush already, you spoke something so quietly that he had to lean in to hear.

“I trust you now though.”

You heard his breath hitch, causing you to look up into his eyes. And were his eyes always so… bright and sparkly?

“You trust me?” He whispered.

“Don’t make me say it again.”

“If we weren’t so short on time, I would.” He smiled. He reached down and like it was the most common occurrence, he took your hand in his, leading you to the middle of the room. “Then, if you trust me, won’t you do the thing?”

“What thing?”

“That thing.”

You stared at him, trying to feign innocence so that you could somehow get out of it. But he only looked at you, almost challenging you with his gaze.

Eventually, you groaned in defeat. “Fine,” You grumbled.

The next move, which the two of you had already perfected, was a simple touch on the waist and that was it. But Changmin just had to come up with a new idea. He insisted on a dip. The type of dip that was reserved for people who were actually in love and… had feelings for each other. Which, the two of you definitely didn’t fit in that type of category. Professional dancers was all.

“I don’t think this is going to work,” You spoke over the music.

He smiled charmingly. “Just enjoy the moment. It will.”

And so, holding your breath, you approached him. His hand automatically came to your waist, just like it had in the original move. But then, he slowly, guided you so that you were leaning backward. Feeling yourself grow warm over his gentle touch that held you steady so that you wouldn’t fall, you allowed yourself to fall. Literally, into his arms.

After the count was over, he gently brought you back to stand up. And yet another thing that you hated to admit: that new dance move left your heart pounding. And it wasn’t from exhilaration.

You were breathless as you stared at him in shock. It all came rushing to you. The small details–the softness of his eyes, the hands that held onto your waist tightly but never enough to hurt, the small smile on his lips when he probably noticed that you had blushed.

A quiet “oh” was all you could muster.

He gave you a soft smile. You noticed that was the only thing he regarded you with these days. Occasionally, it would be his usual, teasing, mocking smile. But recently, it’s just been that one that left your hands feeling sweaty.

“And if I said I told you so?”

“Don’t,” You scowled.

But he only leaned closer. You weren’t even doing the move again yet his hand still found its place on your lower back again. And like you were in a trance, your eyes fluttered as you drew closer to him. You looked straight into his eyes, only for you to realize that he wasn’t returning that same eye contact. Instead, his gaze flickered down to your lips. You sputtered and your hands flew to his chest, trying to create more distance.

“Don’t get too carried away,” You murmured.

“I wasn’t,” He whispered. “It was you who was leaning closer.”

“No,” You breathed. “It was you.”

He watched you fondly. Of course, he would notice the way you stumbled over your words.

“Maybe it was the both of us.”

—

One would think that after the routine was perfected—which it was—the two of you would be off to perform it, get those congratulatory flowers, and be off. But no. There was always that extra step of the stage rehearsal.

It was the one where you had to practice the routine on the actual stage, in front of two people: Changmin’s instructor Eric, and your instructor. You haven’t seen her since she kicked you off, so you couldn’t help your eyes from darting to her ever-growing sneer.

You always despised this part, mostly because it was nerve-wracking. Even though there were only two people in the audience, the spotlights, and the music blaring through the speakers made it all feel real.

It didn’t help that your instructor kept writing things in her clipboard. And it was only when you were in the center. For heaven’s sake, Eric didn’t even own a clipboard.

“You’re shaking,” A deeper voice whispered.

You blinked and turned to where Changmin was standing in front of you. It was no use hiding anything from him. It was almost like he could read you like a book.

You shook your head, pulling him into position. But, it was hard as it was him facing away from the crowd while you… you had to face the audience—more specifically, your instructor.

“I’m just tired,” You whispered as your eyes glanced down. Eric was smiling softly while she picked up her pen, leaving your heart pounding. Changmin turned to look at you briefly and you could feel his gaze, focused on how you fidgeted nervously.

“I tried to tell her that she didn’t need to come to the rehearsal,” He muttered back, his hand coming up to your waist just like the choreography asked. “But she insisted.”

You hummed. “I wonder why.”

“Ignore her,” He replied, guiding your hand up to his shoulder. Just like the choreography asked.

“I can’t,” You whispered, your voice almost pleading. “She’s looking at me.”

Suddenly, you felt his hand close around your waist tightly as he shifted the position. You watched, bewildered once you realized that even though his back was still to the crowd, he was shielding you with his body. Away from prying eyes, away from anyone who would make you nervous, he stood in front of you, his arm protectively around your body.

This was not the choreography. This wasn’t what it asked. Yet it made you feel that smallest bit of solace that you needed all this time.

“Better?” He spoke in a hushed tone, giving you a reassuring smile.

Unable to do or say anything, you only looked at him with flushed cheeks before nodding quietly.

He only continued to follow your features with his soft gaze. He never attempted to make you move, knowing that you were still nervous, your hand on his shoulder tightening in intervals whenever you remembered that you were still being watched. Instead, he just stayed put, watching you and making sure you were okay.

Alarms blared in your ears, telling you that you needed to start dancing or else you would be scolded. But, with Changmin’s hand closed around your waist, you couldn’t help but melt. You were sure that the two instructors were watching–probably extremely confused, but you were more focused on someone else. Changmin–whose body shielded you from the blinding stage lights and whose eyes scanned over you attentively.

“Thank you,” was what you could finally muster up with a soft voice.

He gave you a small tilt of his head, accompanied by a lilt of his lips.

“Of course,” He replied. “Take your time. Whenever you’re ready.”

You bit your lip, shaking your head with a growing smile. “They’re waiting.”

“So let them wait.”

Your shoulders shook with a silent laugh. You were about to joke about how endearing he looked when protective but you stopped for two reasons. One–you were supposed to be rivals and that wouldn’t be a very rival-y thing to say. Two–Eric spoke up, his loud voice echoing through the concert hall.

“Alright,” He yelled, his voice laced with a teasing tone. “Lovebirds, let’s take five!”

Clearing your throat, your cheeks flaming, you pulled away from his hold. You didn’t notice Changmin staring after you longingly.

–

The five-minute break came and went a bit too quickly for your liking. Luckily, Eric had somehow convinced your instructor to take a lunch break. As you were fixing up the laces of your shoes, he approached you with a kind smile.

“She’s all done and taken care of,” The younger man joked, brushing off his shoulder comically. You smiled in relief. And then he sat down next to you. “Listen. On the agenda, I’m supposed to evaluate each of you individually, to make sure everything’s down and ready. So, during her lunch break, let’s get that done. Yeah?”

You nodded and stood up, approaching the stage. Oh, but you hated how steep the stairs were. Trying not to stumble, you took the first step. You were about to take the second when you felt another presence behind you. You hated how you could recognize him immediately.

You felt Changmin’s hand, gently take yours as he helped you up the stairs. When finally up on the stage, you turned around to tease him about being such a gentleman. But, his back was already turned, walking away.

But when you narrowed your eyes and looked closely, you could see his hand flex. Almost like he was embarrassed and… nervous after helping you up on the stage.

You caught yourself smiling, your heart blooming into something new. Except, you weren’t quite sure if it actually was new.

But Eric’s voice caught you off guard, shaking you out of your little trance.

“What’s so amusing?” He grinned.

You shook your head, biting back a shy smile. “Nothing.”

–

“How’s it feel? Your stylist looked you over, even giving you jazz hands to help you cheer up. Dress rehearsal–literally meant that you had to wear your performance outfit even when the audience was practically empty.

You scrunched your face up in discomfort, looking at yourself in the mirror. You had to admit, it was a pretty look. It incorporated various little details of what you were most familiar with, ballet. It was a graceful, flowy outfit but there was something different about it. There were other… parts to it. Spontaneous colors and pieces stuck out, representing your dance partner.

And of course, there was romance in it. Roses specifically, delicately sewn into the fabric. And there was a bright red one, tucked behind your ear.

“It’s beautiful,” You whispered. But just at that moment, you twitched awkwardly. “A little itchy.”

Your stylist laughed, pulling at a loose seam. “It’s just one night.”

You froze, your shoulders raising. “Yeah,” You breathed. “One night.” And it would all be over. This impetuous thing. After that one night, you would be forced to go back to keeping up that image that you hated and loved at the same time. You would return to the same routine of scolding because you didn’t do well enough and the scorn looks because you couldn’t lift your leg high enough.

And Changmin.

He would be over too. He would go his own way, dancing with experimentation and freedom. You wouldn’t see him except on your breaks which only resulted in petty arguments and glares. What would happen to those kind smiles that you would share occasionally and the fleeting touches even when you weren’t practicing the choreography? Would it all disappear?

“Is everything okay?” The stylist asked.

You blinked and straightened up. “Great,” You said as you forced a smile. With a deep breath, you headed to the door, ready to greet Changmin who must also be dressed in his own outfit.

As you walked onto the stage, you froze once again when you saw him standing in front of you, a sheepish smile on his lips.

“Hi,” You whispered, looking him over. Oh, you hated it. You hated everything–how he looked charming with his hair so meticulously styled, how the flowy, white shirt hugged his shoulders and waist so perfectly, how his eyes naturally sparkled, even when the stage lights were off.

“Hey, you.” He grinned. And you hated how his gaze traveled over you slowly, taking in the sight. Suddenly, you felt the urge to wrap your arms over yourself.

You gave him a small laugh, stepping forward. There was no one else in the concert hall right now. Eric and the director of the recital must be running late. And yes, somehow, Changmin managed to keep your instructor from coming back in the meantime. It was just the two of you, standing in the middle of the stage, unlit but bright enough to emphasize both of your shy smiles.

You hated him.

But… his smile and his soft gaze. It was all too hard to resist.

Clearing your throat, you played with the hem of your clothes. “What do you…” You trailed off, fighting the urge to stumble over your words nervously. “What do you think?” You looked at him expectantly. He only stared at you wordlessly, which only furthered your anxiousness. Forcing a roll of your eyes, trying to act natural, you shifted on your feet and avoided his watchful gaze. “And don’t say I look bad because I’m sure that–”

“You look pretty.”

You inhaled sharply, whipping your head to look at him again. His smile looked almost fond and he never seemed to take his eyes off you. Instead, he only leaned closer, bending his head forward to observe the rose tucked behind your ear.

“Very pretty,” He whispered. You could only stay there, completely rigid as you felt his hand come up to the side of your face to adjust that same rose, his touch light and gentle.

“Oh,” You finally breathed out. “Thank you.” You cursed at yourself for lowering your voice from embarrassment. It only made him lean closer to hear you.

And it seemed that Eric had burst through the doors, only to witness the two of you stupidly smiling at each other.

–

Just like you had expected, Eric and the director watched your routine. Over and over, you had to perform it so that they would catch any mistakes. By the fifth time, the two of you were practically gasping for air.

“One more time?” Eric suggested, looking at you with pity once he noticed you almost fall over from exhaustion if it wasn’t for Changmin who steadied you with a simple touch on your waist.

But then, the director stepped forward. “Actually,” She spoke up. “I think that we just have to get the ending right.”

You glanced at Changmin, only for him to do the same. Just like your brief glances, the position at the very end of the performance was always awkward. The two of you could never quite get it down.

Since the dance was more on the… romantic side, you were expected to face each other, hands intertwined and held close to your chests. And Eric had especially emphasized staring very deeply into your eyes, much to your dismay. Oh and to stand very close–so close that you were practically kissing.

But, you always refused. Changmin as well. You would take a step back and he would hold your hand a bit further away from his chest, creating an odd-looking distance.

So that was what you did. Which, didn’t seem to satisfy the director at all.

“That’s all you can do?” She questioned, leaning forward in her chair. “Put more into it!”

You bit your lip nervously, taking a half-step closer.

“More!” She exclaimed, causing Eric to laugh evilly.

Changmin glared at them playfully before yanking you forward, right up against his chest. You sputtered, looking at him in surprise. He gave you a small, soft smile, though there was still a hint of teasing behind his eyes.

The director stayed silent and for a moment, you thought that she was satisfied enough. But then, she slammed her hand down. “More! You can do better than that!”

Your palms were practically sweating from how long you were holding hands and your face also felt incredibly hot from how close his lips were to yours. But still, with a sigh, you shuffled ever so closer, until the front of your shoes were touching. Changmin simply watched you with gentle eyes.

“Mor–”

Eric groaned, and you could see him standing up in protest in his peripheral view. He threw his hand out to the stage. “Is this not close enough?”

The director snickered. “Oh, definitely. I just wanted to see how close they willingly would get.”

Immediately, the two of you were blushing. But still, Changmin didn’t make a move to step backward and away from you. And so, you gulped, choosing to avoid his gaze.

“On second thought,” Eric called out. “You’re kind of off-center… if you guys could move to the right a bit?”

After this, you would be done. You would perform the routine on the recital night and this would all be over. Except, you weren’t too sure if you wanted it to be over. You were still deciding on that. When you looked up into Changmin’s eyes, you found that invisible weight–the one that leaned to you wanting this to last forever–to become heavier and heavier.

Ignoring your rushing thoughts, you shuffled to the right, your hands still grasping his. He shuffled along with you, taking mini-steps backward until you reached the tape on the floor that signaled the center.

You stared at Changmin, eyes sparkling as he did the same. And then, you found yourself laughing. Laughing for what? You weren’t sure, but you felt like you were brimming with joy. The awkward shuffling to get to the center, the warm hands intertwined with yours, the surprised yet oddly fond look on his face when you giggled–you couldn’t help but just… feel a certain emotion. You weren’t sure what. Was it relaxation or something else?

He looked at you, his own smile growing on his lips. And then he joined in on you with the laughing, leaning closer to hide his face in your neck.

And yes, you were still in that same ending position. Except, it wasn’t awkward anymore.

“I envy you,” The director sighed, dramatically falling back into her chair. “You have such heart-pounding, romantic chemistry!’

The both of you froze and turned to her in panic.

“Oh, no–” You rushed to say, only to be cut off by Changmin who was also panicking.

“We’re not like–”

Eric only raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest. “You cannot be that blind,” He deadpanned. “Just look in front of you.”

When you looked back into Changmin’s eyes, you not only saw it–the eyes that you dreamed about more often and the lips that you sometimes wondered how they tasted–but you could feel the now familiar pounding in your heart. You wondered if he felt the same.

–

On the night before the performance, you found yourself sitting on a bench outside of the dance studio. The crickets were chirping, keeping you from being completely alone with your thoughts. You tried to count the stars or the cars that passed by, but it was of no use, as all you could think of were the endless possibilities of the recital going completely wrong.

But your ears picked up the sound of someone’s footsteps, slightly kicking at the concrete. And then he sat next to you. Changmin. It was always him. And for some reason, you found his warmth almost comforting–something that melted away the rigid clasp around your nerves.

“Okay?” He asked, his tone quiet to match the atmosphere of the calm night that differed from your tight chest.

“Yeah,” You whispered, turning to him. He wasn’t looking. Maybe he was trying to count the stars too. “Just…” You sighed, embarrassed. “Nervous.”

“Don’t be.” He smiled as he turned to face you. “You’re amazing.”

“I’m…” You tilted your head and furrowed your eyebrows.

“What?” He widened his eyes cutely. “You don’t think so? Though,” He laughed briefly. “Better than me? Probably no–”

“No,” You blurted out, catching him off guard. “I’m just–” You exhaled with frustration and confusion. “Why are you so nice to me? I thought we were…” You trailed off then, choosing to turn back to the twinkling stars. Yet they only reminded you of his eyes.

“Rivals? We still are,” He joked.

You could only give him a weak laugh in response. He looked at you cautiously before turning his gaze down to his lap where his fingers were fidgeting nervously.

“But as for caring for you…” He spoke quietly. “Take a wild guess.”

You looked at him, trying to decipher his strange behavior. But, all you could get from your observations was that his cheeks and ears were oddly red.

“Because…” You thought for a moment. “If you weren’t you would be kicked off the team?”

He gave you a small smile but shook his head.

“Because you’re in a particularly good mood?”

“No,” He breathed out.

And you knew that there was one more reason. But you were terrified to say it. You didn’t know why but it was just… frightening. But, when he only gazed at you expectantly, you knew that you were being forced to say it.

“Because you…” Your voice quietened, but you knew that Changmin could see the way your mouth formed the word ‘like.’ Slowly, your voice grew in volume to finish the question. “...me?”

And what was even more terrifying was that he nodded wordlessly. Or was it thrilling? You couldn’t tell. But all you knew was that your heart was beating fast again. And it was all for a different reason.

“Changmin,” You whispered, too shocked to form a cohesive sentence. “I–”

“I do,” He looked at you, his eyes searching yours for an answer. “It’s because I like you.”

And it hit you like the spot lights did to your eyes. He would always smile at you softly, distract you whenever you were nervous, and his touches were always gentle. You thought it was just part of his demeanor but now, things were different now. He never regarded others with that affectionate smile and soft gaze. It was only when his eyes would land on you, that his expression would change into something strangely affectionate.

“I don’t know what to say,” You shakily replied, watching as he stood up from the bench. He gave you a small smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” He mumbled, about to turn away but your hands grasped onto his sleeve.

“Wait,” You rushed to say. He turned to you, his eyes filled with hope and disappointment, all at the same time. “Changmin.”

“Hm?”

“After this night… will we go back to the way we were?” You looked up at him. And instead of pulling his wrist out of your grasp, he reached forward, enclosing your hand in his. Your eyes flitted down to his action, breath held.

“Do you mean when I would think of you every day?” He raised an eyebrow.

You playfully slapped him. Or, at least tried to, until he tightened his hold on your hand, keeping you still.

“Don’t lie.” You rolled your eyes.

He shook his head before gently guiding you to stand up with him. You followed and then you gasped quietly when you felt a rose being tucked behind your ear, just like your stylist had done for your outfit–for your performance tomorrow.

“I’m not lying,” He whispered. “I never was.”

You swallowed thickly. “Even when you said that I remind you of… the moonlight?”

He hummed before adjusting the rose slightly so that it sat perfectly in your hair. And that was when you realized the rose was blue, rather than the classic red. You watched him curiously until he gave you a soft smile.

He tapped the rose gently, his fingertip brushing against your ear.

“You’re just like the moonlight.”

–

You breathed in deeply, closing your eyes until you heard the curtains rise and the shuffle of the audience, expectantly waiting for your performance. It only took you a few hours before to find out that your duet with Changmin was the most anticipated one. In fact, it was on the front page of the pamphlet and displayed brightly on one of those LED screens outside of the concert hall.

When you blinked your eyes open, you were met with millions–at least it felt like it–of faces staring back at you. Immediately, you felt the need to freeze up and forget everything that you’ve worked so hard for. But once you felt that familiar squeeze on your waist from the man who stood next to you, everything came rushing back to you.

Soon enough, the music started and like it was automatic, your head snapped up to face him. The beginning move, the one that you practiced the most unintentionally, was easy to spot the differences over the time. When you first started practicing together, he wouldn’t even look you in the eye out of arrogance. Now, even though he still wouldn’t, you could see that it was for a different reason. He was too embarrassed to.

As you moved to the rhythm, fleeting touches on his shoulder and down his chest before breaking apart, you realized that so much has changed. The hesitant grasp on your waist was firm now–protective.

He wasn’t always too embarrassed to look you in the eye. Sometimes, when he would pull you into his chest, he would stare so deeply that the stage lights that already felt hot, began to feel much alike to the sun.

Sometimes, you would hear the occasional baby crying in the crowd or the applause when Changmin would do that dip that you were so adamant on not doing, only for it to be one of your favorite parts to do, but other than that, all that resonated through your ears was the beating of your heart. Partly from exhilaration and partly for someone else. Him.

You hated him, but oh, you liked him so much.

And when the ending came and he would pull you close while intertwining his fingers with yours, you allowed yourself to fall. Maybe not physically because that wouldn’t end well on the tall stage, but in some other way. A way that signaled to him to pull you so close and for him to lean down so that his lips hovered right over yours.

The music had already ended and the audience was clapping and whistling. Yet to you, it went silent. All you could hear was Changmin’s breathing against your lips and all you could see were his soft, loving eyes.

Slowly, you felt his hand let go of yours and for a second you thought that you might have gone too far. But then, you felt that same hand tighten around your waist, yanking you close enough that his bottom lip brushed against yours, sending shivers down your spine.

There were no words spoken but the two of you immediately got the message to close your eyes and… fall once again. You leaned forward, about to press your lips to his in which he hummed softly. But then, the curtain fell with a loud thump and you broke apart. Before you could say or do anything, you were being rushed out by the staff, with only a glimpse of the longing in his face.

Your hand came up to where the rose tucked in your hair and you pulled it out. You observed the red petals, twirling the stem of it until it broke apart in your hand. You liked the blue version better.

–

Your fingers lingered over your own lips, wondering what it would feel like if you had just leaned that tiny bit closer–wondered if he would kiss back. His warm breath that fanned over and his soft, soft gaze as his eyes wandered down came rushing back until your stomach was fluttering with butterflies all over again.

“Y/n?” One of the staff poked her head in. “The curtain call’s in five.”

“Oh, right.” You abruptly stood up, smoothing down your outfit. Your hair was down now, rid of any clips and pins. The rose was long gone.

She ushered you to the door. “You and your partner have a separate spotlight. Since… you know,” She laughed shyly. “Everyone just loved your performance.”

You froze. “They did?”

She looked at you like you were crazy before leading you down the hallway leading to the stage. “It’s all the crowd’s been talking about! The chemistry, the romance, the love… it was all so clear. How did you do it so naturally?”

Your breath hitched, unsure yourself. “I… I guess because it was real.”

She hummed, eyeing you teasingly before gesturing to the stage. You took in a deep breath, and walked to the center of the stage. It was dark–the curtains down with only the sound of the murmuring crowd. When you looked up, you could see Changmin approaching you, a warm smile on his lips.

As he stood next to you, his hand grasped yours and he nudged you with his shoulder.

“Nervous?” He joked.

You smiled shyly. “I am actually.”

“And why’s that?” He glanced at you with bright, sparkling eyes, even without the stage lights shining on the two of you.

“Because I’m with you. You make me nervous,” You whispered. His eyes widened slightly and his hand tightened on yours.

You could hear the countdown for the curtains to pull up, but you ignored it once Changmin had leaned closer.

“Listen,” He watched you cautiously. “What we did back there… did you mea–”

“Yes,” You rushed to say.

Before he could respond, the curtains were rising up and again, the stage lights blared in your vision. Now, you could hear the loud cheers of the audience and you were filled with that exhilarating, heart-beating feeling all over again. When you turned to Changmin, you realized that he was staring back, a dazed look in his eyes.

With a squeeze of his hand, the two of you bowed, smiling brightly. You were about to let go of his hand to wave at the crowd when suddenly, you felt him tug on your hand, hard enough that you were pulled right against his chest.

He steadied you with a hand on your waist. And in the corner of your eye, you felt something being tucked behind your ear. You couldn’t see it but you knew exactly what it was. A blue rose.

He leaned in, just like before with his lips right in front of yours. You held back a smile as you looked up into his soft eyes.

“Is this okay?” He whispered, quiet enough so that only you could hear.

“Yes.” You spoke your loudest, over the growing cheers and applause from the crowd. “This is perfect.”

He smiled before pulling you in and pressing his lips against yours. For the third time that evening, you felt butterflies in your stomach as your eyes fluttered closed. You allowed yourself to finally and completely fall into the moment—into him, into his arms, and into his love as his grip on you tightened ever so slightly so that he could move his lips comfortably against yours.

When you pulled away, eventually interrupted by the staff gesturing to you hurriedly when you peeked an eye open, you looked up at him before bursting out into a shy smile. The cheers were even louder now, which only caused Changmin to blush a pretty pink.

–

After being led off the stage and changed out of your outfits, the two of you met at the hallway that led to the exit–away from the spotlights. It was just you now, holding his hand, swinging it shyly as you occasionally stole glances at him.

But just before you reached the door, he was turning you around and kissing you up against a wall. You allowed him to, feeling your heart beat erratically. But then again, that was a common thing now when with him.

“I’ve been waiting to do that for the longest time,” He muttered, breaking apart with flushed cheeks.

You smiled. “How long?”

“Ever since you gave me that playful smile when you called me a piece of shit that one time.” He grinned.

You burst out laughing. “That was so long ago,” You joked. “There’s no way you– you’re serious?” Now you were gaping at him.

He nodded shyly before hiding his face in your neck. “I loved your smile. I thought you were so beautiful when I first laid eyes on you.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“Can’t say I felt the same,” You muttered. “I actually despised you.”

He chuckled, pulling away to press another kiss to your lips. “Do you despise me now?”

You blushed. “No, I don–” You were cut off by another kiss and his adorable laugh. You grumbled, slapping him shyly. “I take it back. I still despise you.”

“And I’m in love with you,” He replied, playing with the rose tucked in your hair, a fond smile worn on his lips.

—

“What is this?” You giggled, approaching where he was sitting on the floor of the balcony, completely ignoring the chairs that were perfectly placed there for sitting.

You didn’t take into account that giving your boyfriend the code to your apartment door would lead to him breaking into it without permission. One time, you came home, completely exhausted from practice and he popped out of a corner to scare you for the fun of it. It ended in a lot of screams and slapping. But still, he apologized and took care of you for the rest of the evening.

The two of you did go your separate ways…in terms of dance of course. You went back to ballet and high expectations. But at least you had someone to listen to you—someone who always told you that you were doing amazing whether that be through whispered words or kisses and hugs.

He, on the other hand, continued to experiment through various dance styles. One of the recent ones that he learned was the art of tango, ironically enough. And yes, he often pressured you to practice with him. You hated to admit it, but whenever he “serenaded you with his body” (as wrong as it sounded, that’s literally what he said when he danced with you), you couldn’t help but flush slightly, especially when he would kiss you before twirling you.

All of your friends, Eric especially, were delighted to find out you were dating. According to them, you’ve been in love with him this whole time and vice versa. You couldn’t deny it.

Everyday, you fell more and more in love with him. Apart from his constant teasing, he was the sweetest boyfriend one could find. He supported you in all of your endeavors, pressing kisses all over your face while whispering “I’m so proud of you.” Even when you insisted that it was corny, you secretly loved it.

And just now, you walked in on him setting up a picnic on your own balcony. Candles were lit and it seemed that he even cooked for you.

He gave you an adorably warm smile.

“To celebrate your special solo performance coming up, I present to you a coupon for a free date with me.” He grinned, gesturing for you to sit down.

You laughed bashfully, kneeling down in front of him. Like usual, he greeted you with a kiss.

“Are you saying I have to pay for every other date?”

“My love is priceless.”

“Fine,” You huffed playfully. “Let’s break up.”

He gasped. “You would never.”

“You know I wouldn’t.” You scrunched your nose. He smiled in response, watching you silently. You began to grow shy, looking away to stare out at the city view. It was the evening, the street lights and the unfortunate view of small windows lit with overtime office workers twinkling.

But you felt a gentle hand cupping the side of your face, guiding you to look back at him. Then, he tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear as he gazed at you affectionately.

“My beautiful,” He whispered, tilting his head.

Your heart thumped but you still found yourself frowning grumpily.

“Don’t call me that.”

His eyes widened slightly as he pouted. “Why not?”

“Last time you called me beautiful you said I was intolerable right after,” You grumbled.

He whined, slapping his hands over your cheeks to squish them playfully which in turn, caused you to yelp.

“You know I didn’t mean it,” He breathed. “How was I supposed to tell Juyeon that I had the biggest crush on you?”

You laughed loudly, smiling so hard that your cheeks hurt. The candles flickered before they blew out, leaving it dark enough that the only source of light was the moon.

“Then what would you like me to call you?” He asked. He glanced up at the night sky before smiling back down at you. “Moonlight?”

“Mmm…” You thought for a moment. And then you smiled shyly. “You can only call me moonlight when you feel the happiest and… the most in love.”

It took him a moment to register your words but then his eyes lit up. He scooted forward so that his lips lingered right over your forehead. And then he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your skin.

“Moonlight,” He whispered.

“Oh,” You stuttered. He didn’t respond, instead, moving to press another kiss to the tip of your nose.

“Moonlight,” He muttered again, louder this time as his hand trailed down to caress your jaw.

You shut your eyes, suddenly overcome by the need to hide your face. But still, you felt his lips now hover over yours. He tilted your chin up, pulling you into the softest kiss you’ve ever experienced.

“My moonlight.”

You flushed pink, looking at him with wide eyes. “You—“

“I do feel the happiest and the most in love.” He smiled. “Right now.”

Immediately you were melting into his touch before gaining enough strength to lurch forward, throw your hands around his neck, and kiss him as much as you could.

“Me too,” You giggled.

Even though you were expected to keep up that model image, you secretly enjoyed the beauty of letting that go for someone who saw you for who you were. He saw you without the practiced poses and faked smiles, instead choosing to love your random quirks and imperfect features.

He smiled, wrapping his arms around you.

“You are my Clair de lune.”

#deoboyznet #the boyz imagines #the boyz fluff #the boyz reactions #tbz fluff #the boyz x reader #tbz imagines #the boyz scenarios #tbz x reader #changmin x reader #changmin fluff #requests 💞#fics 💞

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wambsgansshoelaces · 3 months

Note

hiiii can you write one where reader is always serving as a waitress at the waystar parties and become fuck buddies with shiv but when shiv catch feelings when they're several months later doing this she finds out that reader is a single mom (she has a daughter) and they have a huge fight and "breakup". I need all the drama that comes with it 🙏 ik with shiv being a mess and being mean as hell things will escalate quickly 😂

-🫀

Mind, Body, Soul

Siobhan Roy x single mom!Reader

Oneshot

Summary: what originally was purely physical takes becomes something better.

okay anon I had to change your plot a bit to make everything work but I really hope I pulled through this time!! Idk why I’m not too sure about this one, I just feel like it’s one of my sloppier works. Regardless, I hope you enjoy x, thank you so much for your request, I love you <3

Word Count: 2.987k

Life was unpredictable.

That’s how you’d ended up with your daughter. You love her to bits, and she’s absolutely your world, but she wasn’t exactly planned. Because of that, her father had exited your life as soon as he’d entered it. You didn’t feel too bad about it; the way you saw it, you’d dodged a massive bullet.

She’s four now, and finally able to go to daycare without issue. You finally have more time to yourself. Thankfully, your job wasn’t that demanding, but it paid you well. You were content with what you had. Your daughter, a good job. You feel like you don’t really need anything else.

You’ve been single for a really, really long time. After your last heartbreak, you weren’t exactly out and about, seeking anything out. Deep down, you craved something real. Something actually substantial; that feeling that you’re with the one.

You’d met her at a work dinner. She radiated opulence, something that usually repelled you. Not this time. Maybe it was something else about her. Something in your subconscious, the work of an alternate universe, just something pulling the two of you together.

She’d sidled up to you, sly smile spread on her face.

The rest was history.

Rather to your disappointment, she’d kept you after your first time together and told you you were strictly fuck buddies. Nothing more. Despite being let down, you thought it best.

Time passed. You started off slow, seeing each other every so often. Then, you’d see her whenever physically possible. Not just to enjoy yourselves, but you spend time with each other. You found yourselves curled together, cuddling on the couch while she went through emails.

She’d admitted that she’d just come out of a messy relationship, much like you. You find that you’re both extremely similar; you’re both driven, ambitious. You feel at home with her. You feel so relaxed. You hope she feels the same, but you know she doesn’t. You’re strictly a fling to her- nothing more.

At least, you thought so.

You have one of these conversations when you’re sprawled out on her couch, her leaning against the doorway to her bedroom.

“Listen,” she begins, arms crossed over her chest.

“What is it, Siobhan?” you ask, smirk playing on your lips. She huffs, a cute pout developing on her face. “Ants in your pants?”

“What… What does that even mean? Never mind that. Fucking weirdo,” she mutters, before continuing. “I just want to make something clear. You and I aren’t an item. I’m free to see other people, same as you. No hard feelings or anything. I’m just living, you know?”

You shrug. “We’ve had this conversation before.” From your perspective, it looks like she’s trying to put distance between the two of you. “If you don’t want to see me anymore, just say so. Like you keep saying, no hard feelings.”

Shiv’s nose wrinkles. “What? No, I still want to see you. You’re the best sex I’ve ever had.”

You laugh. “I’m strictly pleasure, huh?”

She opens her mouth to say something, then presses her lips together. “Yeah, you are.”

You roll your eyes. “Whatever you say.” You push yourself into an upright position. “You know you like me more than that.”

Shiv turns away from you, flipping you off over her shoulder.

One night, your daughter’s staying the night with a relative. You go to see Shiv, and to your surprise, she invited you to stay the night.

You’re curled together in bed, rather domestically, you think, her head tucked into the crook of your neck. She lightly presses kisses along your skin, leaving spots wet and red. Not that you minded at all.

“We should do something tomorrow,” she mumurs to you.

“Like what? Fuck again?” you ask, feeling her fingers trace up your hip, up your side.

“I dunno. Maybe. But something else. Something fun. I need a break from work, and I want good company.”

“What happened to strictly pleasure?” you tease, shifting so that she’s draped on top of you.

“Nothing,” she mumbles. “We can still have fun outside of fucking.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Mhm,” she hums into your neck, leg coming around your waist. Bare skin on bare skin- you feel like you’re in heaven. Your hand finds her ass, helping her adjust and get comfortably. You also can’t stop yourself from giving it a small squeeze, eliciting a rare giggle from Shiv.

“Can’t. My girl has a birthday party tomorrow. It’s a whole fucking dusk-til-dawn ordeal.”

Abruptly, she sits up, squinting at you.

“You’re seeing someone else?” she asks incredulously, brow furrowing.

“What? No, my daughter. Didn’t I tell you?”

She pulls herself off of you completely. “A daughter? Like, a human child?”

You nod slowly. “She’s four.”

“You didn’t fucking tell me that!”

Now you’re also sitting up. “What, is that going to change things?”

Shiv slides off the bed, pulling a robe on. “Yes, it changes things!”

You scoff. “Does it really?”

“You kept something so massive from me! How can I keep seeing you? What else would you be hiding?”

“You’re serious? You’re being serious?” When she gives no response, making her way into the bathroom, you pull your previously strewn clothes on from off the floor. “What’s your fucking deal? You do nothing but insist you can never see me than more than sex, so what’s the problem?” you shout bitterly.

“Fuck off!” is the only response.

You let her do whatever it is she’s doing in the bathroom and gather your things. She’s being ridiculous, and any sort of feelings you’d caught for her are painfully ripped from your chest. You call an Uber, and before you know it, you’re back home.

You’re angry, confused, upset.

Your phone pings with a message.

where’d you go?

fucked off, like you asked.

wtf?

why wouldn’t you tell me something like that?

i thought i did

besides, what’s it matter to you? you want nothing to do with me outside of being your fuck buddy

that’s not something you keep from people

you’re being fucking insane

Shiv doesn’t respond to you after.

You can’t harp on it for long. You have shit to do. Your daughter gets dropped off the next morning, and you greet her with a kiss and a hug. When you smile at her over the counter while you scramble eggs, she frowns.

She sees the smile doesn’t reach your eyes.

“Why’s Mommy sad?” She rests her head on her little hands, glancing up at you, doe eyes soft and concerned.

“Oh, nothing.”

Her frown deepens. “Why won’t you tell me? I want to help Mommy.”

You sigh, scraping eggs into her tiny bowl before setting it in front of her with a fork. She begins eating, cautious to chew with her mouth close like you so often remind her. “Well,” you say carefully, “Mommy’s having issues with a friend.”

“Is It making you sad?” she asks around a mouthful of egg.

“Chew with your mouth shut, you little piggy,” you say playfully, reaching over to pinch her cheek. “And it does,” you add a moment later, rather deflated.

Your daughter wriggles out of her chair, small feet pattering against your hardwood floors as she rounds the counter to wrap your arms around you where she could reach. Your hand immediately goes to her head and strokes gently, and you can’t help but smile.

“It’s sad when my friends don’t want to play. I’ll play with you instead!”

You lean down to plant a kiss on her hairline. “Thank you, cutie. You’re such a sweet girl.” She grins up at you, arms stretching up above her head. Getting the point, you stoop over and hoist her up into your arms, her giggling all the while.

𖥔 ݁ ˖

Siobhan Roy could only take two days away from you. To be clear, you’d never actually had her over at your place. It just felt inappropriate, what with your daughter and all.

She does, however, know where you work.

You can’t remember how it came up in conversation, but it did, and you were sure it did because she was standing outside your office, hands clasped behind her back. You wave her in, trying to not let anything show on your face.

Wordlessly, she sets a square, velvet box onto your desk in front of you.

“I remember you talking about how your favorite bracelet broke,” Shiv says quietly, almost ashamed. “It’s not the same, but it’s something.”

Hesitantly, you reach for the box and thumb off the lid. The bracelet is gorgeous- she’s noticed which metal you wore and got you an awfully expensive, much nicer, much more durable version of the bracelet you’d accidentally snapped when it snagged on a zipper of your daughter’s clothing.

“What’s this for?” you ask nonchalantly. You don’t plan on accepting it after the pointless argument you’d had. She’d made it painfully clear that the two of you would never actually be anything serious. Any reminder of her just made your chest hurt. It’s a deep rooted issue of yours, and you know it. You’d been so agonizingly lonely all your life. You yearned for connection, something real, something pure. Everything you tried, every relationship attempted, it all ended the exact same way. They found someone better, they discarded you, you went back home broken hearted.

“Um, for you.”

“Mm.” You’re not really paying attention, but you catch her shutting the blind to the door in your periphery. You’ve never really seen her like this before, all jittery and nervous. She sits in one of the chairs facing your desk and folds her hands into her lap. “Can I help?” you ask stiffly.

“You’re fucking gorgeous,” she blurts, pausing before she continues. “I really, really want you. Not just physically. Fuck, that’s not what this is about. I’m sorry that that’s what we keep making this about.”

“What you keep making this about,” you correct, leaning back into your chair. She bites back a retort, you can tell. “Sorry. Can’t help it.”

Shiv takes a steadying breath, and for a moment, you feel a bit bad for pushing her buttons. “I… I want to commit. To you.”

“Where’d this come from?”

Her gaze flickers from you to her lap then back to you again. “I don’t… I don’t know. It’s just, some nights you’d leave, and I wouldn’t feel detached. I’d miss you. I do miss you. You… you make everything around me better, you make it brighter.” She looks back down, fiddling with her own fingers. “I was just too stupid and self absorbed to see it. And scared. Fucking horrified.”

You don’t know what to say for a while. “You’re suspiciously self-aware,” you say hoarsely, not quite believing what you’d heard.

She can tell. “I’m so fucking serious. I’m past the point of just wanting you for your body.”

You reach back for the box, feeling up the delicate bracelet. “So how do you want to do this? We have shit to sort out if we want this to work,” you reply.

Shiv shrugs. “Just let me try.”

“If we do this, I want you to take this seriously,” you say lowly. “I won’t fucking stand for it if I catch you still going out with other people. If we’re together, we’re together.”

She laughs, an airy, mirthless sound. “I stopped seeing other people the fourth time you came over. I’m yours, already. Mind, body, soul. I can’t stop thinking about you. You’re just so..,” she trails off, gesturing vaguely at you.

“Can I ask you something?”

She looks up at you attentively. “Always. I’m an open book.”

“Why’d you overreact?”

She pauses. “I don’t think I did.”

You sigh. “Nothing’s going to work if you keep going like that.”

“You didn’t tell me,” she insists. “That’s something important.”

“Siobhan, I was under the impression I was just a good fuck. Regardless of if I told you or not, what would that have changed?”

She chews on the inside of her cheek, averting her eyes. She takes a moment to think. “I think I was too in my head,” she admits. “In my head, we’re already the cutest girlfriends. And then you tack on your daughter, and I don’t want to just… ignore her, you know? I guess it was just, you know, reality hitting me. And me realizing that I didn’t really care that you have a kid. I want… I want to be with you, to help with her.”

You can feel the heat rushing to your face, your gaze locked with hers. “I… I don’t know what to say. That’s… a lot, Shiv.”

“Just… promise you’ll think about it?” she asks, uncharacteristically nervous.

You shake your head. “No, no. I already know what I want.”

Abruptly, you push yourself up from your chair and quickly round the desk. You brace your knee on the cushion of Shiv’s chair, right by her thigh, and take her jaw and crash your lips against hers. It’s your first real kiss, one not just thrown around during sex, and it’s rough, needy.

She responds the minute your mouths connect, kissing you back with an equal fervor. You deepen the kiss, your other hand fluttering to her chin to tip her head back. She makes a happy, contented noise, lips working against yours. Her hands are braced on your torso, just above your hips. Her fingers scrabble for purchase on the fabric of your clothing.

When she pulls away, her lips are slightly puffed up. Yours probably look the same, and you can’t help but smile at the thought. Shiv’s hands drift down to your waist, letting her fingers trace mindless patterns into your skin.

“You’re very pretty,” she murmurs up to you. “Especially when you’re all worked up like this.”

Your smile splits into a grin and you push off her chair. “Asshole.”

“What did I say?” she exclaims, expression matching yours. “I was just praising my sweet, gorgeous girl.”

“I never agreed to you calling me that,” you point out, going to perch on the edge of your desk. Her face falls, and you scramble to recover. “I’m just saying,” you amend quickly, “that I want you to ask me. For real.”

Shiv gets out of her seat, trapping you where you sit, planting her hands on either side of yours and keeping her eyes focused on yours. “Will you be my girlfriend? Can I be your girlfriend?”

“On one condition,” you say, smile playing on your lips.

She fakes a pout, her face only inches away from yours. You lean forward, brushing your lips against hers. “No silly shit.”

“Of course not.” She lets out a breath, and you can feel it stutter along your skin. “I’m all for you. I don’t know what it is, I just know I’m all fucking yours.”

𖥔 ݁ ˖

Life is easy after you and Shiv get together.

Your ridiculous fight is forgotten, and she’s the most perfect, most attentive lover. The first half-year is a dream. She brings you gifts, invites you over if your daughter is with other family, texts you day in and day out. When she’s not working, she’s pacing your office, talking your ear off about a show she’d begrudgingly watched without you, catching you up to speed so you could watch together the minute you could.

As time continues to leak away from you, the flowers and jewelry keep arriving to your doorstep. She adores spoiling you rotten- she never lets you say anything about it.

But then, the gifts start coming in pairs. One for you, one for your daughter.

A toy kitchenette, a play vanity, princess dresses and heels, play makeup. Shiv hasn’t met her yet, but it doesn’t stop her. As you near and suddenly pass your one year anniversary, you realize you’re so head over heels for Siobhan and you see no future without her in it.

For the first time in your relationship, you bring her home with you.

She hovers behind you as you unlock the door. “What happens if she doesn’t like me?” she asks nervously, voice barely below a whisper.

“Baby, once she realizes you’re the one pay rolling her fantasy Barbie world, she’d kill me in exchange for you.” Before you open the door, you look over your shoulder at her. “Besides, she’d love you regardless.”

Since your daughter is five now, she’s finally started school. It hurt you physically watching her grow and having her leave every day. Shiv had been by your side every single day, wiping away your tears and helping with errands even though you were perfectly capable.

“The bus comes at one?” she asks, following you inside.

You hum your yes, going to make your daughter her afternoon snack as Shiv tentatively sits on the couch, crossing her socked feet under her.

Before you know it, the place is filled with both their giggles as Siobhan Roy whirls your daughter around as if she were an airplane.

𖥔 ݁ ˖

You watch as Shiv sits, cross legged, threading flowers into your daughter’s hair. “You’ll be the prettiest flower girl to walk the aisle,” she murmurs, eliciting a giddy laugh from your daughter.

You’d both forgone the entire first look thing. You want to get ready together, spend time together. It felt more intimate, it brought you even closer together. Once your daughter’s hair was done and she’d ran out of the bridal suite, gone out to play, Shiv comes over to you, silk robe clinging to her body.

“I know I’m not supposed to give you this yet,” she says, turning a beautiful, dainty ring with her fingers. “But I wanted to show you it. I’m just so proud.”

She takes your hand, stroking your knuckles, and holds the ring so you can see an engravement on it’s inner part.

Mind, body, soul.

#siobhan roy #shiv roy #succession #succession hbo #succession fic #wambsgansshoelaces #succession x reader #shiv roy oneshot #shiv roy x fem!reader #siobhan roy x reader #shiv roy x reader #wlw

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redrobin-detective · 1 year

Text

The Least Demonic Demon

More m!ik theorizing time! This time on Delkira’s wish for his successor to the demon throne. We’ve seen very little of the former demon king but we can infer that he was powerful, selfish, feckless and while he was able to take control of the Netherworld he seemed largely uninterested in maintaining it. This seems par for the course for a lot of demons we’ve seen, who are about strength and action but sometimes lack the resolve to see things through. Enter humanity

We know Sullivan was one of Delkira’s closest advisors and thus would have been aware if his master was dabbling in the human world. It’s unknown if the separation of human and demon occurred before or after Delkira’s disappearance but I think it’s fairly clear he was interested in humans. I think he had grown bored of trying to control the Netherworld and was preparing to abandon his post. But he knew what he wanted out of his successor and laid out tests to locate them.

I believe Delkira left this prophecy to help guide who would be the new Demon King, one who was strong enough to control the Netherworld but kind and attentive enough to heal it and it keep it together. The bit about the foreign land is his subtle way of saying that he expected this candidate would be a human or some other non-demonic entity. And the final part of the prophecy.

Remember the Rank Owl decided who got what rank based off of how they did in the flying race. The one where Iruma was at a maximum disadvantage but not only was able to survive but he healed an injured demon, saved Sabroc and got them both to the finish line safely. The Rank Owl probably had that ring hidden in its pouch for years waiting for the one worthy to wield it. The ring has his energy infused in it but I see it as less a possession and more like a blessing, like ‘this one you idiots!’ Iruma filled all these qualities which is why it attached to him and didn’t bother with a rank. The Demon King doesn’t need ranks.

We see another example of these tests in the Harvest Festival with the collecting of the Legendary Leaf which requires dedication, creativity, cooperativeness with multiple demons. Not something demons are good at, thus the object-

This is only Babyls festival, I’m sure each of the other demon schools had their own unique human oriented tests that no one had passed before.The whole point is Delkira is leaving tests and little clues behind as to who should inherit his throne. Its very clear he wanted someone different from the usual demonic powerhouse.

How does Sullivan come into this? I think he knew of Delkira’s intent to disappear and that he wanted a human to succeed him. I’ve seen people comment that it was odd that Sullivan, as a high ranking demon, was called to the summoning by Iruma’s parents. I believe its because he’s answered many, many summons since Delkira left, searching for the appropriate candidate. But the human who are summoning demons, they’re often fairly demonic themselves and don’t fit the bill. Rinse and repeat over hundreds of years until the Suzukis offer up their teenage son as collateral. A boy who has survived undo hardship since a young age, who is kind, compassionate and personable. And then he realized he’d found his king.

I’m always a fan of the trope of a mentor takes a student for purely practical reasons and ends up genuinely loving their charge.

These two panels are obviously meant to parallel one another but look at Sullivan’s expression and posture in the second. Could be art changes yes but he also just so much more genuine in his affection for Iruma. The first looks like a servant bowing before their lord. The second looks like a family being so grateful to have the other in their life.

This is getting so long so! To summarize! Delkira, planning to abandon the Netherworld tasked his loyal servant with finding a human to assume his throne. To ensure the proper candidate was found, he left clues and tests behind to point the way to the prophecy he wrote and make sure that the individual was truly worthy. And so far Iruma has been far exceeding expectations.

#welcome to demon school iruma kun #mairimashita! iruma kun #m!ik spoilers #so much of what iruma has been through seems like a test #something a capricious king would do when choosing his successor #to ensure that only the least demonic demon would take his place #and he wanted that demon to not even be a demon but a human #delkira is probably in a denny's right now like 'gee I wonder if sullivan found a human to replace me yet?'

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shuchu · 2 years

Note

Could I request 9 from the nsfw prompt list for Ike please?

*°:⋆ₓₒ first time with ike ｡.｡:+*

shuchu’s 100 follower event ♡

prompt: “is it good when i touch you here, or maybe here?”

warnings: NSFW content, minors dni ; fem-bodied!reader

author notes: i decided to write for a fem-bodied reader because for this scenario, that's what i feel the most confident writing for, i hope that’s okay (/_＼) thank you anon for participating in the event and i hope that this was to your liking (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡ as usual, feel free to leave some feedback and/or send in requests! decorative divider credit to: @/mykaesu on twt *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

enjoy lovelies! ♡

ike’s eyes widen at your request, he had been sitting in his little booth, working away until you walked in announcing that you wanted him to take your virginity.

“a-are you sure älskling? this is ehm…pretty out of the blue…” he chuckles nervously.

you look into ike’s eyes and say firmly, “yeah i’m sure, i’ve been thinking about this for a while. we’ve been dating for almost 2 years now ike, i trust you and i love you, which is why i wanted you to be my first.”

ike swallows nervously and takes a deep breath.

you watch ike’s actions and doubts arise in your head, “baby, if you’re not ready, that’s fine with me too, i can wait.”

ike looks at you and rolls his chair forward so that he can be right in front of you, he takes both your hands into his and looks at you tenderly. “no my love, it’s not that i’m not ready. it’s your first time and i guess ehm…i just want it to be perfect for you because that’s what you deserve. i’m a little worried about being able to do that for you.”

you smile and shake your head, “ikey, it doesn’t have to be perfect, as long as it’s you, i’m happy.”

ike lifts your hands up to his lips, kissing the back of each hand once. he then smiles and stands up, “shall we, my love?” at that, you stand up as well and the both of you head to the bedroom.

you crawl onto the bed and lay down while ike shuts the door behind him. once the bedroom door is closed, ike joins you on the bed and gently kisses you, taking his time before trailing kisses to your jaw, down to your neck. he pulls away briefly to say, “if at any point you want me to stop, just tell me okay?”

you nod and he goes back to peppering kisses all over your neck, as he’s giving your neck attention, his hands start moving up and down your sides, making you lean more into his touch

ike gently tugs at the hem of your shirt, asking for permission to take it off, you oblige and pull it over your head, throwing it to the side of the room. ike then continues his ministrations on your neck while his hands reach up to your chest. ike leans back and cups your tits, massaging them gently. you moan softly, feeling a growing pressure in your nether regions.

“is it good when i touch you here? or maybe here?” one of ike’s hands slowly trail down, finding it’s way into your shorts and in between your legs to your bundle of nerves, slowly rubbing it through the thin fabric.

you moan a little louder and squint your eyes open, “a-ahh! y-yes that feels s-so good! ah! yes! touch me more ike!”

“would you like to take these off then älskling?” ike tugs at the waistband of your shorts.

you wanted ike to keep touching you so you take them off hastily and fling it off to the side. ike places his hand back where it was before and started rubbing it a little faster. “oh fuck, y-yes baby! f-faster please! ah-!”

ike, getting a little impatient himself, pulls your panties to the side and rubs your bare pussy, all hot and throbbing from the attention it’s receiving. your eyes roll back and you arch your back from the pleasure coursing through your body.

“b-baby, i-i’m gonna- ah! it f-feels so- good!” you’re stuttering over your words, struggling to speak as you were getting close to your climax.

“let it all out my love, i’ve got you.” ike coos and he leans down to leave sloppy kisses all over your chest, taking a nipple in his mouth and sucking on it.

that was what tipped you over the edge, you arch your back, moaning ike’s name as your cum coats the tip of ike’s fingers. as you come down from your high, you drop your back down onto the bed and open your eyes slowly, you see ike looking at you as he takes his fingers into his mouth sucking your cum off his fingertips.

“mmm…you taste good sweetheart. i hope you don’t mind me having more." ike says with a smirk.

#ike eveland #ike eveland drabble #ike eveland x reader #ike eveland x you #ike eveland smut #shuchu 100 event ♡#nijisanji en #luxiem #luxiem x reader #luxiem x you #luxiem smut

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aehyei · 2 years

Note

i saw you were bored so here am i to ask something 😁 could you please do something (idk if its angst or not) with mark and fem reader where they're arguing about something and then he yells at her (something triggering or not) after that he realizes what he has done and try to fix the things between them

ik it's very specific but i REALLY love readind this stuff, thanks!!

OF LIES AND WRONGS

when mark wants to be proven wrong.

PAIRING: mark lee x reader

GENRE: angst, fluff at the end (?)

WC: 2.040k

WARNINGS: panic attacks, heartbreaks, mark’s kind of an asshole???, mentions of cheating, tbh their relationship seems toxic bestie, cuss words

AUTHOR’S NOTES: HI BAEE sorry for the late reply😭😭 but i hope you enjoy this!!! also you beauties are worth more then u think you are and if someone does not see that leave em.

“YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND!”

“What? What don’t I understand!? Fuck, Y/n, I work day and night for our future and when I come home you’re tangled arms with my best friend? My fucking best friend.” Boyfriend!Mark Lee outbursts, his eyes all blurry from anger or betrayal—he really couldn’t pinpoint the difference right now. All he sees is red.

“Please, Mark, listen to me.” You plead, not being any better than him. Everything was happening too fast and you were scared the situation might get out of hand then it already is. “Please, it was just a misunderstanding. Donghyuck didn’t mean any harm, he was just—”

“—They warned me about you.” Mark didn’t even let you finish. His glare was cold and his voice was deep. You stopped talking and stared back at him silently, heart dropping.

“What…what do you mean?”

“They said you only used me for money. I didn’t want to believe it. Shit. How can I be so blind?”

“Y-You…you think I used you?” You were hurt, a look of disbelief flashing through your eyes, “Is that what you think of me?”

“You should’ve told me the truth.” Mark was too blinded by his own pain to realize his mistake. He spat those words as if he meant them, and he did. He meant them more than anything.

It was useless trying to explain to him, you realized. He would never listen to you. But still, the memories you two used to share kept holding you back. With a small hope in your heart, you shakingly reached for his hand.

But Mark pulled away from you harshly, his action only breaking your heart more.

“I wished I never loved you.”

You let out a soft scoff, still frozen in place. A shaky sob erupted from your throat and then the tears you were trying to ignore came out flowing. Why wouldn’t he listen? You’d always understand him, letting him explain, but why can’t he do the same for you? It was like the filters of life were suddenly stripped down and you were forced to watch the cruel reality.

He thinks of you of someone else.

“Mark, I love you.” You breathed out, voice unstable from all the overwhelming emotions drowning you. “And I will never stop doing so. But if you want to let go of all we’ve been through, if you’re doubting me over something so simple…”

“Just leave. Please.” Mark didn’t look at you. He just couldn’t. He bought a hand to rub his jaw and exhaled shakily, squeezing his eyes shut when he heard the front door close. When he was all alone, in the apartment where you both used to do everything together, he broke down and tried to cover his ears to stop the mocking voices in his head.

“Y/n?”

Just by Haechan’s voice, you started to cry once again. The boy’s eyes softened before wrapping an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to his warm body. “What’s wrong? Where’s Mark?”

You couldn’t bring yourself to reply, but you shook your head repeatedly, gripping tightly on his shirt until your knuckles turned white. It was only when Haechan understood.

“I’m going to kill him.”

“No, no, please,” You manage to choke out, “Please, it wasn’t his fault.”

“Y/n, are you fucking with me right now? It’s fucking snowing and you’re just wearing pajamas. Where’s the shithead when you need him?” Haechan spat, full of rage and worry. He pulled you in and closed the door, repeatedly caressing your arms in a way to warm you up.

“H-He broke up with me, Donghyuck.”

“What? Why?” Haechan’s jaw dropped as he asked in a harsh whisper. You pulled away from him and tried to calm yourself down to speak properly, but Mark’s words kept messing up with you. “He saw your coat—you left it last night by the couch. He asked why it was there, a-and I tried to tell him but he just a-assumed w-we were…”

“Shit.”

“I don’t know what to do. I tried to explain, but he wouldn’t listen.” You started to hyperventilate, your breath shortening and your chest tightening. It felt like someone was punching the oxygen out of your lungs and everything was blurry.

Haechan immediately jumped into action, cupping your cheeks and making you stare back into his eyes. “Hey, hey, look at me. Just me. Listen to my voice. Yeah, just like that. Breathe in, breathe out. You’re doing an amazing, good job, I’m so proud of you. That’s right, just focus on me.”

When you calmed down a bit, Haechan squeezed your shoulder and tried to hide the fact that he too, was angry, but you could see the rage circling his dark orbs.

“Please don’t hurt him…”

“He hurt you.”

You closed your eyes, opening your mouth to speak but no words came out. Mark Lee did hurt you and you had no excuse for that. But you know he’s hurting too.

“Does he even know why I came over yesterday?” Haechan tried to keep his voice stable. And when you shook your head, his anger only flared more. “Does he at least know about your panic attacks?”

And you shook your head again.

“Fuck, Y/n,” he cursed, running his fingers through his hair, “I want to make him pay.”

Three weeks.

It’s been three weeks since he told you to leave. But still, despite the anger and betrayal, Mark still found himself staring by the door, waiting and hoping you’d come back.

You didn’t.

“You can’t expect her to come running back to you right after you chased her out, hyung.” Jeno sighed, catching the older man’s undivided attention. “She cheated on me. I don’t want her to come back.” Mark lied, knowing fully well what he truly wanted.

“Did she tell you that?”

“What?”

“Did Y/n tell you she cheated?”

That question made Mark blank out for a moment before he snapped back into reality and shook his head. “Well, s-she wasn’t clear on it. All she said was Haechan came by and something, something—she was stammering all over and breathing heavily. When I asked what they did, she answered he hugged her. Then I snapped.”

Jeno observed him and hummed, smacking his lips together. “Did she look guilty? Scared? Surprised?”

“Hurt. She looked hurt.” Mark whispered, your trembling lips and teary eyes still haunting him.

“Did you let her explain?”

That stunned Mark. He furrowed his eyebrows and opened his mouth, realizing that he never let you explain in the first place. “I-I don’t think so…but the stammering and she was panicking. I assumed it meant she was guilty? I don’t know, man. I just snapped.”

“Hyung,” Jeno exhaled, “Haechan has been your best friend ever since daycare. Do you really think he’s the type to steal your girl? The key to every relationship is communication, and maybe that’s what you and Y/n had missed.”

“She’s not here.”

Mark almost winced at Haechan’s tone of voice and he did look down at his feet in shame, even if he didn’t know why. “What happened that day?”

“Oh, so now you want to listen?” Haechan scoffed, “You had three weeks, Mark. Three fucking weeks. Where were you when she needed you most? Where were you when she was crying your name? Huh?”

“You were there though.”

Haechan licked his lips, analyzing how much of a mess Mark looked. There was a bittersweet message behind those sentences. “I’m not the one she loves. You know that. I can’t give you the answers you want, because it is not my business either. You know where she is, I know you do.”

Mark's lips trembled, then he buried his cold fingers on the pockets of his coat. He turned around to leave as Haechan was right, he does know where you are. It’s where you two promised to be whenever one felt lost.

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

“Hey, someone’s here for you.”

“Huh?” You confusingly look up to your coworker. She shrugged, “I don’t know. But he said it’s important or something. Go, I’ll cover for you.”

With furrowed eyebrows, you smile at the children you volunteered to take care of and clasped your hands together. “Guys! I’ll be right back. While I’m gone, no fighting, okay? I’ll get those snacks I promised!”

The children cheered then continued to paint while your coworker attended to the little girl having trouble mixing purple and pink. You exit the room, wiping your tinted hands on your apron and loosely tying your hair while walking outside to the playground just in front of the daycare.

When you were able to take a glimpse of a familiar coat, you froze.

Mark slowly turned around to face you, his eyes immediately scanning your figure. You’ve grown thinner and paler, he noticed and couldn’t help but let worry fill his heart. Then he remembered you were still a meter away from him, so he stepped forward, eyes meeting yours.

“How’s the children?”

“They’re…painting.” You reply breathlessly, not understanding a thing. You shook your head and stepped back when he went closer. “W-What are you doing here? I thought you didn’t want to do anything with me. I thought—”

“Please tell me I was wrong. That whatever I thought happened didn't happen.” Mark pleaded, looking down. He sniffled and looked up to meet your beautiful eyes once again, a tear leaving his. “I want you to prove me wrong—no, I want to be wrong.”

“Mark…”

“Please.”

You let out a shaky exhale, the hurtful memories from three weeks ago mocking you once again. But you pushed this aside and carefully placed a hand on his arm, gently dragging him with you inside the daycare.

----------

“Apple juice?” You asked, handing him a box. Mark’s widened eyes were stuck on the juice then back at you before hesitantly reaching for one. “Thank you.”

You gave him a small smile and poked your straw on yours, taking one sip. “I know you've been busy lately, with work literally being an ass and everything so I tried to not add to your burden. I want you to feel relaxed whenever you come home—I want you to feel that it’s alright to take a break whenever I’m around.”

He slightly flinched but didn’t show any more reaction other than drinking on his apple juice.

“You do know about my panic attacks, right?”

“I do.” Mark breathed out, afraid of what he was about to hear next but a bigger part of him was somehow grateful. Maybe it really wasn’t what he thought it was.

“I had another one recently.” You bitterly chuckled, biting your lip. “I couldn’t breathe that day, and I was all alone at home. I wanted to call you, I really do, but I remember how stressed you already are at work. So I called Hyuck.”

“And…you two hugged?”

“I guess it was his way to calm me down. He was too focused to ever realize that he left his coat.” You shrug, hands starting to shake. You tried to stop them but Mark had already placed his hand on top of yours, both of you sharing an eye contact that holds more than words could ever tell.

“I tried to explain…”

“I know. I’m sorry. I’m the worst.” Mark gently pulled you to his side, making your head rest by his shoulder. “I should’ve listened to you, I should’ve understood. But I pushed you away. Shit, I’m such an idiot. The worst of them all.”

“You said you believed them.” You whispered, eyes already starting to sting too. Mark shook his head and placed his lips on the top of your head, closing his eyes in pure content of having you in his arms once again.

“I lied.”

“You’re such a great liar.”

“I love you.” Mark pulled away from you just to softly peck your lips. “I love you and I will always be there for you. I will never let you go ever again. Just, please, don’t hide from me anymore. We’ll talk everyday, we’ll talk about everything.”

“Yeah, I’d like that.” You nodded your head, smiling when he connected both your foreheads together.

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bitepoint · 1 day

Note

hiii <3 so ik we’ve never spoken before but can you elaborate on that mini multiverse circle jerk post (pls my mind is going brrrrrr every time I try to conceive of such scenarios bc ummmm hot) anyway, luv ur stuff ::)))))

oHhh i am here i am standing at attention and reporting 4 duty all at once o7. i saw your tags earlier too and they made me so happy so also thank yoU n hello hehe

its just,,, the circle jerk thing works so well in any regimented type setting and/or for characters who went through that. i went a little crazy over this .

circle jerk + chris redfield

18+. chris x gn!reader. 1.5k^. circle jerk (vhs tape assisted), exhibitionism, voyeurism, chris is so . fucking cooked over u in this

chris redfield who’s still in his air force years, long enough by now that the CO-speared brow-beatings’ve gotten more overt, half-tempered by his hefty commendations, ones that keep him toeing the line in their ‘good graces’ — a misstep or two away from the threat of a court martial.

word spreads around, because of course it does. speculation that’s sparse on context means he’s been hearing ‘redfield’ more often these days from peers on top of superiors, even by some who’d gotten around to calling him by his given name first, before.

not you, though. no, never you. you still call him ‘chris’, same as ever, same as when he first met you, and you do it even now when he can barely acknowledge you back with a call of your name — all ‘cause his heart’s got this habit of kicking up into his throat when he hasn’t geared up to see you around. his shoulders have a habit of sitting a little stiffer, at attention from the presence but never the same type of discomfort from starched hierarchy and bad decisions. doesn't know what to do with them. doesn’t know what to do with his hands, either.

he hadn’t meant to find you. not here, and not in this.

in some backroom back at base, once dusk had already set but no call for lights out had been given, that he walks into, light-stepped and unassuming. a scattering of thread-bare armchairs and beanbags rested near the worn couch you’re laying back on, arm thrown over the back.

you’re facing away from him, technically, from the door the same way most seats are — because they’re all faced, semi-circle scattered, towards the shitty pull-out TV at the furthest-back wall, VHS grain and color-bleed providing the dim light that filters through the room in light washes. most are occupied. some type of gathering, maybe spontaneous maybe not, faces he knows and ones he doesn’t among the dozen or fewer men in the room.

it'd be almost intimate if it weren't simultaneously impersonal, the way they're watching the screen or each other — some crowded close together on the same seating intended only for one, and some apart, pressed only along the seams of their thighs or the leather of the same standard-issue boots.

most unlaced and unbuckled, though, states of undress below dangling belts or with a shirt pulled up to rest a few inches above the waist, cocks flush in the low-light held in slow hands or lying heavy against their abdomens — pre gleaming each time the old tape, garden variety home porn contraband, cuts to a different shot of the couple christening their furniture and each other.

feels heat creep all over him, a desiccated throat as his jaw works slow over the processing. the door's kept ajar by the part of him that'd leaned into the room shoulder-first, one boot in and one out — but chris' big enough that it matters, on the treshold between here and there. he's never seen himself as the brightest, nor dimmest, and he can't consider much of anything when your head turns over your shoulder and your eyes meet. can't really read you, not that he ever could, but he thinks he spots a slight surprise at… him being there? maybe his existence?

and then other eyes in the room flit over to him, slow, and take notice too. he meets them, fleeting and a little uneasy, before they return to yours. can't decide whether to double-down or— you grin, a little lop-sided, before he makes up his mind to shift his weight onto his back leg and step down. down, and away from this.

"chris?" his name again, from you. soft-spoken enough that it doesn't draw much attention despite the tease in your eye, and your head tilts towards him, "planning to stand out there all night, or…?"

he might be half gone up there, revisits the memory of a near forced suspension for supposed insubordination and wonders whether he should've taken the out when it was given. a sound mind is half the job, but he steps into that room with a slow-drawn inhale and the door leaned shut by instinct. all because of you and his name and your easy smile.

the only spot rests on the couch next to you, and he's slowly made aware of the way it’s your domain alone to keep. the only person in the room, himself excluded, without their trousers pushed half-down or hands kept otherwise fulfilled is you. he settles in, considerate enough not to drop his weight down, to your right — all too aware of the right arm you keep draped across the back, and the way you seem a little too warm even at the modest distance between you, the soft moans on recording in the background.

you don't fuss over him, instead leaning your head back to keep watching the tape, and he settles, somewhat. somewhat. lets curious eyes wander. glances, at first, like the kind where you expect blow-back on getting caught out — red-handed in the cookie jar. state of undress is nothing new, not really, not here. there’s more to worry about than modesty in the service, he doesn’t really make it a habit to stop and take in the sights when some guy drops his drawers in the changing rooms. this isn’t the same as quick showers and rushing your way out of the barracks, though. it’s not the same when he thinks about you, instead of some faceless stand-in.

it’s not the same, not at all, not with the way he’s watching them, both unknown, sliding his cock in and out of her, hands large and heavy on the hips up on the screen; the way he can hear hitched breaths around him, a low exhale and a few sharp inhales, the soft slide of fists over cocks — slick and slow, or lingering to tease the head; the way he keeps thinking about you and the reality that you’re here, thigh pressing along the seam of his from the weight distribution of the couch, the dip in the middle because he hadn’t had the foresight to sit further away from you at some corner near the armrest. his cock throbs, aching, against the stiff stretch of his trousers, leg kept stiff where it touches yours.

chris doesn’t realise you’re watching until he takes the risk, the glance, caught-red handed at the way your head is tilted, lazy, eyes drawn to the thick bulge of his crotch and outline marked by his cock.

his pulse is in his throat, heavy and thumping, when your eyes slide to his face and you notice his on you already. holds his breath when you lean in, as though privacy means anything here and he finds he’s grateful for the gesture, “this okay?”

he’s not the brightest, probably, maybe, but there’s some part of him that knows — maybe the same part that wants. won’t rise — risk — to question, and it’s not from practicing service, but from the fact that it’s you. he swallows thick.

the sound of his belt is deafening as he unfastens it, unhurried on the pretense of routine, unbuckling and unzipping his trousers with large hands. stifles any tremble. he frees his hard cock with the drag of a hand that pushes the layers down only as far as he needs, grips the thick base, supporting, length heavy as it lolls left and lazy.

there’s no breeze; the heat of the room drawn up enough by these parallel activities to bypass that first shiver, but it happens anyways at the way it seems to lean towards you and the way your eyes have their own single-minded focus, paying no mind to anything but chris and his cock. he lifts his hand, a cursory stroke to the top of the shaft before his thumb slides over the leaking head, and doesn’t miss the way your tongue swipes across your lip for a moment as you watch, unable to take his eyes off of you just the same.

his pulse is in his throat and his heart might spill out of it. it happens long before he's aware of it, when he feels the light press of your cheek to his left shoulder, muscle twitching when you ask, “this okay?”

breath hitches, and he can’t help the shutter of his eyes when you ask, again, balm over the tremor in his chest, “chris?”

exhales something shaky. tests the curl of his fist over his cock and strokes it, once, pre already loosening up the glide. stiffens a soft moan at the back of his throat, the pressure licking hot through him, abdomen tight. “yeah.” rolls his hand again and feels the press of your thigh along his, “fuck— yeah.’”

man his size, and he’s still considerate enough to try not to jostle you too much on his shoulder as he kicks up a slow rhythm, the press of your cheek to his delt enough to get him gone while he strokes himself with his right hand. his hand's just enough for the girth, and you wonder if yours would be, too. honest-to-god flinches a little when he feels your breath, an exhale that’s a little too cool to not be purposeful, across the tip of his wet cock.

he’ll blow his load too quick if you keep leaning on him like that. wonders if you know, if you like it, because you press a hand over his left thigh to keep his hips from chasing after the seal of his own fist, cock truly and well fucked on it, and it gets him that much closer despite his slowing down. for you. keeps his eyes on you, despite the fact that they don't often meet, and you have to know. because you have to know. you have to.

would you touch him, if he asked? can he ask? you dig into the meat of his thigh.

up, further than you’d been — close — the fat and muscle giving way before they tense, terse, and he moans, leaning his body towards yours on instinct, touch like a brand, and spilling hot and warm and heavy across his fist. keeps it pumping, throbbing cock drooling cum over a slowing fist and slick fingers, dripping down to the back of your palm as you rest it on his thigh, where it belongs.

#miss oranje disco dancer......... fellow klaasje enjoyer i see u #chris redfield x reader #chris redfield #resident evil #resident evil x reader #unspecified ranks w air force since chris / you are meant to have the same 1 dont look too closely #.writing tag

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imtooscaredforthis · 6 months

Text

Tethered

Part III- Chapter 30: Truth

Mentions of: Arguments, Smoking, Cheating, (sorta?), etc.

A/N: Finally an update, Ik lmao…I hope you enjoy!

Tags: @prettycutebunny @dead-bxxxtch-walking @mama-miya @vandeaad @moonshineinasippycup

“Are they fighting again?” Susie asked with a sigh, joining Joey on the swing set. “Yeah.”

Frank and Julie have been fighting much more often lately, and it’s made them awful to be around. Both were irritable, and would snap at each other, or Joey and Susie.

“Why do you think they’re fighting so much? I mean, they never fight, for the most part. They used to be so close and stuff. What do you think happened?”

“I have an idea, but..it’s dumb.” Joey murmured. Susie glanced over at him. “No, tell me. What is it?”

“I think…I think it might be (y/n). I mean, ever since she came along, Frank’s been acting all weird. And he did want to be alone with her, and Frank never wants to be alone with anyone outside the Legion. Something’s up.”

Susie furrowed her eyebrows. “But (y/n) didn’t do anything wrong. She just wanted to be my friend. To be our friend.”

“I’m not saying it’s her fault. It isn’t. It’s Frank. There’s something he’s hiding about her. I just know it.” Joey murmured.

The two were silent for a long while, before Joey got to his feet. “Where are you going?”

“I have a trial.” Was all he replied with. Susie watched with a frown as he left the playground, the soft sound of leaves crunching under his feet echoing around the abandoned neighborhood.

Now alone, she spent more time thinking. He did seem awfully irritated when he caught you spending time with her, but Susie just assumed that was because you were outside the circle. But when he wanted you alone with him that second time..that was weird.

And there was also that time where you brought up Frank being strangely nice to you and sparing you. Joey was right. She had to go talk to you.

—

“So have you started to remember anything from your past?” Susie couldn’t help but ask as the two of you now sat together in Haddonfield.

You moved back and forth on the swing set, staring at your feet. “Just some things here and there. The Entity actually helped a bit and gave me some things. Like my driver’s license. And I know I was a college student, studying to be a doctor before I got here. But that’s it. The rest is all foggy.”

“Well, at least you’re starting to remember.” She murmured, trying to focus on the positives. You sighed and smiled. “Yeah.”

“Anyways, it’s been a while since we’ve talked. Not since you guys totally ditched me and left me alone with Frank! That was such bullshit.” You remarked.

“I’m sorry! You know Joey and I can’t control when we have to leave, just like you!” She replied. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

“You didn’t die though, so that’s something right? What happened, anyway?” She asked.

“He was actually kind of nice to me? We just talked and stuff, and then he kicked me out.” You admitted.

“That’s so weird. Frank’s not nice to anyone..especially not outsiders. What did you do?”

“Nothing! ! I mean, I don’t think I did anything. I just treated him like I would treat you guys. I was friendly and polite and everything, even though he was making me feel really awkward and uncomfortable. Why? Did he say something?” You asked nervously.

“No, don’t worry about it.” She murmured. This was something she had to figure out on her own.

—

For once, it was quiet when Susie returned to the lodge. The smell of cigarette smoke lingered in the air, and she followed it to Frank’s room. She hesitated for a moment, before deciding to follow through and knock on the door.

“Yeah?” He sounded irritated. “It’s Susie, can I come in?”

After a moment of silence, there was the sound of wooden floorboards creaking, and feet padding against the floor. He opened the door, gazing over at her with a tired annoyed look. “What’s up?”

“I just want to talk. If you don’t want to, that’s fine. I can come back later.” She offered.

“Just come in already.” He stepped aside, letting her enter. She stood there nervously, watching as Frank shut the door behind him and put out a cigarette on the ashtray.

“It’s probably none of my business, but you and Julie have been fighting a lot. And I was just wondering if there’s a reason why, or if I can help resolve things?” She asked.

He shrugged. “Yeah, it is none of your business. You don’t need to solve anything. It’s not your problem.”

She frowned at that. Of course he was going to act like this, especially with how grumpy he was. Whatever, she was already here. There’s no point in turning back now.

“Well, it kinda is my problem, because it’s hard to live here when you and Julie are constantly arguing and screaming at each other.” She shot back. “And I think I know why. It’s (y/n), isn’t it? Ever since she’s been around, you’ve been acting all weird.”

“No it’s not. It’s none of your business, Susie. Cut it out.” He warned her.

Just when she was going to push him more, she noticed something. A notebook underneath his mattress. The moment his head was turned away from her, she swiped it.

“Okay, fine, whatever.” With that, she stormed off, shutting the door behind her and leaving Frank’s room. Once she was out, she ran over to her own room, shutting and locking the door, opening the notebook.

What she found inside shocked her.

Dear Frank,

I know we’re probably never going to see each other again and this whole thing is over, but I just want you to know that I still care about you, and I always will. I know you hate writing these things, but I think they’ll help you. It would mean a lot to me if you just tried it.

I can’t control what you do, you can even tear this book up if you want or throw it away. All I can do is ask you to do this, and hope you will. But in the end, it’s your choice.

Sincerely, (y/n)

And all of a sudden, everything started to make sense.

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princessconsuela120 · 7 months

Text

CHAPTER TWELVE: UNTIL I FOUND YOU

Series masterlist

Chapter Warnings: pregnancy, cursing, vomit

Author’s Note: Sorry this one took to long, but I hope you guys enjoy. Go check out my pal on Instagram I love their post covid art to death!! Enjoy the chapter, don’t forget to comment repost and like!!!!

Chapter art by samma on Instagram

Find here vvv

https://instagram.com/sammalikesjazz?igshid=MzRlODBiNWFlZA==

—✧

IT WAS SAFE TO SAY THE KYLE AND I HAD SPENT ALMOST THE REST OF THE DAY DECIDING HOW TO BREAK THE NEWS. It wasn’t even just our parents we’d have to tell, it was everyone. We had seriously considered bribing Ike with candy to have him break the news to the Broflovski’s, but he simply flipped Kyle and I off before retreating to his room. Now telling Kenny was probably the easiest part of it all. The squeal he let out, and immediately enveloped me in a hug proved to me that he would have probably been angry if we had given the baby up in the first place. But now came our families, so of course Kenny had to be there for moral support.

“Okay, listen..we’ve gathered you guys today because we have something to announce.” Kyle said, the two of us standing infront of the couch in the living room of the Broflovski residence as we spoke. It was actually quite a terrifying intervention. Both pairs of parents sitting on the couch, Ike on the chair with his iPad and my brother sitting leisurely on the arm of the couch.

“Are you guys dating?” My mom asked, but I was interrupted before I could answer.

“Aw gross dude, just don’t suck face in front of me alright?” Stan said, scrunching his face up with disgust. “I’m already trying to bleach my eyes from that disgusting iray on the basketball court yesterday.” He continued to whine, earning a look of warning from me as Kyle shook his head.

“No, well, kinda, but that’s not what we wanted to announce.” He explained, Kenny looking between us both with furrowed eyebrows.

“Kinda? How are you kinda dating?” He asked, not feeling the anticipation the way the rest of our family was, having already known what the announcement was, of course Kenny’s very very small attention span was in full range.

“You know like, we’re together but it’s not like, truly together together but like…” I began to explain, and Kyle nodded along.

“I like her she like likes me, it’s really not that hard to..” Kyle continued, before Sheila shook a hand in between us, bringing us back to reality.

“What did you call us here to tell us?” She asked, making me nod at her.

“Right.”

“In leiu of recent eventss…” Kyle began explaining, causing a rise of anxiety to form in my stomach.

“Mark and Vanessa’s divorcee…” I continued, grabbing onto Kyle’s hand to help calm my nerves.

“The baby has been left homeless. And I’m, well, we decided that..” Kyle stopped talking when he made eye contact with his mom for the first time since we got here. I think something seemed to connect in my mind that I wasn’t alone in this. Kyle was right there beside me, holding my hand. And that I wasn’t the only person this was affecting. Kyle was just as scared to tell his parents. I squeezed his hand.

“That what?” Stan asked, making me sigh.

“That we’re gonna keep it.”

“What?”

“Juno, honey, are you sure you’ve thought this through?” My mom asked, ignoring the confused looks from the Broflovski’s.

“Yes, I have. I’m gonna pick up a job at Mr Garrison’s convenient store until the baby arrives..” I explained, a protective hand over my stomach as my mom rubbed a hand over her face with stress.

“And I’ve already worked out a job with both Jimbo and the ice cream shop with Butters.” Kyle explained, but Sheila shook her head with confusion.

“Kyle honey, I don’t see what this has to do with you, with us.” Sheila said, her calming voice and kind demeanor making me feel even more nervous to tell her this. Somehow, everything felt even worse due to her kindness. Sheila was like a mother to me, even when we were kids. It just made me feel worse, knowing I'd disappoint her.

“Well, mom, dad.” Kyle began, before sighing again and squeezing his eyes closed momentarily. “Listen, I know it’s not ideal, and I know it’s been a long time coming, and I should’ve just told you from the start, but well, umm…” he tried to find the words, sharing a look at me when he noticed how difficult this truly was.

“Kyle is the father.” Kenny said with a low intimidating voice, earning looks of anger from Kyle and i.

“Dude, totally stole their moment.” Stan said, shaking his head in disappointment as Kenny frowned.

“I'm sorry I’ve always wanted to say that, like those reality tv shows.” He said back, both boys continuing to bicker, but all our attention was on Sheila.

“What what WHAT!?!” She shouted, causing Kyle to flinch slightly as he retreated closer into my body.

“Kyle Matthew Broflovski, you got a girl pregnant and you didn’t tell us!?!” Gerald shouted, and Kyle sighed, looking up at his dad.

“It wasn’t even gonna matter, she was giving the baby away, it would’ve been useless to tell you.” He said quietly, and Gerald’s expression grew angrier.

“Useless to tell! What so you can go and get another girl pregnant instead?!” He shouted again, making Sheila shake her head with disappointment.

“I can’t believe this, I thought we raised you right!?”

“In all fairness Mr and Mrs Broflovski, you have.” I interrupted, letting go of Kyle’s hand for a second to step forward more. “Listen I’m not gonna say he’s totally innocent, it takes two to tango, but Kyle’s been nothing but kind to me throughout this whole thing. I mean, he respected me, he took responsibility…”

“I mean have you met your son? There’s no way he initiated the sex.” Kenny interrupted, causing me to widen my eyes at him.

“Kenny.” I whispered, and he raised his hands in defense.

“Sorry.”

“I know it’s not the perfect situation, and we don’t make the picture perfect family, but I don’t think I would have survived this long without your son.” I explained, causing both Sheila and Gerald’s expressions to soften.

“Jo?” Kyle said, but I ignored him and kept talking.

“And if it’s any consolation, I was the one who told him to keep it from you. I didn’t see the point in causing more trouble than I already had.” I said, picking anxiously at my nails as I avoided any eye contact with anyone else in the room. Kyle stepped close to me again, grabbing my hands to stop me from picking at them, lifting my chin slightly so his eyes would meet with mine.

“Juno, you didn’t cause any trouble. This isn’t your fault.” He said softly, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear. I smiled at him, pouting slightly when I cupped his cheeks sweetly:

“But it is.” I sighed, placing a soft kiss on his forehead before letting my hands drift off his body. “You’re just so sweet you choose to block that part out.” He sighed, shaking his head, about to say something in response, but deciding to stay quiet. I wasn’t exactly sure why, but based off the look he gave me I could tell he was too nervous already to try and reassure me further. And he knew no matter how hard he’d try to reassure me, I wouldn’t listen. Instead I could feel him wrap his arms around me from behind, his large hands resting on my stomach as his chin laid on my shoulder. I smiled softly, feeling a soft peck be given to my cheek, somehow managing to soothe my whole body.

“Well, Kyle I am still very angry with you.” Sheila said speaking up, causing Kyle to step away, nodding at his mom. “And though I’m angry you didn’t tell us, I admire your maturity with this whole thing.” She said softly, letting out a long sigh, as if she hadn’t been able to breathe this whole time.

“Thanks mom.”

“You’re still grounded young man!” She shouted, pointing a finger at him. He was nodding quicker now, still scared of his mothers raised voice.

“Of course.”

“3 weeks!”

“Understandable.”

“And no electronics.”

“I get it.”

“And no basketball either, at least while you’re grounded.”

“Yes ma’am.” Kyle said, saluting his mom, a small smile on his face, reciprocating in hers.

“Now are you two sure this is what you want to do?” Gerald asked, looking between both Kyle and I. We both smiled, grabbing each others hand.

“I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life.” I said softly, earning a hand squeeze from Kyle.

“A baby is a lot of work.” My mom explained, earning nods of agreement from my dad.

“It takes time, and money…” my dad continued, all the parents about to continue before Kenny shot up from his seat.

“I call God father!” He shouted, jumping with excitement as Stan cursed to himself.

“Damn you McCormick! I call the next one!” Stan shouted, also jumping up as he glared angrily at Kenny.

“Boys!” Sheila shouted, as Kyle and I looked at each other, laughing lightly as the two began to argue once again.

—✧

AFTER THE STRESS OF THE EVENING DISSIPATED, we came to realize that Kyle being grounded didn’t count coming over to my house. Sheila was practically giddy at the fact to let him be closer to me, which if that doesn’t just warm your heart I don’t know what does. We were currently snuggled together on the couch, Butterssitting beside us, Cartman carefully watching the tv as Stan and Kenny attempted to make dinner in the kitchen. My parents were out to dinner so we were on our own, and of course Stan being the “man” he is he needed to prove his cooking skills.

“What did you mean earlier when you said we weren’t technically together?” Kyle asked, causing me to sit up a bit, moving my legs from their spot on Butters lap to sit up next to Kyle.

“Oh, well, just you haven’t officially asked yet.” I said, shrugging my shoulders as he raised an eyebrow at me.

“That was my job? I thought the thousands of tic-tac’s in my mailbox sealed the deal?” He said, chuckling lightly. I smiled up at him.

“No silly that was just my love confession.” I explained, making him smirk. He sat up, pretending to straighten a tie that wasn’t there.

“Well then, Juno Marsh, will you do me the honor of being my girlfriend?” He said, smiling cheekily as a smiled back. I kissed him, holding his chin and squeezing slightly, smiling from ear to ear at his cuteness.

“Well of course, I mean we’re already married aren’t we?” Kyle smiled wider at my words, remembering our “wedding” we had with ring pops as children.

“Fair point.”

“So, do you guys know if it’s a boy or a girl?” Butters asked, his hands practically glued to my stomach since I sat down. I swear sometimes I think Butters was more excited than me. More excited then Kenny even. I think every time he’s around his hands never leave my stomach.

“No, we’re staying surprised.”

“That’s crazy, so there’s like, a baby in there?” Butters said, holding his cheek against my stomach, surprising both Kyle and I as Cartman looked over with disgust.

“A little demon spawn of ginger Jew genes.” He grumbled, rolling his eyes as he glared at Butters.

“Shut up Cartman.” Kyle threatened, causing Cartman to stick his tongue out at him before looking back at the tv.

“You’re like God!” Butters shouted, moving his head up to smile at Kyle and I.

“Butters, what?” I asked, laughing at his response.

“You’re right, God didn’t grow people, he just pressed a button and they sprouted from the ground.” He explained, placing his head back against my stomach.

“Is that accurate?” Kyle asked, causing me to shrug.

“You’re like, better than god.” He whispered in awe, making me nod in agreement.

“You hear that Stan?” I shouted, hearing Stan scoff all the way from the kitchen. “I'm better than God.”

“Yeah and I'm Jesus.” He shouted back, making my face scrunch up.

“Ew gross, that would mean you’re my son!”

“This is so beautiful, you’re so beautiful it’s crazy.” Kyle whispered, kissing the top of my head softly. “How are you even doing that?” He asked, his hand around my shoulder moving to rest below my stomach, holding it protectively as Butters continued to cling onto me.

“You didn’t hear? I'm god.” I said smugly, smirking at him as he playfully rolled his eyes.

—✧

“AH!” Tweek shouted, causing Craig and I to jump slightly as we both looked over at him. “What if you bruise the baby’s head?” He asked anxiously, referring to the bowl of popcorn that was resting on top of my baby bump. Craig grabbed his arm, rubbing it soothingly to calm him down.

“Relax honey, I’m sure Juno knows what she’s doing.” He reassured, making me raise an eyebrow at him questioningly.

“Oh I have no idea what I’m doing, but I doubt this bowl will bruise the baby’s head.” I said, earning a light shove from Craig.

“Ah! That’s so scary!” He said, grabbing a fistful of his hair nervously. I smiled, feeling a light kicking at the bottom of my stomach. I grabbed Tweeks wrist from his hair and placing it where the baby was kicking. It seemed to calm him down, smiling at the sensation against his hand before his body soothed. Craig placed his hand above Tweeks, smiling.

“I can’t believe you’re gonna be a mom.” He said, shaking his head with disbelief as my face scrunched up.

“Ew, don’t even say that to me.” I said, adjusting slightly as the kicking started to become painful.

“What? It’s true.”

“Yeah but I like to be blissfully unaware for as long as I can.”

“I thought you hated being pregnant.” Craig said, making me nod at him with widened eyes.

“I hate it so much.” That wasn’t necessarily true, I did love it. It made me feel less lonely, important. Like I did have a purpose in this world.

“Yeah, you’ve been so sick lately.” Tweek said, making me shutter.

“Don’t even remind me, just hearing the word sick makes me gag. I just, I wanna have a chill night, with my boys, with no interruptions to worry me.” I explained, earning a pout from Craig. I sighed, laying my head on Tweeks shoulder as I rested my legs onto Craig’s lap. He sighs in response, rubbing soothing patterns against my leg as I closed my eyes, Tweeks head resting against mine.

“Juno!” Kenny yelled, sprinting in through the front door with Stan, causing both Tweek and I to shoot up.

“Ahh!” Tweek shouted, making me hold onto my ear.

“Good lord I think you bruised my eardrum.” I said, as Tweek shook nervously in his spot.

“Why would you do that!?” He shouted at Kenny, causing both boys to shrug.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think you’d be startled.” Kenny said innocently, making Craig roll his eyes.

“Yeah, just run into the room screaming out of nowhere and expect it NOT to scare tweek.” Craig said, making Tweek flip him off.

“You guys are assholes!” He shouted in response, as Stan shook his hands, trying to get my attention back to him.

“Anyway, look June, Kenny can hold this spoon on his nose for 3 minutes.” Stan said excitedly, both boys practically jumping up and down with joy.

“Unimpressed.” I said, making Stan roll his eyes.

“Okay, fine. Well watch this, he can catch popcorn in his mouth from all the way across the room.” Stan said, coming to stand beside me as Kenny braced himself from across that room.

“Uh, Stan..” I said, feeling a churning inside my stomach at the smell from the bowl Stan had.

“Yeah?”

“What kind of popcorn is this?” I asked, holding my chest to try and steady myself.

“White cheddar, why?”

“Oh god.”

I quickly ran to the bathroom, throwing up all of my food from the day into the toilet, resting my head in my arms as I let out small whines of discomfort. I closed the door behind me, not wanting to stress out any of the boys.

“Juno?” Stan called, knocking on the door as he heard my light sobs.

“Go away Stan!”

I could hear him sigh from the other side of the door, before ultimately retreating, saying something to the other guys as they walked away.

—✧

“Hey, Stan called I came home as fast as I can, what’s up?” Kyle asked, carefully peaking his head through the door when he saw my form hunched over the toilet seat. His gaze softened slightly as he tied my hair back into a ponytail, rubbing soft circles into my back.

“You left basketball?” I asked, my voice softening when his hand met my cheek. I frowned at him, which he reciprocated.

“Yeah, it’s no big deal it’s just..”

“Kyle, honey it’s a big game..” I interrupted him, running my hands through his curls, maybe him sigh.

“It’s okay, you’re more important to me.” He said reassuringly, frowning when he noticed the few tears that started dripping down my cheeks.

“Now, what’s wrong?” He asked softly, rubbing his thumb gently across my cheek bone.

“I don’t think the baby likes cheese all too well.” I laid my head against his chest, making him sigh as he tried to soothe my nerves.

“Sick again?”

“I thought this was supposed to end after the first trimester.” I whined into his chest, as Kyle kissed the top of my head.

“I know love, I’m sorry. Want me to get you some water?” He asked, making tears begin to drip down my cheeks. He pulled away when he felt wetness on his shirt, pouting at me when he did.

“Oh, oh please no, don’t cry honey.” He reassured, and I just shook my head, wiping my face haphazardly on my sleeve.

“You’re just so sweet to me. I love you so much Kyle I just, I’ll never love anyone else again.” I cried, hiding my face in my hands. He chuckled slightly at my dramatics, placing his hand on my stomach.

“If I’m being sweet then why are you crying?” He asked, smiling when he felt a few light kicks against his hand.

“Shut up asshole! I’m emotional.” I yelled, pulling away. He raised his hands in defense, causing me to cling onto him and once again hide my face in his chest.

“Yes you are.” Stan said from the door, causing me to turn around. Once I did I noticed that all of the boys were standing at the door. The once cracked slightly open door was now wide open as Stan, Tweek, Kenny and Craig were watching with concern. I threw my middle finger out at Stan.

“Shut up Stan! I swear to god I will shove your phone so far up your ass you’ll be tasting it for a week!” I shouted, Kyle holding me back as I tried to lunge at him.

“Bitch.”

It barely came out as a whisper, but I still heard him. I didn’t know why, I knew he was kidding, Stan and I called each other names all the time. But for some reason, I couldn’t control the tears that streamed down my cheeks.

“Oh why are you crying now?” Craig asked, a look of concern on his face as I hurrying my head once again into Kyle’s already soaked short.

“Stan called me a bitch!” I mumbled against Kyle’s shirt. He shushed me carefully, running his fingers through my hair to try me calm me down.

“I know love, you’re just going through a lot of big emotions right now, it’s okay. He’s sorry, aren’t you Stan?” Kyle said, turning to look at Stan who stood with his arms folded, shaking his head.

“No dude.”

“Say you’re sorry!” Kyle shouted, making Stan flinch slightly.

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! I love you.”

I smiled up at Stan, seeing a playful smile reciprocated on his face.

“I love you too.” I said, going back to letting Kyle hold me.

“See? All better.”

“Your chest smells pretty.” I mumbled, making Kyle laugh as I let myself relax to the sound of his heartbeat.

“How many more months of this?” Craig whispered to Kenny, making him shake his head as all the boys watched in fear.

“Oh god I hope not too many.” He replied, Stan shaking his head as well.

She gave me a wet Willy two days ago cause I ate her grapes. I still have a bruise.” Stan explained, earning looks of confusion from everyone.

“You don’t get bruises from a wet Willy idiot.” Craig teased, rolling his eyes. Stan stared straight ahead, a scared look on his face.

“From Juno you do…from Juno you do.”

—✧

#south park x reader #kyle broflovski x reader #kyle broflovski #stan marsh #stan marsh x reader #kenny mccormick x reader #stan marsh x sister reader

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