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jeonginsleftcheek · 6 months ago

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Hate your guts (pt 1)

~ this fic is my Christmas gift💙 i'm dividing this into two parts bcs tumblr is shit

pairing: rockstar!hyunjin x rockstar afab!reader

genre: enemies to lovers, fluff, smut

wc: 26.6k

synopsis: hwang hyunjin, your sworn enemy. the person who finds and pushes all your buttons, annoys you and makes you angry. the person you're trying to avoid so badly, only to end up practically sharing a bed with him on tour. let the fun begin!

warnings: lots of swearing, smoking and alcohol, mentions of blood and throwing up, mild violence, multiple sex scenes, unprotected sex, oral (f and m), fingering, handjob, semi-public sex, spanking, creampies, mix of degradation and praise

a/n: thank you @frehyun for helping me come up with a name for hyunjin's band💕 also a thank you to @jehhskz @moonchild9350 and @hyunebunx for giving me suggestions, listening to me yap and being supportive while i was writing this🥹🩷🩷🩷 title is inspired by inji, go listen to her music🫶🏻

a little ramble: feel free to skip this! but i just wanted to say that this was supposed to be done sooner cause i had other fics planned out to write but work got in the way. so i wrote this fic whenever and wherever i could; hiding in the bathroom at work, during my break, at the bus station, at 3am when i couldn't sleep etc... it's been a ride and i'm proud of how it turned out, hopefully y'all enjoy it too🥹🫶🏻

“...And do you look into the mirror to remind yourself you’re there? Or have somebody’s goodnight kisses got that covered? When I’m not being honest, I pretend that you were just some lover…”

It was a perfect but short moment.

The fresh breeze coming into the car where the window was opened just a little was enough to give you some air but still managed to hide most of your face from the outside world.

The music in your ears was loud, so loud that you were drowning in it, the warm and comforting voice, the melancholic guitar riff in the background, and the gentle sluggish drums putting it all together into a song that made your eyes water.

You tuned everything else out as this was the only moment of peace you were going to get today.

You needed every shred of sanity you could gather, and you were determined to hold onto it as much as you could.

Because today, you had an interview with him.

Hwang Hyunjin.

Oh, the name you know so well.

Even thinking about the way it sounds makes you feel angry.

It seemed as if his life mission was to find every single button of yours and push them repeatedly until you exploded like a ticking bomb.

Your mind wandered as you thought about him and how much his existence angered you, your stomach turning into knots.

Or maybe it was just pre-interview nerves.

No matter how many times you talked in front of the camera, it always made you feel anxious and jittery.

Being on stage was fun, there was no anxiety there as whenever you would step on it and see all the people cheering for you and singing along to the music you and your friends wrote, your heart felt full, your soul elated.

It was an exhilarating feeling you couldn’t even begin to explain to someone who’d never experienced it.

Every concern in your head, every ache in your soul, every tear behind your eyelids threatening to spill got erased when you gave yourself to the stage.

If you could, you would definitely try to avoid the interviews and just perform.

But your record company had other plans.

Being the only up and rising all girls rock band in the company meant that you needed promotion, and what better way to promote than to collab with the only boy rock band in the same company?

Hwang Hyunjin’s band.

Yes, you couldn’t wait for this day to be over.

“Y/n!” you were shaken out of your thoughts, as your manager pulled at your headphones.

“What?” you almost snapped at her, startled by her antics.

“You were staring off into space and muttering angrily about Hyunjin. Something like ‘poke his eyes out’ and ‘conceited dick’.” Ana giggled, covering her lips with her hand as you rolled your eyes, realizing that you’ve already arrived at the building for the interview.

“I’m sure you find all this amusing. But I am not amused at all. Last time I had an interview with that... bastard, everyone thought we were dating and started shipping us.” you recoil at the thought. “I would never date someone like him.”

“Oh y/n, lighten up! You know there will always be rumors of all kinds. The dating rumors are the least harmful ones, trust me. Just act like you’re besties with Hyunjin, for an hour tops.”

You take a deep breath in, then sigh.

“I am a professional. I will do this right.” you nod with a determined tone as Ana bumped her fist with yours.

“That’s the spirit!” your manager smacked your thigh happily as you yelped, making her laugh before she exited the car.

Since you were in the underground parking lot, there was no press around so you walked out of the car freely, going directly to the elevator that would take you to the reception.

Ana pressed the button when you walked in and just as the doors started closing, someone’s combat boot was pushed between the silver doors, stopping them and making them open again.

Your eyes traveled up from the boots, to the tight leather pants and the skimpy tank top revealing a tattoo sleeve, right to the face you hoped you won’t be seeing for at least another ten minutes.

Hyunjin had an obnoxious smirk dancing on his lips as he looked down at you, puffing his chest out like some peacock showing off his feathers and you already wanted to smack the shit out of him.

His manager, Anthony waved at the two of you, ushering him into the elevator.

“Good morning y/n, Ana.” Anthony greeted as Hyunjin kept smirking at you.

“It was good until now.” you crossed your arms over your chest.

Even the cologne Hyunjin was wearing made you want to puke your guts out so you stepped away from him.

A chuckle escaped his lips as he leaned on the wall casually, never taking his eyes off of you.

“Aw, you throwing a tantrum already baby?” he smirked at you and you started fuming.

Both of your managers rolled their eyes, Ana muttering ‘here we go again’ as she shook her head.

“I see you have a new piercing on your face. You needed another hole to let the air out of that empty head?” you said, trying to sound nonchalant and Hyunjin scoffed.

“I’m gonna ignore that comment and focus on the fact that you’re counting my piercings. Observing me, huh?” he looked at you smugly.

“Yeah, cause I have nothing better to do than-”

Ding!

“Alright, break it off kids, were here!” Anthony said, quickly pulling Hyunjin out of the elevator.

“See? I can’t stand him.” you groaned as Ana chuckled.

“You stood up to him pretty well.” Ana winked. “Let's go get some coffee, get you properly awake before the interview.” she gripped your shoulders, shaking you a little as you groaned in protest.

Thankfully, Hyunjin had disappeared somewhere and you were glad he wasn’t around to annoy you, as you made small talk with a few of the staff you knew there since you’ve already been interviewed for the same channel before.

“Ana, I’m gonna go get some air before we start.” you felt the nerves creeping up inside you.

“Okay, but you have to be back in five minutes.” she reminded you and you gave her a thumbs up, before practically sprinting down the hall to get to the little terrace hidden on the side.

Staff used it for smoke breaks, and you decided to use it to calm your anxiety down.

You flung the door open and stepped out onto the balcony, quickly taking a deep breath in while you looked down at the city before you.

“Needed to see me once more before the interview?” a voice rang out to the left of you.

Hyunjin’s voice.

Of course the bastard is here, you thought, your face becoming hot in annoyance.

“I had no idea you were here, asshole.” you turned to look at him.

He was leaning on the railing, flexing his muscles, a long vein protruding under the layer of the swirling colorful flowers inked into his skin, leading all the way to his long fingers with chipped nail polish and a cigarette pinched between his thumb and index finger.

He looked at you intently through his bangs that were haphazardly falling into his eyes, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip, before his tongue poked out to play with the piercing adorning it.

“I thought you had more originality when it comes to nicknames, darling.” he said mockingly before taking another drag from his cigarette.

“Don’t call me that.” you turned around to leave but Hyunjin’s long arm quickly blocked your way, his palm splayed on the wall.

You looked up at him and stepped back, just as he puffed the smoke out your way.

“You leaving?” he looked smug again, intrusive thoughts of pushing him off the balcony appeared in your mind.

“Yes, this space is too small and your cologne is nauseating.” your face scrunches up.

“Aw, I’ll make sure to find another one you’d like.” Hyunjin smirks.

“Don’t bother.” you ducked under his arm and opened the door, walking away as fast as you could.

At least he helped in a way, you weren’t anxious anymore, just annoyed and waiting for this day to be over.

“Where is Hyunjin, we’re starting in a minute.” Anthony’s brows furrowed while you were ushered towards the room.

“Last I saw him, he was smoking on the balcony.” you shrugged as they sat you down.

The chair where Hyunjin would be sitting was too close for comfort and you wanted so badly to push it away, but you figured it was there because of the camera frame.

“We’re on in 30 seconds!” one of the staff yelled and you rolled your eyes.

Of course he was late, the self-centered bastard. You were sure he was enjoying this, everyone waiting on his highness to arrive, everyone panicking around him as he wears that disgusting smug smirk on his face.

“In 10…9…” the staff started counting down just as the door swung open and a breathless Hyunjin ran into the room, almost tripping over your crossed legs before he sat down on the chair next to you.

After he ran in, one of the girls working there ran in too, quickly taking her place with rosy cheeks and her lipgloss smeared.

You rolled your eyes and looked at him, the glitter from the girl’s lipgloss was visibly shining on his lips and chin.

“You have a little something.” you said and he smirked, wiping his chin off before leaning towards you.

“My lips were dry.” he whispered with a wink.

You were more than ready to get this over with, seething with anger at his unprofessional behavior that you didn’t even notice the camera began rolling.

“... today’s special guests are y/n of Venus Flytrap and Hyunjin of Lycoris Radiata! I hope y’all are as excited as I am, since it’s been so long. Y/n, let’s start with you. You have a new album coming out soon, can we get a little sneak peek of that?” the interviewer, Sarah, asked as you adjusted on your chair.

“This is our third album now, and this time Steph and Janey participated in the writing more than before, so the songs are really personal to all three of us.”

“Are we finally gonna hear about their love story?” Sarah wiggled her eyebrows.

“We may.” you smirked at her, not wanting to reveal too much.

“How about yours?” she added on, in the corner of your eye you saw Hyunjin leaning towards you as he stared at you, manspreading like always, his knee knocking into yours.

“Huh?”

“Your love story. Is there a special guy or girl in your life?” the interviewer asked, making you feel annoyed instantly.

You hated being asked questions like that, sometimes it felt like the music you were writing didn’t even matter, all people wanted to know was who you’re fucking.

“Not at the moment, no.” you forced a smile so you don’t seem rude.

“I thought I was special.” Hyunjin chimed in next to you, bumping his shoulder against yours, that shit eating grin you hate spreading on his face.

Before you could answer, Sarah butted in.

“Oh, is there something happening between you that we should know about?”

You could just hear the excitement in her voice, the hunger for drama dripping from her lips.

“Nothing is happening, we just like to joke around like that.” you quickly answered, hoping to deflect her to another question, or that she’d finally talk to Hyunjin and ask him about his new song, so you could take a few moments to breathe.

“So, you two are close?”

Oh no.

Here it goes again.

Last time this happened, your name got dragged on every social media platform.

People who were shipping the two of you got on your nerves, but that wasn’t the biggest problem.

No, it was the people who had sent you hate and death threats, telling you if they saw you next to Hyunjin again you’d be dead.

It took a toll on your mental health and scared you since you know people can easily find an address or stalk you somewhere and you wanted to avoid any rumors that would endanger your well-being.

“We're just coworkers.” to your surprise Hyunjin answered nonchalantly, saying exactly what you wanted to say so people would leave you alone.

Why was there a weird feeling in your chest then?

“Well, sometimes there’s passion at the workplace.” Sarah wasn’t giving it up and you were close to losing your temper and telling her to shove it already, ask some less invasive questions.

“No passion here, our relationship is strictly professional.” you said, but your skin burned where Hyunjin’s thigh pressed against yours.

In your mind you were cursing both him and Sarah, and even your manager for bringing you here.

Thankfully, she left it at that, continuing with questions about your upcoming tour and Hyunjin’s new song.

As soon as the interview finished and you were done shaking hands, Ana came to you, her hand on your shoulder as she squeezed.

In the corner of your eye, you saw Hyunjin slip out of the room.

“Good job.” she smiled as Anthony joined the two of you.

“I hope you’re hungry, y/n. This time it’s my treat, and there’s this restaurant…”

You tuned Anthony out, completely forgetting that after an interview like this, the tradition is to have dinner with Hyunjin and his manager.

“Can we skip dinner this time? I just wanna go home and lay down.”

“Nonsense, I hear your stomach growling from here. Come on, it’s free food you can’t say no.” Anthony made a goofy face, hoping to win you over.

“Fine, you had me at free food.” you sighed as Ana nodded with a smile.

“Good! Now where is our other rockstar?” he quickly looked around. “I swear, sometimes I feel like I’m a babysitter, not a manager.”

“I’ll go find him.” you offered, wanting to leave the building as soon as possible.

“Sure.” Ana nodded and you made your way down the hall.

Your footsteps echoed in the empty space, until you came closer to a corner where the sounds of hushed voices and giggles filled up your ears and made you roll your eyes.

“You know I can’t give you my number, baby. But if there is an empty room around here somewhere…” Hyunjin was talking to the girl from earlier, leaning over her body as she stared up at him like he was a god, her back against the wall.

You cleared your throat, crossing your arms on your chest.

Both of them looked up at you, Hyunjin giving you a smirk as he straightened up and the girl glared at you but you didn’t give a shit.

“We need to leave right now. Our managers are waiting for us.” you said simply as the girl whined.

“Shh, maybe some other time.” he shushed her, leaning towards her and your stomach flipped in disgust.

He didn’t kiss her, just taunted her before he leaned back and made his way towards you.

“Cockblocker.” he stuck his tongue out, the piercing adorning it catching the light for a moment.

“Do you even know her name?” you asked, keeping a fast pace and a good distance away from him.

“No. Does it matter?” he shrugged, his long legs quickly catching up to you in big strides.

“You’re despicable.” your face scrunched up in disgust as you neared the elevator where your managers were waiting and chatting.

“Throwing some big words around. You sure you know the meaning?” he smirked.

“That’s it.” you said angrily.

“What? You just basically told me I deserve to be hated just cause I wanted to have some fun.”

You looked at him, full on ready to slap him across his face but Ana stepped between the two of you.

“Fighting again? Can the two of you behave for just one evening?” Anthony frowned with a sigh as he called the elevator.

“I can behave.” Hyunjin clicked his tongue cheekily before playing with his lip ring again.

“Y/n?” Ana looked at you.

“As long as he doesn’t talk to me, I’ll be fine.” you turned away from Hyunjin, stepping into the elevator.

This is going to be one awkward dinner.

Choosing to disconnect in the van you put your earphones in, ignoring Hyunjin’s presence right next to you.

It’s like your managers wanted to have you two as close as possible, like they thought it’d make you hate each other less but at this moment there was nothing more you wanted than to get away from him.

Or maybe your managers wanted to be closer to each other, you smirked to yourself as Ana twirled her hair around her finger, giggling at something Anthony said.

You leaned back as the music flooded your ears, your figure slightly turned towards the window as you watched the street lights pass you by, totally unaware of a pair of eyes that were glued to you.

Hyunjin observed you in detail, how shiny your hair was as it cascaded down your back and shoulders, how your brows were slightly creased and your lips pouty as you listened to your music, the steady rise and fall of your chest, the way your fingers played with the hem of your shirt as you pulled on it, how pretty the rings adorning your fingers were, how the necklace you always wore laid gently on your collarbone.

No little detail was skipped as he drinked it all in, thinking you wouldn’t notice.

But after some time as it got even darker outside, you caught Hyunjin’s reflection in the window as he stared at you with a look on his face that you’ve never seen before.

Your stomach suddenly swirled as the two of you made eye contact on the glass, Hyunjin’s plump lips falling open before he sat up and looked away, acting like nothing happened.

The rest of the ride was uneventful and you were tired of this day, having to look at Hyunjin was more exhausting to you than being on stage.

You couldn’t wait to get into your bed and disappear.

As you walked into the restaurant, you were led to a table and you could see a few people whispering and pointing at you but usually they didn’t bother you much.

However, this time was different.

As you scanned the menu, a girl timidly approached your table and you looked up at her as she stood next to Hyunjin.

“I’m - I’m sorry to bother you but I’m a really big fan and I was wondering if you’d take a picture with me?” she asked Hyunjin who immediately smirked at her.

“No pictures allowed. But you can get his signature.” Anthony chimed in.

“And who the fuck are you?” the girl changed her demeanor right away, making Hyunjin chuckle.

“Easy there, sweetheart, that’s my boss.” he wiggled his eyebrows at the girl. “Come on I’ll give you a sign and you can write me your number, maybe I’ll call you, hm?” Hyunjin winked at her and you just about lost your appetite completely.

“Oh, sure, I’d love that!” she let out a nasally laugh as he signed a napkin with a pen she somehow produced, giving it back to her as she leaned over to write her number down, making sure her tits were right in his face before she skipped back to her friends.

“Can there be at least one minute when you’re not trying to fuck something that walks?” you looked at him annoyingly and he laughed.

“Thought you weren’t talking to me.” he smirked.

“Ugh, you’re so annoying!” you were ready to smack him with the menu in your hand but Ana caught your wrist.

“I bet you love that about me.” he kept smirking.

“Love is nothing near what I feel about you.” you said, your teeth gritted.

“There’s a fine line between love and hate, you know.” Hyunjin smirked, leaning into your personal space.

“Anyways, guys. What are you ordering? Their steak is really good.” Anthony gave an awkward smile as he looked around the table.

“I want the tomato pasta.” Hyunjin leaned back, making you cackle.

“Isn’t that the kids menu? Makes sense for you somehow.”

“I’m saving room for dessert.” he winked at you, his tongue running over his lip tentatively, the piercing on it catching the light again.

“Ew.” you jolted in disgust as he laughed loudly, obviously finding enjoyment in ticking you off.

The dinner part of the outing was uneventful as everyone ate and made small talk but you didn’t miss how Hyunjin crumpled up the napkin with the fan’s number and threw it aside on the table, not caring about it.

What an asshole.

“Let’s make a little toast to this evening and the upcoming albums and tour.” Ana proposed as she lifted her glass up.

“To us.” Hyunjin smirked as he looked at you.

“To rock’n’roll!” you added as the four of you clinked your glasses together before taking a big swig of your drinks.

Hyunjin didn’t look at you on the drive home.

Rehearsal was supposed to start at 9am sharp, but you were there bright and early, tuning your guitar.

Being an early bird, you loved the few moments of peace you could have to yourself, just you and your music.

Your hand glided easily on the guitar’s neck, taking shapes familiar to your hands, it was muscle memory by now, your fingers picking on the strings and creating the melody you played countless times before.

You let your voice ring out in the space freely as you sang a song dear to your heart, one you wrote when you were younger.

You’d always start warming up by singing it to yourself, never having the need to actually put it out into the world.

You got into it, your eyes closed as you sang with a small smile on your face, the entire world around you disappearing shortly.

In the distance, you heard footsteps and voices belonging to your bandmates and just as you opened your eyes, you looked through the glass on the door, a shadow slithered across the wall outside, disappearing around the corner.

You squinted your eyes and stood up, putting your guitar aside and coming closer to the door.

Just as you were about to reach towards the doorknob, the voices got louder.

“Are we seriously doing this right now?” Janey asked, the tone of her voice angry.

“I’m telling you, it was nothing! I don’t know who she is and why she’s texting me!” Steph defended herself as Janey scoffed.

“I’m sick of your excuses. I’m gonna give you one last chance to make it up to me and be truthful, but after that I’m done.” you stepped back as Janey came into view, opening the door angrily.

“Oh, y/n.” she widened her eyes slightly. “Good morning.” she added, scurrying past you to take her place behind the drum kit.

Steph walked in with a scowl on her face, muttering a ‘morning’ before going straight to her bass guitar.

It wasn’t the first time they fought or even broke up.

There were many times you had to be the mediator between them, trying to get them to communicate and even though it was frustrating, you didn’t want them to give up on their relationship easily and you couldn’t really take sides since they were both your friends.

“Shall we?” you asked and they nodded.

It took some warming up as always but soon you got into the groove, rehearsing for a small performance that was happening tonight.

You were excited because during the performance you planned to reveal your new song and see how people like it in person.

The only thorn in your eye was the fact that Hyunjin’s band will be there too, performing right after yours.

You were dreading to see him again, since that interview last week you had managed to avoid him skilfully, but you couldn’t hide forever.

And even though your rehearsal went somewhat smoothly, there was tension in the air and you didn’t like that feeling.

It felt like a storm was coming and you weren’t sure if you’re ready to take it on.

Evening came around quickly, everyone was already gathered backstage and you were dressed and ready, having rehearsed once more on the stage, tuning your guitars and getting ready for the most fun part.

You peered from the back, seeing all the people gathering made your heart swell, a smile spreading on your face automatically.

“Quite a turn out, huh?”

Your eye literally twitched when you heard Hyunjin’s voice behind you, too close for comfort as his figure loomed over you and you felt the warmth of his body on your back.

You turned your head slightly as he peered down at you with that annoying smirk you absolutely hate.

“Of course.” you said, squeezing your body between him and the curtain, ignoring him calling after you as you walked away as fast as you could.

You’re not gonna let him ruin tonight for you.

It was time to go on stage anyways.

You and your girls did a little cheer as tradition before the performance, Ana coming up to hug you and wish you good luck.

“Break a leg.” Hyunjin appeared out of nowhere and you only rolled your eyes before whipping around and almost smacking him with your hair as you made your way towards the stage.

As soon as you walked out, loud screams filled up your ears and everything negative was forgotten and locked away in a drawer in the back of your mind.

“Are you ready to rock tonight?!” you screamed out into the mic as the three of you took your positions.

Hyunjin watched you from the side with an unreadable look on his face, but you weren’t even aware of it and you didn’t care.

All you cared about was this moment.

The moment where you get to share your love for music with thousands of people.

It was exhilarating, watching the mass of bodies sway like one, hearing all the people singing the lyrics you wrote in unison.

Nothing could compare to this and every time you stood under that light, you knew you were born for this.

Giddy from everything, you skipped backstage once you finished playing the last song; which happened to be the new one and people more than loved it judging by their excited screams.

“That was amazing!” Ana met you halfway, giving high fives to all three of you.

You were still trying to catch your breath as you giggled, when Hyunjin appeared next to you again.

“Aren’t you gonna wish me good luck?” he smirked at you, shamelessly giving you the elevator eyes.

“Good luck guys!” Janey yelled at all four members with a smile and a thumbs up but Hyunjin shook his head.

“I want her to say it or I’m not going out on stage.” he crossed his arms on his chest, pouting and tapping his foot like a child about to throw a tantrum.

“Come on, Hyun, we need to get out there!” Aiden, the band’s bassist called out.

“Not moving until y/n wishes me good luck.” he quickly shook his head, his fluffy hair shaking with it and you thought how he resembled a dog; in more ways than one.

“Fine you spoiled brat. Good luck.” you said sarcastically and he scoffed.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” he smirked, leaning into your personal space again.

“Get on the stage, Hyunjin.” you sighed and he chuckled in delight.

“Watch me closely.” he winked before running off.

“I can just cut the tension in the air with a knife.” Steph smirked at you, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Oh, fuck off!” you said, smacking the back of her head as she cackled.

You did end up watching Hyunjin’s band perform after refreshing yourself, but pretty soon you’ve come to regret that decision.

He was wild while performing, stripping out of his jacket as he screamed into the mic, sweating under the bright lights pointed directly at him making him look like an insane glazed donut as he strutted around the stage acting all smug even though he tripped over his dumb long legs multiple times.

He’d lean over towards his little groupies, holding their hand or caressing their faces, blowing them kisses and whatnot, all of that behavior making your gut churn in disgust.

The last straw was when he laid down on his back and started humping the air while moaning into the mic.

Even though the crowd screamed louder than before and the horny fans almost started hyperventilating, you felt second hand embarrassment at witnessing this.

Hyunjin continued moaning before he threw his head back, his eyes locking with yours.

A shiver ran down your spine as he smirked at you, all sweaty, his hair sticking to his forehead, his piercings shining in the light, the veins on his neck visible and his cheeks red.

A warmness spread in your navel as he winked, licking at his lip slowly, taunting you before he moaned extra loudly, the pornographic sound echoing in your ears.

You frowned suddenly at your heart beating fast and your legs pressing together.

What the fuck is wrong with me?, you thought, quickly shaking your head as he finally looked away from you and stood up.

Of course, he got showered by multiple bras on stage, you think you even caught a glimpse of someone throwing their panties and you couldn’t watch anymore.

It was truly disgusting.

You quickly shoved past some staff members watching and gasping at whatever Hyunjin was doing now.

Pushing past everyone, you made your way outside to get some fresh air in the hidden area behind backstage, where staff and musicians usually smoked or chilled after a performance.

You greeted some of the staff before finding a spot where you could be alone.

You were about to relax when you heard kissing sounds and as you turned to look around the corner you saw Steph kissing some random girl.

You couldn’t contain the gasp that flew out of your mouth, making them jolt away from each other.

Steph’s eyes widened when she saw you and you quickly spun around, noticing Janey had just walked outside too and started looking around.

“Y/n, wait!” Steph yelled behind you. “It’s not what you think! Please, don’t tell Janey!” she looked at you desperately but you hated cheaters more than anything, seeing her betrayal with your own eyes broke any sort of connection you had with her.

“Isn’t it? Your tongue was down some girl’s throat. Now, what do you call that?” you scoffed.

“What?” Janey appeared next to you, just as the girl who Steph was kissing before stood behind her.

“It’s not like that, I-”

You could see Janey’s eyes filling up with tears.

“That’s it, I’m done. With you and with the band. With everything.” you gasped when she said that, your eyes wide.

“Janey, don’t be like that, it didn’t mean anything to me-” Steph started.

“Liar, you told me you’d leave her for me.” the girl behind Steph chimed in.

“Oh, so this has been going on for some time?” Janey looked between Steph and the girl.

“Let’s talk about this inside.” you tried to lead them in as people were whispering and looking at the four of you.

“I have nothing else to say. I’m sorry, y/n. I can’t be a part of this band anymore when all it’s gonna do is remind me of this cheating whore.” Janey spat before turning around and leaving.

“Okay, I deserve that but like I’m sorry that-”

“Save it, Steph. I can’t believe you did this. You put your desires over the well-being of our band. You do understand that your actions not only affect Janey, but also me, Ana and the rest of the record company?” you asked her, your blood boiling with anger.

“I- I’m sorry, let me make it right. I’ll talk to Janey and she’ll forgive me once she understands-”

“You think I want you to be part of the band after this? That’s rich.” you turned around too, in hopes of finding Janey.

“Y/n, you can’t throw me out of the band!” Steph yelled behind you.

“I just did.” you said coldly before opening the door and rushing into the backstage room.

“Is Janey here?” you asked Ana and before she could answer, someone bumped into you rather strongly, making you stumble backwards a little.

You turned around angrily, noticing a very sweaty and breathless Hyunjin staring at you with a smile, his tongue lolling out of his lips as he played with his piercing.

“So, did you like my performance?” he winked at you. “Did it get you excited?” the famous shit eating grin spread on his face as he leaned in closer to you, a few droplets of sweat dripping from his hair.

“I don’t have time for your games, Hyunjin. Please leave me alone.” you said annoyingly, noticing he had a bra hooked around his hand.

“What’s going on?” Ana asked, looking at you confusedly.

You were shaken up, the anger you felt manifesting into tears and you cursed yourself for being so emotional and quick to cry.

“Woah, you’re crying!” Hyunjin stepped even closer to you but you’ve had enough of him.

“Get away from me, asshole!” you channeled all your anger his way as you pressed your hands on his chest, pushing him away.

Hyunjin stumbled with a gasp, a shocked look on his face.

“What the hell is happening here?” Anthony quickly came to Hyunjin’s side as his bandmates watched everything unfold.

“Ana, can we talk in private?” you glared once more at Hyunjin and she quickly nodded, hooking her arm with yours and taking you away from the scene.

Hyunjin watched your figure disappear out of view with a deep frown on his face.

It’s been a dreadful week.

You’ve tried talking to Janey multiple times, begging her to come back, promising to her that you wouldn’t let Steph come anywhere near her.

Sadly, Janey was insistent on not wanting to continue with the band since lots of the songs were written by her and her now ex girlfriend who betrayed her in such an ugly way.

You talked to Ana almost every day on the phone but you weren’t up for any visits, choosing instead to wallow in your sadness.

Your band fell apart, your friends were no longer together, your album couldn’t be published and people were speculating, spreading rumors, you were getting numerous curious comments asking what happened to Venus Flytrap.

You had no idea what to do at that moment.

You just needed some time to yourself to figure out what your next step should be.

You were lounging in your bed when your phone buzzed for the hundredth time.

Rolling your eyes, you grabbed it and saw that you had a text message from an unknown number.

???: hey there pretty girl! don’t be so sad! there are worse things than your band falling apart.

you: what, like death? and who is this?

???: your favorite person in the whole world<3

you: hyunjin??

???: aw i knew i was your favorite!

You started seething immediately as you sat up, your heart beating fast instantly as you worked yourself up into annoyance.

You quickly put his contact under ‘asshole’.

you: no, i knew that a conceited answer like that can only come from an asshole like you.

you: now, what do you want?

asshole: did you save my contact as asshole? or dickhead? which one is it?

you: wouldn’t you like to know. seriously what the hell do you want. i’ll block you if you don’t get on with it

asshole: just wanted to see if you maybe want to talk to someone

you: if i did, i wouldn’t choose you. have a nice day away from me hyunjin

Hyunjin didn’t answer your last text, instead he left you on read and you tossed your phone across your bed, now feeling even more infuriated than before.

You squinted your eyes, grabbing your phone again and texting Ana.

you: did you give my number to hyunjin??

Ana: i’m sorry! he wouldn’t stop bugging me about it! pls don’t be mad

Just great.

Why is he insisting on annoying you even when you feel down in the dumps, you thought, he always has to come in and make you feel even more mad.

You were hoping that with your last text he’d finally leave you alone.

You also hoped you wouldn’t be seeing him any time soon.

But boy, you couldn’t be more wrong.

“What?!” you yelled so loudly that it echoed off of the office walls.

“Y/n, please we don’t know any other solution. Lycoris Radiata is going to tour in 4 days and you’re the only person who knows their songs by heart. You can also kick ass with drums. And well, you’re kinda free now.” Anthony grimaced.

“You can’t do this to me. I can’t spend so much time with Hwang Hyunjin!” you whined like a child, kicking your legs under the table as Ana gave you an apologetic look.

“Gossiping about me?” Hyunjin strolled in, with that annoying smirk, his hair in a little ponytail, showing more of his ear piercings and his sharp jawline.

He took off his leather jacket, throwing it haphazardly on the chair before he plopped down into it.

He spun around in the chair to face you as you looked at him with a scowl on your face.

Brendon, his guitarist and Aiden joined the meeting right after that.

“So, ready to be my new drummer?” Hyunjin wiggled his eyebrows at you.

“Not a chance in hell.”

“Y/n, please, we have no other choice! Phil had to leave so suddenly due to his sickness. We couldn’t be prepared for something like that. We can’t afford to postpone the tour now.” Brendon pleaded as Aiden nodded next to him.

You leaned back into the chair, pursing your lips as you gave it a thought.

Of course they’d choose you.

You knew their songs by heart since you shared so many tours together but you had your own bus and mostly ran into Hyunjin either backstage or at an afterparty but if you would become a part of his band you’d spend most of your time with him.

But this could be good for you to give yourself time to decide what you wanna do next while touring with Lycoris Radiata.

And since you were a multi instrumentalist, playing the drums wouldn’t be a problem for you.

You smirked suddenly before tilting your head at Hyunjin.

“Fine. I will tour with you under one condition.” you said.

“Anything!” Anthony piped in but you kept staring at Hyunjin.

“I want you to beg.” your smirk deepened and Hyunjin’s eyes widened slightly, his fingers twitching against his thighs.

“What?” he blinked repeatedly and you chuckled under your breath.

“Beg me to join your band or I’m not doing it.”

Hyunjin’s lips opened and closed a few times before he frowned.

“I don’t beg. I demand.” he smirked, taunting you.

“Well, in case you haven’t noticed, you’re in no position to have demands. However, I am. So if I want you to beg, Hyunjin, you’re gonna beg.” you sat up straight as he looked at you in pure shock.

“My, my darling. I didn’t know you were this commanding. I kinda dig that.” he wiggled his eyebrows.

“Any day now.” you were ready to stand up and leave.

The room was eerily silent and Brendon opened his lips to speak up but Anthony grabbed his wrist and quickly shook his head.

You could see the gears turning in Hyunjin’s head as he stared at you, and slowly but surely his cheeks became red as he closed his eyes in frustration.

“Pretty please, join my band and come on tour with us?” he said, rather quickly and you tsked.

“Not convincing enough.” you enjoyed having the upper hand, the roles reversed as you pushed Hyunjin’s buttons.

“What do you want me to do?! Kneel at your feet?” he whined.

“Maybe.” you shrugged.

“Unbelievable! I’m the one doing you a favor anyways.” Hyunjin said, clearly annoyed and you were reveling in it.

You wanted him to get the taste of his own medicine.

“Is that so?” you raised your eyebrow as he breathed hard.

“Yes, your band is as good as dead right now, just like your career.” he said with a smug smirk, making everyone gasp.

“Hyunjin!” Aiden scolded him and you stood up, feeling your eyes water as you lifted your hand, your palm colliding with Hyunjin’s cheek.

The force of your slap turned his head right and he grabbed at his cheek immediately, his eyes wide, his face becoming red quickly.

“Fuck you!” you said angrily before turning around and leaving the room as tears started sliding down your cheeks.

“Now look at what you did!” Anthony was mad and Hyunjin shrugged with a frown, realizing quickly that maybe he did cross a line.

“How could you say something like that to y/n?” Brendon asked, and Hyunjin looked at them, feeling dejected suddenly as he rubbed at his cheek.

There was strength in your hands, that he was sure of.

“I fucked up, okay! I didn’t mean to say that.” he shook his head. “I will make this right.” Hyunjin added, standing up.

“Dude, I think you’re the last person y/n wants to see right now.” Aiden said.

“But I have to apologize to her.” Hyunjin chewed on his lip, playing with his piercing as a nervous habit.

“I’ll go with you then.” Aiden nodded, standing up as well.

“Fine.” Hyunjin sighed.

You sat in the swinging chair on one of the many balconies of the building, letting your tears slip down your cheeks as the wind picked up, making you shiver.

Hyunjin and Aiden found you pretty quickly and before Aiden could follow him to the balcony, Hyunjin smacked his hand on Aiden’s chest.

“Please, just wait here.”

“Fine, but if you provoke her again, I’m coming in.” Aiden sighed, shaking his head.

The door of the balcony opened and in the corner of your eye you saw Hyunjin’s combat boots and his leather pants.

“Go away.” you said quietly, sniffling and turning away from him.

Hyunjin stood frozen for a moment, holding his jacket in his hand and you took that time to quickly wipe away your tears.

You didn’t want to look weak in front of your enemy.

Footsteps approached and suddenly you felt a weight on your shoulders and back.

You looked down, realizing that Hyunjin had put his jacket around you and it smelled like cigarettes mixed with cologne he always wears and something distinctly him.

You took a deep breath and for some reason, calmness settled all over your body.

“I’m really sorry for what I said back there. It was way out of line.”

You didn’t say anything, still refusing to look at him.

“And I’m sorry about your band. I know that must be hard to go through. I feel bad that my drummer had to leave, I don’t know how I’d feel if-”

“Are you done?” you turned to look at him and his lips pressed together.

“I don’t care how you feel, Hyunjin. Just like you didn’t care about hurting me moments ago.” you stood up, ready to throw his jacket away.

“Well, I apologized!” he threw his hands up, rolling his eyes. “Though, I’m glad I have that effect on you, I didn’t know you cared so much about what I think or say.” he smirked suddenly.

You were tempted to slap his other cheek at that moment, and Aiden must’ve sensed it so he walked out to the balcony.

“Are we okay?” he asked, gulping.

“Not until he apologizes properly.” you crossed your arms with a smirk, and he knew exactly what you meant.

“Ugh! This is the first and last time I get on my knees for you.” Hyunjin said annoyingly as he kneeled down and you chuckled in delight.

“I’m sorry for being an asshole and if you could find it in your heart to forgive me, I’d be honored for you to join my band.” he batted his eyelashes at you.

“Mm…” you pursed your lips, acting like you were contemplating it as he rolled his eyes again.

“Fine. I accept.” you shrugged and Hyunjin stood up quickly with a smile.

“Welcome to the band, sweetheart!” he smirked, opening his arms for a hug and you quickly dodged under his arm and slithered away.

“You’re welcome.” you smirked back, grabbing his jacket and throwing it at him.

He caught it just as you walked back into the hallway, grinning to himself as you walked away.

“She wants me so bad.” Hyunjin said as Aiden’s eyebrows lifted comically.

“I think she wants to kill you.” he said and Hyunjin chuckled, smacking Aiden’s shoulder and grabbing him.

“I know what chicks like, okay?”

“You also know that y/n isn’t one of your little groupies?” Aiden sighed.

“I know, don’t worry. She’s special.” Hyunjin smiled, hugging his jacket to his chest, getting a whiff of your perfume that stayed on it.

Aiden shook his head with a chuckle.

This is gonna be one hell of a tour.

The party was in full swing.

That morning you had packed for the tour, your stomach swirling with nerves so much that you thought you’d throw up.

You were actually going on tour with Lycoris Radiata, for at least six months.

A lot can happen in that amount of time and while you were nervous to spend so much time with the infuriating and annoying asshole aka Hwang Hyunjin, you were also excited for the new experience and the places you’ll get to see.

Of course, you couldn’t leave without attending a ‘have an amazing tour’ party that was mostly exclusive only for staff and a few other people.

You were on your second glass of beer as you sat at the bar, the cold bitter liquid not calming you down as it should.

Hyunjin was having a jolly old time, entertaining some girls of course and if you had rolled your eyes any harder, they’d get stuck in the back of your head.

“Don’t take that to heart.” Aiden suddenly appeared next to you.

“What?” you chuckled awkwardly, shaking away your thoughts.

“Hyunjin flirting like that. He’s a lot of talk, more than anything else.”

“Why would I care if he flirts with some random girls?” you frowned. “It’s none of my business.”

“Right.” Aiden pursed his lips. “Well, I’m gonna go find Anthony.”

“Sure.” you shrugged, your eyes flying back to Hyunjin and the girls who were salivating all over him.

He was showing them his biceps and they were touching him like they’ve never seen a human arm in their life.

You scoffed, shaking your head when a voice behind you startled you.

“Now, why is a pretty lady such as yourself sitting all alone?”

You turned around with your eyebrow lifted, coming face to face with a stranger.

“Because it’s her choice.” you answered.

“Oh, feisty and pretty? That’s a fun combo.” the guy smirked, his arm leaning on your chair, almost hugging your waist as he got closer to you.

Your nose scrunched up, he smelled of alcohol and you really wanted him to leave you alone.

“I’m pretty boring, trust me.” you said.

“Oh, I don’t believe that. In fact, I think if you were to let me take you home tonight, you and I could have so much fun.” he smirked and you were pretty sure you barfed in your mouth a little.

“No, thank you.” you said sarcastically.

He chuckled, placing his arms around you.

You were completely unaware of Hyunjin who was keeping an eye on you and the suspicious guy.

As soon as the man placed his hands on you, Hyunjin pushed the girl he was talking to aside, his heavy combat boots taking him right to you and the disturbance in your personal space.

“I don’t really take no for an answer.” he said and your heart sank momentarily.

“Back off man!” you tried to push him away but he wasn’t budging.

Suddenly the guy was ripped away from you with such force that it pulled you to your feet.

You grabbed at the bar to steady yourself and gasped just in time to see Hyunjin swinging his fist at the man.

“Oh my god!” you almost screamed, your eyes wide as the guy fell to the floor instantly.

People quickly gathered around and Anthony was trying to push them away so he could grab Hyunjin.

“The lady said no, you fucking dirtbag!” Hyunjin said, swinging at the man again.

“Oh my god, Hyunjin! Stop, it’s okay, please!” you panicked, never seeing him this angry or violent.

“Hwang! Enough!” Anthony yelled, grabbing Hyunjin’s arms and lifting him up as he fought against his manager, still trying to punch the man who was now laying on the floor with his face completely bloody.

You kept looking at Hyunjin with a shocked expression as he breathed hard, his face red and sweaty from anger, the veins on his neck and forehead popping out.

“I stopped, now let me go.” he said through his teeth as someone lifted up the unconscious guy.

“Hyunjin, if this gets out to the press it could turn into a fucking shitstorm! What the hell is wrong with you?!” Anthony yelled angrily as Hyunjin stood with his fists still clenched.

“He made y/n uncomfortable and he deserved it.” Hyunjin answered before turning towards you.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his eyes softening as you stared at him in disbelief.

“I-I’m fine.”

“Good. I’m done with this party.” Hyunjin said, turning on his heel and grabbing his jacket before he walked out, leaving you standing there still trying to process what the hell just happened.

You were half asleep when Ana drove you to the tour bus.

You barely slept last night, tossing and turning in your bed as the images of Hyunjin punching that guy from the party kept swimming in your head.

Never has a man defended you like that and you’ve never seen Hyunjin look so livid before.

He was usually either smirking, laughing or being a menace, ready to always annoy you but you’ve never seen him actually angry.

It was kind of… hot, you thought before shaking it off.

You wondered why he reacted like that.

“You okay?” Ana snapped you out of your vegetative state as you sank in the passenger seat, arms crossed and hood over your head.

“Hm? Yeah, just sleepy.” you sat up and looked around.

The sun wasn’t even up yet.

“You can continue sleeping on the tour bus. We’re here.” she chuckled.

“Oh, goody.” you sighed before opening the door and walking out.

“Morning, ladies.” Anthony all but ran up to Ana, helping her with yours and her bags since she’d be joining you too.

“Morning? It’s still night.” you checked your phone, seeing it was 4:13am.

“Not where I come from. You see-” Anthony started.

“Okay, I’m too asleep to listen to this.” you shook your head before strolling towards the bus.

You were about to just climb in and go straight to the nearest bed you could find but you heard some quiet music coming from behind the back of the bus.

You approached slowly and peeked around to see Hyunjin leaning on the wall, smoking and listening to some quiet music.

He looked up instantly, seeming like a deer caught in headlights for a short moment.

“Remembered to put on a jacket?” he smirked.

“Ha ha. Very funny.” you said and he shrugged, looking away and turning the music off.

As he brought his cigarette to his lips, you noticed his knuckles were red and injured.

“I guess I should thank you for last night.” you said quietly, swinging on your feet awkwardly as you dug your hands in your pockets.

“It was nothing.” he shook his head quickly.

“I wouldn’t call that nothing.” you motioned to his hand.

“This?” he looked at his hand and chuckled. “You should see the other guy.” he winked at you, making you roll your eyes.

“Clever.”

“Come to think of it, it does hurt a bit. Wanna kiss it better?” Hyunjin smirked, puffing the smoke out.

“Bite me.” you gave him the middle finger as he laughed, the sound ringing out in the quiet early hours.

“I might. If you ask nicely.” he said with that smug expression of his.

“I’m going inside.” you shivered, realizing how cold it actually was, ignoring his witty quips.

“I’m right behind ya.” he threw his cigarette on the floor before stepping on it.

Your heart started beating fast out of nowhere as his heavy boots stomped behind you, the sound escorting you to the entrance of the bus.

“Oh wow.” your eyes widened as you looked around the living/kitchen area.

“You like?” Hyunjin leaned over your shoulder and you jolted away from him, making him snicker.

“Yeah, it’s… not what I expected. It looks more cozy than I thought it would.” you nodded.

“You should thank the interior designer.” he wiggled his eyebrows.

“And who might that be?” you asked, making your way to the bunk bed area.

“Oh, just a guy. He takes payment in kisses.” Hyunjin bumped into you as you stopped.

“Is that guy maybe you?” you turned around, not realizing immediately just how close Hyunjin was to you.

“Maybe it is.” he leaned towards you with a smirk and you squealed a little, stepping away from him.

“Give it up. I’m taking the top bunk bed.” you pointed to the left side.

“Not fair! I always take that one!” Hyunjin pouted.

“Tough luck, I called it first.” you smirked, taking off your jacket and throwing it up on the bed.

“Or… we can both sleep up there?” Hyunjin said and you scoffed, pushing him away.

“Like hell!”

“Are y’all fighting this early?” Brendon came in, looking confused and disheveled.

“No, it’s foreplay.” Hyunjin wiggled his eyebrows and you made gagging noises.

“Here’s your bag, y/n.” Ana appeared with your luggage.

Aiden and Anthony came in after and everyone took some time to unpack and get settled.

“I heard we have two pretty ladies with us, so you fellas gotta behave now.” you heard an unknown voice and leaned over to see who it belonged to.

“Oh, we always behave, Stu.” Hyunjin smirked.

“Yes, especially you.” the man, Stu, rolled his eyes.

“This is our main driver Stu.” Aiden introduced you and Ana to him.

“Pleasure to meet you ladies. Hopefully the road won’t be too bumpy.” he winked before turning around and leaving.

“Where is Bradley?” Anthony piped in suddenly.

“Who’s Bradley?” you asked, at this moment you just wanted to get everything over with and catch up on some sleep.

“Our sound guy.” Brendon answered. “And lights guy. He is underpaid and overworked, basically.” he added, giving Anthony a pointed look.

“Hey, it’s not my fault Mike quit!” he lifted his hands up. “Besides, we’re picking someone up in the next town over. He’ll be our roadie along with Bradley.”

As they started discussing, you slipped away to the bathroom, where you could change in peace and get ready for bed.

You leaned on the counter, staring at yourself in the mirror as you listened to the muffled voices talking.

Were you doing the right thing?

Accepting to join another band when your heart still hurts from the sudden falling apart between your friends and band members…

“Y/n, I need the bathroom!” Hyunjin’s voice brought you back to reality and you stood up straight.

“I’m not done yet!” you yelled back. “You have another bathroom!” you added annoyingly, preparing to brush your teeth.

“Aiden hogged it. Are you naked or something? Cause I swear I don’t mind.”

You could just hear the smirk in his voice.

Rolling your eyes, you opened the door and Hyunjin gave you the elevator eyes and they lingered on your legs in the shorts you put on, going up to your chest and lingering again before he looked up at your face.

He was playing with his lip ring again, his cheeks rosy.

“What do you want?” you spat.

“Just wanna brush my teeth.” he looked at you smugly.

You didn’t say anything, just stepped aside and continued brushing your teeth.

You opted to leave the door opened since it felt awkward to have them closed.

“Isn’t this fun, us brushing our teeth together? It’s kinda domestic, don’t you think?” Hyunjin said suddenly, the familiar smirk on his face.

“Yes, thrilling.” you answered sarcastically. “You don’t have to act nice, Hyunjin. Everyone knows we hate each other so let’s just not talk too much and try to coexist peacefully for the sake of everyone else on this tour.”

Hyunjin opened his mouth to answer but you quickly turned around and left, not wanting to get into it with him when you were tired and nervous.

He smirked to himself, shaking his head.

The only thing stuck in his brain at that moment was the way you said his name.

God, he loved it.

You slept for a few hours only, waking up early yet again as the bus rolled to a stop at a diner.

“Rise and shine, princess.” Hyunjin’s head popped up in front of you as he held onto your bed.

“Fuck off.” you grabbed your pillow and smacked him with it, almost making him fall down but he managed to land on his feet.

You heard a smack and Hyunjin saying ‘ow’ quietly before Aiden said,

“Come down if you’re hungry.”

You chuckled to yourself, waiting for them to leave so you could get ready.

Of course, as soon as you sat down in a booth, Hyunjin pushed Brendon aside and quickly slid next to you.

“Oh my god.” you rolled your eyes.

You were squished between him and Ana on your other side, and he was too close for comfort.

You could feel the heat of his body and smell the scent of his shampoo and body wash mixed with cigarettes.

You tried to ignore the feelings stirring in your gut as you ordered.

“So, how did you like sleeping on top of me?” Hyunjin smirked, tilting his head.

“Not as much as you liked sleeping under me, weirdo.” you scoffed at him and he chuckled.

“I liked it very much, so that must mean you liked it at least a little.” he said as the food arrived and your stomach growled.

“Whatever you say.” you brushed him off and started to dig in.

“We’re close to our first destination.” Anthony started after a sip of coffee. “We will arrive around 4pm and have lunch, then we get ready and do the soundcheck. Questions?”

Everyone shook their heads no.

You suddenly felt nervous tingles running up your spine, and for some reason Hyunjin felt it.

“Don’t worry princess, you’ll do great.” he smirked, placing his hand on top of your wrist.

You snatched your hand away and looked at him.

“I know I will, I was just wondering if you’ll be able to keep up with me.” you smirked back at him.

“You’ll be surprised at how well I can keep up, baby.” Hyunjin leaned into your personal space, his eyes boring into yours and you felt your cheeks burning.

“Be nice, you two.” Ana chuckled.

“What? I haven't called him an asshole yet. Emphasis on yet.”

Hyunjin laughed next to you, his arm brushing against yours.

Oh, he is so going to enjoy this.

It was such a good, familiar feeling to sit behind a drum kit after being the main vocalist and guitarist of your band for so long.

The venue was empty at this moment and the sound of the drums echoing in the space was grand.

You closed your eyes and started playing a groove to get into the mood and Hyunjin was lured towards the stage instantly.

He watched you in awe even though he saw you play the drums before, they never had the name of his band on the front of them.

Hyunjin felt proud; that his band has come so far and honored that you were now a part of their story.

He hoped you’d enjoy the tour and judging by the blissful look on your face, you were off to a good start.

“Let’s go, Hyun.” Brendon smacked his shoulder, pulling him back to reality.

It was time for the soundcheck, and when everyone was finally on stage, tuning their instruments, you realized that this is real.

Excitement replaced any nerves you had and you were ready to tear the stage apart.

“Let’s jam a little.” Aiden smiled as everyone agreed.

He started to play a melody on his bass so you followed him with the drums.

You were so focused on grooving that you didn’t notice Hyunjin winking at his two other band members.

When it was time for him to start playing his guitar, Hyunjin decided to play totally out of tune.

You looked up at him with your brows furrowed as you tried to follow him.

He changed it up suddenly, that familiar shit eating grin spreading on his face as you followed him yet again.

Brendon and Aiden stopped playing as they observed the two of you, battling it out with your instruments.

Hyunjin was trying hard to get on your nerves, push your buttons but you weren’t gonna let him in.

“Having some trouble following, princess?” he yelled over the noise.

You looked at him pointedly as he started to play another melody that made no sense and you’ve had enough.

Hyunjin had a way of getting under your skin and he obviously knew that.

Your arm lifted up on its own accord and you swung one of your drumsticks right at Hyunjin, aiming for his empty head.

His eyes widened and he managed to dodge it in a close second as the drumstick clattered on the floor.

“Ha! Attempted murder! Y’all saw that!” he pointed at you, while looking at his friends and you started laughing.

“Don’t worry, even if it did hit your head, it couldn’t damage it more than it already is.” you smirked as Hyunjin huffed.

“Oh baby, keep talking. Degradation is my thing.” he motioned towards his ear with his fingers and you made a disgusted face at him.

Of course, the asshole laughed at your expression.

“Guys, can we actually practice?” Brendon chimed in as Aiden nodded.

Instead of answering verbally, you started playing so everyone joined in.

“Are you nervous?” Aiden asked as the venue filled up and it all became real.

“Nope, I’m ecstatic!” you answered, twirling your drumstick in your hand.

“Trying to murder me once again?” Hyunjin appeared next to you as you almost hit him with it.

“Trust me, if I was trying to kill you, you’d already be dead.”

“Nobody’s killing anyone, we’re already short on staff.” Anthony smirked before putting his arms around Hyunjin and Brendon’s shoulders.

“Good luck guys! And y/n, of course. I know y’all will do great.” Anthony smiled.

Ana came up to you to hug you.

“Good luck, babe!” she smiled.

“Thank you.” you gave her a bone crushing hug, she was always like a sister to you and having her here now meant a lot to you.

As soon as you walked out on stage, the screams of all the people that came to see you perform were deafening but heartwarming.

Hyunjin was the main character on stage, that you were convinced of as whatever he did resulted in even louder screaming.

You didn’t mind being the backbone of the band, playing drums to you was a meditative and transcending experience and anything you were angry or upset about, you could take it out while playing.

Performing with Lycoris Radiata was fun as fuck, even more than you hoped for; seeing Hyunjin up close made you realize just why people loved him so much.

He was charismatic, cool and lame at the same time, ethereally beautiful and down to earth, fun but sensitive, alluring but cute, he gave his all and more.

He was everything wrapped up in one and you wondered how that was possible.

A particular moment struck you; when you were playing a slower song, Hyunjin sang so delicately, his back turned to you as the lights beamed down on his frame, his sweaty hair and skin making him look like he was glowing.

Your heart skipped a beat but you ignored it.

Near the end of the show, Hyunjin did his usual routine which consisted of making everyone’s panties wet; it was time for the sex song he always sang near the end which made you feel embarrassed and uncomfortable but something about being on stage with them got you in the right mood for it.

The part came up; and Hyunjin was on the floor, moaning and humping the air as you followed his moans with the heavy sound of your drums.

Hyunjin smirked, throwing his head back to look at you as he continued his ministrations and you continued following him on the drums.

Aiden and Brendon joined in as Hyunjin became louder, resulting in you hitting the drums harder as the sounds all came together in a crescendo.

You wished that you could press your thighs together to create pressure and friction because the whole thing managed to get you wet too.

A part of you felt ashamed but you didn’t give a flying fuck in that moment, completely letting go of everything as the four of you continued jamming together.

Hyunjin stood up with the biggest smile on his face, winking at you as he ran a lap around the stage before literally diving into the audience.

You gasped to yourself but continued playing the outro to the performance while Hyunjin was being groped by horny fanboys and fangirls.

Security was there to pull him back up on stage safely and Hyunjin sang the end of the song before screaming a ‘thank you’ into the mic.

After all four of you bowed a hundred times, you finally ran backstage where a very sweaty Hyunjin started hugging everyone, eventually coming up to you.

“Don’t even think about it.” you said as he opened his arms.

“Not thinking, just doing it.” he smirked and before you could run away, his arms wrapped around you and he pulled you into his body.

“Ew!” you squirmed against him and he chuckled.

“Don’t pretend you don’t like it.” he held you tighter and your heart leaped out of your chest.

The bastard smelled so good even after sweating so much and it annoyed you how seemingly perfect he was.

“What, a gross sweaty man slobbering all over me?” you scrunched up your face as you finally pushed him away.

“I wasn’t slobbering but if you’re into that-”

“Please shut up while I’m still in a good mood.” you stopped him and he laughed.

“It’s so fun messing with you, darling.” Hyunjin ruffled your hair as you practically hissed at him, making him laugh again.

“You guys were fucking amazing!” Anthony yelled excitedly.

“I don’t know about you but I need some food.” Aiden piped in.

“I’m feeling thirsty, honestly.” Brendon added.

“Are we partying or what?” Hyunjin smirked, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Hell yeah, we are!” Anthony high-fived him.

You ended up having the afterparty in the bus, ordering some food and acquiring some beer as you sat around in the living space.

Of course, as soon as you walked in, you ran for the shower, with Hyunjin cascading behind you and asking if he could join you because “it’ll be done faster”.

“Dream about it, asshole!” you yelled before closing the bathroom door.

“Oh, I do.” Hyunjin smirked to himself, but you didn’t hear him.

The excitement of the performance slowly washed away from your body along with Hyunjin’s scent that lingered after he hugged you, and you felt happy and cozy.

All of you finally settled down to eat and Hyunjin claimed the spot next to you, of course, his long slender fingers stealing your fries constantly.

“Will you back off! You have your own fries.” you slapped his arm as he whined.

“Yours are tastier.” he claimed with that familiar smirk of his.

“Are they now?” you smirked back.

“Mhm.” he nodded pointedly.

“Let’s see then.” you grabbed your box and dumped all your fries into his box before mixing them up. “Pick one up and distinguish if it’s from your box or mine.”

Hyunjin stared at you with his lips parted before he smiled.

“Aw, we’re sharing.” he said and continued eating as you heard some chuckles around the table.

“For fucks sake.” you muttered, shaking your head.

The rest of the night was full of chatter and laughter, and you didn’t mind Hyunjin’s arm or leg brushing against you ever so often, or his loud laughter ringing in your ears or him constantly poking at you.

It’s barely been one day on tour and he wasn’t as unbearable as you thought he’d be.

Everyone was tired and you had to hit the road so it was finally peaceful, before a loud scream startled everyone.

“Oh no, I am going to die!” Hyunjin wailed dramatically.

“What’s wrong with him?” you rolled your eyes as Aiden came in.

“He lost his teddy bear.”

“He what?” you chuckled in disbelief.

“Hyunjin’s teddy, he always takes it with him. He’s had it since he was a baby and he’s convinced it brings him luck.” Aiden shrugged and Hyunjin ran into the living area.

“We are doomed!” he said, grabbing your arms and shaking you.

“Calm down, it must be around here somewhere.” you sighed.

“Help me look?” Hyunjin batted his eyelashes at you as Aiden slipped away.

“Hyunjin, I’m tired, I need to get some sleep.” you whined.

“Me too! But I can’t sleep without my teddy.” he said, you couldn’t believe he was serious. “I will crawl up to your bunk and annoy you all night if you don’t help me look.” he added, smirking.

“Fine, I’ll help you.” you rolled your eyes.

“Wow, you don’t want me in your bed at all?” he kept smirking.

“Zip it. Let’s find your precious teddy.”

“Yes!” Hyunjin scurried after you as the two of you basically did a search and rescue mission for his favorite plush.

Eventually, you walked into the other bathroom, finding the old teddy sitting on the counter.

“There you are.” you picked up, chuckling at the state of it.

You couldn’t help it as you sniffed the teddy and sure enough it smelled just like its owner.

“Found it!” you yelled and Hyunjin bursted in, panting and smiling.

“Oh my god!” he exclaimed, grabbing the teddy and then you as he enveloped you in a hug for the second time that night.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Hyunjin held you tightly and you chuckled.

“Alright, you’re thankful, I get it. You can let go now.” you said, patting his back.

“I owe you.” he muttered.

“I really didn’t do anything.”

“You did, trust me.” he smiled.

As you laid in your bunk bed that night, you couldn’t stop thinking about Hyunjin.

He seemed somehow different or you were just now seeing different sides of him that you didn’t see before.

You didn’t hate him completely.

Ten days on tour and things were going great.

Every show was better than the last one, every venue bigger than the last one, every note played made Lycoris Radiata mean more and more to you.

Tonight was no exception as you ripped the stage once again, this time Hyunjin ended up lifting Aiden and spinning him at the end which almost made the poor man throw up from excitement.

“This was Lycoris Radiata, see you next time!” and with that you ran backstage where Hyunjin had to hug everyone, even asking for a group hug.

You had to humor him.

When your head finally hit the pillow, you couldn’t sleep even though you were exhausted.

You kept replaying one particular moment from the show in your head.

It was while Hyunjin was singing his famous sex song, before the moaning part, he came up to you and sang while looking at you.

You kept playing and looking at him intently as he sang the lewd lyrics right into your face.

Before he took off, Hyunjin lifted his hand, making a V shape with his fingers, doing the licking motion between them, his tongue piercing shining in the big stage light.

Your mouth fell agape for a moment as you felt hotness spread all over your body and he smirked smugly when you made a tiny mistake in your playing.

People didn’t notice but he did.

And he was satisfied with it.

You couldn’t stop thinking about it, and it had been a while since you’ve had a little ‘you time’ but it was hard to do that with so many people in the bus.

Your eyes fluttered closed and you sighed, hearing some shuffling beneath you.

“Y/n?” Hyunjin suddenly climbed up into your bed, startling you as you sat up and turned on the little light inside.

“W-what are you doing?”

“I can’t sleep. And I figured you weren’t sleeping either.” Hyunjin whispered.

“And how did you figure that?” you clutched your blanket.

“You sighed like a hundred times.” he chuckled quietly.

“What do you want?” you rolled your eyes with a smile.

“To hang out.” he pulled out a deck of cards out of nowhere.

“We can’t make too much noise, we’ll wake everyone up.” you shook your head.

“Fine then we’ll do something quiet.” Hyunjin smirked, tossing the cards aside and laying down next to you, his eyes closing.

“Turn the light off, sweetheart.” he cracked one eye open as you stared at him in disbelief.

“You are not sleeping in my bunk. Go back downstairs.” you whispered.

“No.” he answered simply.

“Hyunjin, I’m warning you, I will push you down.”

“Will you? You’ll wake up the whole bus.” he smirked.

“God, you’re so annoying!” you whisper-yelled, giving up as you laid down, turning away from Hyunjin.

“Be nice and share your blanket.” Hyunjin’s breath hit the back of your neck, making you shiver as goosebumps rose on your skin.

“Need anything else?” you muttered as he hogged your blanket and your personal space.

“A goodnight kiss?” Hyunjin leaned over you, peering at your face hopefully.

You gave him the side eye and he chuckled.

“Maybe some other time, hm?” he asked.

“Go to sleep.” you said and he laid down behind you.

“Goodnight, darling.” Hyunjin wanted to reach out and touch your hair but he figured you’d probably break his arm.

You didn’t answer, your heart beating so hard that you were afraid it was shaking the bed and Hyunjin could feel it.

You quickly turned off the light and tried to calm down.

There was enough space to where he wasn’t touching you but you felt his warmth, his scent, his breath on your skin.

It was driving you crazy and making you feel calm at the same time.

You managed to fall asleep somehow.

At some point, in the middle of the night, Hyunjin and you gravitated closer to each other and you ended up in his arms.

When you slowly blinked your eyes open and realized you were staring straight at Hyunjin’s chest, you jolted away from him, making him groan quietly.

“Where you goin’?” he mumbled into your pillow, trying to grab you.

“As far as I can from you.” you said, wiggling out of his arm that eventually caught you as he groaned again.

“Something’s poking my ass.” Hyunjin gasped when he rolled over and you laughed.

“It’s the cards, you idiot.” rolling your eyes, you left the bunk feeling embarrassed and insane as your face heated up.

What are you doing, sleeping in the same bed as Hyunjin?

You hate him, right?

You weren’t so sure anymore.

Yes, he was annoying but somehow that became kind of endearing.

He has bugged you every single day since the tour started and if he suddenly stopped, it’d feel weird.

You sighed, shaking off your thoughts as you grabbed your phone, munching on your breakfast.

“Morning, y/n. Tell me am I crazy or did Hyunjin sleep over in your bunk?” Ana smirked at you as she brought two coffees.

“You are crazy. But yes, he slept in my bunk.” you said.

“Interesting.” she smirked, lifting one eyebrow up.

“Hey, I saw you sleeping in Anthony’s bunk multiple times. What’s that about?” you teased as you opened up your insta.

“Well, everyone knows we have a thing for each other. You and Hyunjin though… oh yeah, you have a thing too.”

“We don’t have a thing.” you quickly said as Ana chuckled.

“Right. Mhm.”

You continued scrolling, and that’s when you noticed it; the hate comments on your posts.

‘She’s just a slut who’s after Hyunjin’

‘She’s delusional if she thinks he’d like her like she’s ugly lmao’

‘Untalented bitch’

‘Get her away from my Hyunjin’

‘She deserved her band falling apart they were shit anyways’

‘Y/n should retire from the music scene’

Your eyes started stinging with tears as you skimmed through the comment section.

“What’s wrong?” Ana tilted her head to look at you.

You slid your phone to her and she gasped.

“You know these people are probably some jealous, unsuccessful suckers.” she said.

“I need some air.” you sucked in a breath before hurriedly leaving the bus.

“What’s with her?” Hyunjin walked in. “Is she mad at me?”

“No, look.” Ana showed him your phone.

Hyunjin frowned instantly, running out of the bus after you.

You stood not too far away with a cigarette in your hand as you hugged yourself with your other arm and Hyunjin’s eyes softened when he saw you shivering in the wind.

“I knew you’d forget to bring a jacket.” Hyunjin put his leather jacket around you, smoothing his hand over your back a few times.

You exhaled a puff of smoke, not answering him as you melted into his big jacket.

Hyunjin took out a cigarette for himself and you reached out with your lighter, lighting it up as he smirked.

“Since when do you smoke?” he asked.

“Well, I’m feeling extra stressed right now so I needed something to take the edge off.” you shrugged.

“Because of the comments?”

“I don’t wanna talk about them.”

“I’m sorry.” Hyunjin sighed.

“It’s not your fault.” you said.

“I feel like it is.”

Hyunjin was standing so close to you that his arm was touching yours while both of you continued smoking.

You stood silently next to each other for a few more moments as the clouds passed you by, and slowly but surely Hyunjin closed the gap between your hands as he touched yours briefly before he wrapped his pinky around yours.

“Hey, you know I’m honored you’re part of my band.” his tone was serious and you couldn’t bear to look at him or you’d burst into tears.

“I know.” you smiled as you kept looking into the distance.

He smiled too, his eyes focused on you.

Hyunjin had your back; and that was a pinky promise.

Finally, you arrived to your next destination, and you’d be there for a few days which meant you had to check into a hotel.

You were glad to have some time to yourself, you needed a real shower and a real bed and just some time to get away from everything, recharge your batteries.

You just finished with your shower and skincare when your phone annoyed you, buzzing with texts constantly.

When you grabbed it you realized that you forgot to change Hyunjin’s name from ‘asshole’.

You laughed to yourself, deciding to just add a little heart at the end.

asshole<3: y/n what are you doing

asshole<3: why aren’t you answering

asshole<3: i’m BOREEEED

asshole<3: y/n!!!!

asshole<3: princess?

asshole<3: i’m coming to your room

“Shit!” you exclaimed just in time when Hyunjin knocked on your door.

“Go away, Hyunjin!” you yelled on the other side.

“Never! I will wake the whole damn floor if you don’t open this door.” he banged against it.

“Spoiled brat.” you muttered to yourself before opening the door.

“Oh.” Hyunjin looked you up and down, your hair still wet from the shower, your little nightgown accentuating all your goodies.

“Did you dress up for me?” he smirked as his tongue darted out to play with his lip piercing; a habit you picked up on.

“Oh yeah, I was just waiting for you to come knocking on my door.” you answered sarcastically.

“Oh come on, I brought snacks.” he lifted up a few bags.

“You should’ve said that first.” you stepped aside, letting him in.

“So, are you here just because you’re bored?” you scoffed as he practically skipped to your bed before throwing himself on it.

“No, I’m here cause I know you miss me.” he smirked at you. “I spared you the walk to my room, princess.”

“Oh yeah, I am the one who missed you.” you said pointedly.

“I know you are.” he wiggled his eyebrows and you groaned, throwing a pillow at him but the slick bastard caught it.

“I’m gonna change into something else.” you said, feeling a bit self-conscious.

“Into what? After that outfit, the only logical thing is to have nothing on.”

“Wouldn’t you like that?” you snickered.

“I would.” he smirked.

“Changing right now!” you left for the bathroom to put on some actual pjs.

“Don’t cross this line, Hyunjin.” you pointed as the two of you settled in your bed, ready to watch a movie and snack.

He smiled his shit eating grin and put his finger over the line.

“Whoops, crossed it.”

“Next time you lose a finger.” you threatened.

“Where is it gonna be misplaced?” he smirked.

“Not where you think.”

“You don’t know what I’m thinking.” he leaned closer to you. “But I can show you.”

“No thanks. Just watch the movie.”

It was quiet for some time until Hyunjin spoke up.

“I’m thinking of getting another tattoo.”

“Oh?” you didn’t take your eyes off the screen. “Where?”

“My back. I wanna finish what I started with my arm and shoulder.” he answered.

“Which is?” you looked at him and he smirked.

“Glad you asked.” he said, taking his shirt off.

“Woah, woah, what are you doing?” you jolted as he tossed it aside.

“Showing you my tattoos.” he giggled. “See, it’s one big picture. I sketched the original on my paper, it’s a flower’s life story. From a little seed all the way to the dust it becomes after it wilts forever. It’s not finished yet though.” he turned and you gulped.

“That’s a beautiful thought actually.”

“Feel the flowers.” Hyunjin turned his shoulder to you.

“I’m not gonna touch your tattoos.” you said.

“Come on, you know you want to.” he taunted you.

“No, I don’t.” you shook your head.

“Yes, you do. You started ogling me as soon as I took my shirt off.”

“That’s because of your musc- nothing, nevermind.” you quickly caught yourself, biting your tongue as your face started burning.

“Because of what? My muscles? You like them?” he started flexing immediately.

“That’s disgusting, stop acting like that.” you slapped his arm without thinking and you both froze.

“Oh.” Hyunjin smirked before taking your hand in his. “Really, I want you to feel my tattoos.”

“Fine if it gets you to shut up.”

Your fingers gently traced the delicate art on Hyunjin’s skin, starting from his wrist up his arm as you watched goosebumps rise on his skin.

You took your time to trace every leaf and petal as Hyunjin looked at you intently, his breaths coming out shaky as you traced over his arm, your fingers swirling with the intricate patterns.

Your hand came up to his shoulder as you continued tracing, his skin was so smooth and he was so warm under your touch.

“Y/n.” Hyunjin whispered, his hand covering yours as he leaned in closer to you, his eyelids hooded.

Your eyes widened when you realized he was about to kiss you and you quickly moved away.

“What the hell are you doing?!” you stood up and Hyunjin frowned at you.

“What does it look like I’m doing?!”

“Trying to get into my pants!” you scoffed. “I think you should sleep in your room.”

“B-but, it’s not like that!” Hyunjin stood up and you backed away.

“I know what it’s like. Please leave.”

“Fine.” Hyunjin looked dejected as he grabbed his phone and shirt. “Teddy is lonely without me anyways.” he said, making a theatrical leave out of your room as he dragged his feet and kept giving you pointed looks.

You were almost close to telling him he can stay, but as soon as he leaned in, you panicked and didn’t know how to react so you kept your mouth shut.

And you continued spiralling when he left, thinking about if he actually likes you or just wants to fuck you like he does to any girl.

You’ve seen him with girls on his arms constantly and while you always thought what you felt was hate or disgust; in this moment you recognized it was jealousy and it didn’t feel good at all.

taglist: @moonchild9350 @janepg @velvetmoonlght @hwanghyunjinismybae @jehhskz @porangporangmeong @laylasbunbunny @laughatdanger @jeonginslefthand @sapphirewaves @s3ungm1nxxl0ve @painterhyunjin @starlost-mochi-x @saintcosette @ooshyana @frehyun @scarlet789 @skzdust @simpforleeknaur @schniti-is-in-the-house

part 2

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deardiarywrites · 2 months ago

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dealing with the blues : how to manage negative emotions and more ૮꒰◞ ˕ ◟ ྀི꒱ა rotting vs resting

i know how upsetting life can be sometimes. you want to get better but something happens and life just keeps pushing you down, and you fall further and further into a rut. and because of that, you start to feel even worse. "why am i not doing as good as the others?" , "why am i so xyz?" , "why am i not like her?" etc etc. cmon my love. this isn't the time to compare yourself to others and feel even worse but to slowly dig up the soil, and find out what is actually going on. ♡ just take a day off, babe seriously. sometimes you just need to let yourself be upset and be unproductive yk? there is nooo shame in being unproductive as hell for a day or two. take your time and have a good break. now talking about breaks, we have a problem. are you really resting or rotting? RESTING makes you feel good, happy and energised ROTTING makes you feel guilty, unproductive, sluggish a lot of the times, instead of resting and recharging our minds, we are feeding our minds with lots and lots of brainrot, indulging in bad habits in the name of "resting", avoiding important work etc which in return make us feel even worse! well, resting isn't supposed to do that, right? resting is supposed to recharge you, get you ready to fight again. so next time you choose to 'rest', be mindful. do not indulge in things that you know will make you feel worse. doomscrolling is not resting. stalking your friends is not self care. intentionally avoiding important work is not self care. binge watching series by wrecking your sleep schedule and then feel guilty abt being on your phone all day is not self care. self care and resting is doing things you love which will nourish your mind and distract you for a little while, so that you can take a step back and just be aive for a bit.

an example of a day off could be smth like this ( just an example, please remember that everyone's life is different and so is yours. adjust accordingly ) : ʚɞ do not set any alarm, let yourself wake up naturally and when you do, pick up that book you have been meaning to read for a long time. ʚɞ have breakfast ʚɞ do 1 thing you really love and which makes you super happy (dancing, singing, acting etc) ʚɞ talk to someone or write abt how you are feeling ʚɞ try to create smth. a quick diy project, a lil sketch, crochet, a new dance move, a song cover, a poem, a video, photography etc ʚɞ do 1 imp work which you have been putting off (homework, stdy for a test etc) ʚɞ delete instagram for a bit and surround yourself with positivity. use tumblr, youtube, pinterest instead. ʚɞ go outside, even for just 5 minutes. ʚɞ maybe call up your friend/s and play smth ʚɞ take cute pics of urself ʚɞ maybe post smth cute on tumblr wink wink ʚɞ have a cute night ritual and then go to bed. ₊⊹ monitor what you have been consuming lately what you feed your mind and body actually matters (lol what a shocker). so tell me, have you been eating well? sleeping well? surrounding yourself with positivity? or have you been consuming content which further degrades your mental and physical health? try to replace unhealthy junk with healthy stuff. fix your fyp, choose "not interested" for posts which no longer resonate with you. declutter and reorganise. i really, really suggest trying a quick digital detox for a day. ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ talk to someone who you feel safe with. you can even text me, ill try my best to respond <3 please talk to someone when you feel upset, communicate bbgs, communicate! even if it is hard and uncomfortable. if you feel like you have no one to talk to, talk to a stuffed animal or a tree or yourself. let those thoughts and feelings out, don't hold them inside your body. release them. observe them. try to understand them. but never let negative emotions become a part of you. they come and go, like any other emotion. you will be just fine. even when it feels like it is the end of the world love you always,

@deardiarywrites

#healing #becoming that girl #self improvement #self love #thatgirl #study motivation #lana unreleased #lana del rey #coquette #pink pilates princess #glow up #girlblogging #love #confidence #self care #manifestation #mental health #self concept #girlhood

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urvampygf · 1 month ago

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NO GOIN' BACK

( Bsf!Chris x Inexperienced!Reader )

Chris and Reader wake up entangled with each other, and a slow, sleepy morning after drives them even closer.

requested(ish) by: @hannahsturniolo

Pt. 1 / Pt. 2 / Pt. 3 / Pt. 3.5

-`✮´- 1.6k

contains. flirting, kissing, showering together, fluffy fluffy fluff !

Chris’s arm is draped loosely over her waist, their bare bodies pressed together as they breathe in sync. Y/N stirs despite the darkness in the room, her body beginning to wake out of habit even without the light of morning.

Sleepy noises escape her throat as she shifts subtly against Chris’s warmth. Her eyes flutter open, and she tilts her head to look up at him, a faint smile pulling at her lips. His features are relaxed, peaceful. A quiet whine slips past his lips as he buries his face deeper into the pillow beneath him, still half-asleep.

Y/N tries to slip out from under his arm to do her morning routine, but Chris holds her in place with a firm wrap around her waist. He dips his head, pressing a soft kiss to her neck before nuzzling into the curve of it.

“M’not done with you yet,” he mumbles sleepily, his voice hoarse with exhaustion.

Y/N pushes off of him, squirming with playful resistance. “Chriiiiiss, I have to peee,” she whines through soft laughter, pretending to struggle against his hold.

Chris groans, loosening his grip before leaning back to meet her eyes. “Fine—’m comin’ with.”

Y/N blinks at him, brows raised. “…You’re gonna watch me piss?”

He smirks lazily. “Nah, jus' don’t wanna let go yet.”

She lightly taps his cheek to catch him off guard, then quickly shimmies out of his arms and darts to the bathroom.

“Hey—” Chris starts to protest, but he’s cut off by the click of the bathroom door.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Chris waits all of two seconds after hearing the toilet flush before barging in, deciding for himself that she's had enough privacy.

Y/N startles as she washes her hands. “Jesus, Chris! You couldn’t wait like—two seconds?”

“Ya lucky I waited for you to finish pissin',” he shoots back smugly, walking past her to the toilet without a second thought.

She stills her hands under the faucet and side eyes him, brow furrowed. He lifts the seat, aims, and starts pissing like it’s a totally normal thing to do.

“Classy,” she mutters.

“My dick was already out, sooo,” responds lazily, finishing up like they do this every day.

After washing his hands, Chris grabs both of their toothbrushes, casually tossing hers over without a glance. She catches it without looking, reaching for the toothpaste on the counter.

Pissing in front of each other? Not exactly routine. But this? Brushing their teeth side by side, getting ready together—this was normal. The only notable difference now was the lack of clothes.

“Fuck—I needa shave,” Chris mumbles around the toothbrush, foam bubbling at the corners of his mouth as toothpaste drips down his face.

“Dude—say it, don’t spray it,” Y/N laughs, scrunching her nose in exaggerated disgust.

“Myeh myeh myeh, ‘say it, don’t spray it,’” Chris mocks in a sing-song voice, not sparing her a glance. “I let my best friend fuck me, myeh myeh,” he adds, tearing into her without mercy.

Y/N’s jaw drops. She lets out a dry laugh, then turns away from him with a shake of her head. “Well, I’m usin' all your hot water,” she calls over her shoulder, stepping into his shower and shutting the glass door.

Chris spits the toothpaste into the sink, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, then rushes to swing open the shower door before she can turn the water on.

“Chris—?”

“I needa shower too,” he says flatly—as if he wasn't being intentionally annoying.

“Yeah… sure, whatever you say,” Y/N mutters, her brow raised in obvious disbelief as she turns the water on, stepping out of the way of the stream.

Chris gets blasted with cold water, stood directly under the shower head.

“Holy fuck, that’s cold!” he yelps, flinching hard and stumbling into Y/N.

She giggles at his misfortune, looping her arms around his neck and pulling him in for a kiss. It’s slow and sweet, their bodies still heavy with sleep, lips moving like they’ve got all the time in the world.

Chris’s hand slides down her waist, pausing to give her ass a playful squeeze. Y/N yelps into the kiss, then pulls back to glare at him.

“I’m too sore, Chris.”

“Sore?” he echoes with mock confusion. "Coulda guessed from the limp.”

She smacks the back of his head with a huff, grabbing the shampoo bottle like she’s had enough of his bullshit.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

They spend about ten minutes in the shower, taking turns washing each other’s hair and poking at one another. Chris makes a point to be as irritating as possible—holding the body wash out of reach, squishing her cheeks as she pouts, and getting way too handsy for it to be considered “friendly banter.”

Now wrapped in towels and standing at the sink, Chris grins with amusement as Y/N twists her hair up and tucks it into a makeshift turban.

“You look stupid as fuck.”

“It’s just easier to do it like this! It stays out of the way,” she defends, scoffing as she reaches for his face wash on the counter.

Chris hums in response, tone laced with disbelief—even though there’s really nothing to doubt.

“You need to invest in some skincare,” Y/N mutters, massaging cleanser into her face.

“I have moisturizer. That not enough for you?”

“No.” She replies flatly as she leans down to rinse off the lather. “Go get dressed, I’ll be out in a sec.”

Chris huffs like a kid sent to his room, dragging his feet exaggeratedly as he trudges out of the bathroom.

A couple minutes pass, and Chris is already growing impatient.

“Hurry uppppp,” he whines, throwing his head back just as she steps out of the bathroom, her wet hair now free from the towel.

“Jesus, you’re clingy,” she teases.

Before he can defend himself, she cuts in again. “I needa borrow clothes. I feel weird wearing the same shit from yesterday.”

“Just say you want more Freshlove, it’s okay—I get it,” he teases, a stupidly smug look on his face.

Every time she comes over, she ends up leaving with another piece from his brand—whether it’s a color she didn’t have yet or one of the trial hoodies he always has one too many of.

Y/N rolls her eyes and lets the towel drop. Just a couple weeks ago, she would’ve hesitated to be in a bikini in front of him. But now that he’s seen every inch of her, she doesn’t really care to cover up anymore.

“Believe what you wanna believe,” she responds, strolling over to his closet and digging through the cardboard box of Freshlove mishaps and extras.

"Hurry up, i'm hungry," Chris urges as he grabs both of their phones from his nightstand, pocketing them so she doesn't forget. "Relax, relax, i'm hurryin'."

She lifts a hoodie and a pair of shorts from the box. “Since when did ya make shorts?” she asks, holding them up to her hips to guesstimate the fit.

“Since summer’s rollin’ 'round,” Chris shrugs. “Figured sweatpants ain't exactly ideal in the heat.”

“Hm. Well, just a tip—make them lower-waisted next time,” she says, slipping them on and folding over the waistband to sit lower on her hips. As a low-rise girl, she’s always hated mid-rise—somehow less flattering than high and way more uncomfortable.

“Noted,” he says, turning on his heel and heading upstairs to the main floor of the house he shares with his brothers. Y/N pulls the hoodie over her head and fixes the hood.

She follows Chris upstairs, tugging at the neck of the oversized hoodie as she steps into the living room—freezing when she spots Nick and Matt. Both of them are sat on the couch, arms crossed, wearing matching tired, fed-up expressions.

“Thin walls, man.” Matt states flatly, the annoyance in his voice just barely masking just how amusing he actually finds this.

“Uh huh,” Chris replies like he doesn't care enough to acknowledge it, already halfway to the fridge to grab his morning Pepsi.

He’s clearly amused. Y/N, on the other hand, is absolutely mortified. Her face burns hot as she stares anywhere but at Matt or Nick, silently hoping for the moment to pass.

“You want somethin' to eat? I’m makin’ breakfast,” Chris questions as he digs through the fridge, grabbing a carton of eggs and package of bacon.

“Um… sure,” she replies, her voice soft. She shifts her weight awkwardly, eyes flicking to the side as she avoids the boys’ lingering stares.

Y/N bites her lip, standing stiff in the middle of the kitchen. She’s never felt awkward around the boys, and especially not shy; but now, with both of them staring at her like they know what happened (which they do), it's hard to not be.

She shuffles over to Chris as he rummages through the cabinets, searching for a frying pan. He notices her immediately, closing the cabinet and pulling her in by the hip. His hand slides beneath the oversized hoodie, gliding slowly over the curve of her side in a quiet, comforting gesture.

Chris turns to face her, his hand lingering at her waist. “You good?” he asks, scanning her expression with furrowed brows.

She gives a small nod and hums in response, eyes unintentionally flicking toward the living room.

“Let ’em be annoyed,” he shrugs, dismissing his brothers' grouchy attitudes. “They’ll get over it.”

He hooks his arms around her and pulls her close, resting his cheek against the top of her head.

“Ya better get used to this,” he mumbles into her hair, voice soft with certainty. “’Cause I ain't lettin’ you go anywhere.”

a/n: okie, THIS is the last and FINAL part of my bsf!chris x inexperienced!reader series😭 i was gonna leave it at that little cliff hanger, but this short lil morning after blurb was requested so i figured why not!! thx for reading cuties !!

dividers: all me!! feel free to use, they're just lines and emoticons after all, nothin fancy😭

taglist!!: @jjmaybankswifes-blog @courta13 @sophand4n4

©.urvampygf

#sturniolo triplets #the sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x y/n #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo fluff #christopher owen sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo fanfic #christopher sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets imagines #sturniolo triplets x reader

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prettygirl-gabi · 2 months ago

Text

One-on-One

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Reader (Coach’s Daughter)

Fandom: WNBA: Dallas Wings

Summary: they say shooters shoot…

🏷️: @paigeshirleytemple , @cowboybueckers , @unknowgirlypop , @yailtsv , @nicebellee , @sitawita , @thatonesuschix , @vamptizm , @elalfywhore , @starfulani , @authentic-girl03 , @paxaz535 , @azziswrld , @jadasogay , @paigeluvvr , @melpthatsme , @lessi-lover , @courtsidewithlani , @imnotkaizer , @italyyy , @lightsgore , @private-but-not-a-secret , @aubreygriffin ,@issilovesherself , @graceeeeeesblog

If you’d told seventeen-year-old me that someday Paige Bueckers would be standing across from me in a Dallas Wings practice jersey, spinning a ball on her finger, grinning at me like we shared some inside joke—I would’ve laughed.

And probably cried.

And then immediately passed out.

Yet here I am.

And it’s somehow worse than I imagined, because she’s real, she’s even more beautiful than a screen ever showed me, and she’s smiling like she knows exactly what she’s doing to me.

It had been a normal first day of practice—rookies meeting vets, drills, intro speeches—and I’d just been here to help my dad, Dallas Wings’ head coach Chris Koclanes, with welcoming the new players.

You know.

Like a normal, functioning adult who wasn’t crushing like a giddy teenager.

And maybe it would’ve stayed innocent if Arike hadn’t cornered me at the Gatorade table.

“You’ve got it bad,” she said in that sing-song voice that meant trouble.

I groaned. “Don’t.”

“She’s looking good in Dallas gear, huh?”

“I’m not answering that.”

“Well, either you make a move before practice ends or I will.”

I blinked. “You’re bluffing.”

She smirked. “You know I’m not.”

And that’s why I’m now standing at half-court, holding a basketball, heart pounding loud enough I’m convinced Paige can hear it.

“You sure about this?” Paige asks, tossing her towel onto a bench. There’s an amused twinkle in her eye, like she’s very much enjoying this.

“Scared?” I tease.

She snorts. “Of you? Never.”

I spin the ball once on my palm. “First to eleven. Ones and twos. Loser…” I pause, letting it hang dramatically, “…has to buy dinner.”

“And if you win, you’re buying dinner?”

“Nope. If I win,” I say, walking backward toward the three-point line, “you give me your number.”

She raises an eyebrow, but she’s smiling. “Confident.”

I shrug. “I’ve been waiting years for this moment.”

Her laugh is low, a little breathless. “Alright, coach’s kid. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Paige checks the ball and immediately fakes left, drives right, and lays it in.

“1-0,” she says, grinning, jogging backward.

“You’ve been here five minutes and you’re already trying to embarrass me,” I say, checking it back.

She shrugs, playful. “Gotta set the tone early.”

I fake a stepback, blow past her, and hit a quick floater off the glass.

“1-1,” I say, smug.

“Ooooh, we got a game,” Arike shouts from the sideline, recording it on her phone.

Over the next few minutes, it’s back and forth.

She calls out my lazy defense.

I chirp her about missing an open three.

We’re grinning the entire time, bumping shoulders, getting a little too close for it to just be casual competition.

At 7-6 her, she leans in during a dead ball and whispers, “You know, if you wanted my number this bad, you could’ve just asked.”

I nearly travel.

“You’re cocky,” I say, shaking my head as I check the ball.

“And you’re adorable,” she says easily, clapping her hands for the pass.

I nearly pass out.

We battle until it’s 10-10.

Game point. Winner takes all.

We’re both sweating, a little out of breath. She’s bouncing on her toes, her eyes locked on mine.

“You ready to lose in front of your dad?” she teases.

“You ready to explain to the whole team how you got cooked by a ‘retired’ player?” I shoot back.

Her grin is everything.

I jab step, fake right, crossover left—

and pull up for a jumper just inside the arc.

Swish.

I throw my arms up as the small group watching cheers.

“Let’s goooo!” Arike yells, jumping around like a fool.

I turn to Paige, who’s standing with her hands on her hips, smiling like she just lost on purpose.

“Hand it over, Bueckers,” I say, wiggling my fingers for her phone.

She pulls it from her waistband and tosses it to me.

As I type my number in, she leans in close enough for me to smell her vanilla body spray.

“You’re dangerous,” she murmurs.

“Only if you’re into that.”

Her laugh is soft. Secret. “Guess I’ll find out.”

Later, after the gym clears out, I stop by my dad’s office.

He’s behind his desk, tapping on a laptop.

“You heading out?” he asks.

I nod, trying to sound casual. “Yeah, gonna show Paige around. Deep Ellum, maybe Bishop Arts.”

He raises an eyebrow but says nothing for a second too long.

“What?” I ask suspiciously.

He shrugs. “You had that look on your face. The one from sophomore year, when you thought she liked one of your Instagram posts.”

“Oh my God.”

He laughs. “Just don’t break my rookie’s heart, alright?”

I pause, the humor fading slightly. “What if she breaks mine?”

He looks at me for a long moment. Serious. Dad-mode activated.

“Then I’ll bench her.”

We both laugh, the tension breaking.

“Go,” he says, waving me off. “But be home by midnight or I’m calling Arike to find you both.”

I salute him dramatically and jog out before I can combust from second-hand embarrassment.

We end up at a taco truck in Deep Ellum, sitting on the curb with greasy napkins and lime wedges everywhere. It’s casual and easy—until Paige turns to me, holding her drink.

“So… your dad kinda let something slip yesterday,” she says, tone light.

My stomach drops. “Slip, like what?”

She bites her straw to hide a smile. “At the rookie press conference. After he introduced us to the staff. He was talking about you, to me.”

I narrow my eyes. “Oh God. What did he say?”

“He said—” she pauses for dramatic effect, “—‘She’s been a fan of yours for a long time. Could practically write a dissertation on your highlight reel.’”

I groan and hide my face in my hands.

“Yup,” Paige says, laughing. “So I knew.”

“You knew—this whole time?!”

She nods, sipping casually. “And I still let you think you were being subtle.”

I groan again.

“But,” she says, nudging my knee with hers, “I thought it was cute.”

I peek out between my fingers. “You don’t think I’m, like… a weirdo?”

She shrugs. “Maybe a little. But in a good way. Honestly? I think it’s kinda hot that you risked public humiliation for my number.”

I blink. “You think I’m hot?”

She smirks. “Don’t push your luck, coach’s kid.”

I laugh, bumping my shoulder into hers.

We sit there for a while longer, just…talking. About Dallas. About her adjusting to the WNBA. About me adjusting to not being an athlete anymore.

It feels easy. Natural. Like it was always supposed to happen.

And when she walks me back to my car, she lingers for a second, eyes flickering to my mouth before she says, “Let’s do this again.”

I grin. “Wasn’t planning on stopping.”

She slides her hand into mine briefly—barely a brush of fingers—and it’s the best first almost-date of my life.

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

-Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

-prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

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aly4khq · 7 months ago

Text

INCIDENTS, INCIDENTS...

characters: xavier, zayne, rafayel, sylus

summary: you are a idol who is known worldwide for your amazing talent and dedication, you loved your group and your career, but at one performance you stumble into a problem when you have an accident on stage.

warnings: described injuries, mention of an 0verdosage in medication, fainting, weird fans, mentions of death (not mc), falling like a silly, 1 pinch (sylus)

wc: written on the separate info!

XAVIER : a hunter's instinct

wc, 1.1K — boyfriend!xavier, falling, injuries, xavier fighting for your right after

xavier was your biggest fan, whenever he would find that any of your merch was on stock again, they'd be sold out because of him in less than an hour. he was always wishing you a good performance, making that you ate well and sleep well the day you were performing.

he was always there, in the front row cheering you on and just admiring how beautiful you looked on stage with the mic in your hand and the lights shining of your face. meanwhile, the fans around him are screaming and yelling, the absolute opposite of him.

now; when you were rehearsing on the stage, you realised that your spot on the rising platform was very loose and unstable. the platform would rather get jambed in the middle, start to drop at random points or sway dramatically which affected your beginning of your dance. it felt like it was missing a few nails, so you reported it. yet you were only given back a, "you'll be alright, it's probably getting used to being stepped on."

you dealt with it, and managed to figure out a way to manoeuvre it so you could rise from under onto the stage above without swaying or falling. but every day it got more worse until i was way too late to get it permantely fixed.

the day had come and fans with their sighs, inspired outfits and light sticks had arrived at the big stadium where your group was performing. xavier was absolutely there first, making sure to give you a few reassuring texts once he got in.

✧: Are U Ready

✧: I can't wait 2 see U on the stage

✧: Drink water and be safe, see U

as soon as the introduction ended, the platform's rose and you began to sing the intro to the first song of the night. many fans sang along whenever you'd turn the mic to them.

as much as xavier loved your amazing skills in dancing, his eyes were focused on that platform your life was apparently in the hands of. it was wobbling like crazy and the side of it was dropping down like there was nothing supporting it anymore. xavier tried to alert you, pointing at the platform whenever you made eye contact but you just had to shrug it off.

whilst another member was singing her part, a member on your right whispered to you, trying to talk to you about it. "walk around it." they said, step over it or all of us stop in front of the platforms." but despite the talking, you couldn't alert the others in time until you had to continue performing.

you and your members walked back due to the steps in your choreography, making your way to the other side of the platform to dance to the other side of the audience on your right and left. everyone was clapping along a s you all strutted down the stage to your places with the mic by your ear.

as soon as your foot met that platform, you heard a clack! and you were going down. the platform snapped, drooling you down to the place where you originated from with a thud. you let out a pained scream from the impact of your body on the harsh material of the platform's floor and it's mechanics.

"ahh!" you took a deep breath before closing your eyes to endure the pain that shot through your body. the metal rods that connected to the top of the platform dug into your skin and scratched the surrounding areas.

your members ran to your platform, trying to each for your arms as you laid there in pain, many backstage crew coming onto the stage. the fans all gasped and stopped cheering after you fell, all of them quietly asking each other what even happened.

but xavier..that man was already there. you opened your eyes again after closing them due to the pain and he was there in the slightly tight space, holding you in his arms before teleporting back up to the stage where the medics were currently heading. the crowd nearly instantly erupting into more gasps and slightly yells, asking if you were okay.

"hey..." xavier pants, "it's me, just breathe—" you began to hiss at the feeling of your body aching, reminding your brain that you were injured. your body tensed weirdly as you held onto xavier's hand. "—hey hey hey, relax, you're okay...you're okay..."

"ow..." you whined as medics surrounded you, opening their large briefcases filled with medical equipment and started to examine you.

the bruises lingered on your poor body; staining your side, hip and inner thigh with a reddish colour which was soon to turn into a deep bruise. the sharp metal parts cut into the skin behind your thigh, small pea sized blood escaping the small scratch.

meanwhile, the directors came out, telling the other members to say their ending speech now whilst you were taken backstage. many fans were upset, leaving out of the door that were assisted by the bodyguards. the whole performance was being rescheduled for another time.

"baby," xavier gently caressed your cheek, turning you face to him as the medics cleaned the cut and bandages up other wounds. "are you sure you don't want to report this?"

with a tired shake of your head, you murmured, "i reported it already, it was just ignored again." he didn't like that at all, gently holding your hand in his whilst he thought about all that happened. "i couldn't even breath for a second when you screamed, fear like that...? it could be deadly."

"i'm sorry xavier," he quickly cut you off with a kiss on your forehead. "don't be sorry, it's alright, it's the people who are in charge who are at fault."

you laughed before the medics helped you get up, helping you to the backstage first aid station where your members were waiting.

"are you okay?!!" one asked, holding your arm as you walked together. you smile at her concern before replying, "i'm alright, i should be fine by tomorrow or the day after—"

xavier took your chin in his index and thumb, turning your head to his direction. you spotted his confused gaze. "are you sure that you want to perform? those bruises could get worse, it's bad for your health for you to be injured and perform."

"i'll be okay xavier, i'll be extra careful." despite the amount of fear xavier felt in his heart for you, he wasn't going to force you to stop performing. he'll just be extra cautious with you, more than normal.

ZAYNE : a doctor's concern

wc, 0.8K — husband!zayne, mentions of an over dosage, fainting

zayne has known about your passion for performance and singing since you were young, he was one of the first people to ever hear your singing and skills in songwriting. and he was now the most popular fan for being spotted nearly everywhere.

he would buy your photo cards and have them on his desk in his office where he could remember those eras inside of his comfort place at work whilst also doing paperwork. he'd always be in the backstage or the seats at the front.

the only reason why he was backstage was because he was your primary care physician and they needed him to make sure that you were in perfect shape and health whenever time would come that you needed to perform. he made sure that your medicine was given to you properly. mostly he would do it himself but today he was busy for the first few hours before your show.

one of the backstage crew were put in charger to put the dosage of medicine into your system, only because they had been proven to have studied medicine once in their lifetime.

you went backstage as normal when the beginning of your concert was near and the member of the crew gave you that dosage of medicine. "thank you," you replied with a smile before walking to the bench and hydrating.

you started to feel a dizzy, your head beginning to throb in the right wide out of nowhere. your eyebrows furrowed we you tried to figure out what to do in this situation. you couldn't call zayne to ask if there was any side effects to the medicine you were given because he wasn't avaliable for that hour, you were reminded when you check your messages. "...what am i supposed to do now??"

❅ : Don't forget your medicine.

❅ : I'll be there in an hour.

❅ : I love you.

despite the weird feeling in your body, you forced yourself to deal with it and get ready to perform.

the introduction came on as your appeared from the starting point, smiling and putting the mic to your lips. you started to sing out your heart; enjoying the moment.

that's when you could hear zayne in the back, asking the backstage crew for something. but that wasn't your concern, you had a job to do.

you danced along with the back up dancers, singing and just messing around with the screaming fans around you. many of them waving around signs and wearing your merch, even those that just dropping a little while ago.

that was until you felt it. a banging pain in your chest which instantly caused you to slow down on the movements, sitting down on the chair you came from with elegance, turing to make it seem like it was apart of the plan despite your face full of fear and pain. the fans around you were yelling out, not realising what was happening right in front of them.

you sang one more verse before you tried to focus. your mind was elsewhere as you started to dissociate, out of this world. "...um, shit..." you grasped onto the chair with fear before your vision got bouquet then went completely black.

tha last thing you heard was a loud thud and people gasping, people running across the stage and that familiar voice: that voice that made your heart relaxed at the sound of it. zayne.

when you woke up, you were in a pristine white environment; white bedcovers and walls, fhe trays and tablets were placed between you and the wall of your bed, the bed centred in the middle of the room. there was an iv beside you which gave you the answers that you needed, you were in the hospital.

with a little whimper, you rose your head to try and remember your reason of even being here. the door opened as zayne, in his work clothes, entered with a tray of food and water. he was already in his work clothes, which indicated that it was the next day and you've already been here for a day or so.

he was soft when talking to you.

"hello, how are you feeling?" his voice was calming, soothing yet there was a little bit of rage underneath that tone. he sat down beside you, "i heard what happened and rush to your aid."

then it clicked, the medicine, you fainting and more. "...oh that," who would know that a simple instruction of medicine could end up risking my life?

now as a reminder, you're only supposed to take a few millilitres before your performance and turns out that that same backstage crew member had seen the 1 as a 10 and give you the completely wrong dosage. a lethal dosage.

"i hope that you realise that i'm never leaving your team responsible of medicine ever again."

RAFAYEL : an artist's sharpness

wc, 1.1K — boyfriend!rafayel, he gets angry, flashing??, crying

rafayel and you were known as the biggest power couple known to man. his famous art exhibition was a form of performance in his eyes, and your famous display of your performances was the best duo ever. he was there for your concerts, just as much as you were there for his art work and interview work.

only this amount rafayel is that he has an AMAZING choice in fashion, his outfits were always fitting and well tailored. this led to him always making sure that your clothes were made nicely as well as your other members and that you weren't being left out from the theme/other clothing.

there were times that this man would fight with your stylist about their clothes that they gave you, leading to him taking over himself and obviously making sure that you were comfortable in those clothes.

now, today was another important day with a concert coming up. this latest album was focused on maturity and professionalism , which was why your outfits were slight revealing but also very teasing in a way. your outfit was adorable and fit in well, but there was one little problem.

whilst practice, your shirt kept falling apart, nearly exposing your whole upper half to your members and the directors around you. whenever you did a particular move in your dance where you'd push your right leg out and roll your chest to the right, the fabric would fall apart and fall off of your body.

you instantly went to the stylists once it became enough 'mistakes', reporting it as it being too loose and interrupting your dancing. but they only replied with, "you're being too aggressive," "maybe it's the dance, not us." and "i can't do anything honey,"

this was becoming an ongoing issue, and no one was taking it into mind properly. no one except rafayel.

𓇼 : wdym ur shirt is falling off

𓇼 : ????

𓇼 : don't worry cutie

𓇼 : i'll fix this.

when your concert started; you had already had doubts about that shirt that you were told to wear. it was once, twice, thrice that you had to correct it and not flash everyone. but now it was way too late to argue about it because the stage was opening up and your members were just about ready.

you all walked onto the stage, getting into position as the other dancers did their thing — dancing and introducing the next song with they famous move. the beginning of the song started and you could see rafayel in the VIP seats, along with his bodyguards, staring at you with awe.

...until he landed his eyes on your shirt. even though he knew about the mistakes that it brought, from one look he could see the problem. the stitching was too loose and the material wasn't good quality for a shirt that type.

halfway through, you thought that your outfit was behaving and it wasn't making you seem weird. there was one move in the dance when all the group members put your hands on your hips and move your chest up and down whilst moving to the side.

it went well, then you heard a big rip! and a cold breeze met your chest. your hand flew to your shirt, catching it just in time to cover your chest with a yelp. you turned around, trying to fix it when the back ripped as well.

luckily, rafayel managed to get one of the bodyguard by the stage to hand you his jacket. you wrapped it around your chest and zipped it up, it fit nicely and also held the old shirt fabric tightly. you continued to dance and perform despite the feeling to cry in your throat.

as soon as the concert finished and you all said your private thank you's, you ran backstage as you saw a familiar figure in the audience rush as well. you were devastated, you felt disgusted and you had humiliated yourself in front of your own fans.

you sat in your design room, sitting at your desk as you found an older shirt to put on. with tears in your eyes, you put the shirt on.

the door opened, "i'm changing!" you yelled, snapping at whoever decided to walk up unannounced. "it's me," you heard rafayel state, shutting the door behind him. he instantly saw how badly you were upset, putting his arms out.

"come here," he beckoned as you followed and hugging his chest, letting yourself cry into his chest. "there there.. he looked devastated seeing you so distressed and sad from your outfit malfunction. so he did what any boyfriend would.

with you in his arms, he left the room and went straight to the directors and stylist with an annoyed gaze.

they were currently in a deep conversation about todays and future concerts, concerning the members and stage crew when the door slammed open with rafayel.

"um...this is a confidential meeting mr rafayel..are you alright?—" "confidential my ass, it wasn't so confidential that your directing skills were shit when my girlfriend was literally humiliated on stage because of you."

he turned to you, "you looked beautiful cutie, dont worry." you let out a smile before covering my face with your hands. rafayel sighed, "what if i wasn't there at that moment? would she have had to continue with her chest exposed? or would she have had to run off stage and risk being scolded by you assholes."

the room was completely silent once rafayel was finished with his rant, no one dared to speak, not when he could easily speak out about this incident to thousands and get them fired.

"what do you say to her?", rafayel spoke nicely, but you instantly went out of your way and dismissed him. "rafayel what?- that's not—"

he put his finger over your mouth and let them speak and in unison they all responded, "we're sorry," rafayel interrupted, "for what?" you tried not to laugh as you mouthed to them to just continue with their meeting. but rafayel's gaze was more intimidating. the main stylist spoke our, "we're sorry for...invalidating your..um..concerns and not being...more keen on making you see comfortable on stage."

"it's alright—" you tried to speak but rafayel spoke, "and you better not do it again—ow!" you slammed his upper arm before excusing yourself and removing him from the room with a slight pull. you were shocked with what he was trying to accomplish.

whilst you were walking back to your room, he noticed your fake annoyed glare, "whatttt?? i was just telling them off." he defended himself, letting you drag him back. "yeah and risking my career, dickhead."

"no, its putting people in their place: i'll always be there to do that for you. don't forget it."

SYLUS : a leader's observation

wc, 0.8K — husband!sylus, mentions of death(not mc, not sylus!), kidn4pping attempt, he carry you, 1 pinch,

sylus was a secretive supporter when it came to your passion in music. he was always there on the sidelines, cheering you on from the VIP section along with luke and kieran who managed to become your two biggest supporters in the world.

he was there whenever you wanted him to be even when he had important things to do, he'd make sure that he is the first person to sit down and the last person to leave (if he's forced too).

lately, there's been a fan sending weird letters to places associating with you. your house, your workplace, any brands that you collabed with and even shops that you were seen constantly entering.

you brought this to the attention of sylus, hoping that he'll help. luckily, he managed to track down the letter and have them banned from your comfort homes.

𓅩: I'll be there tonight.

𓅩: Start whenever you'd like, I'll secure the area.

𓅩: Be safe.

now today was another concert, and you were standing on stage. the introduction performers were doing their thing — waving their flags and gracefully moving to the music of your first song.

as you sat in the middle of the stage, you had a piano in front and a microphone on top. you even singing nicely, hitting ever note that came across. the fans were silent, how you nicely asked them to be. some of them with their phones, recording the beautiful songs you sang.

until a few gasps and confused noises came from the crowd before, all of them focused on someone behind you. after a few seconds of you slowly stopping your singing, they started to speak...then get louder and start yelling.

'over there!' one of them yelled, pointing quickly, 'who is that??!!' you did as told and turned around to see a random man, dressed in all black with his hood down from his jacket. he walked towards you quickly before holding your hand and pulling you slowly. you stood from your seat, trying to understand what was going on.

"hey— wait! security!" you exclaims, suddenly realised what was going on. a random fan or whatever had gotten onto the stage and was trying to take you somewhere without your management knowing. "hello!!"

the security caught on, trying to get onto the stage fast before you were taken. but they were beaten to it.

crimson and black streaks wrapped around the fans body, straggling ghe man up by his chest. the pressure held onto his torso, leaving him to struggle the magic wrap. you escaped before rushing backstage as the security began to lead the people out until they stopped at the sight of sylus walking onto the stage with an annoyed glare.

the people rushed out faster and the stadium was cleared as sounds of gargling and choking came from inside.

you heard a loud burst of disgusting sounds before silence filled the stadium and the next thing you were hearing was sharp footsteps. everyone around you were wondering why someone was basically storming up to the room.

then a tall figure with his hands in his pockets and white locks came into view, you ran to him before hugging him. "sylus! oh my gosh..." he used his right hand to hug you back, wrapping it around your waist before rustling his chin against your hair, turning around with you in his arms.

"we'll be leaving." his deep gloomy voice was enough to make your colleagues agreed. "yes sir!" he sighed agaisnt your head, before his hand went further down your body to behind your knees. with one smooth move, he lifted you onto his shoulder, carrying you gently.

"sylus?" you called out quickly, and he responded by letting out a small hum. "where are you taking me?" with every step, he held into your body tighter.

he nearly felt offended by what you even asked, his other hand coming up to pinch the back of your thighs making you let out a shriek. "where do you think? we're going home."

"....this is not the direction to my home." you hesitantly replied after a beat or two.

you could sense the laugher in the area and then sylus let out a hearty chuckle, "you're adorable sweetie, we're going back home."

home meaning his base, you let out a small gasp of realisation. "oh!"

"yeah, oh."

this took took long for my liking, but anyway.

947 notes · View notes

aryaryxoxo · 8 days ago

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╰┈➤ˎˊ˗ 3 Times Two Fed-Up Friends Tried to Get Two Oblivious Idiots Together (And the One Time You Both Did It Yourselves) #Ushijima Wakatoshi x cute manager!reader

Your entire body moves on autopilot.

Walking feels like the hardest thing in the world right now, each step heavier than the last. You barely register the sound of chatter or the rich scent of tender chicken wafting through the cafeteria until it hits you square in the face.

Blinking, you spot an empty table. You could wait for your friends there.

You make your way over and practically collapse onto the seat, head resting on your arms. The hum of conversation becomes background noise, like a lullaby.

You didn’t mean to fall asleep.

But the next thing you know, you’re waking up from what feels like the best nap of your life.

Blinking clearly, your eyes meet a pair of green ones across the table.

He stares at you, expression unreadable, a tray of food sitting neatly in front of him.

Wait… what’s going on?

You blink hard, trying to clear the fog clouding your mind, and suddenly realize you’re meeting not one, but three pairs of eyes staring straight at you from across the table. They’re sitting right there, calmly chewing like you’re some kind of weird exhibit.

“Sorry, we didn’t mean to wake you up,” the green-eyed one says, his tone way too serious for a nap situation.

“The cafeteria was full,” the red-haired guy pipes up, grinning, “and this was the only table available.”

You stare at them, cheeks burning furiously, wondering if your face is still stuck in ‘asleep and drooling’ mode.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t—” you start, cheeks heating up.

“You don’t have to apologize,” the stoic green-eyed guy in front of you interrupts calmly. “We’re the only ones who interrupted your nap.”

You blink, caught off guard by how deadpan he sounds — but somehow, it makes your cheeks burn even more.

“I’ll go now,” you laugh awkwardly, trying to make a graceful exit. Hah, it’s only day three and you’ve already embarrassed yourself. But… that guy? He’s kinda cute.

“I know her,” Ushijima says quietly after watching you settle at one of the tables where your friends are. “One of the third-year managers was talking to her earlier,” he adds calmly.

“Maybe we’re getting our new manager,” Tendou said, watching you with a glint of mischief in his eyes.

“Yeah…” Ushijima murmured, his gaze still lingering on you.

He didn’t notice, but Tendou and Semi both caught it — the faintest blush brushing across his cheeks.

You’re cute, Ushijima thought, calm as ever.

And just like that, Tendou grinned. He didn’t say anything yet — but in that moment, a silent vow was made. He is going to be the best man at your wedding.

Attempt #1 Getting stuck inside the supply closet

It’s been three years since that cafeteria moment — three years since your heart nearly jumped out of your chest the second you crossed paths again with the (cute) stoic, green-eyed man who introduced himself back then as “Ushijima Wakatoshi.”

“[Your Name]-san!”

Your train of thought is derailed by one of the new first-year managers — someone you personally recruited — calling to you from the bench.

“I’m coming!” you call back, jogging over with a practiced smile.

From across the court, Ushijima watches you. Calmly. Intently. As you gracefully arrange the water tumblers, fold the new hand towels, and joke with the new staff to make them feel at ease.

“My, my~ our Wakatoshi has a crush,” Tendou says sing-song, slinging an arm casually behind his captain’s back.

“Crush?” Ushijima repeats, blinking slowly.

He shakes his head. “I admire her determination. That’s all.”

But his eyes linger. Especially when you laugh — bright and warm — and that tug in his chest returns.

He remembers when you nearly knocked yourself out trying to carry the heavy cooler. It’s a good thing he was there to catch it — and you.

Ever since then, it’s become a quiet little tradition: him helping you carry the cooler to the supply closet after training.

“Great work, everyone!” Coach Akira calls, clapping his hands.

As the team settles into after-training stretches, Ushijima approaches.

“I guess it’s time, huh?” you say, offering him a tired but genuine smile as you pass him the empty — but still ridiculously heavy — cooler.

Ushijima takes it from your hands with ease.

“I like to think it’s part of my after-training stretch,” he says, and for the briefest second, he returns your smile with that classic, faint, barely-there one of his.

But you see it.

And your heart jumps.

You follow Ushijima quietly, walking past Tendou, who is—what the—doing handstand push-ups against the gym wall?

You blink.

He winks.

Tendou practically has to summon every ounce of his strength not to squeal from excitement. This is it. Attempt #1. Operation: Closet Crush is live.

“You’re so obvious,” Semi mutters, arms crossed as he watches you and Ushijima disappear into the supply closet, talking about towels. Towels, of all things.

“Is this even gonna work?” Semi asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes,” Tendou answers with too much confidence. “I saw it in a romance movie once. Classic setup. Enclosed space, repressed emotions, lingering glances. Maybe accidental hand touching.”

Semi sighs.

Tendou had given Ushijima three years. Three freaking years to do something — anything — about the obvious heart-eyes he had for you.

But he made one fatal miscalculation: he underestimated the Great Ace’s ability to completely not realize he was in love.

Tendou had been waiting for the spark, the confession, the forehead kiss under the moonlight — something! But no. Nothing. Radio silence.

So now? Now he had to fix it.

Desperate times. Desperate measures.

Semi only agreed to this because Tendou wouldn’t shut up about wanting to be the best man at your future wedding.

Also… Semi might admit, if forced, that you and Ushijima clearly like each other. Emphasis on clearly—except to you and Ushijima, of course.

Everyone else has already left the gym. Only the four of you remain: you, Ushijima, Semi, and Tendou.

And when Tendou makes extra sure no one else is around, he casually strolls over to the closet door… and shuts it.

Click.

Locks it.

Inside, you and Ushijima are still busy chatting… about vacuum-sealed protein bars.

“Yes. That’s a great recommendation,” Ushijima nods seriously, helping you reorganize the cooler. “High in nutrients. Compact. Efficient.”

“I know, right?” you say, beaming. “They taste kind of weird but they don’t expire for like, five years!”

Ushijima nods again, as if you’ve just solved global hunger. It's quiet, casual, and oddly cute — like the two of you are already an old married couple arguing about disaster snacks.

Then—

“Oh! I forgot the mop,” you say, turning to the door and giving the handle a tug.

It doesn’t move.

“Huh… it’s jammed, I think,” you murmur, giving it another try before looking back at him.

“May I?” Ushijima asks.

You step aside. He tries the handle — no luck. So, naturally, he lowers his shoulder and leans into it.

Nothing.

Outside the closet, Tendou is practically vibrating with anticipation, already planning the first draft of his best man speech.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today because I locked these two idiots in a room and forced fate’s hand—”

CLICK.

The door swings open and you and Ushijima emerge, unharmed, still talking about protein bars.

“Oh hi, Tendou! Semi!” you chirp, chipper and utterly unaware. “We almost got stuck inside. That door’s tricky, huh?”

Tendou stares at you.

Semi sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Romance movie my ass,” Semi mutters, glaring at Tendou.

Tendou, in full dramatic devastation, throws a hand to his chest.

“I was robbed.”

Attempt #2: Movie date?

The last attempt… wasn’t bad, per se.

It was just that fate — and one very stubborn supply closet door — had other plans.

But that didn’t stop Tendou (and reluctantly, Semi) from doing what they believed was right. And what’s right was obvious: getting you and Ushijima to realize you were basically soulmates with zero self-awareness.

“USHIWAKAA!!!~” Tendou beamed, voice echoing through the gym like he was announcing the arrival of royalty.

Ushijima looked up from his phone, calm as ever. “Yes?”

“Are you free tomorrow?”

Of course he was. Tendou already knew that — he made sure of it. Double-checked the team schedule, sneakily asked coach during cooldown, and also bribed one of the managers with sweets to confirm you had no plans tomorrow either.

This plan had to be perfect.

“No. I believe I don’t,” Ushijima answered, eyes drifting back to his phone.

Tendou practically sparkled. “Great! Because we’re going to the movies!”

“We?”

“You, me, and Semi,” Tendou grinned, eyes glinting with mischief.

From behind, Semi appeared, holding a gym towel like it was a weapon. “What are you talk—?”

“Right, Semi?” Tendou cut in, giving him the look.

The “you better agree or I will emotionally blackmail you until graduation” look.

Semi narrowed his eyes. Tendou widened his. They had a full conversation in 2 seconds, no words needed.

You promised.

I hate you.

“Yeah, We are,” Semi said, utterly defeated.

“Um, sure. What time?” Ushijima asked, ever calm.

“Tomorrow. 5:30 p.m.!” Tendou beamed, practically shoving a ticket into his hands. “Don’t be late—and look good!”

Ushijima blinked. Huh. That was... weirdly specific.

The next day was even weirder.

Because when Ushijima arrived at the theater, it wasn’t Semi or Tendou waiting for him.

It was you.

You stood by the entrance, fiddling with the hem of your cardigan, looking unfairly adorable. When you spotted him, your eyes lit up.

“Oh! Ushijima-san! Tendou invited you too, huh?” you said with a bright smile.

He blinked. “Me too. I didn’t expect you.”

You nodded, brushing your hair behind your ear. Ushijima came to stand beside you. A minute passed. Neither of you spoke.

But it wasn’t awkward. It was quiet in a good way—comfortable. Like breathing fresh air after a long practice.

“We should text them,” he said, pulling out his phone.

Before he could type, a notification popped up.

Tendou: SO SORRY SOMETHING CAME UP Tendou: semi-pooh’s tummy hurts. he needs emotional support.

Ushijima stared.

“…Semi-pooh?” he said aloud.

“Oh… they aren’t coming?” you asked, looking up at Ushijima with that emoji face you always loved to send.

[Last Name]: 🥺

Ushijima stared for a second longer than necessary.

“…Guess we’re watching it by ourselves, then,” you declared, a small, sheepish grin forming.

He nodded once, falling into step beside you.

You made your way down the hall toward your theater number, the sound of popcorn machines and soft movie trailers playing in the background. But just as you turned the corner, you overheard a conversation—two girls, probably middle schoolers, standing near the ticket counter.

“Are you sure there aren’t any more available?” one of them asked, clearly panicking.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” the attendant replied gently. “We’re completely sold out.”

You both slowed as the voices continued.

“I really wanted to see it so bad,” the first girl sniffled.

“Same… I’m a huge fan of the actress. Gosh, why did the exam have to overlap with the ticket sale?” her friend groaned.

When you finally turned the corner and caught full sight of them, you noticed the girl who had been speaking first had tears in her eyes. She quickly wiped at them, clearly embarrassed.

Your heart ached a little.

Ushijima followed your gaze, noticing the same thing.

“…Do you think,” you whispered, “maybe we could give our tickets to them?”

He looked at you. “You were really looking forward to the movie.”

You smiled softly. “Yea, but those girls would appreciate it more.”

A moment passed. Then, without hesitation, Ushijima handed his ticket to you. “Let’s do it, then.”

“Sorry to interrupt,” you said with a kind smile, “but we think you guys would appreciate these more.” You held out both of your movie tickets.

The girl with watery eyes blinked in surprise. “O-Oh my gosh, it’s okay! Really—!”

“No, no, it’s totally okay,” you reassured. “We hope you enjoy it.”

He watched as you gently comforted the girls, patting their shoulders and telling them to enjoy the movie and eat lots of popcorn.

There was a small warmth blooming in his chest. Pride? Admiration? …Maybe both.

“Thank you so much!!” one of them beamed. “You two are going to be such a cute couple!!”

That made both you and Ushijima freeze.

“…We—we’re not dating,” you stammered, cheeks warming.

“Nope,” Ushijima confirmed, a bit too fast.

The girls just giggled. “Okay sure~ Not yet!”

As they ran off, excitedly holding the tickets like golden treasure, you turned to Ushijima, flustered.

“Well… there goes our ticket,” you muttered, watching the two girls disappear into the cinema.

Ushijima only nodded beside you, still thinking about what one of the girls had said before leaving. “You two are going to be such a cute couple!”

Why did couple suddenly sound… good?

You broke the silence first, already turning on your heel. “Let’s go eat something?”

“Yes,” he replied without hesitation. “We should try that new café you mentioned.”

You stopped mid-step.

He remembered? You’d only mentioned that café once. Offhandedly. A month ago.

Your heart skipped. “Yes!!”

Later…

Tendou: Hows the movie 😏 Ushijima: We didn’t go. Tendou: WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN YOU DIDN’T GO?!?!?? Ushijima: Two girls were crying. They didn’t have tickets. We gave ours.

Tendou screams into his pillow in frustration while Ushijima, unbothered, secretly pays for your order at the café.

Attempt #3 Jealousy? What's that?

“I swear to god, they’re doing it on purpose.” Tendou yanked off his jacket and flung it to the bench like it personally offended him.

Semi only shrugged, unzipping his own. “I’m surprised they’ve made it this far pretending they’re not in love. And they’re both top of the class?” He shook his head. “Genuinely impressive levels of denial.”

Tendou groaned, dragging his hands down his face. “I’m going to cry. I’m actually going to cry. That’s how bad it is now.”

Before Semi could answer, the door slid open with a soft clunk. Ushijima walked in, carrying his gym bag like always, calm as ever. He set it down beside the bench and blinked at their expressions.

“What are you talking about?”

“Nothing.” Both Tendou and Semi said it way too fast.

Ushijima didn’t press. He sat down, adjusted the strap of his kneepad, and said, “We’re up against Karasuno.”

Tendou blinked. Then—ding. The lightbulb in his brain practically exploded.

Yes. Karasuno. This is it. His final play.

He stood straight, slapped a hand on his chest, and declared: “If we win, you have to ask [Your Name] on a date.”

Ushijima turned slowly. “…What.”

Semi sighed like he was watching someone walk into oncoming traffic. “We’re doing this now? Jumping to the big guns?”

“A date,” Tendou said, completely ignoring Semi. “You know. The thing you should’ve done 3 years ago. Because you look at her like she hung the damn moon.”

Ushijima blinked. “Why would I—”

Tendou raised a brow. “Okay. Fine. I’ll just ask her myself then. Heard that new gacha store near the corner’s opening tomorrow. I’ll invite her.”

That made Ushijima pause. Just a second. Barely noticeable. But his grip on the towel in his hand tightened. His jaw tensed.

He didn’t look at Tendou when he said: “Okay.”

Semi gave Tendou a look. The kind that said, “What the hell did you just do?”

Tendou only shrugged. Desperate times call for emotionally reckless measures.

Flash news: They lost.

The scoreboard flashed Karasuno’s victory in neon red. The gym roared. And just like that, their shot at Nationals was gone.

It should’ve been devastating.

And it was.

But for Ushijima... it was something else, too. Buried beneath the dull ache of loss was a strange, persistent feeling. Something warm, tight, unfamiliar.

Relief.

He couldn’t name it at first.

Couldn’t understand why, with all eyes downcast and the air thick with defeat, part of him was... relieved. It didn’t make sense.

Until he remembered Tendou’s voice from the locker room. “Fine. I’ll ask her myself then.”

And suddenly, he understood. Not fully. Not out loud. But enough for something in him to twist. That sense of betrayal when Tendou said your name so casually, as if he had a right to say it in the same sentence as date.

“You’re going to kill it,” you say quietly, trying to sound cheerful as you point at the towel. The joke lands a little flat. Your voice wobbles. But you’re trying. You always try.

The way your chest aches isn’t just from the loss. It’s from watching him.

Ushijima loosens the towel in his hand before stepping forward. He gently presses it into your palm.

“Sorry,” he says.

That makes you freeze. The apology feels like it is from something else, not about the towels…

You glance up, eyes wide. “…It’s okay,” you murmur.

He doesn’t say more. Just walks past you, the silence trailing behind like a ghost.

“This is bad.” Tendou muttered it like a prayer as he stepped onto the bus. The team had just come from the award ceremony—heads bowed, hearts heavy.

But Tendou’s panic wasn’t about the trophy. It was about the seating arrangement.

He scanned the rows, eyes narrowing. You were by the window, headphones in, staring out at nothing. Ushijima was three rows back, arms folded, head leaned against the glass.

Separate seats.

Tendou’s voice went a little higher. “Why aren’t they sitting together?! They always sit together!” Semi, already halfway into his seat, didn’t even look up. “You messed up.”

Tendou dropped into the seat across from him, hands dragging down his face.

“I fucking know. I shouldn’t have said that gacha date thing. I panicked. Gosh.” He peeked through the seat gap at Ushijima.

Still silent.

Then peeked back at you.

Still silent.

Tendou groaned and slumped backward dramatically.

“I ruined everything. I made them feel things. Now they’re too emotionally constipated to be in the same zip code.”

Semi rolled his eyes. “You made Ushijima jealous. That’s like… pushing a volcano to erupt.”

Tendou covered his face. “Great. Now he’s going to bottle it up until it turns into some weird, heartfelt speech during his retirement ceremony.”

Semi snorted. “You deserve this.”

And the One Time You Both Did It Yourselves

It’s Saturday. No training today—Coach gave everyone the day off. Not that anyone was in the mood to practice after yesterday’s match.

The air still feels heavy. Like the loss is clinging to everyone’s skin, settling in their bones.

You’re sitting at one of the cafeteria tables, head resting on your palm. Sleepy. Exhausted, even. But you’re forcing yourself to finish the assignment in front of you.

Your eyes drift around the room. And then—déjà vu.

This is the exact spot. Where you first met the team. Where you first met him.

Ushijima Wakatoshi.

You remember how nervous you were, fumbling with your clipboard, apologizing for nearly bumping into him—and the way he looked at you and said, “You don’t have to apologize.”

So simple. But it made your heart melt. You didn’t know someone like him could say something that gently.

You blink the memory away.

It’s been 15 hours since you last talked to him. Not that you’re counting. Not really.

You sent him a message last night.

[Your name]: Good night. You did great today.

It's still left on unseen.

Does your heart ache a little because he didn’t sit beside you on the bus yesterday?

Yes.

But the worst part?

You can’t understand why it hurts so much. You don’t talk that much. You’re just the manager. Just a classmate. Just…

So why does it feel like something broke yesterday?

You were scribbling down the last half of a frustrating equation when you felt a presence across the table.

You looked up—and nearly jumped.

“Ushijima!” You yelped, startled. You blinked at him. You thought he’d be off visiting family or sleeping in after yesterday. Not here. Not standing in front of you.

“What are you doing here?” You tried to sound casual, but the way your heart leapt made it hard to breathe.

He didn’t sit. He just looked at you—serious, unreadable, like always.

“I came to apologize.”

Your mind scrambled. “If this is about the towel—Ushijima, it’s okay. Really. I just—” You laughed nervously. “It’s not a big deal.”

But he shook his head.

“Not for the towel,” he said. “I want to apologize for not sitting beside you yesterday.”

You blinked. “…What?”

“I took my feelings out on you,” he said plainly. No hesitation. No looking away.

“Ushijima, what are you even talking about—?” He paused, then finally sat across from you.

“When I looked at you yesterday… all I could think about was Tendou asking you out.”

The words hung heavy between you. You stared. Mouth parting. Mind blank.

“What’s going on…” Your voice was barely a whisper.

Asking out? Tendou asking you out? That didn’t make sense. Tendou didn’t like you like that… right? You always thought of him as a friend. Just like Semi. Just like Shirabu. Just like the rest of the team.

And slowly, something clicked.

Wait.

Is this what Semi was trying to tell you?

It was a week before Christmas break. The team had just finished cleaning the gym, and you were tucked in the corner, scrolling through your phone.

A photo lit up your screen—a selfie of your best friend and her girlfriend, arms wrapped around each other in front of a Christmas tree. You smiled, eyes soft.

Semi had leaned over then, towel slung across his shoulders. “What got you smiling like that?”

“Oh,” you showed him the screen. “Just my friend and her girlfriend. They’re adorable. I wonder what love feels like.”

He hummed, thoughtful. “Love is complicated. But for me…” he said, gaze distant, “it’s when you feel safe. Like you can sit in silence with someone and it doesn’t feel awkward at all.”

Your breath caught.

Because—oh.

That’s exactly how it felt with Ushijima Wakatoshi.

Safe. Calm. Even the silences between you meant something.

He didn’t fill space with small talk or reach out in grand gestures.

But when you handed him a towel, when he gave you the last milk bread from his lunchbox without saying a word, when he walked beside you without ever checking if you could keep up—It felt like peace. Like home.

The silence hung, and for once. You fiddled with the edge of your notebook, heart pounding in your ears.

You looked up—slowly. And there he was. Still, steady, listening.

Then—“I asked my father,” Ushijima began, like he’d been holding the words in all morning. “About what happened yesterday.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “…Your dad?”

He gave a slow nod. “He told me it’s time I see what’s been obvious.”

His eyes met yours. Direct. Unwavering. Sincere.

“You make things… lighter.” His voice was calm, but slower than usual—like each word mattered. “When I’m tired or distracted, you’re there. Quiet or cheerful—it doesn’t matter. You’re just… there.”

He glanced up at you.

“You remember little things. You take care of everyone, even when no one notices.” A pause. “But I do. I always do.”

He inhaled slowly, then added: “You make me feel calm… not like I have to be someone else. Just me. That’s why.”

You could feel your heart exploding. Warm, fluttery, breathless.

“Is that why you didn’t want Tendou to ask me out?” Your voice wobbled, just a little.

He nodded once. No hesitation.

And that was all you needed.

“Good thing I would’ve rejected him if he did,” you said, smile tugging at your lips. Then, a little quieter— “Because I like you too… a lot.”

Tendou: Is my eye deceiving me…. Tendou: [📸 sent a photo of you and Ushijima at the gacha store] Ushijima: Yes. I took [Your Name] on a date. Tendou: OMGOMGOMGOMG MY ATTEMPTS WORKED. YESSSSSSSSSSS. [Your Name]: Attempts? Tendou: I’M THE ONE WHO LOCKED YOU TWO IN THE SUPPLY CLOSET. Tendou: I’M THE ONE WHO PLANNED THE MOVIE DATE. Tendou: I CAUSED JEALOUSY. ME. PART A. Tendou: THIS WAS ALL ME Tendou: HOW DID YOU CONFESS??!?!?!? 😭😭😭 [Your Name]: Semi-san made me realize I like Ushijima :D so me confess hihi Ushijima: Mine was my father. I confess to her in the cafeteria. Tendou: WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK Semi: You tried to set off fireworks in a library. I handed them both a flashlight. Semi: Guess which one worked better.

...

A/N: DID I MENTION I LOVE USHIJIMA?! IF I DIDNT I LOVE USHIJIMA, IF I DID, I LOVE USHIIJIMA AHSDJAKSDA THANK YOU AGAIN FOR THE 300 FOLLOWERS

#ushijima wakatoshi x reader #hq ushijima #haikyuu ushijima #ushijima fluff #ushijima x reader #hq x reader #ushijima wakatoshi #ushijima wakatoshi x you #ushijima wakatoshi x y/n #ushijima x y/n #ushjima x you

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kitkatscabinet · 3 months ago

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SING FOR ME BABY

Summary: The Batboys with a famous musician for an s/o

Pairings: Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake x fem! reader.

DICK GRAYSON: Nu Metal

Everyone expects him to end up with a popstar, if anyone famous, someone typically feminine/fashionable to match his charm. They forget they're talking about the og crashout kid. After the incident that sees him stepping away from Robin and, subsequently, Bruce, he spends months thrashing bands like Limp Bizkit and Linkin Park

It's Roy that ends up introducing him to your band when he's suddenly unable to attend the concert he'd gotten tickets for. In typical Dick fashion, he forgets all about it until the day, attending on a whim and becoming a little mortified when he realises 1) he doesn't know any of your songs & 2) you're gorgeous. And oh my god, you're looking at him. You're laughing at him he swears!

He watches you smash a guitar into smithereens like it's nothing and he thinks he's in love. Actually shoves someone out of the way to catch the pick you throw.

It's you who slides into his DM's after the show, one of your bandmates having recognised him. He asks you out almost immediately, who cares if it's a little desperate? This man is determined to have you hanging off his arm by the next Wayne gala.

Being in a band lends you at least some anonymity outside of your fanbase, all of which is completely shattered once you go public with Dick. Not just because he's a Wayne and therefore pretty famous himself, but because he's so obsessed with showing you off, playing your music for anyone that will listen (and the people that don't want to).

JASON TODD: Pop

You're passing through Gotham whilst on tour when the inevitable happens, someone takes the opportunity to kidnap you. Enter the Red Hood, who just happened to be in the area.

Despite the hyperfeminine persona you display for your audiences, you know how to throw a punch. Which is the sight that greets Jason as he bursts through the window of one of the hundreds of warehouses in Gotham picked out by the amateur kidnappers, you, kicking the shit out of a thug whilst still in high heels.

For a few seconds, he forgets he's supposed to be saving you, too busy watching the woman decked out in pink sequins and glittery makeup kick ass. He gets his head in the game when a gun gets pulled and he's pulling you into his arms (totally unnecessary but he's not gonna pass up the opportunity. Hopes you don't notice how bricked up he is.)

You give his helmet a kiss of thanks afterwards, leaving a glossy mark whilst slipping him your number, neither of which he notices until hours later after a full day of patrol. He's never regretted the helmet over the domino mask more.

He can't exactly show his face in your music videos, but you can bet your ass he's not gonna let anybody but himself play the sexy muscular dude touching you up in them.

TIM DRAKE: Indie/alternative

He is the type of guy who sits with his iPad, phone, personal laptop, and even the bat computer open as he waits to snag tickets to your concert. He's getting those motherfucking backstage VIP passes if it kills him (or he has to kill someone else to get them).

Actually cries when he somehow still fails to secure one. Damian takes a photo and posts it on Twitter. Tim's too distraught to even care, that is until you message him. One of your friends showed you the post, and you thought he was cute. Bruce bursts into his room when he suddenly hears hysterical screaming, convinced his son is being murdered, only to back away slowly when Tim yells something about VIP tickets and some singer.

Nearly faints when you ask him out on a date after the show. He's sweaty, dishevelled and a massive mess after having a near-religious experience from hearing you live. He's honestly not convinced he's still alive, blacks out for a few seconds before all but screaming yes! in your face.

This man is your no.1 stan, and yes, that's a title he regularly defends on social media. Especially after you begin dating. Constantly gets into fights with the legions of lesbians who are distraught that you've got a boyfriend.

#x reader #batfamily x reader #jason todd x reader #dick grayson x reader #tim drake x reader #female reader #dc x female reader #jason todd x fem!reader #tim drake x fem!reader #dick grayson x female!reader #fem reader #dc x reader

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kunareads · 4 months ago

Text

gq couple's interview

first installment of the bed chem shorts collection! these two are very special to me and i don't know if i'll ever be ready to part with them so here we are lol.

idek if i like this but i miss them !!!

wc: 1.2k of FLUFF

series masterlist / full masterlist

“hi gq! we’re here to do a couple’s quiz today. satoru is going to fail.”

satoru gasps, pressing a hand to his chest like you’ve wounded him. “i literally know everything about you.”

you don’t even blink. “what’s my middle name?”

his lips part. he hesitates. do you have a middle name?

the producer chimes in. “you’ll both guess the other person’s answer. if you match, you get a point.”

“what do we win?” satoru asks.

“confirmation that you know me the way you think you do,” you deadpan.

“well that’s a terrible incentive,” he pouts.

[ round one: the basics ]

what's their favorite color?

you both write your answers. satoru taps his marker against his chin like he’s deep in thought. you tap your board twice before holding it close to your chest.

once you’re both done, you flip the marker in your hand. “this is easy. blue.”

satoru flips his board with a flourish. “blue, obviously. yours is blue, too.”

you flip your board, shaking your head at him. “rainbow.”

he blinks. “i—what?”

you nod sagely. “all of them, satoru. keep up.”

satoru looks directly at the camera.

y/n: 1 | satoru: 0

what's their coffee order?

satoru takes his sweet time, drawing something on the board.

“you don’t like coffee,” you say.

he nods as he flips his board. it says ‘no coffee!’ with a picture of a tiny frowning coffee cup with crossed arms.

“what’s mine?” you ask him, squinting.

he leans back in his chair, smiling triumphantly. “espresso.”

you take a deep breath, then flip your board to him. “iced coffee with three pumps of vanilla sweet cream.”

satoru looks at you like you’re forgetting something. “babe. the song.”

“i do not drink espresso, satoru.”

“but in the song—”

“a song is not a personality trait!”

y/n: 2 | satoru: 0

sweet or savory?

you both write your answers quickly.

you smile at him. “sweet.”

he reveals his answer: “sweet. yours is sweet, too.”

you show him your board. “sweet.”

he grins at you. “see? and you doubted me.”

y/n: 3 | satoru: 1

[ round two: mildly concerning confessions ]

what's their guilty pleasure?

satoru pauses for a beat before writing, biting the end of his marker in deep contemplation.

you smirk. “yours is rom-coms. and you cry at them.”

satoru flips his board over. “skincare.”

“that’s fair. you take, like, 45 minutes in the bathroom at night.”

“i have to let each step sink in.” then, dead serious: “your guilty pleasure is falling asleep to true crime because it ‘helps you relax.’ this causes me physical distress at night.”

you hesitate with a sheepish smile before flipping the board. “true crime.”

he shakes his head. “you’re lucky you’re cute.”

y/n: 3 | satoru: 2

what's their go-to karaoke song?

you both write with confidence.

“it’s bed chem for him.”

he flips the board. “bed chem.”

“you’re so full of yourself, satoru.”

he rests a cheek on his hand. “if i don’t sing my own song, who will?”

“and what’s my karaoke song?”

satoru taps his marker against the table on beat. “you’re gonna be popular,” he sings.

you show your answer: “popular from the wicked soundtrack.”

he throws his hands up. “i’m unstoppable.”

you smile at him. “two in a row. you feeling confident?”

he grins back at you. “absolutely. this is my redemption arc.”

y/n: 4 | satoru: 3

what's their drunk habit?

he’s already giggling to himself as he writes. you shoot him a look before finishing your own answer.

“you have zero volume control after one drink.”

satoru scoffs, flipping his board: “becomes an excellent singer.”

you groan. “oh my god, satoru.”

he nods wisely. “it’s true. i ascend vocally.”

you shake your head and address the camera. “bed chem is not just his karaoke song. it’s also what he subjects everyone to when he’s allowed to drink. especially the falsettos at the end.”

satoru leans in. “you’re just jealous. moving on, yours is that you have to pee every ten minutes.”

you shake your head and flip the board. “competitive.” he bursts out laughing, making you roll your eyes. “i hate losing, okay?”

he shakes his head, still giggling. “no, you don’t just ‘hate losing.’ you cried over a game of uno once.”

you point at him. “because why would you make me draw four?!”

y/n: 4 | satoru: 3

[ round three: the soft side ]

what's one thing they do that makes you soft?

you both think about it hard before writing.

you glance at him before you speak. “when i fix your hair or your clothes before we step out.”

he tilts his head. “that is cute,” he says. he flips his board. “i wrote when you reach for my sleeve in a crowd.”

your lips part slightly before you school your expression. “oh.”

he leans back, grinning. “you do it all the time. you don’t even realize it.”

you shrug, looking away. “it’s just… so i don’t lose you.”

satoru raises a brow. “so i don’t lose you.”

you smile. “shut up.”

“i think you wrote when i learn all the words to your songs so i can sing them at your shows.”

you roll your eyes and giggle. “you’re very loud, by the way.” you flip the board. “when he pulls me closer in his sleep.”

he blinks. “wait, really?”

you nod, suddenly a little shy. “yeah. i don’t think you know you do that.”

he tilts his head, a blush creeping onto his face before he smiles. “well. that’s embarrassing for me.”

you smile at him. “yeah, sit with that.”

y/n: 4 | satoru: 3

what's your favorite memory together?

you’re stumped on this one. he finishes writing nearly a whole twenty seconds before you.

you look at him. “our first inside joke.”

he laughs softly before flipping his board over. “the first time you fell asleep on me mid-conversation.”

you blink. “that’s your favorite?”

satoru shrugs. “you were in the middle of telling me a story, then boom. out like a light. right on top of me.”

you shake your head, amused and embarrassed. “you could’ve woken me up.”

he smirks. “you looked peaceful. also, i’ve never been that still in my life.”

you give him a soft smile. “what do you think my favorite memory is?”

“dancing in the kitchen for the first time.”

you squint, your grin growing as you flip your board. “the first time we danced in the kitchen. that was a good night.”

satoru nods. “i’m an excellent dance partner.”

you deadpan. “the back of my head smacked the counter when you dipped me.”

he just beams at you.

y/n: 4 | satoru: 4

what's something they do when they're happy?

neither of you think too hard here.

“i twirl my rings.”

satoru flips his board. “you get extra affectionate with me.”

you furrow your brows. “do i, though?”

satoru grins. “yes. you don’t even notice, but you’re touchier when you’re in a good mood. you kiss my face and hold my hand and sit in my lap and—”

you press your lips together, trying not to smile. “okay, okay, we get it.”

“i think you wrote that i talk too much.”

you snort, flipping your board over. “your face gets soft like a baby.”

he scoffs. “like a baby?”

you nod, delighted. “yeah, it’s like—you just look softer. your eyes get all wide and warm. like a baby deer.”

satoru stares at you. “a baby deer.”

you nod. “exactly.”

the producer cuts in. “and the final score is a tie! 4 to 4.”

satoru sighs dramatically. “rigged.”

you lean over and kiss his cheek. “try harder next time, baby deer.”

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clare-875 · 6 months ago

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OMG, I SUUPPERRR Love the "New Names" Prompt, it was actually what led me to your blog here, the last 3 parts were a blast to read, so I was wondering if you could maybe do a part 4 that includes Kidd, King, Katakuri, and maybe 2 or 3 characters of your choice?

New Names pt.4 (Kid, Katakuri, Smoker)

_____ Pairings: Kidd x Reader; Katakuri x Reader; Smoker x Reader Summary: His reaction when you call him pal, buddy, etc. Warnings: Mostly Fluff, Female Reader A/N: I'm so sorry I haven't watched One Piece up to where King is introduced so I added Smoker instead (I couldn't think of any other characters)! I'm so glad you like the series! [One Piece Masterlist] [Part 1: Luffy, Sanji, Zoro, Ace, Law] [Part 2: Shanks, Sabo, Crocodile] [Part 3: Corazon, Killer, Mihawk, Penguin] _____

- Kid -

(A/N: Suggestive towards the end?)

When you decide to play a small prank on your boyfriend it is only later that you find out the consequences you should've regarded beforehand. But in the moment you were too giddy to care. You had finally thought of something not too bad that Kid would kick you off the ship but noticeable enough for him to react. So, when your eyes spotted your boyfriend's signature red hair and permanent frown, you had to struggle to keep the grin from spreading on your face.

You just had to see it through until the end.

He had sauntered in as always, eyes sharp and broad shoulders slouching, his gaze darting to you so subtly you'd have to be an expert to witness it. You are in an open space - the deck of the ship - and so he barely gives you any sign of intimacy but he always prefers to linger by your side. He seems irritated as you had not been beside him for long today, and you soon find out your thoughts are right by his prompt words.

"Babe," his voice is deep in the air but gritted against his teeth. "Here you are, I fucking searched the whole ship for you."

You fight to roll your eyes at his impatience but you concede to the plan you have set out for yourself and reply.

"Sorry buddy, I should've let you know earlier I'd be on deck."

And all of a sudden, you could hear a pin drop.

Promptly, it's like the ocean waves that crash against the ship go silent along with the restless wind in the sails. Your crewmember's voices hush to nothing as they eye you and your Captain, unsure of whether to laugh or cry at your words. All they know is that you are fortunate to be his girlfriend because partner or not, Kid would likely throw anyone off the ship if they called him buddy.

His expression does nothing to hide just that fact.

He had frozen still, his eyes had sharpened deadlier than usual, fists clenched to his side and face darkening. You can see the twitch of his eyebrows and the tensity of his form but are most surprised to see a slight pink hue on his cheeks. Was that embarrassment?

Despite the "dangerous" atmosphere, you have to fight back a laugh.

"Are you alright, buddy?"

Your crew members gape at you, some shaking their heads to try and stop your words. But you are bold. Of course you were, you were dating Eustass Kid.

"What the fuck did you just call me?"

Kid approaches you but then he bears witness to your lips quirking upwards into a sly grin. You shrug your shoulders nonchalantly as you lean back into the chair you sat in, but unbeknownst to you it is then that your boyfriend’s mind clicks.

"Bu-ddy," you reply in a sing-song voice.

The crew are shocked at their Captain's restraint, especially when they see him look like he's ready to murder someone. The funny thing is that he looked like he was ready to kill anyone who wasn't you.

They all collectively take a step back.

However, their shock only amplifies ten-fold when all the pent-up tension fades as Kid's lips turn upwards into a taunting smirk. Killer has to stop himself from putting a hand to his head at everyone’s absurd reactions.

"Now princess, it seems you've forgotten who's actually in charge here."

Your eyes widen in your own surprise at the sudden change in his demeanour. Kid looks at you with his same sharp eyes but his wide smirk shines almost scarily as he approaches you closer. “You think you can get away with pranking your Captain? Cause I don’t think you fucking can babe.” He pulls you to your feet before hoisting you up on his shoulder.

"Hey- okay, I'm sorry! I’m sorry! Kid! Babe, put me down!"

But Kid does not heed your words and instead walks away from the still-gaping crew, intent on having you in his chambers until it is only his name that slips your lips.

- Katakuri -

When you are left alone with your thoughts, you oftentimes come up with ideas that usually incorporate your boyfriend. And today, you found yourself quite alone. You were bored and waiting for Katakuri to come back to you after being sent on a mission to God-knows-where. Luckily, a thought had popped into your mind quite easily and it had intrigued you to see what your boyfriend's reaction would be.

Speaking of which, you could hear heavy footsteps making their way to your door, and sure enough, your stoic boyfriend had knocked, patiently waiting for you to answer. You grin happily despite your plan as you missed him though he has been gone only a few hours. "Coming!" You instantly stand and open your door, smile only brightening at the sight of Katakuri safe and at home. You see his eyes soften as he looks at you.

"Hello love," His words are gentle to you, and you hesitate for only a moment before complying with your plan.

"Hey man, I missed you!"

In a rare moment, you see Katakuri's eyes shine with complete confusion. It is followed by the furrow of his brows as though he thought it was not you speaking to him, but someone else. The expression only lingers for a moment though, and then he looks at you with his usual, serious stare.

"Love..."

You freeze when he looks at you so knowingly, so quickly.

"Y-Yeah man?"

Katakuri sighs before leaning down to your eye level, patience in the depths of his reserved eyes.

"Is this another one of your tricks where I am to be surprised by your words or actions?"

You stop in surprise at how he has figured you out so easily, only now realising he must’ve gotten used to your impromptu pranks when left to your thoughts. You stutter before sighing heavily and rolling your eyes.

"Yes love, it is. You could’ve played along though!”

Your boyfriend looks at you with the same softness in his eyes as he witnesses your pouting face.

“Apologies love,” his words are muttered gently by your ear. He then removes the scarf that covers the lower half of his face, and suddenly he kisses your cheek softly. “I just rather terms of endearment from your lips, rather than man.”

You freeze at his actions and words and all of a sudden it is you who is taken aback as heat rushes to your face. As Katakuri steps past you into your chambers you feel yourself so lost in thought that for a moment, you completely forget about your failed prank. That is until your boyfriend calls for you again.

- Smoker -

Your boyfriend is often preoccupied and busy with the tasks that come with being a high-ranking officer of the Marines. You know the challenges and toils of being one, as you are one yourself. However, that doesn't disregard the fact that you miss him sometimes, as your roles often put distance between the two of you. Today was no different but Smoker would be returning to you soon after a shorter mission than usual, and unbeknownst to him you had come up with a small prank in the short time you were apart.

Your eyes move forward to the sight of a Marine ship approaching port and you fight to contain your grin. Sure enough, you can hear the rowdiness of Smoker's crew and the shouts of Tashigi as they go to dock the ship. When they finally do, they race to solid ground, most of them grinning and others saluting you as they pass. "Hello Vice-Admiral [y/n]!" You simply smile as you await your boyfriend and sure enough, he comes off the ship to you soon after, a nod of acknowledgement as he approaches your side.

"Hello love," he murmurs to you lowly and only so you can hear. You smile at the subtle way his eyes soften slightly, knowing he has missed you too.

"Hey dude, how was your mission?"

As you walk toward headquarters, suddenly you find that Smoker has frozen and his footsteps faltered. You stop and turn to him in mock confusion.

"What's wrong?"

He eyes you carefully as smoke bellows from the cigar in his mouth.

"Dude-?"

He quickly interrupts, the furrow of his brows and twitching of his lips showing you that he has of course noticed and was troubled.

"Who are you talking to right now?" Smoker grumbles to you, still static where he stands. You decide to approach him then, and tilt your head to the side, playing dumb.

"You?"

Smoker grits his teeth, the cigar in his mouth almost snapping in half. He leans down to you, so you see the way his eyes have sharpened.

"I'm sorry love, but I don't answer to dude. I thought you of all people would know that."

Your words stumble at his sudden proximity and you feel the heat wanting to rush to your face.

"I- I don't know what-"

Smoker lifts his hand and flicks your forehead lightly watching in amusement as you stare at him dumbfounded.

"Don't do that again."

He then continues walking but silently waits for you to fall into step beside him once more. He had missed you too much to hear such a platonic term slip your lips. He smiles subtly when you catch up to him once more, a kissable pout to your lips.

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rongloa · 1 month ago

Note

please make the most gut wrenching fanfic ever. i want mark to be like a crappy bf or like a messy breakup PLEASEEEE i need to cry or something

𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐰𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐭 — m.grayson drabble

pt. 1 — pt. 2

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠(𝐬). mark grayson x gn!reader

𝐰𝐜. 1.6k

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭. break up, swearing, mark being a fucking dick (slightly ooc), mentions of depression, mark hurts you, heavy arguments, use of the word ‘hate’ (you can see where this is going)

𝐚/𝐧. frick you anon (ily don’t stop), why’d you send this ask in? :(

You remember the first time he looked at you like you were something soft. Like the world hadn’t chewed him up yet. Like he hadn’t already seen its insides, bleeding and brutal. His eyes were wide and brown and impossibly open, like a door you didn’t realize you were walking through until it closed behind you.

It was late—he was late, always—but you had waited anyway, curled up on the concrete steps outside his house in your oversized hoodie and mittens, tapping your foot to some song in your head to distract from the cold. He said he was at a group project meeting. It sounded fake, but you trusted him. You always trusted him.

He jogged up, breath fogging in the air, cheeks flushed from the night wind. He looked surprised to see you. “You waited for me?” he asked, like he hadn’t been the one to promise, “Just an hour, tops.”

And you laughed—so stupidly, stupidly in love. “Obviously,” you said, as if the answer could’ve been anything else.

As if your body didn’t already know what it meant to belong to him.

Before he became a ghost in your inbox, before the silence grew claws and wrapped around your throat, Mark had been good to you. Not perfect—never perfect—but good in the way that mattered, in the way you could build a life around.

He held your hand even when no one was looking. Tucked your hair behind your ear like it was instinct. You remember the way he’d fumble over his words when he was excited, how his cheeks flushed when he saw you across a room like he still couldn’t believe you were his. How he used to walk you home, even if it meant doubling back two neighborhoods. Just to make sure you got there safe. Just to have those last few minutes of quiet with you.

There were Sunday mornings when the world felt small enough to hold in your palm—his voice soft from sleep, your legs tangled beneath thin blankets, the smell of coffee you never drank but he always made, just in case you changed your mind. He’d sit on the couch in his old t-shirt, hair messy, face buried in some comic book you couldn’t name, and you’d watch him like you were afraid to blink.

He made you mixtapes, real ones—burned CDs with tracklists scrawled in sharpie and titles like “For the Coolest Person I Know (Don’t Roll Your Eyes).” Songs he thought you’d like. Songs that reminded him of you. Sometimes he’d get the lyrics wrong, but he’d sing them anyway, horribly off-key, like it didn’t matter if he sounded dumb as long as it made you laugh.

And he listened. Really listened. Back then, you could tell him about the weird dream you had or how your coworker was annoying you and he’d actually care. You’d talk for hours, about nothing and everything, until the sun dipped low and your voices were hoarse from too many words. He remembered little things. Your favorite brand of cereal. The way you hated the sound of styrofoam. How you always got cold after you cried, even if it wasn’t winter.

He used to kiss you like he thought it might save him. Like if he just held you close enough, long enough, he could outrun whatever waited on the other side of the sky.

But then the world crept in. Bit by bit, like water under a locked door. You didn’t notice it at first.

You excused the first time he forgot your birthday—he was fighting a villain halfway across the country. You got it. Really, you did. You said it was fine and meant it, even if you cried in the bathroom at work.

Then came the days he didn’t check in after disappearing mid-dinner. The lies got easier for him to tell. Easier for you to swallow. He wasn’t just a person anymore. He was someone. Someone the world needed more than you did. Or so you started to believe.

You told yourself you were lucky. Blessed, even. To love someone who mattered. To matter to someone who could move mountains and outrun lightning. But somewhere along the way, he stopped seeing you as part of his world, and more like a pit stop. A soft place to land when the mantle got heavy.

You used to be his secret. Then his comfort. Then his burden.

You remember the last time he touched you like he wanted to. It was almost accidental—his fingers brushing your wrist as he took the mug from your hand. There was no heat. No ache. No softness. Just contact. You looked at him, trying to find that old spark—the boy who used to look at you like you hung the damn stars—and all you saw was someone who’d already left.

It didn’t fall apart all at once. It never does. It was a thousand tiny breaks. A slow erosion of everything you thought you had. A fading. A flicker. A final, quiet extinguishing.

You used to think love was something you could hold together if you just tried hard enough.

But some people hand you broken things and blame you when they don’t work.

Of course you didn’t know he was Invincible.

No one did. He looked like a kid still trying to grow into his body. He winced when he laughed too hard and couldn’t cook for shit. There was no part of you that thought he was saving the world between algebra quizzes and late-night cartoons.

But he told you. Right before he left.

The first thing you notice is that he doesn’t look surprised to see you.

He opens the door like he was already waiting for this. For you. For the end.

Mark’s hair is unkempt. There’s a bruise healing on his jaw and a dried line of blood near his ear. He smells like the cold night air and smoke, you can smell it from the threshold of his room. You don’t ask what happened. You don’t care. Or maybe you do, but not in the same way you used to.

You step inside. Quiet. Slow.

His room is dark, save for the small desk lamp. Everything is half-unpacked, like he never really came back. Like his body is here, but the rest of him never made it down from orbit.

“I thought you were dead,” you say softly.

Mark flinches.

“You were just gone. For months, Mark. No messages. No explanation. Not even a goddamn voicemail.”

He doesn’t move. Just stands there, hands in his pockets, staring at the floor like it might split open and swallow him.

“I checked the news every day. I asked Eve, I asked your mom. Nobody knew where you went. Nobody knew if you were even coming back.”

You’re already crying and you didn’t notice until your voice cracks, until your chest hitches. You wipe your face roughly, like you’re angry for feeling this much.

“I—I couldn’t sleep,” you go on, choking it out. “I thought maybe—maybe you’d call, or come home, or—or say something. Anything. But you didn’t.”

Mark’s breathing is shallow. His fists are clenched. His voice is low when he finally says, “I didn’t know how.”

“That’s bullshit.”

He looks up.

“That’s bullshit, baby,” you say again, louder now, louder than you mean to. “You always know what to say to everyone else. To save everyone else. But when it’s me, suddenly you go silent?”

“I was trying to protect you,” he snaps, like it’s a reflex. A shield he throws up before the words can cut too deep.

You let out a sound that’s halfway between a sob and a laugh. “No. No, you don’t get to say that anymore. You don’t get to act like I’m some fragile thing you had to put on a shelf and forget about.”

Mark’s eyes are glassy now, too. Red-rimmed. Shining in the low light.

“I love you,” you say, the words breaking apart in your mouth. “I love you so fucking much, and you left me to grieve you like you died. You made me grieve you while you were still alive.”

He crosses the room in two strides, arms reaching, but you step back before he can touch you. Fingers grazing the wool of the your sweater— the one he gave you with its blue and yellow stripes.

“Don’t,” you whisper. “Please just don’t.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he says, shaking. “I thought—God, I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought—”

“You didn’t think about me.”

There it is. The truth. And it lands like a thunderclap between you.

Mark stares at you like he’s watching something beautiful collapse.

“I don’t even recognize you anymore,” you whisper. “You used to be kind. You used to show up. Now you disappear and expect me to just keep… waiting.”

“I never stopped loving you.”

You close your eyes. The tears won’t stop coming. “Then why didn’t you come back for me?”

He doesn’t have an answer.

And maybe that’s the worst part. Because you wanted to hear something. Anything. A reason big enough to make this hurt mean something. But there’s just silence.

You move towards the door, out of the his room. The one you’d spend hours in just to be with him.

Mark’s voice breaks behind you. “Please don’t go.”

Those same big brown eyes you’d fallen in love with in home economics, staring right back.

You move toward the door with tears streaking down your cheeks, fingers trembling as you reach for the handle. You can barely see straight. The lump in your throat is thick enough to choke you.

“I don’t think I can stay anymore,” Your voice cracks on the last word, “not when I’m the only one who was still trying.”

You open the door.

But before you can take a single step, you feel his hand close around your arm.

Fast. Too fast.

Mark yanks you back—not roughly, not enough to hurt, but enough to stop you in your tracks. His grip is iron. Not human. And it makes you feel even smaller than you already do.

You whip around, tears flying. “Let go of me!”

He’s breathing hard. Face flushed. Eyes frantic. “No. No, we can’t—we can’t end it like this.”

“You don’t get to decide that!”

You try to pull free, but his fingers won’t budge. It’s like being caught in a bear trap. You shove him, slap at his chest with your free hand, tears falling hot and fast.

His grip tightens to the point you follow the hand that holds you, pinned. “Let go.”

“I still love you!” he shouts, voice shaking. “Please just—just talk to me, please—”

You hit him again, fighting against him. Weak punches to his chest. You don’t care if it hurts him. You want it to. Even though you know it won’t.

“You don’t get to do this!” you cry. “You don’t get to leave me, disappear for months, break me down to pieces—and then decide you love me when it’s too late!”

Mark’s face crumples. He tries to reach for your face, but you pull back as hard as you can from the unyielding grip and push it out through pursed lips, “Don’t touch me!”

“Please do–“

“You’re HORRIBLE,” you sob, voice cracking apart as you watch your wrist twist at an angle you know it shouldn’t. “You are the worst thing that’s ever happened to me. I loved you. I trusted you. I waited and I waited and I WAITED, and you never come back!”

“I was trying to protect you—!” Crack. It burns, and it hurts in a different kind of way to what you feel in your chest. And you can’t help the wail that burns its way out of your mouth.

He drops your hand like it burned him, like he’s finally realising that maybe he’s the bad one. He hurt you, he was hurting you and he didn’t even realise it. And it fills a rage in you that burns wild. It fucking hurts, hurts so bad and you can’t express it in just one meeting of your eyes.

“No, you were protecting yourself! You were a coward, Mark! You were a COWARD, and I hate you for it!”

The words echo.

He looks like you shot him—he had the gun loaded and cocked all by himself. It’s like something inside him breaks right there. His arms fall to his sides, limp. Fat tears rolling down his cheeks as he looks as what he’s done for fucking once.

And finally, finally, you’re free.

You back away, shaking. Hand dangling at your side with fingers twisted unnaturally.

“I don’t want an apology,” you whisper. “I don’t want your love. I don’t even want you to look at me ever-fucking again.”

You pull open the door and this time—this time he doesn’t stop you.

You walk away. Sobbing. Trembling. Sick with the kind of grief that only comes when someone you love turns out to be the reason you’ll never be the same again.

Behind you, you can hear his knees hit the floor.

But you don’t turn around. Don’t even look back because if you met those big brown eyes you’d fallen for in home economics, you’d run back. You’d comfort him because that’s all you ever wanted to do.

You don’t save him.

Not this time.

The hallway of the house feels louder than it should.

And Mark kneels there alone, in the dark, finally crying by himself.

#invincible fanfic #mark grayson x reader #invincible mark grayson #invincible #invincible x you #invincible x reader #mark grayson angst

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tellingtell5 · 2 months ago

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Poor Wayfaring stranger: 《Remmick, sinners x reader 》

Remmick x femreader

A/N: Thank you for the support on the first part—I honestly didn’t expect it. Here’s what’s been haunting my mind ever since I wrote it. Hope you enjoy!

Just a hungry greedy soul crossing paths with another.

The parting glass: part 2. (part 1)

Angst. Lost.

You heard your father’s voice as if it were coming from another room—muffled, dulled, like grief had taken up permanent residence in his throat.

“This is my final word, Brady.”

You wondered if it would always be like this now—his body broken in ways that wouldn’t show on the surface. Wounds he couldn’t stitch shut.

“You need to understand”, voice cracking like something ancient. “He was my only son. If only we could say goodbye, just once more—”

“She’s not going to sing again.”

That landed with the weight of a final verdict. No room for argument. Not even from the person whose name still hung unspoken in the room.

You held your breath as silence descended. You didn’t want to be noticed. You just wanted to listen. As if by hearing their words, you might learn what would become of you. What the gods of your fate had decided behind closed doors. The air was thick, suffocating. You almost gasped for breath. Neither of them spoke. They were measuring each other in that heavy quiet.

“There are whispers, you know that?”

You shifted a little closer to the door, trying not to put your full weight on the wood, afraid it might creak. The man’s voice dropped into a hush—low and grave, like even he feared what he was saying might be true. “They say Maud was there, when she sang.”

“Don’t you dare say my mother’s name.”

You flinched. Your father’s fury came like a blade, and you felt it in your chest—tight and unbearable. The grief didn’t go away. You’d have to learn to carry it. To live with the way it twisted inside you, threatening to turn your own body against you whenever it was stirred.

You thought you’d mourned once already, when you were small and your mother left too soon. But that sorrow had been different. Maybe you were too young back then to understand. Your grandmother had stepped in, taken her place, filled in the gaps with quiet resilience.

You didn’t know when your feet had started moving. Lately it happened more and more—you losing control of your own limbs. Since the funeral, you’d begun sleepwalking, rising in the night like some lost specter. Your father no longer slept so he’d stop you each time you drifted toward the front door, eyes wide open but soul elsewhere. Sometimes, he caught you just in time. Other nights, he found you already standing in the doorway, staring into the dark like you were waiting for something.

He gave you a little bell to tie around your ankle. To hear you coming. To stop you.

You never remembered anything when you woke. Just a strange pressure at your temples, and a restless current running under your skin. Mornings were the worst. Your blood simmered like it didn’t belong in your veins. Your heart raced as if trying to pump more than your body needed.

When you reached the room, both men looked at you—startled, almost guilty.

You wanted to speak. To confess. To tell that grieving father that it was your fault. That, broken by pain and despair, you had done something forbidden. Something you never believed would have consequences until it did.

Would he think you were mad? Maybe he'd think your song was a delusion meant to bring his son back. And maybe that would make him more willing to believe. But what would he do when you told him that you were also the reason the town was cursed now?

Since the arrival of that stranger—his words still echoing in your head—every fourth night brought another death. Always the same: bodies drained, some torn apart. People formed search parties, desperate to catch the beast they were sure stalked the night. A curfew was enforced. No one left their homes after sundown.

And you hadn’t told them the truth. That the wolf they hunted wore the skin of a man. That your grandmother’s funeral had damned them all. That your disobedience had summoned the Devil himself.

The man’s eyes were hollow. You fought the instinct to step back. But something changed when he looked at you. A flicker of understanding. Pain mirrored yours.

You knew exactly who his son had been. You weren’t close, but you’d gone to school together. You recognized the curve of his brow, the shape of his mouth. That guilt sat heavy on your chest.

They said he left home before sunrise, the moon still high. He was on his way to work when something found him, tore out his throat. You’d heard they struggled to piece him back together for the burial.

“I’ll do it,” you said. Because you owed him. Because you needed to give something back.

Your father turned toward you like he'd been struck. His face tightened in horror.

“No. Absolutely not.”

“It’s the least I can do.”

You saw something shift in his expression. Maybe he understood. You hadn’t spoken of it, but you both had come to the same conclusion. Your grandmother hadn’t told ghost stories just to scare children. She had believed every word. And your family had realized too late.

Brady wrapped his arms around you then—sobbing like a man who'd forgotten how. You didn’t know how to comfort him, only that your father watched it all in silent dread.

You almost told him the truth. That this wasn’t just about bringing the boy back, not really. That you had a plan. But instead, you said nothing, only offered him a broken apology through your eyes.

You asked for permission to sing at the wake—at night, not during the funeral. The family had a special pass to be out past curfew. You needed the twilight. Needed that thin veil between light and dark. You claimed your gift worked best at dusk. That the dead listened more clearly when the sun slipped away.

The truth? You had no idea what you were doing. But neither did they.

You excused yourself to prepare. To choose a song. One that might reach him. One that might call him back.

In your grandmother’s room, you counted floorboards, found the loose one you’d discovered weeks ago. Beneath it: journals. Pages and pages of secrets, halted the day she gave birth to her first child.

You picked the one that had sparked your plan. Fingers trembling, you traced the faded ink. The paper was stiff with old tears. You read, your breath shallow:

Remmick grows hungrier by the day. A week’s blood no longer satisfies him. I went to the village witch—we’ve just arrived—and she had no answer. I fear the pact cannot be undone, and I am running out of time. He feeds more often now, though he promised to let me rest. My blood makes him ravenous, not sated.

He doesn’t see how the exhaustion is severing my connection to the ancestors. Fewer come when I sing. Perhaps they’ve turned from me, ashamed I’ve made a deal with a monster. But what choice did I have? I had to stop the killing. Even if it meant losing everyone I loved.

At least they’re safe—from him. From what I’ve become. I write this to bleed the truth out of me. I think he reads me through my blood. I fear he knows I’m looking for a way to destroy him. But here, in these strange lands, no one truly knows what a vampire is.

If I manage to kill him, I won’t use my gift again. I’ll miss my mother’s voice and the warmth of my brother’s love. But I won’t damn anyone else. I won’t tie more souls to this song, this curse that’s brought as much sorrow as joy.

You swallowed hard, trying to dissolve the knot of fear and grief tightening in your throat. Your blood had stirred the moment you read his name—that demon you'd called without knowing. You would finish what your grandmother had begun. You hadn’t only inherited her eyes, but also a gift so dangerous it could summon death itself to your doorstep.

At dusk, you said goodbye to your father. It felt final, though you had no intention of dying that day. Still, it was as if you were heading to your own funeral—the wake of your soul. Maybe it no longer even belonged to you.

When you arrived, every eye turned to you. You couldn’t tell if it was awe or fear. Maybe both. You were sure some of them blamed you, though they wouldn’t dare say it aloud. Not that they tried to stop you—grief had worn them thin, desperate to reach their lost ones, no matter the price. What did a goodbye cost? Would they call you a witch once they'd had their final words?

You refused to look at the boy's body as you took your place near the wooden box. Clearing your throat, you felt the room hold its breath. But you didn’t sing at once. Just like at your grandmother’s funeral, you started with a whisper—a shapeless hum meant to prepare the air for what was coming.

The atmosphere thickened, and the hum you once craved now grated against your skin.

I'm just a poor wayfaring stranger

Traveling through this world below

There is no sickness, no toil, no danger

In that bright land to which I go

I'm going there to see my father

And all my loved ones who've gone on

You had found that song alongside the one you sang the day you chose defiance. A sudden thought lit up in you like lightning—how many funerals had your grandmother sung through? Every song she passed down was a farewell.

I'm just going over Jordan

I'm just going over home

You sang for the family, weeping over a boy who never got the chance to grow up. You conjured memories of the days you'd played together—how you ran until your ribs ached from laughter. And before you realized, you too were crying, your voice unraveling into a raw, aching lament.

I know dark clouds will gather 'round me

I know my way is hard and steep

But beauteous fields arise before me

Where God's redeemed, their vigils keep

I'm going there to see my mother

She said she'd meet me when I come

That’s when you felt it—another presence. One that didn’t belong. The crying faded into soft murmurs, quiet farewells meant to ease the path of the departing. You kept singing, though your voice trembled. You wanted to apologize. To make him understand you were trying to fix things. Then pain bloomed in your chest—gratitude so sharp it bent you over. Somehow, you knew the Brady boy had forgiven you. He was the one comforting you.

You ended the song with the same soft murmur you had begun with, and others joined in—a final attempt to wish him safe passage.

When you opened your eyes, your breath came in ragged gasps. Your gaze locked with that of one of the older women in the crowd. She didn’t look away. Her eyes shimmered, and her lips formed a word you didn’t know. Banshee, you thought.

You apologized for not staying longer. My father will be worried, you told them, though you had no real plans to go home.

You followed the familiar path from the Bradys’ house to the meadow where you used to sing in secret during spring afternoons, the wind stealing away your words.

That’s where you found him—waiting. He wore the dusk like a second skin, his silhouette outlined against the fading light. You wanted to run when a glint of crimson caught your eye. He was watching you. You ordered your heart to stop, to settle, to stop trying to break your ribs with each frantic beat—but it didn’t listen.

When you reached him, he looked calm. Hands tucked into his pockets, the same smile he'd worn on your doorstep still curved his lips.

“Was wonderin’ how long it’d take ye t’break,” he said, the low rumble of his voice thick with that unmistakable Irish lilt. It vibrated straight through you, like it knew the way to your bones.

“What do you want from me, Remmick?” you asked.

You wanted it to come out firm, defiant—but it escaped more like a plea. A yearning you hadn’t meant to reveal. His eyebrows softened at the sound of his name on your lips, and you swore something in his stance shifted. Was he shaking? No—he was perfectly still.

He stepped closer, slow, testing, like dipping his toes before plunging into deep water. When you didn’t move, he stopped just shy of you—your shoes nearly touching.

His scent hit you like a wave. Your skin prickled, and something deep inside cracked open, releasing a hunger you didn’t know you carried.

“I want it all.” His hand lifted, reaching for your face—but it paused, trembling in midair. You were startled by the pull, that primal tug urging you to lean forward and close the distance.

“I came to…” Your thoughts scattered, his eyes pulling you under. Crimson gleamed in their depths and you had to breathe, hard, to keep from drowning in the sensation. “I want to make a deal.”

That grin spread wide again—feral this time. He didn’t bother to hide his teeth this time. You couldn’t tell if it was a threat or a promise.

Why did it feel so natural to offer him your soul? To give him everything? You told yourself it was to end the killing, to quiet the monster smiling inches away. But what if that was just an excuse? You remembered all those nights you’d woken unknowingly, waiting—hoping—for him to come.

“And what have ye got t’offer, darlin’?”

“My voice.” It broke as you said it, and he let out a low, amused sound—almost a laugh.

This time, he didn’t hesitate. His hand reached for you again, and his fingertip traced the base of your throat. The smile vanished. His mouth parted in awe, jaw slack, as if you were something holy. He nodded slowly to himself, lost in thought. You had to stiffen your spine to keep from shivering under his touch.

“And my blood,” you whispered.

At that, his eyes snapped to yours with inhuman speed. His pupils blown wide, brows drawn together, intense.

“Tha’ already belongs t’me.” The words came rough, like smoke and heat. You felt them in your gut.

The caress became a grip—his hand encircled your throat, firm, not cruel. Just enough to claim.

You remembered your grandmother’s faded pages. A deal. She had already offered him her blood—the same blood that now ran in your veins, caught beneath his fingers.

You swallowed, and your throat moved against his palm. The pressure increased, a strangled sound escaped him.

“Tell me, lass… what is it ye’re after, mm?”

His face had softened again, but not his grip. You lifted your hand, gently wrapping your fingers around his wrist, as if searching for some scrap of humanity beneath centuries of monstrous intent.

"Leave my people alone. No more deaths. I'll sing for you. I’ll sing your songs—just stop tearing them apart."

You don’t know why you said it like that. Maybe it was desperation. Maybe it was a memory trying to claw its way to the surface. But it didn’t matter—he didn’t seem to understand a word. Remmick tilted his head, eyes narrowing like you’d just spoken in tongues.

"Yer people?" His voice was slow, heavy with that deep Irish rasp, like smoke curling through ancient stone. "Do ya even know what ya are, lass?"

Now you’re the one confused. You feel your brow wrinkle, your heart hammering against your ribs in that hollow way that only comes when the truth starts to feel foreign. There’s a whisper of an idea at the edge of your thoughts, half-formed, shifting like fog.

And then he hums—a low, guttural sound in his chest that drags you back to him. He’s watching you now, with a strange, wounded softness that doesn’t belong on a creature like him. Pity, almost. For you.

"Maud kept too many secrets," he murmurs. "Poor thing."

His hand lifts, calloused fingers cupping your cheeks with a tenderness that borders on reverence. He wipes away the tears you hadn’t noticed falling, the pads of his thumbs soft, patient, almost like he’s savorin’ the salt of you.

"Yer granny made a deal with the Devil, and I don’t mean meself. Nah, I was just an afterthought—a mild headache, if ya will. But her grief... it led her to trade her soul, just for a whisper of reunion. And you, m’love... yer what was left behind. The collateral."

Your confusion cracks wide open, heat crawling beneath your skin like fire beneath ice. You open your mouth to speak, but he hushes you with a shudder of sound that coils low in your gut, calming you against your will.

"Yer a song born of sorrow. A creature of mourning," he whispers, and his voice dips—dark velvet, sinful. His thumbs trace over your lips, slow, deliberate. "A banshee."

You’ve heard the old stories—women who keened for the dying, harbingers of grief. But you hadn’t wept for anyone. You had screamed. You had howled. You had fought. And still… something about his words settles too easily inside you.

"I’ll take yer offer," he says at last, voice so close now it grazes your skin like a prayer. "Yer voice, for their lives. I won’t touch another one of yer precious mortals. But yer blood, mo chroí... that was always mine. I’ve come to claim what’s owed."

He leans in, so close you can feel the shape of his smirk before you see it. You tilt your head without thinking, offering. And he chuckles, low and secret, like he’s just unwrapped something meant only for him.

"I never liked touchin’ Maud, y’know. She reeked of hunger—not the good kind." His breath brushes your jaw. "Never once sank me teeth into her. Just had her fill jars for me. But you—"

His voice drops, almost reverent, and his mouth traces the shell of your ear. His fangs graze your skin—sharp, cruel, perfect—and your breath hitches.

"Yer soul begs me to tear ya apart, doesn’t it, pet? Begs me to devour ya whole."

You want to deny it. You should. But no sound escapes. Instead, you tilt your neck further, exposing the soft line of your throat. He growls low, the sound so intimate it coils inside you.

"Do ya know how long I’ve waited for this?" His nose drags up your neck, slow, almost obscene. "I’ve been thirstin’, starvin’—and nothin’ satisfies."

You shiver when his fingers slide into your hair, pulling it gently aside. A sound escapes you—deep, desperate—when his lips meet the throb of your pulse.

"I’ve felt nothin’ since her voice faded from me ears, since her blood stopped callin’. Everythin’ tastes like ash, darlin’."

He drags his tongue over your skin, lazy, languid. Not a kiss—just a claim. You close your eyes, and your knees weaken.

Then he pauses.

"Such a curious creature..." His breath teases your collarbone, and he smiles against your throat. "Don’t hide those sounds from me, mo chroí. Let them loose. Yer voice is too rare to smother."

His fingers tilt your chin, and your mouth parts with a gasp. He slips his thumb across your lip. You almost kiss it—almost—but then another sound escapes you, raw and feral, and he shudders.

"That’s it."

"Are you going to destroy me?" The words break from you, shaky—not with fear, but want.

He hums again, like you amuse him. His mouth brushes the hollow beneath your ear.

"Destroy ya? Nah," he breathes, in that thick Irish rasp. "I’m gonna ruin ya. But not the way yer thinkin’. I need ya alive, love. Wouldn’t do me much good if ya had a hole in yer throat, now would it?"

Then, sharp—his teeth graze your skin, and your knees nearly give. Your hands move without asking permission—one tangled in his hair, the other pressed to his back, pulling him closer. He groans, deep and hungry, and finally—finally—his fangs pierce.

It’s barely a scratch, but it’s enough. Blood beads and rises. Before it can cool in the night air, his lips seal over it, drawing you into his hunger with a sound so guttural it steals the ground from beneath your feet.

You gasp, fingers twisting in his hair as warmth pools low in your belly. It isn’t pain. It isn’t fear. It’s something else. Something more dangerous.

Then panic sears through you, cutting through the haze. You pull at him, suddenly desperate to stop, but he misreads it—thinks it’s pleasure—and sinks deeper into you.

When he finally pulls back, his mouth is stained red, lips slick with your blood, and for a moment—just one brief, heart-stopping moment—you forget how to breathe.

He tilts his head to the moonlight, the silver glow catching on his jaw, glinting in the wet curve of his mouth. His face is lit with something unholy, yes—but it’s more than that. It’s divine. He looks like a ruined angel, something the heavens regret banishing, something too glorious to be forgotten by time.

You can only stare.

He drinks slowly, licking the blood from his lips as if it were the finest wine. Every flick of his tongue feels like a sin you’re complicit in. He savors it—savors you—with a quiet, obscene delight that makes your insides twist.

And still, all you can think about is sinking your own teeth into him.

Your mouth parts. Not to speak. Just to feel the air between you. To taste him on your own lips. Your fingers ache to touch him, not gently, but with hunger. To rake through his hair. To feel the press of him, the weight, the warmth. To see if his blood would taste like the fire you feel now blooming behind your ribs.

"Smart girl," he murmurs, licking a stray drop from your neck, the words a caress. "Knew ya had some bite."

Then, without warning, he yanks you against him. No space. No breath. His claws lift your chin, and you see the monster behind the man. Fangs bared. Heat on your lips. His breath, like smoke and sin.

"Next time ya try to kill me, sweetheart," he whispers, voice like cracked velvet, "make sure yer little scraps of knowledge are worth a damn."

It hadn’t worked. Not even a little. Your grandmother’s journals said verbena would slow him, poison him—had let her escape. You’d filled yourself with it for weeks. Had hoped your blood would be lethal.

That’s why you were scared. Because now... you don’t want him gone.

"Remember this, mo chroí. The Devil knows more ‘cause he’s old—not ‘cause he’s damned. No more verbena, aye? Sours yer taste. And we don’t want that, now do we?"

He laps at your mouth in a single obscene stroke—quick, hot—and you open to him before you can stop yourself.

He grins. Pleased.

"We’ll have to work on that greedy nature of yers."

#jack o'connell #remmick #sinners #angst #fem!reader #remmick x reader #vampire #fanfiction #sinners fic #parting glass #sinners au #sinners remmick

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theetherealbloom · 5 months ago

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IT COULD HAPPEN TO YOU - CH.1

Chapter One: Hide Your Heart From Sight

Summary: You find yourself sharing a hotel suite with Pedro Pascal while working on the set of Fantastic Four: First Steps. Despite your different roles—he’s the star, and you’re behind the scenes. Nothing could ever happen between you two… right?

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x F!Reader

Warnings: Age-Gap Romance (Not Specified), Eventual SMUT, Crush, FLUFF, Slight Angst, Trope(s), Swearing, Anxiety, Lots of Cliches, Cheesy Dialogue, Romance, Kissing, Real People Fiction, Cameras, Paparazzi, Social Media, Swoonworthy, One-Room Trope, They were roommates, Strangers-to-Lovers, Actors, Hallmark Tropes, the reader can sing and play guitar, the reader is shorter than Pedro, the reader has hair, Alternate Universe, Awkward!Reader, Shy!Reader, Fan Girl!Reader, Cringe, Embarrassment, Celebrities, Starstruck,

Word Count: 4.4k

A/N: Welcome to this disaster of a fic that I have constantly daydreamed about. Logistically, yes, it is so improbable and unrealistic— but there’s a 0.001% chance that it could happen… to you. It’s nice to wonder and dream. I like wondering. Granted, I’ve never worked in production ever… I am studying advertising and arts soooo that’s as much knowledge I have tehe.

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Song: It Could Happen To You by Laufey

→ Next Chapter | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist |

The hum of the plane’s engines filled the air as you settled into your seat, trying not to fidget. You glanced at your boarding pass again, as if to double-check you weren’t hallucinating. Seat 3B—business class. Marvel had spared no expense for the production team’s travel, but you still couldn’t quite believe you’d be flying so comfortably.

What shocked you even more, though, was the man lowering himself into the seat next to yours: Pedro Pascal. Yes, that Pedro Pascal. The man whose movies you’d watched obsessively before joining this production, the actor who somehow seemed both unattainably larger-than-life and heartbreakingly down-to-earth.

“Hi,” he said with a warm smile, his brown eyes crinkling at the corners. “Looks like we’re seatmates.”

You froze for a moment, then managed a weak, “Hi.” Your heart hammered against your ribcage as you mentally scrambled for something to say that wouldn’t make you sound like a complete idiot.

“You’re with the crew, right?” Pedro asked, adjusting the scarf around his neck. “What do you do?”

“Oh, um,” you stammered, “I’m just a production assistant. It’s my first big project.”

“No kidding? That’s awesome,” he said, genuinely sounding impressed. “First time working on a Marvel movie? How’s it going so far?”

“It’s… surreal,” you admitted, relaxing slightly under his easygoing demeanor. “I mean, it’s been amazing, but also kind of overwhelming. There’s so much to do, and everyone’s so talented. I…” You trailed off, realizing you were rambling.

“I get it,” Pedro said, nodding. “First big gig can be a lot. But hey, you’re here. That means someone saw something in you, right?”

The sincerity in his voice made your cheeks flush. “Thanks. That means a lot.”

The conversation flowed easily after that. Pedro asked you about your favorite movies, your hobbies, and how you’d gotten into production work. You told him about your love for art direction and set design, your dream of one day being a production designer, and your side passion for writing and music. When you mentioned you played guitar and sang, he raised an eyebrow.

“You’ll have to play something for us on set sometime,” he said, a teasing smile tugging at his lips.

You laughed nervously. “I don’t know about that. I’d probably die of embarrassment.”

“I’ll hold you to it,” he replied, his tone light but mischievous.

By the time the plane landed, you were buzzing—partly from the conversation and partly from the fact that you’d just spent hours talking to Pedro Pascal as if he were an old friend.

The buzz quickly faded when you arrived at the hotel. You stood in the lobby with the rest of the crew, listening as the location manager, Duncan, argued with the front desk staff. Apparently, there’d been a mix-up with the bookings. The hotel was overbooked due to a telecommunications conference, and somehow, you’d been assigned to share a suite… with Pedro Pascal.

“This has to be a mistake,” you muttered to yourself, your anxiety spiking as Duncan tried to sort things out. But no matter how much back-and-forth there was, the conclusion remained the same: there were no other rooms available.

“Look,” Pedro said finally, stepping in with his usual calm demeanor. “It’s fine. I don’t mind sharing if she’s okay with it.”

You blinked up at him, your mind racing. “I…”

“Hey,” he said gently, noticing your hesitation. He leaned in slightly, his voice soft but steady. “Look at me. I’m okay with it if you’re okay with it. No pressure.”

You swallowed hard, glancing over at Duncan, who looked as stressed as you felt. Finally, you nodded. “I’m fine with it if everyone else is.”

“Great,” Pedro said, flashing you a reassuring smile. “It’s settled, then.”

Duncan pulled you aside before you headed to the elevators. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?” he asked, his tone fatherly.

“Yes,” you said, forcing a smile. “Is there any kind of form I need to sign, or…?”

“No, it all falls under the NDA from your employment,” he assured you. “But seriously, if you need anything, just text me.”

You thanked him and joined Pedro in the elevator. The ride up to the suite was silent, save for the soft dinging of the floors passing by. When you finally stepped into the room, you couldn’t help but gape. It was a spacious suite with two bedrooms on opposite sides, a small kitchenette, and a cozy living area.

“This isn’t so bad,” Pedro said, dropping his bag by the door. He turned to you, his expression kind. “Do you have a preference for which room?”

You fidgeted with the strap of your bag. “Um, no, you can pick.”

“Ladies’ choice,” he insisted, his tone playful.

“Okay,” you said, gesturing to the room on the right. “I’ll take that one.”

“Perfect,” he said with a grin. “Let me know if you need anything, alright?”

As you unpacked in your room, the reality of the situation began to sink in. You were sharing a suite with Pedro Pascal. For at least a week. And somehow, you had to act like a normal, functioning human being the entire time.

You took a deep breath and flopped over on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Letting out a huff of air in disbelief, you muttered to yourself, “This has to be some sort of dream… or prank, right?”

Placing both hands over your face, you rubbed it in exasperation. “Get your shit together, girl. No screwing things up, no more internal freakouts. He’s a person, like you. Mhm, sure. Yup. Totally fine.”

You sighed deeply, trying to convince yourself of your own words. The suite was spacious and nicely furnished, with plenty of room to keep your distance—but that didn’t stop your overactive imagination from running wild. Every interaction felt loaded with the possibility of embarrassing yourself, but you swore you’d keep it together.

To say people around the production crew had heard about your new roomie was an understatement.

The day before shooting began, you attended a pre-production meeting that covered everything: call sheet details, blocking and camera movement, technical requirements, and a bunch of safety protocols. It was standard procedure but felt ten times more overwhelming knowing your friends would tease you mercilessly.

You sat with your friends from the art department, trying to focus, but they weren’t making it easy. Archie, one of the lead set designers, leaned over with a smirk. “So, how’s life as Pedro Pascal’s roomie?”

You felt your face heat up instantly. “I—it’s not… it’s just temporary,” you stammered, fiddling with the edge of your notebook.

Stephanie, a costume designer with an endless supply of sass, raised an eyebrow. “Temporary or not, it’s the stuff of rom-coms, babe. Don’t tell me you haven’t imagined a meet-cute scenario in that suite.”

“I have not!” you protested, though your flaming cheeks betrayed you.

Will, an art director with a love for stirring the pot, chuckled. “Come on, you’ve gotta admit it’s a little… serendipitous? You, a huge fan, sharing a suite with the guy? Sounds like fate to me.”

“It’s not fate,” you insisted, trying to deflect. “It’s a logistical mistake, that’s all.”

Max, the trainee set dresser, chimed in with a grin. “Yeah, but a logistical mistake that’s got everyone talking. Even Steve heard about it, and he’s usually the last to know anything.”

Steve, the lighting technician, shrugged. “What can I say? Word travels fast. I’m just here to see how long it takes for Pedro to find out about your… fandom.”

“Oh my god, can we not?” you groaned, burying your face in your hands. “He’s going to think I’m a weirdo.”

Rebecca, a fellow production assistant and one of your closest friends, patted your shoulder sympathetically. “Don’t worry, he seems like the kind of guy who’d find it endearing. Besides, you’ve been professional so far, right?”

You nodded hesitantly. “I think so. I mean, I haven’t said anything stupid yet.”

“Yet being the keyword,” Sophie teased, earning a laugh from the group.

Patricia, always the voice of reason, smiled warmly. “Just be yourself. You’re great at your job, and Pedro’s just another actor. A very charming actor, sure, but still just a person.”

“Thanks, Patricia,” you said, feeling slightly more grounded. But the anxiety still lingered, especially with everyone’s teasing reminders of your not-so-secret crush.

As the meeting wrapped up and you headed back to your tasks, you couldn’t shake the nervous excitement bubbling inside you. Sharing a suite with Pedro Pascal might’ve been a logistical mistake, but it was quickly turning into one of the most unreal experiences of your life.

CHILTERN FIREHOUSE HOTEL, LONDON — NIGHT

Dinner with the cast and crew had been lively, filled with laughter, and far too many knowing glances sent your way by your friends. The teasing hadn’t stopped, even over plates of pasta and glasses of wine.

Archie had leaned over at one point, a mischievous glint in his eye. “So, what’s the first thing you’re gonna do when Pedro walks out of the bathroom shirtless? Swoon or faint?”

You nearly choked on your drink. “Archie!”

“I’m just saying,” he said with a laugh. “It’s a valid question.”

Stephanie smirked. “She’s probably rehearsing her ‘I’m totally cool and unaffected’ face right now.”

You groaned. “I hate all of you.”

Rebecca grinned. “No, you don’t. But seriously, just enjoy the moment. How many people can say they’ve shared a hotel room with Pedro Pascal?”

By the time the group had wandered back to the shuttle, your cheeks were sore from laughing, and your nerves were only slightly calmed. But as the cold London air nipped at your skin, you found yourself longing for the warmth of the hotel.

Your teeth chattered as you stepped off the shuttle, clutching your coat tighter around you. You didn’t like the cold very much, and London was very, very cold.

The moment you entered the hotel lobby, the warmth began to seep into your body, and you let out a sigh of relief. The elevator ride to your floor was quiet, your mind finally shutting down after a long evening of socializing. By the time you reached your room, you were operating on autopilot.

Tapping your keycard to the door, you quietly pushed it open, careful not to disturb Pedro if he was already asleep. It was just past 9:30 p.m., and you knew the early call time tomorrow would have him resting early.

You shut the door softly behind you, locking the deadbolt before shuffling into the room. You removed your coat, scarf, and shoes, swapping them for the fuzzy slippers you’d packed. The room was dimly lit, and you moved quietly, hoping not to make too much noise.

“Oh, you’re back.”

You nearly jumped out of your skin, clutching your chest as your heart tried to escape it. Whipping around, you found Pedro lounging on the sofa, a book in his hands and a soft, amused smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He was wearing a plain white tee and gray sweatpants, his square-framed glasses perched on his nose, and he looked entirely too comfortable—like he belonged there. Like this was normal.

“Oh my god, I didn’t know you were still awake,” you said, voice breathless as you tried to recover from the scare.

He chuckled, his laugh low and warm. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you. You were so quiet coming in, I thought maybe you were sneaking around.”

You set your things on the small table by the door, giving him an exasperated look. “I wasn’t sneaking around. I was trying not to wake you.”

“Well, mission accomplished.” He tilted his head, watching you with that relaxed air that somehow made you feel completely exposed. “How was dinner?”

“It was good,” you said, shrugging as you moved toward the kitchenette to grab a bottle of water. “Everyone was in high spirits, and the food was great. We took a little walk around the city before heading back.”

Pedro closed his book, setting it on the coffee table. “Sounds nice. London at night can be magical.”

“Yeah, it was.” You paused, feeling the weight of his gaze. “Though, I think I underestimated just how cold it gets here. My teeth were chattering the whole way back.”

He raised an eyebrow, his smile softening. “Didn’t bring a warm enough coat?”

“I thought I did, but apparently not. I’m not built for this kind of weather,” you admitted with a laugh, wrapping your arms around yourself as if to stave off the lingering chill.

Pedro stood, crossing the room with an easy grace that made your breath hitch. “Well, we can’t have you freezing, can we?” He grabbed the throw blanket draped over the back of the sofa and held it out to you. “Here.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the simple gesture. “Oh, no, it’s fine. I just get cold really easily. Besides, I’ll warm up eventually.”

“Take it,” he insisted, his tone gentle but firm. “It’s not a big deal.”

Reluctantly, you took the blanket, your fingers brushing his for the briefest moment. It sent a jolt of warmth through you that had nothing to do with the fabric now wrapped around your shoulders. “Thanks,” you murmured, pulling it tighter around you.

“Better?” he asked, stepping back to give you space but still watching you with that disarmingly kind expression.

You nodded, trying to ignore the way your heart was pounding. “Much. Thanks, Pedro.”

He smiled again, and for a moment, the air between you felt charged, like something unspoken was hanging there. But then he broke the silence, his voice light. “So, did they give you a hard time at dinner?”

Your face heated instantly. “What do you mean?”

He smirked, leaning casually against the back of the sofa. “I heard some of the cast talking earlier. Apparently, your friends in the art department have been… teasing you about the room situation.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “Oh no. What exactly did you hear?”

“Nothing incriminating,” he said with a laugh. “Just that they’re convinced this is some kind of meet-cute scenario straight out of a rom-com.”

You peeked at him through your fingers, mortified. “I’m so sorry. They’re ridiculous.”

“I don’t mind,” he said, his tone easy, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “It’s kind of flattering, actually.”

Your hands dropped to your sides, your eyes wide. “Flattering?”

“Yeah. I mean, it’s nice to know someone thinks sharing a room with me is worth all that excitement.”

You didn’t know what to say to that, your brain short-circuiting as you tried to process the fact that Pedro Pascal—Pedro Pascal—was standing in front of you, teasing you in the most charming way possible.

“Well, I’ll let you get some rest,” he said after a beat, his voice softer now. “Big day tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” you managed, your voice barely above a whisper. “Big day.”

He gave you one last smile before retreating to his side of the suite, leaving you standing there with a racing heart and a head full of thoughts you were too scared to unpack.

PINEWOOD STUDIOS — DAY

You woke to the soft chime of your alarm, the faint glow of early morning light creeping through the curtains. Shuffling into the bathroom with a yawn, you turned on the shower, letting the warm water coax you into wakefulness. You placed your phone on the counter, tapping on a playlist to fill the small space with soft, melodic tunes—comforting background noise that kept your mind from spiraling too early in the day.

After your shower, you toweled off and began your morning routine. Skincare applied with practiced ease, makeup brushed on with care, you avoided the mirror for too long, focusing instead on the growing anticipation of the day ahead. Pinning your ID to your lanyard, you glanced at your phone again.

The group chat with your team was buzzing:

Archie: "We’re fifteen minutes out. Don’t keep us waiting, queen 👑."

Rebecca: "Text when you’re coming down!"

Max: "Coffee run? Pls? 🙏"

A small smile tugged at your lips as you tapped out a quick reply, your fingers hovering over the keyboard for a moment before you switched apps.

Your heart did a little stutter as you opened your browser—a Joel Miller fanfic you’d been obsessing over still lingering on your screen. You skimmed the most recent chapter, your thumb pausing to scroll as you half-laughed at the absurdity of sneaking in a few paragraphs before a full day on set. You switched to the chat thread with your online friends, who were deep in a heated discussion about whether Joel would be the type to cook breakfast for his partner. You couldn’t help but chuckle, throwing in a quick, “He’d definitely make pancakes and act like it’s no big deal,” before locking your phone and setting it on the counter.

Moving on autopilot, you padded into the small kitchenette, barefoot and still humming softly to the tune stuck in your head. You set the coffee machine to brew, pulling out a couple of mugs, a jar of Nutella, and some bread. Your hands moved with muscle memory, spreading the hazelnut spread on toast and slicing up a handful of fruit without a second thought. It wasn’t until the scent of coffee filled the air that you realized you’d made two plates of toast—one for you and one for Pedro.

The realization struck at the same moment you heard the faint shuffle of footsteps behind you.

“Morning.”

His voice was low and warm, still carrying the huskiness of sleep. You froze, phone in one hand, butter knife in the other, as you turned to see Pedro leaning against the doorframe. His hair was adorably tousled, and he was dressed in a plain black t-shirt and sweatpants that somehow made him look effortlessly put together. His eyes crinkled slightly as he smiled at you, and you nearly dropped your phone in a panic.

“Good morning,” you managed, your voice a little too high-pitched as you fumbled to lock your screen. The thought of him catching even a glimpse of what you’d been reading was enough to make your cheeks burn.

Pedro glanced at the counter, taking in the toast, coffee, and neatly sliced fruit. “You made breakfast?”

“Oh, uh—yeah.” You set your phone down and gestured awkwardly toward the spread. “I made you some coffee and toast with Nutella. I wasn’t sure if you’d want that, and there’s fruit, too. I was just about to cut some more, but obviously, you don’t have to eat it if you don’t want to, and—”

“Hey.” Pedro’s soft chuckle cut through your rambling, and when you met his gaze, he was looking at you with a mix of amusement and something else you couldn’t quite place. “Thank you. That’s really sweet of you.”

You blinked at him, momentarily stunned by the sincerity in his voice. “Oh. Yeah. No problem. It’s nothing, really.”

He moved past you to grab a mug of coffee, the proximity sending your pulse into overdrive. As he poured himself a cup, you noticed his shoulders relaxed and his movements unhurried. He took a sip and let out a small, contented sigh.

“Perfect,” he said, glancing over at you with a grin. “You’re spoiling me, you know that?”

Your laugh came out nervous and breathy. “I’m pretty sure this doesn’t count as spoiling. It’s just toast.”

“Yeah, but it’s good toast,” he teased, holding up a slice as if to emphasize his point.

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, the tension in your chest easing slightly. The moment felt impossibly domestic—like a scene out of one of those fanfics you’d been reading. Only this time, it wasn’t Joel Miller standing in the kitchen with you. It was Pedro.

And that was somehow even more surreal.

Pedro leaned against the counter, his mug cradled in both hands. He looked at you like you were the only thing in the room worth paying attention to. “So,” he started, his voice warm and casual, “what were you so engrossed in on your phone earlier? You looked ready to throw it out the window when I walked in.”

Your stomach flipped, and you tried to play it cool, even though you were fairly certain your face was now several shades of red. “Oh, nothing,” you lied, brushing a crumb off the counter. “Just the group chat. You know how chaotic they are.”

Pedro tilted his head, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Mm-hmm. Sure it wasn’t something more... intriguing?”

You swallowed hard, gripping your coffee cup a little tighter. “Intriguing?”

He took a sip of his coffee, his eyes twinkling with mischief over the rim of his mug. “You tell me.”

“It’s nothing!” you blurted out, a little too defensively. “Just—just boring stuff. Work stuff.”

“Work stuff,” he repeated slowly, clearly unconvinced. “Right. Because people laugh at boring work stuff while making toast.”

You groaned, setting your mug down as you ran a hand over your face. “Can we not? Please? I’m already mortified enough.”

Pedro chuckled, the sound low and teasing but not unkind. “Alright, alright. I’ll let it go... for now.” He set his mug on the counter and raised his hands in mock surrender. “But you owe me a story later. Deal?”

You hesitated, narrowing your eyes at him. “Depends on how much coffee you’ve had by then. I might need you slightly less smug for that conversation.”

His grin widened, and he leaned closer, just enough to make your heart stutter. “Smug? I prefer charming. But I’ll take it under advisement.”

You rolled your eyes, but a smile tugged at your lips despite yourself. The playful banter made the room feel lighter, warmer.

By the time you both finished your coffee, the atmosphere had shifted into something comfortable and easy. You quickly rinsed the dishes, your hands moving on autopilot as Pedro lingered nearby, chatting about everything and nothing.

As you dried your hands, your phone buzzed on the counter, and you glanced at the screen.

Rebecca: “Bus is almost there. Better get your cute butt down here!”

You shot back a quick reply: “On my way.” Turning to Pedro, you grabbed your bag and gestured toward the door. “I’ve got to head down. My shuttle’s waiting.”

Pedro grabbed his own bag and trailed after you. “I’ll walk down with you. I’ve got my own ride coming, but they’re always late.”

The two of you stepped into the elevator, the hum of its descent filling the silence. The confined space suddenly felt smaller, the air heavier with unspoken tension.

Pedro stood close—too close. You could feel the heat radiating off him, smell the faint hint of his cologne. Your heart thudded in your chest, and you pressed the strap of your bag tighter against your shoulder, hoping it would anchor you somehow.

“So,” he said, his voice quieter now, almost intimate in the stillness of the elevator. “What’s the plan for today?”

You glanced at him, his brown eyes watching you closely, the curve of his smile softer now. “Same as usual, I guess,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “Make sure everything runs smoothly while you and everyone else look good on camera.”

He chuckled, the sound low and rich. “You make it sound so simple, but I know you’re the one holding it all together.”

His words caught you off guard, and you looked away, feeling your cheeks heat up again. “I just do my job.”

“And you do it damn well,” he said, his tone sincere now, no teasing edge in sight.

The elevator dinged as it reached the lobby, breaking the moment. Pedro gestured for you to step out first, and you did, your pulse still racing.

“Thanks,” you murmured, not entirely sure if you were thanking him for his compliment or just for letting you escape the charged space of the elevator.

As you spotted your shuttle waiting outside, you turned to him, suddenly aware of how reluctant you were to leave. “I’ll see you on set?”

He nodded, his gaze lingering on you for just a beat longer than necessary. “Yeah. See you soon.”

You stepped outside, the crisp morning air hitting your face as you walked toward the shuttle. But even as you climbed aboard and found a seat, your mind was still back in that elevator, replaying every glance, every word, every spark.

End Notes:

Oh hi! I missed doing these silly bits; I thought to bring ‘em back. But, don’t worry, I’ll try to yap less haha

Yes, it’s super cliche, cheesy, unrealistic, and practically a hallmark movie in the making. But that’s the fun part in fanfiction and writing, it’s all made up and no one here is allowed to “yuck” each other’s “yum” if you know what I mean. ;)

Also, I have no idea how production for film works so I’m researching stuff and making stuff up along the way pls no one come after me T^T

Weirdly enough, I saw a reddit post from someone who works at the front of the hotel desk and they say the one-bed trope/one-room trope; it actually happens pretty frequently lol so who knows ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

TAGLIST: @comfortzonequeen @christinamadsen @liciafonseca

#pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x f!reader #pedro pascal x fem!reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader masterlist #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal x ofc #pedro pascal x plus size reader #pedro pascal series masterlist #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fandom #pedrostories #pedro pascal characters #pedrohub #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal gifs #joel miller x reader

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