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prdx-invdr · 7 months

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୨୧⸝⸝﹕if you call me a fool, then i’ll be a fool.

SUMMARY! you’ve been in love with park wonbin since the day the two of you met and never found the courage to tell him. why is it that you find yourself yearning to confess the moment someone else comes into the picture?

PAIRING! park wonbin x fem!reader

GENRE! college!au, slice of life, fluff, angst (an attempt was made), friends to lovers, IDIOTS to lovers omg WC 8.1k

WARNING! swearing, jealousy, y/n likes wonbin an insane amount girl get up, insecurity, anton instigates like it’s his job and he’s up for a promotion, random female idol is mentioned many times (nothing against her!!), not proofread

NOTE! do u guys know what song the title is from lol.. LOL also i had another wonbin fic i wanted to post and deleted it bc it sucked so actually im posting this one as a coping mechanism

you don’t realize the way you’re staring at the back of wonbin’s head until a voice snaps you out of your trance. “do you know what you want?” shotaro asks you, waving a hand in front of your face.

currently, the two of you, along with wonbin, seunghan, and anton, are standing in line at a beverage kiosk. the latter, having already received his drink, stands to your right while shotaro stands to your left. seunghan recites his order to the employee while wonbin stands idly behind him.

“don’t even bother asking,” anton chortles, lips still wrapped around his straw. “she’s probably gonna have wonbin order for her, like always.” you lightly slap him in the arm after the words leave his mouth, eyes darting to the aforementioned boy standing merely 2 inches in front of you, hoping he hadn’t heard anton’s teasing.

“i didn’t even say anything wrong! he orders for you all the time!” the boy whines, jokingly rubbing his arm where you had hit him.

shotaro lets out a curt laugh at the interaction, knowing that anton’s words held truth to them, whether you liked to admit it or not. “it’s because she’s shy. right, y/n?” he turns to you, attempting to diffuse your embarrassment. one look at the smile on his face and anyone would be able to tell that his words were complete bullshit. the two of you knew that the real reason you liked having wonbin order for you was because you liked him.

however, for your own sake, you sigh and choose to agree with shotaro’s statement, only offering a small nod. “whatever,” anton mutters under his breath, walking over to seunghan who has his own beverage in hand.

now that you, shotaro and wonbin were the only people in line, shotaro grabs your sleeve and gently pulls you backwards, putting more distance between the two of you and the boy who was now placing his order. before shotaro says anything, you know what the topic of conversation is going to be.

“do you ever plan on telling him?” is all he inquires, his voice lowering to a whisper. you avoid his piercing gaze, instead turning to look at anton and seunghan, laughing in between sips of their respective drinks. anton is already nearly finished with his, you note.

when you’re done observing them, you shift your attention to wonbin, who has his arms crossed as he points at one of the cup sizes the kiosk has on display, indicating that it’s the one he wants.

you’re unable to see his face but you’re able to picture it better than anything. the way his lip quirks upwards in an attempt to be polite to the employee. the furrow of his brow as he asks a question.

shotaro sighs at your silence and finds it astonishing how you’re able to ogle wonbin without even looking at his face. that very sigh brings you back into reality, finally meeting the gaze of the boy currently interrogating you.

“he… doesn’t think of me that way,” you slowly tell him, as if the words would physically pain you if you uttered them too quickly. shotaro lets out a noise you can only assume was meant to be a scoff, but being passive aggressive simply doesn’t run in his blood.

“are you kiddi-“ shotaro is interrupted by wonbin holding a drink in front of your face, thus putting a barrier between the two of you. “here, y/n,” the long haired boy hums, not moving from his spot until you take the beverage filled plastic cup. if you didn’t have park wonbin tunnel vision, as shotaro likes to call it, you’d see the way anton is shaking his head and letting out a short laugh in disbelief upon witnessing the interaction. “called it,” he tells seunghan, who only blinks in confusion.

“i wasn’t sure which one you wanted, but i remembered that time we went to that other drink place and you said you really liked the strawberry one, so i got you that,” wonbin explains, holding his own straw up to his mouth. he says it nonchalantly, as if you could either finish the drink in about 5 seconds before proclaiming how much you enjoyed it, or you could throw it to the ground and curse at him for assuming the flavor you wanted, and he wouldn’t flinch either way.

“um— yes— yeah, i..” you stutter, and shotaro swears it takes everything in him not to slap his own forehead at your sudden jumpiness. “i like it, thank you. you didn’t have to, wonbin,” you exhale, holding your drink with both hands.

“yeah, well, force of habit, you know?” the boy laughs. “since i’m always ordering for you anyway.” his words cause you to tense and you can just picture anton’s shit-eating grin after he heard what wonbin said. “right, yeah,” you nod, wanting the conversation to be over with. the 5 of you continue walking throughout the mall, seunghan complaining about what a ridiculous amount of time you had all just spent at that beverage kiosk.

“force of habit is crazy,” anton decides to tease you again, earning another slap on the arm. “stop hitting me!”

besides ordering drinks for you when you hadn’t requested for him to do so, anton has noticed that wonbin also tends to subconsciously let you get away with… a lot.

he doesn’t even attempt to hide the way he rolls his eyes when he walks into the living room and sees none other than you and wonbin, the latter seated on the carpeted floor while you’re situated on the couch behind him, playing with his hair.

“i shouldn’t have come in here,” he mutters, barely audible. he’s unsure if he wanted you and wonbin to hear him, but your head snaps in his direction nonetheless. “hey, anton,” you greet him despite knowing that he’d have a lot to say about your current position. he nods his head in acknowledgement before pursing his lips. you brace yourself for whatever comment he’ll inevitably make next, morphing your lips into a straight line.

“you know,” anton starts, and you’re already holding back the urge to groan. “wonbin never lets any of us touch his hair like that.”

“right, because you guys are always so eager to play with my hair, huh?” wonbin quips sarcastically. anton shrugs, although wonbin isn’t looking at him. “so you’re saying if we wanted to, we could?” anton questions, moving across the living room to grab his phone charger, finally remembering why he had walked into the room in the first place.

“nah,” wonbin replies, “not sure why you’d want to, anyway.”

“i don’t see you questioning why y/n wants to do it,” anton insists, already making his way out of the room, pausing momentarily to hear wonbin’s response.

“she doesn’t need a reason,” his older friend says, “she’s y/n.” anton shakes his head and continues on his way. you resume treading your hand through wonbin’s hair as if nothing had happened, but unbeknownst to the boy sitting in front of you, your heart rate had increased at his words.

“he’s just jealous,” wonbin jokes. you only let out a short laugh in response. you wonder how he would react if you informed him that anton had actually sprung up that conversation because he knows about your tremendous crush on the raven haired boy.

“do you think you’d ever go blonde?” you inquire, changing the subject. he lets out a snort and tilts his head to look back at you. you’re grinning, trying to ignore the way your heart does somersaults in your chest.

“i don’t think the world is ready for that,” he laughs.

“what are we laughing about in here?” a voice sings from the door way, ripping your attention away from wonbin. you turn to the perpetrator and lock eyes with sungchan, who sends you a smile. you wave at him and he takes it as an invitation to sit himself down on the couch beside you.

“nothing much,” wonbin answers. your hands finally retreat from his hair and you miss the way his shoulders slump in response.

“right,” sungchan nods, turning his attention to whatever you and wonbin are watching on tv. in actuality, neither you nor him have been paying the television any mind for at least an hour, and only now do you realize that some sort of ocean documentary has been playing this whole time.

a few minutes of silence proceed before sungchan clasps his hands together and stands up from the couch abruptly, startling you.

“man, this has been boring,” he announces, eyes darting between the two of you, seated in the same positions as when he first entered the room. “do you guys even talk?”

“we were, actually, before you walked in,” wonbin mutters, not meaning for his words to come out as sourly as they do. sungchan raises his hands in the air in defense. “hey, my bad. i didn’t realize the two of you were having an ocean documentary date,” he retorts.

“we’re not having-“ you’re about to correct him, only for him to cut you off.

“but, you know, bin,” he says, “i’m not sure how sangah would feel about you having a movie date with another girl.”

you feel like your entire world freezes over the moment you hear those words leave sungchan’s mouth. you quickly rid your face of your crestfallen expression, not wanting to give yourself away.

“who?” you can’t stop yourself from asking, and sungchan just stares at you. wonbin waves his hand dismissively, shaking his head in annoyance. “shut up, dude.”

“wait, y/n doesn’t know about sangah?” sungchan asks, a genuinely confused look crossing over his features. “i thought you guys told each other everything.”

wonbin groans in irritation. “i haven’t told anyone, actually, because it doesn’t matter. you only know because you’re nosy as fuck.”

sungchan chuckles, and you would attempt to let out a halfhearted laugh if you didn’t feel like your chest was aching. you lick your lips and stare questioningly at the side of wonbin’s head.

“look, bro,” sungchan gestures towards you, causing wonbin to turn around and meet your disheartened eyes. his face drops slightly, and you’re not in the correct headspace to try and pinpoint why. “she’s upset because you didn’t tell her!” his friend chimes.

wonbin shakes his head, still looking at you. “she’s just some girl,” he huffs. “i don’t even know her that well.”

you scoff before plastering a wobbly smile onto your face. “i’m not upset,” your voice quivers and you hope that wonbin doesn’t notice it. you’re not sure why he decides to reassure you about sangah— whoever that is— but you pray that it’s not because he’s known about your pathetic crush on him all this time and is now feeling bad for you because he’s currently seeing someone.

of course, only your cruel mind could formulate such a sickening thought.

“i’m just.. surprised,” you conclude with an unconvincing nod. wonbin closes his eyes in annoyance, and you know it’s because of his intrusive friend standing in the doorway. “sungchan, just stop spreading shit around, alright?” he gives him a tired look, finally getting up from the floor. as wonbin makes his way past sungchan in the doorway, the taller boy gives him a playful slap on the shoulder. with wonbin having left the room, you find yourself looking to sungchan with urgency.

“who is sangah?” you plead, trying to keep your emotions at bay. the boy furrows his eyebrows, confusion settling into his features once more. “why do you care, y/n?” he asks. you know that his question doesn’t come from a place of mockery, but rather genuine interest. it hits you in that moment that sungchan, as smart as he is, happens to be absolutely terrible at taking a hint.

somehow, when it came to the long lasting feelings you harbored for one of his closest friends, sungchan was none the wiser. you surmise that he wouldn’t have teased wonbin so openly about another girl had he known about your feelings for the long haired boy.

that, you suppose, you can’t really blame him for.

“um,” you start, “he’s one of my closest friends.” your words are spoken through gritted teeth and clenched fists. “i’m just curious, you know?” the lie comes out easier than you think it should’ve.

sungchan hums, crossing his arms and giving you a curt nod. “just some girl,” sungchan tells you, repeating wonbin’s words from a few minutes ago. “yoon sangah. she’s in our music fundamentals class. like, 2 days ago, i think, she wrote her instagram handle on a slip of paper and gave it to wonbin right in front of me.” your face falls for what seems like the millionth time in the past 10 minutes. you can only offer the tall boy a nearly inaudible hum in response.

“do you think it’ll lead to anything? you know, between her and wonbin?” again, you can’t stop yourself from asking. you feel sick at the thought of playing into the role of ‘jealous, overthinking girlfriend’, and even sicker at the fact that you and wonbin aren’t even dating. what right do you have to be inquisitive about his love life?

still, you can’t help it. when sungchan takes a bit longer to respond to your question you fear you’re treading on dangerous territory, afraid that even the dense boy you’re conversing with may have cracked the code. the grin that he aims at you a few seconds later serves as reassurance that, no, he still doesn’t know anything.

“that’s a good question, y/n dearest,” he pats your shoulder lightly. “i guess only time will tell.”

you hate yourself for what you’re doing right now.

looking back on the conversation you had with sungchan hours prior to this moment, you recalled him mentioning that sangah had given wonbin her instagram. thus, like any normal person would do in your situation, you took it upon yourself to go through wonbin’s following list in an attempt to find her.

you scroll past your own account, past the accounts of your mutual friends, and a few people who you presume are some of wonbin’s classmates.

when you finally stumble across sangah’s account, your body fills with dread before you even see a proper photo of her.

judging by her profile picture alone, you can tell that she’s pretty. you’re fully looking at her profile now, and your frown only deepens. she’s beautiful.

you shake your head as if it would help ease your racing mind. she’s beautiful, yes, you think, but looks aren’t everything. you find yourself childishly crossing your fingers that sangah had the personality of an evil witch, so that even if wonbin fell victim to her physical charm, he’d be pushed away by her true nature.

you let out a quiet scoff. you can’t believe you’re sitting here thinking badly about another girl just because she might have a crush on the same man you’ve been in love with since the day you met him. in the same sense, you can’t believe that when you say that sentence out loud, it actually sounds a bit reasonable. you blame sungchan, for a moment, drawing the inference that you wouldn’t feel so insecure right now if it hadn’t been for his previous teasing.

you can’t stop yourself when you click on one of sangah’s posts. she doesn’t have many, but the few that she has have seemed to gather thousands of likes. despite this, you take note of the fact that wonbin doesn’t have any of them liked— thank god, you think to yourself. you start to analyze her photos, the faces she makes at the camera, the outfits she wears, the way her hair is styled. when studying her facial expressions, you wonder if she’s made those same faces while looking at wonbin. when taking her outfits into consideration, you wonder if wonbin has seen her wearing any of them and thought she looked particularly nice. whilst examining her hair, you resist the urge to rip out your own. it’s perfect. she’s perfect.

she’s perfect, and from what you can tell, you aren’t anything like her. so what does that make you?

you move to close the app, feeling filled to the brim with self doubt when you suddenly freeze as your phone vibrates. you hesitantly open your dms and your eyes widen as they fall upon the newest message.

[3:02 AM] 1bin_02: why are u awake

your heart races and you momentarily contemplate if wonbin had somehow set up a security camera in your bedroom without your knowledge because how on earth did he know?

you don’t ponder on the matter for long, the aforementioned boy sending another message merely a few seconds later.

[3:02 AM] 1bin_02: u have ur activity status turned on btw

exhaling a breath of relief, you type a response to him.

[3:03 AM] you: why are U awake park wonbin

[3:03 AM] 1bin_02: i just woke up like 5 minutes ago. my y/n senses were tingling and my unconscious body felt a disturbance

[3:04 AM] 1bin_02: kiddinggg

[3:04 AM] 1bin_02: but fr why are u awake

you hold your breath as you type out your next response, choosing to be daring. you decide that, even if it’s only for a few seconds, you’re no longer going to be a coward.

[3:06 AM] you: i was thinking about u

[3:06 AM] 1bin_02: ditto

[3:07 AM] 1bin_02: i know im amazing and everything but don’t let me stop u from getting ur beauty rest 🙄 jk

[3:07 AM] 1bin_02: gn dummy

you decide against saying anything else, shutting off your phone with a sigh. you are a dummy, you think, and the boy who had just given you that title has no idea that it’s all because of him.

you’re exhausted the next day, concluding that being awake at 3 in the morning despite knowing that you had a class at 8AM was not the best idea.

wonbin is quick to take note of this, poking you on your side as the two of you follow your usual route to your next lecture of the day. “i bet someone regrets staying up until 3AM, hm?” he doesn’t bother to hide his smirk as you swat his hand away. “like you weren’t up at 3AM, too,” you mutter. he clicks his tongue in response. “that was only for a few minutes,” he says, “who knows how long you were awake for, though.”

before you’re forced to dignify wonbin with a response, anton and seunghan walk up to the two of you, the latter offering a wave while the former only smiles.

“where are we headed, guys?” seunghan asks, throwing an arm around wonbin. the boy attempts to shrug him off to no avail. “anton and i wanted to go get drinks and we were wondering if you guys wanted to come with,” he grins before quietly adding, “and maybe also pay for them.”

you laugh and wonbin turns to you upon hearing it, letting out a playful scoff of his own. “can’t, y/n has class in 10 minutes or so,” he turns to the two boys who now have their eyebrows raised in apprehension. “that’s where we were headed,” he finishes.

“and you’re walking her there,” anton nods, his words posing as more of a statement than a question. you can only dramatically roll your eyes. wonbin doesn’t seem to pick up any undertones, only nodding in response. “i might be able to tag along afterwards, though. no promises.”

“well, anton,” seunghan sighs, turning to his friend, “we’ll just have to take shotaro inste-“

the boy is cut off by the sound of a girlish voice calling out wonbin’s name. all 4 of you turn around in unison, and you feel like your heart has physically sunken into the floor. sangah.

wonbin’s at a loss for words for a moment and you want to run away more than anything. you’re not prepared to see the two of them interact, especially after looking at her instagram page last night. “hey, sangah,” is all he says, a smile plastered on his face that pains you to look at.

the girl is practically beaming. “what are you up to?” she grins, her eyes not daring to look anywhere but him. his eyes flicker to you momentarily, who is struggling to breathe.

“i’m walking her—” he gestures to you and sangah finally looks away from him, eyes now trained on yours, “to class. well, i was, before these two showed up.” wonbin waves a hand in anton and seunghan’s direction, the two boys adorning matching confused expressions on their faces. nobody moves a muscle for a few seconds and you’re afraid that your rapid heartbeat can be heard atop of the pin-drop silence.

“oh! my bad,” wonbin clears his throat, “guys, this is sangah,” he gestures towards the girl, “sangah, this is… guys.” he gestures towards his friends. “and y/n,” he gestures towards you for the second time, giving you a tap on the shoulder for good measure. sangah’s mouth forms an ‘o’ and she reaches out to shake your hand. you’re positive that if it weren’t for the freezing hallways of your university, your hands would be sweating, so you silently thank whoever’s in charge of the ac for seemingly always having it cranked up to the max. you and the girl shake hands, her smile noticably brighter than yours.

“nice to meet you, y/n,” she says. “you, too,” is all you’re able to respond with, smile tight.

“nice to meet you guys, too,” she waves at anton and seunghan with both hands and they wave back, offering their own respective greetings in return. awkward.

you cough, attempting to break the silence. “this has been fun,” you press your lips together for a second, “but i’ve gotta get to class. hope you guys have fun at that drink place later, or whatever,” you trail off, the last part of your sentence aimed towards anton and seunghan. “and it was nice meeting you, again,” you add, making eye contact with sangah. she smiles. you don’t say anything to wonbin as you attempt to squeeze past him, but he grabs your arm. “i’m walking with you, remember?” he says. you resist the urge to look at sangah or anyone else in your vicinity for that matter, surprised at his words. this random girl who’s obviously into him is standing only a few inches away and wonbin still insists on walking you to class.

“it’s okay,” you shake your head, unsure. wonbin can tell that you’re beginning to feel upset and he desperately wishes that sangah and even seunghan and anton were anywhere but here. “y/n-“ he starts, you cut him off. “it’s fine, wonbin,” you reaffirm. it isn’t, though.

you begin to walk in the direction of your class and release a breath that you hadn’t known you were holding. deep down, you wanted wonbin to disregard your words and resume walking with you, leaving sangah and his friends standing in the hallway. but wonbin was too polite for that, and you couldn’t even turn around to see if he had continued to engage in conversation with the 3 of them because you felt tears forming in your eyes. stupid, stupid, stupid, you think to yourself.

unbeknownst to you, sangah was able to sense the tension in the atmosphere before anyone had even said anything to her. she kisses her teeth, scratching the side of her head. “i should probably go, too,” she tells wonbin. the boy can tell that she would’ve liked to talk more, but he wasn’t looking to become friends or even acquaintances with her. doing that would only give her the wrong idea, and he didn’t want to have any bad blood with someone he’d be forced to see nearly everyday in class. the boy nods in understanding, giving her a wave. “nice.. talking to you,” he bids her farewell, unsure of what to say, because whatever had just transpired definitely did not qualify as a conversation. the girl waves back with an unwavering smile, walking in the opposite direction you had gone.

“oh, man,” seunghan lets out a laugh he had been holding in, “that was the worst. please don’t ever put me through anything like that again.” anton silently agrees, cringing.

“is it just me,” wonbin starts, ignoring his friend’s remark, “or did y/n seem kind of upset before she left?”

anton stretches his arms slightly, eyes looking anywhere but at his dark haired friend. “wonder why that might be,” he muses under his breath, but wonbin catches it. “what do you mean?” he pushes, looking his younger friend in the eye. anton puts his hands in the air in mock surrender.

“anton, what the hell do you mean?” wonbin asks again, voice tinged with annoyance. anton shakes his head, “figure it out.”

seunghan watches his friends go back and forth, a bit confused himself. much like sungchan, he seems to be completely oblivious when it comes to the way you feel about wonbin.

you’re currently sitting in class wondering why you even bothered to show up.

you knew before you even sat down that you wouldn’t be able to process a single word of the lecture, your mind thinking over your first official encounter with sangah.

ever since last night, you’ve started to dread moments like these— none of your friends being around to distract you, leaving you alone with your own miserable thoughts. it feels as though each minuscule moment of silence is filled with your insecurities being pushed to the forefront of your mind.

what did they talk about after you had left? did seunghan and anton decide to leave shortly after, leaving wonbin and sangah alone? did they grow closer in the small amount of time they were left together? even worse, what if the amount of time they spent together wasn’t small at all? oh god, what if they’re still together right now?

had anton, seunghan or, worst of all, wonbin decided to invite sangah to their aforementioned drink hangout? your mind drifts to the image of wonbin ordering a drink for sangah, the same way he always does for you, and you feel like bursting into tears similarly to the way you had almost done so on your way to class.

and sangah— god, you wanted to hate her so bad. your prayers that she had the personality of a wicked witch were thrown out the window the second she opened her mouth. she was so nice to you. the guy that she likes had openly expressed that he wanted to walk you to class and she still smiled at you. she’s got the most perfect appearance and most perfect attitude and you feel like you can’t compete with any of it.

you check your phone for the first time in approximately 30 minutes, eager for a distraction. you’re dismayed to see only 3 notifications, one from the boy who seems the root of every current problem in your life, and two from sungchan.

[10:04 AM] bin 🫶: everything ok??

[10:16 AM] sungchani: hey

[10:16 AM] sungchani: we’re all gonna hang out on friday night (as decided by me just now) and u will be coming! (also decided by me just now)

you open your phone, typing a quick response to wonbin about how everything is fine (lie) and sending another short message in hopes of steering the conversation in a different direction. you open the two messages from sungchan, shaking your head as if he’d be able to sense your attitude through the screen.

[10:48 AM] you: who’s “we” exactly…. and what will “we” be doing

[10:50 AM] sungchani: don’t act dumb girl… me, you, taro, seunghan, anton and wonbin obviously. was gonna see if eunseok and sohee could make it but i doubt eunseok would wanna and i think sohee’s doing some group assignment lolol

[10:51 AM] sungchani: as for your other question i was thinking about going to the movies yay or nay? (say yay)

[10:51 AM] you: pass

[10:52 AM] sungchani: perfect see u there!

you don’t bother responding to sungchan’s final message, knowing that no amount of opposition from you would deter him. he’d probably drag you all the way to the theater himself if he had to. but you really don’t want to go, feeling drained from the thoughts that have been plaguing your mind ever since sungchan mentioned sangah for the first time. you’d much rather spent your friday night in bed, trying to give your brain a much needed break. maybe if you really felt like torturing yourself, you’d pull up sangah’s instagram once more.

when class ends, you’re shocked to find anton waiting for you outside of the lecture hall. he’s holding a plastic cup filled with chai tea, leaning against the wall leisurely as he sips through an orange straw. he doesn’t look in your direction, which confuses you, because you’re undoubtedly the reason he’s currently standing outside of your classroom.

“lee anto-“ the boy in question cuts you off by lifting his index finger in front of your face, still not looking at you. you scoff in irritation, not wanting to deal with his antics in your current state.

“you’re coming on friday, yes?” he questions, his voice slightly above a whisper. “not if i don’t have to,” you say, your voice at a normal volume. anton, finally looking you in the eyes, presses his index finger to his lips as if to indicate that you need to be quieter. “you do have to,” he nods.

you pinch the bridge of your nose. “why the hell are you whispering?” you scowl, and he keeps his index finger on his lips. you groan before reluctantly lowering your voice to match his, despite the fact that you still don’t know why he wants you to do so. “what’s going on?” you inquire.

“you have to come on friday,” he repeats quietly, “and you’re gonna tell dark star that you’re in love with him.”

you blink. “who?” anton leans his head back in annoyance before mouthing, “PARK WONBIN.” you recoil for a myriad of reasons. “first of all, i’m not coming on friday,” your voice slightly increases in volume, “and even if i was, i most definitely would not use it as an opportunity to confess to wonbin. and why in the world did you just call him that?” you finish, exasperated.

anton only sips his drink, his aura calm and collected. “you’re going,” he answers pointedly, “because if you don’t, dark star is gonna find out either way.”

your eyes widen and you feel like all of the air has left your lungs. “what do you mean by that? you wouldn’t actually-“

“i would, though. if telling dark star about your crush on him would get you to stop pining after him like a fool, why wouldn’t i? and, in addition,” anton fully turns to you, his voice raising to a light mumble, “i saw the way you reacted when sarah started talking to him earlier.”

“it’s sangah,” you deadpan. anton waves his hand dismissively. “not the point. with the way you acted earlier, you would’ve thought they were getting married right in the middle of that hallway,” he sounds concerned as he speaks the words, not looking anywhere but at you.

“i’m not saying that wonbin— dark star, i mean, has a thing for sandra right now. frankly, i don’t think he cares about her at all,” anton continues, “but if you’re that worried about some random girl taking him away from you when they’ve known each other for like, a week, i think that’s a sign that it might be a good idea to tell him how you’re feeling.”

you look down, letting his words settle into your mind. “i’ll come on friday,” you nod, and the boy in front of you smiles at your words, “but i have to give the whole confessing to wonbin thing a bit more thought. i mean, it’s kind of sudden.” anton’s advice actually made sense, you think, but you’re not sure if you’re ready to tell the boy you’ve been harboring feelings for all this time that you’re in love with him on a random friday night.

“sudden?” anton asks, breaking you out of your thoughts. “i think it’s long overdue. fire tornado hector thinks so, too,” he tells you.

you turn to him, dumbfounded. “where the hell are you getting these names from?!”

friday night comes in the blink of an eye and you’re standing in the lobby of the theater with shotaro, anton, seunghan, and sungchan. wonbin is nowhere to be seen.

“i told him 7PM sharp,” sungchan murmurs impatiently, checking his watch. shotaro turns to anton, jokingly hitting the younger boy on the arm with a laugh. “imagine he just decided to stay home,” he chuckles, “i bet y/n would be relieved.”

“why would she be relieved?” seunghan intrudes curiously. anton shrugs. “i told her she had to confess to wonbin tonight,” he says casually, as if he hadn’t just revealed your not-so-secret secret to an unsuspecting seunghan. the older boy’s eyebrows raise at anton’s words, his lips parting.

“you like wonbin?” he questions you eagerly. “dude, i can’t believe you didn’t know by now,” anton answers in your place as you press your lips together. “and we won’t be using the name wonbin when he arrives. he’s dark star. the codename helps when you’re trying to be discreet,” he finishes.

“yeah, because you know all about being discreet, right?” you reply, voice laced with sarcasm. anton knows that you’re referring to the way he had exposed your feelings for wonbin merely 30 seconds ago, avoiding your gaze as he whistles idly.

“sorry i’m late, guys,” the man of the hour exhales as he walks up to the 5 of you. sungchan studies wonbin, unimpressed. the latter can sense his older friend’s agitation, clicking his tongue. “you’ll forgive me once you find out why i’m late,” he assures, “look who i brought with me.”

you can’t prevent the way your heartbeat escalates, both at the mere presence of wonbin and the words that have just left his mouth. you’re unsure if you even want to find out who he’s brought with him, fearing the worst.

“sohee! eunseok!” you hear sungchan exclaim, excitedly making his way over to the two figures that have just entered the theater. he wraps his lengthy arms around both of them simultaneously.

“guess our invitations got lost in the mail, huh?” eunseok muses, returning his friend’s embrace. the three of them return to where you and the others are standing and sungchan scratches the back of his neck. “my bad, man,” he utters bashfully, “the movie we’re watching is pretty lame. didn’t think you’d be into it.”

“still, it’s an excuse to see you guys,” eunseok shrugs, turning to greet everyone else. sohee does the same, wrapping his arms around you before anyone else.

“y/n! it’s been forever,” he grins, you return it. “it’s been… 2 weeks,” you tell him, hugging him back nonetheless. “i still missed you, though,” you hum. “stop hogging him, y/n!” seunghan teases, “we haven’t seen him in weeks either!”

the two of you release each other, and when you turn, wonbin is at your side. he taps your arm. “why don’t you greet me like that?” he feigns jealousy, pursing his lips. you smile at him, hoping to mask your nervousness, “i see you everyday.”

he rolls his eyes. “that doesn’t mean you can’t miss me.”

“i always do,” you say absentmindedly. by the time your words register, wonbin is already grinning. “ditto,” he mutters, his words meant for only you to hear.

he turns away before you can comment, and eunseok takes his place beside you. he wraps an arm around your shoulders, greeting you. you think nothing of his actions before he leans down, angling his head so that it’s directly next to your ear. “i heard about healing michael’s plan,” he whispers, “the one about getting you to confess to dark star.”

“please don’t start this,” you plead, “i cannot deal with these nicknames right now. and how do you know about that?”

“um,” he starts, moving his head away from yours, “obviously healing michael filled me in on everything. just because we don’t physically see each other everyday doesn’t mean we don’t have a group chat.” he moves back to the previous topic, “he threatened to tell dark star about how you’re madly in love with him, right? he’s bluffing,” eunseok explains, “if you confess to dark star tonight, it should be because you really love him. not because anton frightened you into doing it.”

you nod at eunseok’s words, unsure. “and,” he continues, “it shouldn’t be about some other girl that might like him, either.” he takes note of the way your eyes widen a fraction. “yeah, anton told me about that, too,” he nods as you make a mental reminder to yell at anton later for airing out your business.

“what i’m saying, y/n, is make sure that you’re telling him how you feel, not for anyone else, but for you. well, and for him. and for you and him, together,” eunseok concludes, “don’t let healing michael or sandy get in the way of it.”

“it’s sangah,” you sigh, in awe of the fact that you’ve had to correct both him and anton. sungchan appears to have heard your final words, perking up at the mention of wonbin’s classmate.

“sangah? we’re talking about sangah?” he blurts out, turning to wonbin with a smile. “bro, we totally should’ve invited her,” he jokes, slapping his friend on the arm, “seeing her and wonbin interact in the theater would’ve been hilarious.” everyone grows tense at sungchan’s teasing— he was somehow still the only one unaware of your feelings for wonbin.

wonbin only shakes his head in response, his first instinct being to look over at you. you’re wearing that same disheartened look on your face as the first time you found out about sangah, and he can hardly breathe. his eyes narrow at the sight of eunseok’s arm still hanging off your shoulders.

“sungchan, when does the movie start? we’ve been standing here for a while,” shotaro states, attempting to alleviate the situation. “oh, we still have about,” sungchan checks the time on his watch, “ten minutes before the trailers even start playing,” he responds.

shotaro ushers the group over to the concession counter, quickly making some excuse about everyone needing to choose their snacks for the movie. “amateurs,” sungchan mutters, “who doesn’t bring their own snacks to the movies?”

wonbin finds his place beside you again, briefly studying your features. he notices the way you stand stiffly in your spot and the slight wrinkle between your brows. “hey,” he tries to get your attention. your eyes soften as they meet his that are flooded with worry. “i’m sorry,” he frowns, “about what happened back there. i don’t know why he keeps mentioning her.”

you’re puzzled and, yet again, asking yourself if he’s apologizing because he knows that you have feelings for him or if it’s because he still thinks you’re upset that he didn’t tell you about sangah sooner.

you prayed that he wasn’t apologizing due to the former, but why would he even need to apologize if it was the latter? if nothing was going on between wonbin and sangah, he had no reason to tell you about her. you press your lips into a tight line. maybe that was it— something was going on between them. that’s why he’s saying sorry to you right now, because he regrets not telling you before when you’re supposed to be one of his closest friends.

and that’s all you’ll ever be to him, because you were too much of a coward to confess to him when you had the chance. you think about how disappointed your friends are going to be once you break the news to them that you wouldn’t be confessing to wonbin tonight, or ever.

“don’t apologize, wonbin,” you quietly tell him, and he wonders why it seems as though you’re about to cry. he shakes his head, getting the sense that you misunderstood his words. he looks back at your mutual friend group, seeing that they’re all preoccupied. wonbin seizes the opportunity, grabbing your hand and taking you to a secluded area of the theater.

“please don’t tell me not to apologize,” he breathes, “because i have so much to apologize to you for.”

you’re confused and concerned, your lips parting slightly. you don’t have the chance to savor the feeling of wonbin’s hand still holding yours because you’re mentally preparing yourself for whatever words he’s about to say. this is it, you tell yourself. you stare at the ground, anticipating the feeling of disappointment and rejection.

“i like you so much.”

you stop breathing as the words leave wonbin’s mouth. you’re terrified to look up, unsure if you’d even heard him correctly. he responds to your unvoiced worries by repeating the statement.

“i like you so much, and i’m sorry for holding it in this long,” he says breathlessly, “i’m sorry for letting sungchan talk about sangah all the time, because i didn’t want you to think that i could ever like anyone else.”

he continues despite your silence. “and i’m sorry for telling you all of this in a movie theater, of all places. i’ve been psyching myself up for weeks, but i couldn’t stand the thought of you not knowing any longer. i’m tired of misunderstandings.”

he finally takes a deep breath, and you look up at him for the first time. “are you serious?” is all you’re able to say. you want to be 100% sure that your mind isn’t being as cruel as it normally is when it comes to park wonbin.

he nods, appearing to be just as nervous as you are, and you think that’s good enough of an indicator that he’s not joking.

“you fool,” you breath out in utter disbelief, not knowing if your words are directed at wonbin or yourself. the boy looks troubled for a moment before he hears a noise similar to a sob leave your mouth.

you hide your face with your hands. “i was supposed to be the one to confess to you.”

it’s wonbin’s turn to be silent now, listening to you rant. “it was this whole thing— healing michael, dark star.. eunseok knew about it, and shotaro..” you trail off. your words don’t even make sense to yourself, and you doubt they make any sense to the boy in front of you. “my god, wonbin— i’ve liked you since the day i met you!” you cry, hands still obstructing your vision.

wonbin hesitantly takes it upon himself to grab your wrists, removing your hands from your face. “do you mean that?” he asks, trying to meet your gaze.

you don’t look him in the eye as you continue rambling. “i was so scared,” you tell him, “sungchan mentioned her out of nowhere that day and i was so scared. i thought she was your secret girlfriend, or something.” you feel stupid for telling him all of this, finally admitting to your jealousy.

“when i saw her for the first time, i thought it was over,” you shake your head, “someone so pretty having a crush on you? i felt like nothing next to her. sungchan even told me that she wrote down her instagram and casually handed it to you— i’d kill to be that confident in myself,” you’re not even paying attention to the words leaving your mouth anymore, wanting to get everything you’ve been holding in out of your system.

when you finally look at wonbin’s face, he looks sad, which startles you. you’re afraid that you’ve just killed his mood with your venting. “i’m sorry— i didn’t me-“ you’re interrupted by wonbin pulling you to his chest, shaking his head at your words. “you fool,” he repeats your words from minutes ago. “i can’t believe you’ve been feeling that way about yourself.”

he keeps you in his embrace as if you’d run away if he were to let go. “i can’t think of anyone prettier than you,” he mutters, “or nicer, or funnier. or anything, really, because i think of you more than anyone else. i guess it’s my fault, kind of. i could’ve expressed it in ways other than walking you to class and ordering dumb overpriced drinks for you.” you let out a quiet laugh at his last sentence and he smiles, pulling away slightly so he’s able to see your face.

“i guess we’re both kind of stupid,” you conclude, earning a nod from the dark haired boy. “only when it comes to you,” he says, “i happen to think i’m very intelligent on every other occasion.”

when you finally regroup with everyone, they’re all wearing looks of disappointment on their faces. upon asking what happened, eunseok shoves a thumb in sungchan’s direction, the brown haired boy adorning a sheepish expression. “this fucker got the time wrong. the movie was at 6:15, not 7:15,” eunseok grimaces, “i better get a refund for my ticket.”

“you didn’t even pay for it,” wonbin says, “i did. sohee’s, too.”

anton, having been the first one to notice both yours and wonbin’s disappearance from the group, narrows his eyes at the boy. “and where were you?” he raises a brow, attempting to look intimidating. wonbin dismisses him with the wave of a hand.

before you and wonbin decided to rejoin your friends, you had to tell him not to hold your hand, much to his dismay. only after discovering the reason why, did he reluctantly agree.

you stand as far away from wonbin as possible, putting on a melancholy act. shotaro is the first to take notice of this, putting a hand on your shoulder. “did you tell him?” he questions, your silence serving as an answer in itself. eunseok overhears, looking at you with pity in his eyes.

when anton finally sees the distance put between you and wonbin, he concludes that you weren’t able to tell him about your feelings. he sighs, shaking his head.

as if on cue, you look at wonbin with determination burning in your eyes, beginning to advance towards him. the group is silent as they watch the two of you curiously.

“dark star,” you begin straightforwardly, “i’m in love with you.” wonbin tries concealing his laughter as he swiftly takes in the reactions of his friends. eunseok smiles knowingly while anton and shotaro are wide-eyed. seunghan wears an amused expression, sohee’s eyebrows are raised, and on top of it all, sungchan looks incredibly confused.

wonbin, keeping up the act, covers his mouth in mock astonishment. “did you guys hear that?” he turns to his friends, who are now all aware that they’re being pranked. “my girlfriend is in love with me!” wonbin beams, “metal blaze, i accept your confession.”

eunseok clicks his tongue, nodding. “metal blaze, that’s a good one,” he notes under his breath.

“alright, we get it,” anton groans, “it took you guys long enough.” he turns to you, unable to stop a smile from forming. “i hope you know i was never actually going to tell him myself. i only said that in hopes of scaring you into telling him.”

you nod, “eunseok told me that already. and it wasn’t me that confessed to wonbin— he confessed to me.” everyone is shocked at your comment, seunghan walking behind wonbin and giving him a congratulatory slap on the shoulder. you purposefully skip over the fact that you all but cried to wonbin immediately after said confession about how much you liked him in return, and he pinches your side.

“you know, when you guys disappeared, i made a bet with shotaro that you guys were probably making out somewhere,” eunseok adds, “he said you guys were probably just in the middle of the whole confessing thing. i owe him seven bucks now.” shotaro pats him on the back with false sympathy.

as the topic of conversation shifts to something else, sungchan’s jaw is still practically on the floor. he looks at the way wonbin has his arm around your shoulders, head practically buried in your neck. he can’t stop himself from blurting out his next words.

“has y/n had a crush on wonbin this entire time?!”

AUTHOR’S NOTE! congrats to u if u survived reading all that ohhh lord i promise i’ll make y/n less unbearable next time but for now u guys are just gonna have to find it in ur hearts to forgive me… also it’s 5am rn and idk if i hate this fic umm we’ll see if i regret posting this when i wake up tmr

#riize #riize x reader #riize au #park wonbin #wonbin imagines #wonbin x reader #riize wonbin #riize scenarios #riize imagines #riize fluff #riize angst #park wonbin x reader

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tremendum · 11 months

Text

personal lies

[not my gif. title from the song of the same name, by Djo.] pairing: dbf!joel miller x fem!reader (afab, use of she/her) rating: explicit. (18+. mdni.) word count: 5.6k requested: Hi! Your work is so insane and incredible! I've literally been thinking about Joel Miller nonstop and was wondering if you'd write a fic where reader is flirty but also has a way of getting herself into clumsy situations- like she bends over to grab something at a party and Joel turns around at the same time and he's pressed right against reader's ass- and these situations keep happening and she just bullies him about him being a pervert until he finally does something about it ;) Keep up the incredible writing!! summary: "when you were young, you'd always thought Joel was handsome - but he was just your dad's friend, someone who would make you blush strictly because he was teasing you. now, though - he makes your cheeks flush for a whole new plethora of reasons." warnings: healthy age gap (reader is around 23, Joel is like 47), DBF!Joel, Mean!Joel, brat tamer!Joel, brat!reader, dom!Joel, semi-public sex, light voyeurism, choking, light dacryphilia, inappropriate use of household appliances, use of word slut, its dirty, slight allusions to exhibitionism, brief choking, so much dirty talk (its joel), so much degradation, reader calls Joel a pervert, teasing, slight dumbification, brief spitting, rough sex, unprotected PiV, cum play, spanking. think that's it!

notes: okay once again, another mean!Joel for the soul! its a problem! im happy for this request bc it helped so much with my writer's block. pls pls keep sending requests i love them all u guys are amazing.

[other Joel fics: i’ve got headaches and bad luck but they couldn’t touch you fever landmines Mr. Miller Series ]

★

the bathroom window fogs much quicker than it used to.

it's the first thing you've realized since returning back to your childhood home - the lack of use in your old shower, now empty of all the half-used floral shampoos and body scrubs of your youth.

you suppose it makes sense, with your father living on his own now that you're five years out of the house - he has no real need to shower in the bathroom you'd once used as your own. in fact, as you examine under the cabinets and the medicine cupboard, it seems as though he's converted it into a storage room for cleaning supplies and the odd bundle of cotton swabs.

it makes you grin as you massage lotion into your legs, staring at your foggy reflection.

your father's muffled voice from downstairs shouts something and, in lieu of a response, you towel off and wrap it around yourself, cursing your father for not restocking towels that were large enough to cover yourself in a modest way to your trek back to your room; not that it much matters, your father's friends won't be arriving for another hour and a half, at the least.

you're struck with something from your youth when you open the door, though -

and it grunts in response.

the breath leaves your throat as your eyes drag over the expanse of chest which lies just in front of the bathroom, with a hand extended almost as if he were about to open the door - muscular arms and a familiar wristwatch - certainly not your father's.

you gape up at Joel Miller, who stares, wide-eyed, back down at your form.

your face floods with an immense amount of heat; Joel Miller, your father's closest friend.

you haven't seen him since last summer - and before then it was even more scarce. between college out of state and splitting summers with your father and mother, before your visit home last summer, you don't think you'd seen him since you left for university.

he's changed, but not that much - tan, with hair that curls at the nape of his neck, a nicely fit t-shirt that brings out the honey of his eyes. now, though, he's got slight smile lines on his face that compliment his striking, burly features and a peppering of gray through his hair; your mouth runs dry as you take in the large frame of thick shoulders and contoured biceps. christ.

when you were a teen, you'd always thought Joel was handsome - he was kind, funny, and would always buy you iced tea when he ran for some beers for him and your father after a day working around the house or in the yard. but he was just your dad's friend, someone who made you blush strictly because he was teasing you.

now, though - ever since last summer when you'd caught his eyes lingering on your figure a few too many times, he makes your cheeks flush for a whole new plethora of reasons. it was a thrilling game you came to know last summer - the way he’d flush and clench his jaw after every quip, each slight tease of phrase, wink, of riding up of your skirt when he walked by.

it makes your stomach flip still - and the most delicious part of it all is the smoldering glares he'd give you when you pushed him too far; last summer, you'd discovered the only good thing about your clumsy, teasing nature: Joel's reactions.

he’s everything the gentleman, always has been - even when you pushed his buttons, flustered him, he never lost his cool. only ever let his eyes wander and speak for themselves.

so when you open the door directly into him, you’re shocked to see him standing there, eyes wide.

his appearance throws you off, as there was nobody besides your father in the house when you'd stepped into the shower minutes before. tilting your head, you regain your footing quickly, heart picking up as you see his eyes rake over the length of your legs, exposed from the tiny pink towel you wear.

it’s been far too long you think, noting the change in his face when he recognizes you.

his eyes scour over every curve of your body, as if seeing you for the first time- you can’t hide your smirk. "can I help you with something, Joel?"

his eyes avert just as quick as they found you, staring at something extremely interesting just above the crown of your head. "was lookin' for some rags. your father spilled downstairs." he shifts on his feet, looking into the steamy bathroom behind your frame, "didn't realize there was anybody home..."

you hum, lifting a brow, "good thing I came out when I did," you send him a sly grin, "or else you'd have gotten a show." you tease, shooting him a gentle wink.

his eyes narrow slightly, tilting his head. he mutters your name lowly and it strikes you that you haven’t seen him in over a year and here you are, staring up at him, in a minuscule towel.

“watch it. didn’t know y’were in there.” he utters, sounding defensive as he crosses his arms over his broad chest.

the rumble of your name as it leaves his lips is insatiable; it bathes you in heat as his eyes flicker down towards your chest and back up to your eyes and you smirk, a light tut leaving your mouth.

"sure you didn’t, Joel.”

he cocks a brow at your implications, his head tilting slightly, but he says nothing. your father yells something about warped wood downstairs and the moment snaps, Joel clearing his throat and you looking away.

“I'm onto you, perv." you smirk, winking once again. you don't give yourself the chance to see his reaction as you brush past him, a flick of your wet hair trailing over the green cotton of the shirt that hugs his biceps. you don't hear him move even as you slide past your door and shut it.

it’s not until you’re inside your room that you hear the bathroom door slam so hard it reverberates through your walls. you fight your racing heartbeat and dull throb of arousal, pressing your fingers against your hot cheeks.

"honey?" your dad calls as you leave your room.

“Joel's here. come say hi and help us set up."

your heart skips, butterflies erupting in your stomach as you round the stairs, where the two men stand at the bottom. feigning surprise, you start down the steps towards them. "hi, Mr. Miller." you say pleasantly, "when did you get here?"

Joel's eyes flash with something as he watches you, tilting his head as if trying to decipher what you're playing at - as if he didn’t see you in a towel thirty minutes ago.

"little bit ago." he responds, shifting on his feet and watching you with crossed arms. “when did you get here?” he counters, nodding to your suitcase, which sits still at the top of your stairs.

your dad laughs at your words, though, breaking the tension he didn't even feel before you can answer Joel’s question. "-Mr. Miller? since when did you have any manners?" your dad snorts, "been calling him Joel as long as I have." you roll your eyes playfully at him, reaching the last step, still a few inches shorter than the man next to your dad.

Joel’s eyebrows raise; you look away as you grin. “trying to be polite, I guess. it’s been a bit.” you shrug.

"guess they did teach ya something mature in college, huh?" you dad smirks, nudging your arm. you flush and shrug just as Joel swallows, "haven't seen you in a while, sweetheart." he nods, "how've you been?"

you smile, "been really good, Joel. better now that I get to see my favorite old man." you tease, stepping between the two men, eyes trailing over Joel's gaze even as you walk away. despite your dad's grunt of offense at your joke, he still grins, "you look nice, honey." he says, patting your shoulder.

you smile, not breaking eye contact with Joel as you hum, "thanks, I just showered."

the crowd is thicker than you expected.

you didn’t know your father even had this many friends.

besides your own friends who you’d invited to come catch up, you spent the afternoon chatting with nearly every person in the old neighborhood you’d ever met.

if you thought being home from school while you were a student was bad, being freshly graduated at a backyard barbeque full of your dad's friends was much, much worse.

flocks of couples, neighbors, and family friends gravitate towards you in waves, asking about your achievements and new job and oh, what's it like in the big city?

you're barely able to break away for a minute to stalk over to the side of your house, nestled up in the grass of your backyard, to grab refreshments - sure, you've already had a few beers and you're not particularly thirsty, but Joel's leaning up against the side of the house and you're drawn with a heat in your abdomen towards him.

a small group of men talk just next to the coolers, engrossed in some conversation that holds no interest to you; but he's there, and something inside you screams for his attention.

you barely brush his back to excuse yourself past the bodies, reaching down into the cooler to fish out something palatable.

but your blood runs just as cold as the ice in your hand when a sudden pressure against your ass sends a shiver of desire through you.

you instinctively gasp. the pressure of someone’s hips pressing firmly but briefly against your ass, by accident, startles you as you stand up, a pulsing desire spreading through you instantly once you see Joel, face in shock, behind you.

you swallow; he must have turned after thinking someone’d tried to get his attention, just as you’d bent over. your face heats up.

you're met with eyes that hold awkward shock and a small dark flame that flickers slowly as your shame suddenly melts into a smirk, lunging at the perfect opportunity to sink your claws into him.

"s-sorry, didn't see you there." he stutters slightly. heat pools in your stomach at the flush on his cheeks, the white ring around his knuckles spreading where he grips the neck of his beer bottle too tight.

grinning, you shrug. "it's okay, Joel. I'm sure it was an accident. you seem to be prone to them." you say sweetly, voice sounding almost simpering as you smile.

from the look he gives you, it's clear he can see right through your words. "were you grabbing a beer?" you ask, watching his jaw clench.

"no, I was-" but he stops himself at the teasing raise of your brows, shaking his head as he tries to save himself from your teasing. "sure. yeah."

but just like that, he's fallen into your trap, and you smile, “just watch where you’re standing this time, yeah?” you ask. and within a split second, you're bending over again right before him, falsely digging through ice to grab a bottle that you know he likes. you shift slightly, leaning your weight on one leg as to pop your hip slightly before straightening up and handing the bottle to him with a smirk.

when you whirl back around, his eyes are up towards the sky, jaw clenched tightly with strain as if silently praying to god; though you know Joel Miller has not once stepped foot into a church in his whole life. he clears his throat tersely, eyes meeting yours again as he grabs the bottle from you. "thanks," he mutters.

"you might want to finish that one first." you say with a grin, nodding towards his half-full beer bottle opened in his hands. he looks riled as he sends you a harsh look that only makes you smirk more, shrugging as you saunter off.

as much as you try, you can’t get the feeling of Joel pressed against you out of your mind.

and, with a shivering glance across the patio, you can tell he can’t either; while fully engrossed in a conversation with a woman close to his age, you lock eyes with Joel for a full five seconds before you break away. his gaze is heavy and intent - it follows you, watches you interact with people from the town and your friends from high school.

despite the scorching stares he sends you from across the yard, you keep your distance from Joel, too. you're engrossed catching up with a few friends from high school on the patio when your dad pulls you aside, asking you to help out bringing the food onto the patio.

bowls of chips, salads, roasted vegetables, condiments, and several different variations of sweets are brought out and spread across the folded tables outside. the smell of ribs and pulled pork from your father's smoker fills the air while you fill a tub full of water for the kids on the law to bob for apples in, watching from the serenity of your kitchen.

the breeze floats through the open window as you stare out, the scene calm as you let your thoughts linger. out near the yard, a woman leans down to pick up a discarded paper plate and the man beside her places his hand on her hip; a gentle squeeze that has your eyes glued to the motion. unable to help it, your mind wanders.

Joel's hands are large; they're rough with callouses from work and the skin gets cracked during the winter, but they're warm. you start to wonder if he's got a woman to touch like that - sure, you remember a few women who'd hung out around your dad and him when you were younger, once Sarah was old enough. but there'd never, to your knowledge, been a serious girlfriend.

you watch with desire as the man taps the woman's hip, fingers close to her ass, as she straightens, and it causes you to avert your eyes. your cheeks heat as you imagine the way it'd feel if you were out there - if the man's hand was Joel's, if he were to grab you in the middle of all these people, shove you down onto your knees-

you clear your throat, eyes snapping down to the sink where the water was overflowing from the bin with a gentle bubbling noise.

you groan to yourself in embarrassment. you need to get a fucking grip - no, you need to get laid.

the tub is filled a little too high; it's unsteady as you lift it up, hoisting it above your hips to hold against yourself as you turn around. but there's a figure behind you that makes you jump in shock, jolting the tub until it spills over yourself. you're hit with a shocking rush of cold as the water tips and drenches you; you let out a sharp yelp as one hand flies to your chest. "christ!" you snap, eyes landing on the perpetrator -

"Joel!" you snap, "you scared me."

"jesus," he mutters, moving towards you, grabbing the bin from you and placing it down on the counter, "I wasn't even close t'you, sweetheart. I was walkin' into the garage."

you swallow, taking a breath to calm your tight nerves. "I was zoned out, I guess-" you curse your bumbling hands, a light breeze catching over your wet skin and sending a shiver through you. just your luck.

you sigh, tilting your head, "what are you doing, slinking around here?" you raise a brow as you accuse him. he rolls his eyes, "ain't slinking anywhere. was goin' to find apples. your dad is adamant about those kids on the lawn. afraid they're gonna tear up his landscaping."

you sigh, shaking your head, "you made me spill." you pout dumbly, heart still pounding as you become increasingly aware of how wet your dress is- his eyes narrow, "'s not my fault you're always gettin' yourself into trouble." he mutters, shrugging as he looks down at your chest, the fabric slowly melding itself against your hot skin as the water spreads.

"says you." you retort, shaking your head. his eyes catch yours after you mutter it; a quick, intense glance that sends a strike of heat through you. a warning look.

but as always, he doesn't linger on your teasing, instead clearing his throat and moving on. it drives you mad as he hums. "at least it's water." he tries, "clean you right up." he hands you a dish towel, which you take with a quirked brow. desire burns between your legs.

"I already showered today," your voice is seductive, floating through the tense silence of the room as your eyes meet the side of his face. "as I'm sure you haven't forgot." you tease.

his hands freeze from where they were, wiping some of the water from the counter with a towel. he turns slowly to look at you, face dark. the air suddenly feels thick. "what's that supposed to mean?" his voice is low, brows drawn as he stares down at you - jaw clenched, chest heaving. his eyes dare you to say it, to let him take a bite.

you hum, "don't act coy now, Mr. Miller." you tease, watching his eyes darken with your words. "I see the way you watch me. don't act like you aren't thinking about me." you add boldly, heart hammering - if, somehow, you've made it all up in your delusional head, you're utterly fucked.

but his jaw ticks and his inhale is sharp, a flicker of his eyes down to your bra as it peeks through the wet material gives him away. it lights a flame within you that nothing else ever has.

"creeping around upstairs while I'm showering. you're trying to tell me you weren't about to slide in, take a peek?" you tilt your head to stare up at him through lidded eyes, kicking the teasing up the highest you've ever done.

you push onto your tip toes, your dripping chest mere inches from his as the barbeque continues feet away, outside. "you want to see it, don't you? feel me against you, like you did out there? I'm really warm." you mutter, drinking in his silence as he heaves his chest against yours. “and so tight.” you whisper, bold courage seeping through you as your eyes fall to the straining tent in his pants.

a rush of pride tickles you when he doesn't stop you, doesn't tell you off - so you continue, legs jelly with arousal. "I'm way too young for you, but you just can't stop yourself, can you?" you whisper into his ear, "you're so perverted, Joel."

you're throbbing with heat when you pull back slightly to drink in his red cheeks, his piercing stare that nearly kills you. his glare is molten, sharp as his gaze flickers from you then out to the party, returning with a burning malice. "go change. now." is all he says.

"are you distracted, Joel?" you tease, smirking up at him. “or just too scared?”

“shut up.” he orders, the malice behind it barely surviving his bark as his eyes dip quickly to your chest and back.

you smirk, “you can’t keep your eyes away from me. you’re a sick man, Joel.” you mutter, letting your hand drag down the neckline of your dress, exposing your breasts through your wet fabric. he nearly growls, rough hand flying to your bare arm, tugging you close to him. "take it off." he hisses.

you blink up at him, shivering from the hungry, dark eyes that seem to tear you apart inch by inch, as you breathe out a defiant, "you're not my dad."

he chuckles at that, an exhale leaving his lips. "you're damn right 'm not. and you're not a fuckin' child. go change."

you settle on a darker sundress this time, to avoid another wardrobe malfunction.

your heart hammers just as loud in your throat as it did minutes earlier in the kitchen as you stare out your bedroom window, searching for one figure in the crowd of guests. Joel's nowhere in sight, yet the kids are all huddled around a tub of water with bright red apples bobbing up and down.

with a sharp sigh, you gather your undergarments and dress to bring down to the washer, flicking off your light.

the laundry room smells fresh - a breath of clean air after the suffocating tenseness of the kitchen. the thought of Joel's face makes your cunt flutter slightly; that dark, angry stare - the rouge of his cheeks at your words. where doubt should creep in, nothing but pride fills your mind, knowing you can rile up the man just as easy as riding a bike.

you've just started the wash cycle, moving to stand up when the door slams shut, making you jump once again to be met with Joel's large frame.

you raise your brows, masking your shock and nerves with a grin, "back for more, creep? too late, I already put my panties in the wash-"

but he crowds into you so quick that your mouth snaps shut; your back hits the edge of the washer as you stare up at him, shocked. "'m tired of your shit," he sneers, eyes angry, "prancin' around, wearing next to nothin' and bendin' over for everyone to see." your stomach flutters.

he sneers his next words. "you really that clumsy, or are you just too shy to admit how bad your pussy's aching for your daddy's best friend?"

your jaw nearly drops from such bluntness coming from Joel's lips. you've rarely even heard him cuss - only during football games and the one time he burnt his hand on the grill after you'd leaned over and given him a perfect view down your shirt.

"Joel-" you start, a rush of arousal flooding the seat of your panties as you're pushed backwards. he leans into your space, dipping his head until he's in your ear. "who's the real creep, huh?" he mutters, warm breath scattering chills over your neck, "you’re sick, baby. goin' after men almost twice your age." he tuts, sliding his thick jeans between the soft skin of your thighs. “you got no idea what a man like me could do t’ya.” you gasp sharply, hands gripping his thick shoulders and he pushes you back further, your spine thrumming with the rumble of the washing machine.

“bet you think you can show me, don’t you?” you challenge, raising a brow.

"tired of your bullshit, sweetheart." he shakes his head, leaning back. "how am I gonna get you to shut up?" he asks mockingly. you swallow, canting your hips slightly as a prickle of desire rolls over you. "bet you'd love to turn this into a lesson, wouldn't you Joel?" you tease back, but he moves his leg up slightly, the rough material brushing against your heat. jolts of pleasure erupt from the spot and you let out a short mewl. his hand rises to grip your jaw, firm but gentle. his skin is hot and large against your cheeks.

"don't lie, sweetheart, you love it." he growls, "you love trippin' and spillin' shit just so I can come clean up your mess for you. 's that right? you just need my attention?" his thumb caresses over your cheek, jilting a brow as he stares down at you, "answer me."

you swallow dryly, nodding pathetically, "yes."

he tuts, condescending as he tilts his head. "where's all the teasing now, baby? you're always so talkative. did'ya realize I'm too much for you?" he taunts.

you shake your head, eyes wide, "no!" you eject, flames of heat licking your cheeks as he smirks. you try to go back on yourself, play down your eagerness, "-no, you're not too much, I promise."

he tilts his head the other way this time, eyes sharp. "so what is it, then? y'afraid of all the people out there? that your daddy's gonna come looking for ya and find us in here? see me touching you, like the pervert I am? because I'll leave right now 'f that's what you want."

you shiver as another rush of arousal floods you, twitching your hips at his words, the low drawl of his voice. you grasp him tight by his biceps, holding yourself against him as you meet his hot stare, unable to voice your desires. your blood pumps with need.

"oh." he hums, eyes narrowing as he pushes his thigh up against you roughly, eliciting a short moan from you. "or do you like that?"

you swallow, eyes lowering to where you drag your hips over his leg, pathetically desperate. he chuckles and it reverberates in his chest under your palms. "anyone could walk in here, sweetheart. your dad could be on the other side." he whispers into your ear, coaxing a moan from you - he tuts, "-an the washer's not loud enough if y'gonna moan like that."

you nod, staring into his eyes; they pierce you with their intensity. he's giving you an out, asking if this is what you really want, or if its just some juvenile grasp for attention. your mind has been made up since you found out Joel was coming today, though.

"I'll be quiet for you, Joel." you whisper, nodding, "I can handle it."

you can tell, he likes that; he presses to you fully, his hardening cock pressing against your side. you sharply inhale, the reality settling in as you drip with desire, aching for his touch. boldly, with a breath of fresh desire, you snake your hand down to palm him through his jeans - he's thick, straining against his jeans as his grip on your jaw tightens.

"how long have you been this hard, Joel?" you tease, confidence sudden as you smirk, "bet you've been thinking of me since you tried to sneak into the shower earlier for a peep show."

his hand slides down to grasp your throat as your sentence tapers out: a squeeze causes a rush of pleasure through you. "quit it with the fuckin' lyin'. you're already desperate enough." his breath is hot on your face. with a grin, you accentuate a squeeze on his bulge, coaxing a short grunt from him. "says you, old man?"

this pushes him to the edge.

rough hands leave your hip and throat to flip your body over, pushing you until you're bent over the washing machine, its vibrations tremoring your whole body. "eager, are you?" you tease, gasping when one hand presses you from the base of your neck.

his voice is sharp in response, "tired of you, sweetheart. gonna fuck all the teasin' right out of you."

your cunt flutters at his words, wiggling your hips until you press against his crotch, feeling the hard thickness of his clothed cock over your panties. "-and you'll probably love every second of it too.” you mutter against the cold white surface of the washer.

a harsh swat on your ass makes you yelp slightly, the pleasure smearing arousal between your thighs, legs shaky with anticipation. you swallow heavily when your dress is shoved up over your hips, exposing your skimpy panties to Joel as his large hands splay over the flesh of your ass.

his hands grip and squeeze your skin, teasing you, as slowly his fingers graze over the seat of your underwear, toying with the ruined, soaked fabric. "you're dripping," he taunts you, the stark words causing your eyes to widen, a short whimper leaving your lips. "eager, are you?" he parrots your words.

you let out a shuddered moan, swallowing as a finger falls to rub feather-light circles over your throbbing, clothed clit. the sensation has you bucking back against his touch, but his own grip on you prevents your movement; a harsh grip on your neck, forcing you down against the vibrations of the machine.

"tell me what you want." Joel mutters, voice commanding. you resist the urge once again to roll your eyes as you grit your teeth; your own medicine tastes bitter as he feeds you spoonfuls. "come on, you've always loved to talk." he sneers, his voice taunting, as if recalling all the times you've teased him, secretly aching for him. "you had such good manners in front of your daddy earlier, didn't you? so where's that pretty please? say pretty please, Joel, please fuck me on my daddy’s washing machine." he adds, thumb pressing down slightly harder on your clit. a strangled noise escaped your throat, your eyes wrenching shut. “say you want me to use you.”

"fuck- pretty please- J-Joel, please use me-“ you whimper, giving up as he hums at your words. a squeeze on your throat.

“y’gonna knock it off with the desperate teasing?” he asks sharply, holding you towards his mouth. you swallow, trying to hide your grin at the wall and hoping Joel can’t see it.

“yes, Joel, just please, please fuck me.” you submit to his request, throbbing with desire.

you feel his chest as he leans over you, breath against your spine. "begging your dad's best friend to fuck you? you’re so dirty, baby. you should be ashamed." he tuts, kissing your spine in a feather-light touch as his other hand slides your panties to the side, your arousal already dripping down your legs.

your cheeks flush as you nod wordlessly, wiggling your hips slightly, cunt aching for him.

he doesn't make you wait any longer; his cock is thick and heavy as he pulls himself out of his jeans, running his shaft through your molten heat.

your gasp is strangled as his tip nudges your clit, a groan from his lips rumbling and low as you hold your breath in anticipation. he rocks his hips again and your legs soon tense up, cold against the washer as your hands grip the sides, "hurry, please." your voice is breathless and cracked as you ask it, exhausted and driven wild from his teasing. "need it so bad.“ you whimper breathlessly.

he has the audacity to chuckle lightly, his thickness spreading your juices and notching just at your entrance before sliding past in tease. your nails scrape the metal as your eyes clench shut - he's so big; a flood of nerves rolls over you.

"i know you do, sweetheart.” he mutters; you almost consider slapping him, but then you're sharply inhaling at the sudden sensation of his spit, dripping down onto your pulsing, aching heat. you can't help the moan at the feeling; there's a moment where Joel's hand caresses your cheek gently and you can't help but lean into his warm skin, keening at the touch, until it slides over your mouth and you realize he's muffling you.

and then he pushes forwards, breaching your tight, hot cunt.

and you’re gasping. simultaneously, you suck in breaths at the sensation, his own groan so low it may be a growl.

your brows pinch together at the tight fit; he's so big and you're tight with desire as he slowly inches himself inside, relishing in the agonizing pleasure of him nearly splitting you open. "Joel," you whimper, voice completely muffled by his tight hold on your mouth.

he whispers hot against the shell of your ear, "you better be quiet."

his voice sends a flood of arousal through you, coaxing his cock further into you, enveloping him into your warmth as his cock presses against the spongy part of you that has your back arching in a gasp. and then he's dragging himself slowly out of you, thrusting back in deep and slow.

he lets out a shuttering breath into your collarbone as your nails dig into metal. you squirm at how deep he is; sweat lines your brow as your body is forced against the machine, barely able to accommodate his size. you let out a breathless, broken whine into his palm at the feeling, his length nearly splitting you, the sounds of your arousal slicking him and coating you both as he starts to thrust with a deep pace.

he holds you hard against the machine, ensuring you can't buck your hips, the other hand sliding to your neck, keeping just where he wants you at the angle that has both your eyes nearly rolling back.

he growls as he starts to fuck into you hard and rough, the washer shaking with his thrusts. "take me, that's right." he grunts - the sentence sends your toes curling in pleasure. "fuck-" he grunts, "dirty slut, letting me fuck you right here- practically begging me all night-"

the vibrations from the washing machine send tremors of pleasure through you and with wide eyes, you can feel your orgasm growing quickly. you can't help the gasps as Joel hits the spot in you that has tears brimming at the edge of your vision.

"you close already, sweetheart?" he taunts, hand grabbing both your wrists to pin them against your back. you can't move as he pumps into you, the machine hitting the wall as the fire writhes in your abdomen.

you nod, tears almost spilling in pleasure. the vibrations are bringing you so close to the edge as he hits the spongy spot inside you that nearly makes you scream; he chuckles darkly. "you need a little more, baby?"

you nod, wailing gently against him as you try to move against him, toes leaving the ground as he fucks you into the machine. "you wanna cum, hm?"

you nod furiously, yelping, "yes!" through his muffling.

you feel a familiar warm feeling in your abdomen after a several deep thrusts and you moan out as he lifts your leg slightly up, hitting a new angle that nearly sends you over the edge. "fuck." he hisses.

his hands grip your wrists tight, "you know how t'touch your clit, don't you, baby?" he asks. you nod, looking towards the wall as you can't crane your neck further to see him. he doesn't let up on his thrusts, even as you glare at the wall, nodding with a whimper.

"why don't you touch yourself, then?" he asks, teasing with a dark lilt in his voice that sends thrills through your body. you flutter and clench at his condescending tone, his hand pinning your wrists back as you struggle to move your hand to where you most need it.

"c'mon, sweetheart, try harder. work for it."

a tear falls onto the washing machine as he thrusts deep, hard. he hums low, leaning over and hitting a new angle, lips against your neck. "you gonna stop slutting yourself out? an’ stop callin' me a pervert when you throw yourself at me?" he asks, taunting. you groan, nodding enough that your neck hurts as you keen your back towards him, on a desperate edge of something brilliant.

he hums, "'kay, baby. touch yourself. want you to cum on my cock."

your hands are released and frantically your fingers find your sensitive clit, yelping as he presses his hand harder to your mouth. the feeling is blinding.

your cunt flutters as you hit your high not two thrusts later, your whole body tense. you let out a long, loud whine of his name as you nearly short circuit.

“f-fucking tight-" he grunts, his own thrusts sloppy as he chases his own orgasm, already moving on from yours as you go limp with pleasure in his grasp.

overstimulation sends your legs quivering as he grips you tighter, fucking into your throbbing heat. your cunt, still sensitive and contracting, drives Joel crazy - though you tense as you hear a familiar voice calling out Joel's name from the patio.

your eyes widen, but Joel doesn't stop - not when your dad yells his name louder, as if he's entered the kitchen.

and, to your horror, your dad calls out for Joel, asking if he's seen you.

you don’t miss the coincidence of your dad yelling into the house in search of you while his best friend cums inside you. a groan quiet in your ear as Joel suddenly stills deep inside you, hot spurts of his cum pumping into you, both your breaths heavy. he rocks into you, shaking breath as your father once again calls for him.

when Joel pulls out of you, he caresses your spine, releasing your mouth. you suck in a breath, shuttering when his thumb slides over your ruined cunt, thumbing his cum back inside you gently, lowly groaning.

you don't say anything, too shocked to speak as he pulls your panties back over you, dragging your dress over your ass.

releasing you from his grip, he hums into your ear, "now you’ll quit your fuckin' teasing, you hear me?"

and then, within seconds, you hear him returning outside, calling back your dad's name while you try to stand upright on shaky legs.

shit.

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taglist: @satansgoatt @elissaaa @queerponcho @bbyanarchist @lapricot @umavvitch @asreadbyaj @dinsbaby @cottoncandytomu @switchbladedreamz @missannwinchester @abs-2020 @afandomidiot @cosm1c-babe @rogersbarnesxx @carleenphillips-blog @bonnibuckets @nightlovechild @jazzyspasms @girlboybug @cannolighost @pastelnap @userpedros @feministfanboi @frogers @grhowls @daddy-din @gothoppered @totallynotastanacc @robbatlover @casssiopeia @wannab-urs @redhotkitchen @joelapologist2001 @silkiers @alltheseperfectimperfections @whorror-s @scarletthefierce @

message me if i forgot to tag u. requests are open.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:

#joel miller smut #joel smut #joel miller x reader smut #joel miller x reader #joel x reader #the last of us (tv)#the last of us x reader #the last of us smut #pre-outbreak!joel miller #joel the last of us

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juniperdugong · 2 months

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Relationship Quirks 95s ver.

Aka habits I can see the boys doing in a relationship || 95s || 96s || 97s || Maknae line ||

Scoups Calls you his "wife" while you guys are still dating

NOT AROUND YOU... at first but I doubt that the guys wouldn't secretly take video of him whining during practice talking about, "I miss my wife..." all pouty and everything (he saw you this morning), and NOT send it to you.

He's awkward when you bring it up because he doesn't know if you feel that way about the future of your relationship but once he knows you do feel the same way WHEW you do not hear the end of it.

Suddenly, all the reservations he makes are preceded by "Well, me and my wife...", anytime you're brought up in a conversation dude glitches out and HAS to mention you as his wife at least once (especially if it's to someone he thinks might be interested in you), and the yearning only gets worse! He'll leave for tour and after he texts his customary airplane goodbye message to you your phone will be blowing up with texts from the boys complaining about having to hear their leader practically sobbing about how much he misses his wife.

Jeonghan Steals your stuff

Has big "What's yours is mine" mentality, but don't worry! What's his is yours too! He swears it! Despite the drastic difference in how much he's using, borrowing, or straight up taking your stuff...

Let's be clear though, he never takes things he thinks you'll miss and if he finishes something of yours he always makes sure to replace it pronto. If you do get upset he makes a mental note to not mess with that particular item ever again.

Have you noticed a suspicious amount of your clothing (mainly hoodies, hats, and bags) go missing and suddenly see your boyfriend wearing them during a live? Yes. Has there been multiple arguments about this behavior? For sure! Does it absolutely warm your heart when you're at a concert and see a staff member run on stage to hand Hannie his current comfort item (a childhood toy of yours that you didn't even know was missing from your room)? Absolutely, it does. (Apologizes profusely once you find out...doesn't mean a single word of it and you know it because he's giggling the whole time)

Joshua Buys 2 of everything

Since the dawn of your relationship, Shua has gotten 2 of every item he buys. His initial reason was to get to know one another better by trying out things the other liked. This then spiraled to him doubling every single grocery item, clothes he buys, and pretty much anything he orders. Could be an insanely valuable item worth thousands that he's getting paid to promote but if there isn't a matching one for you then it's off the table. And no, he doesn't necessarily want to be "matching" all the time but he likes knowing that you guys could match whenever you wanted to.

He also gets extremely offended if you question why there's so much of everything, seriously he doesn't even want to hear it, like "Because it's ours! And we share! So we need double! Do you hate me or something!?"

"Babe, why do we have so much shampoo..." "I'm promoting it." "There's 2 of every type in here." "Yep." "We don't ne-" "We do need it." "It's too much." "I don't understand what you're saying to me right now."

A/N: The brainrot I have for these men is so real rnnnnn. I just had to separate these by years bc it was getting too long :( I'll have 96s up by today too, so stay tuned for that 96 line OUT NOW!! (Have to do it for my babe Nonu) Reblogs and Comments are much-appreciated lovelies!!

TAGLIST (open): @bemybabiibish

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candypot · 13 days

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*ੈ✩‧₊˚𝗡𝗔𝗡𝗔𝗠𝗜 𝗞𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗢: nsfw headcanons

notes: guys, tell me if you prefer me to write a gender neutral reader next time

Drunk sex is probably a thing that happens often if you’re also found of alcohol, we cannot ignore the fact that this man is a heavy drinker. Considering that you guys have a close relationship, he won’t see any problems inviting you to drink in his place after a particular hard day (he’ll cook some delicious appetizers for the both of you too)

Seriously, there’s nothing more trilling than that dizzy feeling after some beers and the fact that you’re there so needy and ready for him. Those sloppy neck kisses and wet sounds feeling the room make it so hard for him to keep it on his pants (but he won’t do it if you’re super drunk because it’s disgusting and disrespectful, so he makes sure you drink just the regular amount for you to keep in control of your own consciousnesses)

If you’re not into alcoholic stuff he will probably avoid drinking when he’s next to you, Nanami understand that the way alcohol smells and it’s collateral effects can be pretty unpleasant so he just make sure to don’t do it when he’s spending his time you.

Loves to be slow and steady while fucking you, the feeling of you begging and clenching around him while he moves his thumb in circles around your clit drives him insane.

If you ask him, he’ll be rough with you and might even like it better than the normal pace. How could he not get addicted to the sensation of your hair wrapped around his hand while while he tug it real good for you to whimper his name?

There’s no way back once he gets used to it, but chill, he’s gonna prepare you so good that you may get addicted to it even more than him.

Likes to keep your intimacy private so don’t expect to hear him answering Gojo’s uncivilized questions about his night activities with you. This also goes for your unexpected needy messages on the middle of the day, specifically if there’s revealing photos of you on it.

Feels secretly excited when you whisper dirty things on his ear. How can he not go crazy when you tell him you’re drenching wet for him? How can he keep it together when your hands rub over his pants so fiercely? It’s throbbing and you gonna have to find a way to solve it immediately so he doesn’t make a fool of himself.

He has a kink for office sex, but he won’t talk about it unless you point out how quickly he comes when he fucks you right after work. That work smell mixed with perfume and sweat was honestly so arousing. Seeing you hold his tie with your mouth so you don’t moan louder was a wonderful way to relax after such a draining week. Nanami will be delighted to rip your pantyhose every single time, but don’t worry! He’ll buy you new ones to compensate you about it.

#nanami kento #nanami x reader #jjk nanami #nanami smut #jujutsu nanami #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu smut #jujutsu kaisen smut

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alexiapp · 4 months

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Next Step With You

Alexia Putellas x Reader

Summary: You and Alexia finally have the talk about Kids…

Note: I’ve been gone for so fucking long because of how insanely busy i’ve been but, i’m totally hoping on posting constantly and not keeping empty promises 😭..i’ve had an insane amount of writers block also so keep that in mind!! This isn’t my best work but it’ll have to do !

You never thought that you would be in love. You thought you were unlovable or maybe incapable of finding your ‘true one’. You presumed that maybe it was your strong personality or your high standards that caused these problems. You always had trouble with relationships, and had a couple horror stories when it came to your past love life. You always that you were the problem, until you met Alexia. She made you feel something that you never thought you would be able to experience. You felt giddy inside, and content. There wasn’t a dull moment between her and I.

Alexia was charming, and very charismatic and she also has a strong personality which drew you into her. Recently you guys have been entering a new chapter of your relationship. This year would be marking the 4th year you have been together. You couldn’t see your life without Alexia, it just wouldn’t feel right. You wanted to bring new milestones to you guys relationship. Everything you envision had Alexia in it.

You wanted to add an addition to you guys relationship badly..You wanted to build a family between the two of you. You only started feeling this way until you saw how attentive Alexia was towards kids, it always made you wonder how she’d be if you guys had kids. You knew deep down in your heart that Alexia would be an amazing mother, but you didn’t know if Alexia wanted to take that next step with you or if she was even ready. It’s something you’ve been hesitant to bring up, these loud thoughts always stayed in the back of your mind. You don’t wanna scare her away..imagine how crazy you’d looked if she didn’t feel the same way..i mean what if she thought you were a total nut case. This steered you away from Alexia, making you kind of cold and distance.

This situation made you second guess a lot of things. You took an immature approach, usually the average person would talk it out with there significant other in an healthy manner, but you being you, were quite stubborn and decided to isolate yourself. You started declining her offers to go out when she put the idea out there. You guys once long text messages turned into short and brief on your end no matter how hard the poor woman tried to carry the conversation.

You assumed Alexia didn’t notice how cold you’ve been ..Oh boy were you wrong. She was was in deep stress her mind was constantly racing wondering what she could’ve possibly done wrong. Trying to remember moments where she could’ve possibly said the wrong thing that might’ve hurt or offended you in any way. She was determined to get to the bottom of this and handle it quickly, she genuinely couldn’t take not having you around any longer.

After settling down and drowning in her thoughts she decided the only way to get your attention is by catching you at in unexpected moment. She decided she’d venture to your apartment without giving you any head’s up. She didn’t want you to find another excuse to brush her off and ignore her, she wanted to talk to you and get you back. She was determined and ready to do whatever it takes.

The determined blonde quickly grabbed her phone and car keys headed straight for your flat ready to corner you.

You were brought out of a day dream when you heard a knock on your apartment door. You got up and walked over to your door with confusion written all over your face. You weren’t expecting a visitor or any packages. Shock washed over you when you were met with a very agitated and worried blonde. The last person you wanted to see.

Your once confused face was replaced with a very shocked expression.

“Um..hi?” you muttered out in surprise at what you were faced with.

“Why have you been ignoring me” Said the hazel eyed woman as she pushed through into your apartment door.

“i..i haven’t been, i’ve just been very busy i-“ you said as you staggered your words.

“Don’t like to me, you know how much i hate when people lie” the blonde woman said cutting you off in your lousy excuse as to why you haven’t been very present in you guys relationship.

“You’ve been brushing me off, you’ve been texting me less and less. I want to know what i did wrong so i could fix it”. She said with fury in her voice.

“There’s nothing you can do, to stop me from me feeling how i feel right now Alexia” You said nervously.

“Then what is it! I need to know what it is so we can fix it. I want us to fix this” she said waving her hand between you and her.

“I feel like if i tell you what it is, our relationship would be over” you said with a meek expression.

“amor whatever it is we can try and get past it, i just have to know” she said gently as she walked towards you grabbing your hands as a form of comfort. She could tell you were nervous about what you wanted to say next.

“There’s things that i want to do in our relationship that you might not be ready for Alexia, and i don’t want that to jeopardize what we have.” You said conflicted on weather you should open up to her or not

“Hey, no matter what is bothering you, we can fix it and hopefully move past it..i promise” she said as she rubbed her thumb across my hand.

“I want us to have kids..i want to have kids with you, and i didn’t know how to tell you. I didn’t want to scare you off i didn’t want you to think i’m so crazy person. I see myself starting a family with you..” You said with fear in your voice. You were almost quivering with fear on how she would react. You were shut down when you heard the woman in front of you hysterically laugh.

Oh no…she thought you were a joke, she must think you’re a loser..you told yourself, emotions bathing in a pool insecurity. You broke your hand away from her turning away in rejection. “ I knew this would happen, i just knew you wouldn’t take me seriously” you said with hurt and regret in your voice.

You turned your body away from her not wanting her to see how hurt you truly were.

“I’m sorry, come here” she said trying to make you turn towards her.

“i’m not laughing at you about what you said, i’m laughing because why wouldn’t you think i want that also?” she said chuckling lightly. She placed her fairly large hands on her face cupping your cheeks softly and said “why would i want to do that. There isn’t anyone i wouldn’t rather start a family with” she said shaking her head at your ridiculousness.

“I just thought that maybe you’d think that we’re moving to fast, i was just scared” you said looking into her hazel eyes.

“vale, firstly their isn’t anyway i could see life without you..let alone my future with you not being in it, if you told me how you felt ahead of time this wouldn’t be our outcome” she said has she brushed her thumb against your cheekbone

“Amor, you have to communicate with me when you’re feeling this vale ?” she said shaking her head to try to get me to understand. Which i nodded in response.

I leaned in and pecked the blonde’s lips, you were suddenly thrown over her shoulder, making you giggle in surprise “Let’s practice making that baby sí!” as she carried you to your apartment bedroom.

I’ll grammar check later !!

#barca femeni #woso x reader #woso community #woso imagine #woso #barca #alexia putellas one shot #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #alexia x reader

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sxcret-garden · 9 months

Text

Ateez when they're jealous ღ NSFW Edition [M]

ღ Ateez all members x fem-bodied!reader ღ genre: smut, headcanons (dom-sub dynamics in some parts, semi-public sex in some parts, most of them get more or less possessive) ღ warnings: alcohol consumption in some parts

Author's note: Maybe I went a liiiittle overboard with this.... maybe I'm also very tempted to turn one of these into a full fic....

Hongjoong:

He's usually one to deal with his jealousy in a very adult manner and simply talk it out with you. However, after coming home jealous one day and having what was probably the best sex in your relationship up until that point, you've made an arrangement to deal with your jealousy in the bedroom. So it's really become more of a game to him than a pestering feeling to get rid of asap. And today as well, after you've spent a little too much time (in his opinion) having a very engaged conversation with the cute waiter of your regular place to get dinner, Hongjoong can't wait to get home and to drag you off to his bed. And that's exactly what he does, as you're filled with expectation because you didn't exactly miss the evil smirks he's been giving you throughout dinner, and you could guess what would be coming once you're home. He's moving slowly as he crawls on top of you, brushing his lips against yours in teasing kisses, and then telling you to strip naked for him. Will be the biggest little shit ever as he touches you in all the ways he knows will rile you up, and has you cursing underneath him when he pulls his fingers out of you just as you're about to cum. "You're gonna have to beg for it, babe," he whispers, licking his fingers clean. "I'm not gonna let you cum until I know you can't take it anymore."

Seonghwa:

Is so shocked when after weeks of suffering he finally figures out that seeing you with your male best friend makes him jealous, that he impulsively decides to get (almost blackout) drunk. What he forgot to consider was that you were scheduled to make dinner with him at his place, and so when you walk in on him having downed what's probably his third bottle of soju you're definitely mad at him. Wondering whether it'd even make sense to try to reason with your drunk boyfriend, you do eventually end up scolding him, but the second you're within reach he pulls you down onto his sofa, crawling on top of you. He's blushing from the alcohol, and usually you'd have found that cute, but today the cold stare he gives you makes you shiver. Worriedly, you ask what's wrong with him, and finally he explains. "I'm jealous. Like really jealous of your best friend. And drinking it away wasn't the best choice but right now I just need to make you mine." You're not sure if you should be impressed how in control he is for the amount he drank or if you should just be insanely turned on by his words, but when you give him permission with a nod it's not like he leaves you any time to think about this further anyway. Has you both naked in no time and pins you down as he fucks you rough, and if you think he'll be satisfied with giving you just one or two orgasms that night, you couldn't be more wrong.

Yunho:

Doesn't get jealous ever, except for that one time when you had only just started dating and were still in a bit of an awkward phase of figuring everything out together. Now usually he doesn't mind you going out to see your other guy friends, he has no reason to worry about that because he trusts you to never betray him. However, who he doesn't trust is that one guy who very obviously has a crush on you and he wouldn't put it past him to try to steal you away. And so he even went so far as to warn you about it, but you just brushed it off, defending the other guy and saying he's just a friend. And well, when one night your boyfriend witnesses how that guy drops you off at Yunho's place and he's being just a little too touchy before he hugs you goodbye, that's when the jealousy sets in. Needless to say he's upset when you walk inside, and not knowing what to do with that feeling, he simply kisses you. And it's a passionate kiss filled with need, the kind of kiss you've never received from your boyfriend up until that point. Yet he takes the lead, and soon he pushes you up against a wall, hands roaming your body and his lips nipping at your throat. "I don't ever want to see that guy touching you like that again," he mutters, rolling his clothed hard on against your hips, making you throw your head back. "You're mine and nobody else's." When he feels you going limp in his hold and all you can do is agree and whine at his touch, he takes you right then and there, proving to you that nobody could ever make you feel as good as he can.

Yeosang:

When he's jealous he needs reassurance above all else, especially towards the beginning of your relationship. The only problem is that he's kinda slow at figuring out that he's jealous, and so it's often you who picks up the cues before he does. And you know he tends to get sulky and avoidant when he feels bad but can't quite put his finger on why, so one day you decide to try to help him out of that. And so you approach him, telling him straightforward that you want to have sex with him. And pulling him out of his bubble takes a while of hesitation from his side, but when you take him by the hand to walk him to your bedroom, he doesn't protest. Crawling on top of him and making out with him, you wait until you can feel him somewhat relax underneath you. Your fingers of one hand tangled in his hair while the other roams his toned upper body has him melting underneath you, and just then you ask him whether he's jealous, in the sweetest tone you can muster. "I... I think so," he mumbles. "Do you need me to prove to you that I only want you?" you ask, and Yeosang nods. And you'd be surprised how quickly he can go from desperately clinging to you as you get him off slowly, humming praises for your boyfriend, to him flipping your positions around and with a "Sorry, I need this now" he starts thrusting into you, hard and slow. The pace as well as him suddenly taking charge of the situation makes you see stars, and his desperate but possessive groans could make you cum right then and there.

San:

Seems more helpless than anything else the second he comes back from picking up some takeout coffee for the both of you when he sees a complete stranger flirting with you, and you doing nothing to ward the guy off. And of course he'd be jealous at the sight, but he decides to play the tough guy for now, telling the guy off as he approaches. "Dude, what are you doing flirting with my girlfriend?" He puts an emphasis on his last word, and his voice sounds darker than usual. And though the stranger leaves immediately and you two continue your date as usual, something's off about San once you arrive home. Dragging you off to the bedroom by the sleeve of your shirt, he doesn't say anything and doesn't let you see his face right until he has you pinned to the bed, hovering above you and pressing a fiery kiss to your lips. Clothes don't stay on for long, and when he finally has his hips snapping into you, you have to slow him down from how rough he's being. "Fuck, that guy pissed me off," he mutters as he buries his face in your neck, leaving his mark there. When he has you coming undone underneath him, he doesn't stop, continuing to fuck you towards your next high, and your head starts to spin when you hear his next words, growled into your ear, "Don't ever flirt with another man again. Don't even look at someone else, or do you think anyone else could ever fuck you this good?"

Mingi:

Well if he isn't a wild card idk what. Gets jealous rather easily, and from him sulking like a kid to him taking charge and dragging you off to the nearest secluded space, anything could happen. It entirely depends on his mood that day, and a bit on the situation too. Mingi definitely needs you to comfort him if it's the former option, but the good news is that he'll be fine rather quickly after you assure him he has nothing to worry about. However, after you've been dating for a while and he's internalized that you're not gonna let someone else take you away from him, that helplessness soon turns into anger at whatever guy is flirting with you. And so one night when you're out with friends, all being a bit tipsy and this one guy just won't stop giving you all of his attention, Mingi eventually shoots up from his seat and drags you to the restrooms without an explanation. Kisses you feverishly after locking up the stall he entered with you, and only when you ask him what's wrong he gives you an explanation. "I don't like the way that guy looks at you. It pisses me off," he hisses, before going right back to kissing you. His hand finding your core underneath your clothes in no time, he starts fingering you, even teasing you about how you're already wet for him, and eventually he'll flip you around so he can grind his clothed bulge against your ass as he gets you off, relishing in the way you're desperately trying to suppress all noises.

Wooyoung:

Big switch energy so this can go one of two ways, but after the initial deep conversation you had about jealousy and how you can trust each other despite that feeling sometimes arising, the one thing that's for sure is that you're gonna resolve it with sex. Even when the jealousy is barely even there, just like earlier today when you had commented to your boyfriend on how handsome one of Wooyoung's friends looks in his latest insta post, he doesn't miss the opportunity to seek proof that at the end of the day you only have eyes for him. "And what about me?" he'll asks as he walks up to you from behind, hands put on your waist and his lips ghosting above your neck. The tone of his voice gives his intentions away immediately, and it doesn't take long for him to spin you around in his hold so he could kiss you, dragging you off to the nearest surface to have sex with you on (whether that's the bed, the sofa, or the dining table he doesn't care). And it really all depends on your mood whether he'll pin you against it, making you beg for him until he's satisfied, or put all the power into your hands and let you have his way with him until he's the one whining for your touch. One way or the other, the reason for his jealousy will soon be forgotten, because now all that matters is you and him chasing pleasure together.

Jongho:

You're at a party hosted by a mutual friend of yours, and from the moment you dressed up at home you've known that your outfit choice today is doing something to your boyfriend from the looks he's been giving you. You like the attention, you're not gonna lie, and you can imagine what this night will lead to once you're back in the comfort of your own home, after making him stare at you all evening. However, what you didn't expect were the death glares he's been giving one of your male childhood friends who's been occupying you ever since you walked into that party. You know Jongho isn't the type to get jealous easily, but when he does he usually struggles with expressing it. However, you also know your boyfriend will usually do the right thing anyway, and so when he pulls you into the empty kitchen and locks the door behind himself, you expect him to simply tell you about his feelings. What you certainly do not expect is him backing you up against a counter with a possessive stare glued to your lips. "What's wrong...?" Kisses you instead of answering your question and makes your head spin from the way he runs his hands down your body alone. There's need and anger behind his actions, and in no time he has you pressed up against the kitchen counter, facing the wall now, both your pants and underwear pulled down just enough so he could fuck you from behind, teasing you with just his tip until he has you begging for more, and this really is just what he needed to alleviate his unnecessary feelings of jealousy...

#ateez smut #ateez reactions #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez x reader #ateez x fem reader #ateez headcanons #hongjoong smut #seonghwa smut #yunho smut #yeosang smut #san smut #mingi smut #wooyoung smut #jongho smut #smut

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hoseoksluna · 5 months

Text

WHITE | jjk

pairing: boyfriend!jungkook x wine!oc

genre: smut

word count: 8.1k

summary: craving white wine, your boyfriend would do anything for you—even let you dom him.

pinterest board: wine

warnings: alcohol consumption, wine!oc is dominant and she's enjoying it, plushie used in a sexual intercourse, dd/lg, jk is desperate and so horny, hand job, oral sex (m. + f. receiving), fingering, squirting, raw sex, the importance of sex being imperfect, use of sex toys — yes, plural, dirty talk, spanking, face riding

note: i'm genuinely sorry for this—SDFKJDSLFJDSLFJS. this is the last wine drabble <3 i loved writing about them again, ugh i missed my babies so much. would you, guys, also like me to write two drabbles about the steam series? i feel like it would only be fair like this. vote in the poll below, pwease. <3 hope you like this last installment.

Your boyfriend has an immense, insane amount of energy.

You have partly yourself to blame. It’s Saturday night, summer at full blast and you felt it thrumming so deeply and intensely within your veins that you found yourself craving your most favored mood-lifter in the world.

White wine.

You’ve almost spent every weekend drinking myriads of different alcoholic beverages, but the white nectar is something you’ve quite neglected. Well, not so much as neglected, but forgotten about entirely. The last time you drank it, you and Jungkook were on far, far different terms. Fuck buddies with a degradation kink, skipping a party because you got horny again. You wonder if things would’ve turned out the same way if you hadn’t decided to spice up your getting ready time with that drink. Would it change the course of events that led him to confess his feelings for you? Would you have allowed yourself to fall for him, had he not made you drunk with his allure?

You only had to mention your thirst and Jungkook was quick to get up to his feet, take his keys, phone and wallet and he was out the door before you could say anything else. Your fond giggles vibrated across the room—so much that Bam lifted his head and jumped on your lap and so you spent the remaining time alone cuddling with the canine friend, catching up in your lovey-dovey dog language, kissing him all over until you dolled him up with red lipstick marks.

He looked so good. Was happy about it, too, because when his Daddy came back, he was similarly quick to show him.

And Jungkook, he laughed so hard that he clutched his own stomach, doubled over, his shoulders shaking. Then, he sat next to you on the couch, pulled you in for a hug as if he hadn’t seen you in years and very solemnly told you that it was his turn now.

The words that tumbled out of you were so swift, without any kind of embrace of thought beforehand, that you didn’t have the time to consider the consequences they would come with until they dazzled you. Through and through, ridding you of your sense of sight.

“You’ll get your kisses only if you show me that you bought the wine.”

Jungkook’s eyes grew in size, darkened in nightly fashion. Twinkles flickering, dimly. The atmosphere, the dynamic and energy shifted, folding into something you haven’t yet experienced in such depth, calming your eyes until they blended back into normalcy. And you wouldn’t perceive it for what it truly was, had Jungkook not wordlessly left to fetch his bag from the convenience store, along with a corkscrew and two glasses, and had he not crouched in front of you.

The view left you stunned. The blatantly obvious fact, too.

The fact that, somehow, you were in control.

And it was so different from the last time due to a simple reason. Jungkook wasn’t the one who initiated it. Didn’t tell you to be in charge. Didn’t give you his control in words, in commands. No, it happened arbitrarily, on its own and Jungkook submitted to it. Submitted to you. Put down his control once he lowered his form between your knees, giving it to you this way, silently.

A thing of utter beauty, filling you up with vibrancy, enthusiasm and… passion.

He showed you his haul, unloading it onto your lap. Sparkling white wine in a golden bottle, dog treats, cheese and crackers and… Miffy.

Miffy in a way you haven’t seen her before.

Made into a sleeping position. Black eyes shut, round butt risen in the air, even rounder tail perked, body soft and drowsy. Bigger than the bunny resting alone on his bed in the other room.

You purred, squeezing her hard before you hugged her to your chest, careful not to smear your makeup on her when you pushed her up to your neck. Looked at your quite small boyfriend with a ravening gaze as you said, “You got bunny a sister, how cute. Well done.”

Your praise coaxed a noise out of Jungkook that you never heard before, one that stirred the eternally slumbering beast in you that had not once seen the night enveloping you. A concoction, most delicious and arousing, of a whimper and a hum. It settled within your core, teasing you there, making you want more. You told him, or the beast more like, to open the wine and he obeyed, right away.

You watched him do it. Watched the flexing of his muscles, tense beneath the fabric of his tiger-print shirt. Watched him not spill a drop and then pour you a glass until it almost overflowed. He handed it to you, expecting you to take it from him, but you caught him off guard.

“Taste it for me first.”

His mouth fell agape. Remained parted when he immediately brought the glass to his lips and took a large sip. Your eyes followed the bobble of his throat as he swallowed and you gave him a big smile for it. A praise, too.

“Good. Let me have a sip now, my hands are full.”

In typical fashion, he drew close to you until your knees squeezed him in, legs wrapping around his torso. One hand wrapped around your hip, the other tipped the glass to your mouth and you looked at him and did not stop until you took a big gulp.

“More.”

He tipped it again. “Tastes good?”

You nodded, liking the sweetness and the fizziness, but this time you didn’t swallow the nectar. Jungkook set the glass down, along with his haul, averting his gaze momentarily and you cupped his chin, bringing it back to you. Leaned in and, in a heated kiss, you spewed the wine out into his mouth. He gasped, pulling away, flushed cheeks a tiny bit full, lips pursed, one mouth end wet with a trickle flowing down. It would’ve been an adorable sight, had his eyes not narrowed, darkened further more and pierced you with such intensity that your clit gained a drum.

Your finger felt for the top button of his shirt. “Swallow. Don’t be messy.” He did. Swore. Breathed hard. You undid the button, lifting your digit to wipe his chin clean, smearing it on his bottom lip until he opened for you. You plunged in. Let out a low sound of delight once he wrapped his puffy lips around it.

And now here you are staring at each other, finger in mouth. His newly secured energy pulsating in him, seconds away from bursting, brutally. You can see it, vividly, and you prepare yourself for it—blaming partly yourself and, feignedly, the palatability of the white nectar for being the cause behind it. He’s waiting for the next move, countenance terribly solemn and stiff. His hands must be oh so itching to take over, but he sticks to the unspoken, patient and good.

Taking out your finger gently, you undo the rest of his buttons, aware of the shudders zapping his body the more you reveal his smooth skin. Jungkook straightens for you, palms on your thighs, breathing heavily, a sound that brings out the strangest of oxymorons in you—simultaneous nervousness and confidence. Nervousness that you call the shots; confidence that the paintwork of his arousal is signed with your name.

And it’s the latter that the beast plucks out, like a twig of flower off a tree.

You push Jungkook back and slide into his lap, biting your lip at the contact of his hardness under the flimsy material of your ivory pajama shorts. His hands clasp around your small hips, but you pry them away, deeming that if you are in control, then it’s you who decides when he gets to touch you. His brows rise when you pin them down and at last he beams up at you, eyes lidded and drunk, despite the fact he merely had two sips of alcohol. Bunny’s sister rests askew in your joined laps, her head pointed towards your mound and it forces a certain idea into your muddy brain.

One that Jungkook fleetingly interrupts.

“You’re gonna take control of me?”

Ooft, making it official. You hum your agreement, repositioning the plushie. Place her directly against his imprint and, pushing the soaked center of your shorts to the side, you sit down on her soft face. Begin to rock slowly. Jungkook’s breath hitches in his throat, fists clench on either side of him as well as his jaw, chin upturned. He’s holding himself back with all of his might and it is only now that you feel your wetness dripping onto the fur, now when the vibrancy of the faint pleasure spreads across your every nerve ending, now when you know that he’s struggling to keep his composure. There’s something so incredibly satisfying about it that you rock your hips harder, whimpering, hands gripping his shoulders.

“Can you handle it?” you murmur, already knowing that he won’t be able to the moment you decide to take things further, but you give him a slither of a chance to prove you wrong, rooting for him from within with a sly smile on your face.

Jungkook pokes his tongue in his cheek, sighing, eyes descending to your neck and to your perky, pebbled breasts under your low cut top. “I’ll handle anything you come up with as long as I get your kisses.”

His sweet response gratifies you so much that you arch your back, lowering your hands down to his chest, the thrum on your clit becoming unbearable, the soft friction of the plushie doing very little to alleviate it. You whine, picking up your pace. “Even—even if you don’t get to touch me?”

Jungkook hesitates, biting his lower lip. A certain sadness coasts his now big eyes that makes you coo endearingly and slow down, feel so bad for him. “Anything for you.”

You can’t halt the groan from escaping, the groan that roots from the passion and the love you carry for him, from the principle of his submission. You’ll make it up to him. Play with him just for a little while and you’ll give him his rightful upper hand right back to him, all because he was so quick to be your little toy. Without a thought, nor a word spared. Without a struggle. He deserves it. Has come a long way.

“You’re just my little slut, aren’t you?” You grab a hold of his throat, tip his chin up, feel his vein throbbing. “My pretty little slut. Hard for me, hm? Will do anything for me?”

Widening his eyes, mouth parted, he moans, sucking in a breath, chest lifting rapidly. Hand automatically lifting to palm himself, just in time to realize that he can’t because the plushie and your lap is in the way. “Yes, I’m your little slut and I need you so bad. Need your kisses.”

You hum, terribly, terribly satisfied. Horny. A fire, personified. Fire and energy—a wonderful mixture about to meet. “Where, baby?”

His breath shakes, his being radiated by you, glistening in sweat. “Everywhere, please.”

You drift your hands down his chest. Think he earned them now by asking so nicely. You sit back on his thighs, plushie in hand, ready to chuck her away, but then another idea comes up.

Grabbing her by the back of her neck, you use her to kiss him. On his jaw, on his neck, on his left peck, nipple and the mole underneath, making kissing sounds. Jungkook shudders at the contact upon his most sensitive spots and you can see his disliking for it before he voices it out. You revel in it, his desperation becoming your obsession.

“No, not from her. Please, from you.”

But in spite of that, your craving to give him everything is stronger.

You toss her on the couch, hands instantly clasping around his neck. You kiss him, wetly, on his Adam’s apple and he whimpers, urging you to continue. The sides of his throat, collarbones, shoulders—you mark him everywhere with your red lipstick, making a pathway down his sternum before you go sideways. Create a large shape of a heart on the left side of his peck, coloring it in with bruises, with kisses so hard that his manhood twitches in his pants. You’re so focused on adorning him, on the citrusy taste of his skin, that you don’t even sense your hands as they rid him of his shirt, unbuckle his belt and undo his button, dragging down his zipper.

You rise to your feet, out of breath, puffy mouth, lipstick slightly smeared, head spinning. “Take off your pants and get on the couch.”

The golden buckle of his belt catches your eye as he stands up. You wrap your hand around it and tug it out of his belt hoops harshly. There’s a hint of timidness in the vast sea of his arousal once he looks at you, aware of what you’re planning with the leather band. With a giggle, you merely wink at him and Jungkook blushes, dropping his gaze in tandem with his pants.

“Boxers, too?”

You edge around his side and envelop your arms around his middle, mouth pressing against his spine. A big, red mark of your lips amidst the broadness of his back. Utterly, utterly beautiful. “Smart boy, yes—off with them, now.”

Jungkook laughs, softly, shyly. You wish you could see his blush deepen as the clenching of his abdomen divulges to you how much he liked that praise. You also wish you could feel the fluttering of the butterflies inside, if there are any at all. You’re getting to know him in such a new way that you otherwise would have never had the opportunity to do so. The shudders, the tension under his skin, the lively energy that is yearning to burst and rain upon you—it is all so awfully exhilarating, even more so the fact that you hold it all in your tender grasp.

And he lets you. In the name of love.

He drops his undergarment and he goes to sit down like you told him to, but you squeeze him harder against yourself. No, he’s not going anywhere. The heat, his soft skin, his gentleness and shyness—you want it all close to you, close enough to seep into your pores so it can make bed there and live there perpetually. So snug, so homely—yes, that’s precisely what it is. Home.

You skim your hands down the defined muscles of his stomach, feeling them move under your fingers. Take his wrists behind his back and keep them there, unrestrained yet, his belt curled on the coffee table. You bring your hands back to his stomach, lowering them down—

“Can you reach me?” Jungkook asks, head turned to the side. You’re so used to degradation in your sex life that at first you thought he was mocking you, but on the contrary—he’s asking in all genuinity. With his forearms pressed to his sides, he’s bigger than he usually is and he wondered if your small form can stretch enough to touch him.

How sweet.

“Such a good, thoughtful boy.” You grab his length. Had to do it from the side a little bit, but you don’t mind. At least you get to see him. See the way he twists his features at the contact, see his energy and his muscles straining. “I guess I can, huh?”

You tug at his length rapidly a few times. His body shudders again, almost doubles over before he straightens his spine, whimpers trickling out of his mouth and rooting in your heat, soaking your pajamas. And when his sounds rise in volume, you swiftly let go of him. Fetch the belt and fasten it around his wrists, leading him to take a seat on the couch.

Manspreading, cock hard, red and long, almost kissing his belly button, hands behind his back, muscles big and flexed, face features darkened by his arousal, ravagedly fixed on you—fuck, you could come from the view.

You sink to your knees in front of him. Itch so fucking hard to take him in your mouth and make that energy paint you in white, but watching him like this—you plan something else entirely. Pressing one kiss on his V-line, you glide your lips upon the tip of his length, making him tremble in desperation. It takes all of your strength not to give it to him, but you know he will be overjoyed with the little thought that’s swarming in your brain.

“Where’s your fleshlight, baby?”

Jungkook loosens a hard, flabbergasted breath and his pretty, pretty cock twitches against your mouth.

You knew it.

You bought the toy together yesterday. It’s still unopened in a box somewhere in his bedroom; you don’t know where he hid it. He may have not wanted to spend money on it, but when you witnessed the way his eyes glowed, you convinced him to get it. Begged him. Told him you wouldn’t leave the sex shop until he bought it and he gave in, timidly. Much to your delight.

“In the closet,” Jungkook croaks out, clearing his throat and you kiss his other V-line as a reward, kitten licking his tip for a millisecond as you rise to your feet. He whimpers, again in desperation.

“You can’t get it, can you?” you taunt, lovingly, fingers hooking under your shorts and dragging them down your hips, your top following over your head. His eyes follow your every movement, fixing on your feminine parts, muscles bulging, yearning to touch you. You grow wetter, being looked at, being desired like that. “You’re just a helpless baby.”

He moans your name, signaling to you that there’s only so much he can take and you understand. You’re quick as you hurry to his bedroom, quick to find it, quick to pull the toy out of the box and quick to return to him.

There’s a trickle of his male arousal gliding down his length when you stand between his legs and your own desperation to pleasure him heightens in you—so much that you’re equally quick to unfold your plan.

You grab his chin and tip it up, harshly. Kiss him so nastily that he moans into your mouth and then… then you stare him dead in his eye. “I’m gonna put the fleshlight under bunny’s sister and you’re gonna show her how hard Daddy fucks his girls, yeah?” He’s left speechless, breathing rapidly, coated in sweat. Eyes narrowed, still darkened but now glowing with that familiar light that you saw yesterday, black irises piercing you through and through. “You should give her a name, though. Have something to moan when you fill her up, hm?”

It’s evident, the way his brain malfunctions, but he surprises you.

“Vinny.”

Vinny and Bunny, how adorable.

You coo, pecking him. “Vinny it is. Such a pretty name. I’m gonna make you nice and wet for her. Would you like that?”

“Please.”

You descend to your knees and you don’t hesitate to immediately take him into your mouth as far as you can. You gag around him, but you relax your throat, bobbing your head only slightly, testing yourself, wanting to stretch your throat out for him. Jungkook groans, squeaks little mewls as he doubles over once more, and the sound is so obscenely loud that your clit throbs harder in response and you would touch yourself if your craving to pleasure him wasn’t stronger.

You pull out until you can stack both of your hands on his length and while your tongue plays with his tip, you twist your wrists. Only briefly, just to make him feel a little better before you lick him all over—just to stay true to your words. And when it’s your name that comes out of his mouth once you slobber all over him, you withdraw altogether.

“Please… please,” Jungkook whimpers, trembling and you feel terribly bad for him. So much that you pucker your lips at him and kiss his cheek endearingly as soon as you get on your feet again, purposefully ignorant to the way your cunt likes his helplessness.

“I got something better for you, Daddy, don’t worry,” you reassure him, slipping into the dynamic your familiarity using the title. You grab Vinny and the fleshlight, placing her on top of the toy, on the armrest of the couch—her butt and her pussy facing him.

And when you glance at him to see his reaction to your artwork, you’re stunned by the look he gives you. Mad, mad stare. Awfully dark and menacing. It would disquiet you if didn’t know that he loved you. There’s no way you could take the liberty in toying with him like this, had you not become exclusive—had he not created a realm of safety for you to do that in.

“I’m gonna fuck the shit out of you for this,” Jungkook threatens and the sliver of normalcy in the middle of the role-play that he caught onto makes you giddy and feel so fucking alive. The threat, too. You quiver in anticipation and excitement, grinning from ear to ear. “You’re not walking after this.”

You laugh, softly, thrilled. “I sure hope so,” you say, grabbing a hold of his arm to lift him up. “I’m dripping for you.”

Jungkook hisses. Won’t budge. Remains seated, looking up at you. Doesn’t reciprocate your smile. Scowls, instead. “Can I taste you?”

You shake your head ‘no’, even if it emotionally pains you. “Not right now.”

He sighs and you take his arm again. This time he obeys—lets you lead him into the position that you want. On his knees, still on the couch, perfectly at level with Vinny’s pussy patiently waiting for him. Jungkook looks at her for a long time, studying the silicone shape of her clit and lips. You’re certain that if his hands were free, his thumb would’ve traced her soft vulva.

“Do you like her pussy?” you ask, your grin only widening, eyes blazing, emitting hot sparkles of light. You’re perhaps more excited and enthusiastic about this than he is.

Jungkook looks at her for a split second more before he flicks his intense gaze to yours. “Yours is prettier.” Your breath hitches in your throat and your heart follows its footsteps, skipping a beat, springing up and grazing your vocal cords. You can’t get a word out—you’re stupefied, in love, so impassioned that you resemble him with all that fire in you, taking after his energy buzzing in him. You sense the same movement in you, hotter, more vigorous. Your mouth parts and, cheeks awash with color, you’re on the verge of bursting. “Let me touch your little pussy, please.”

You bite your lip, pause a tiny bit just to regain your composure and you sigh, eventually, gripping his face in your hand, squishing his cheeks. “I said,” you start, emphasizing your warning just to see his flush deepen like you wanted. “Not right now. Can’t you listen?”

For a fleeting moment, there’s a heavy silence filled with his hard breaths.

Then, Jungkook glares at you.

“I’m gonna destroy you.”

You chuckle, girlishly—even though his threat yet again thrums within your skin, even though your body craves to submit to him, throw the playtime away, forget about it, entirely. “Talk all you want. See where it gets you.” With your other hand, you take his length and line it up at Vinny’s entrance. “Fuck her.”

Now—now he finally grins, a puckish smile that unnerves you a little bit, as if an idea crawled up into that smart brain of his.

And he proves you right.

“I’m gonna show her how I’m gonna fuck you,” he mutters, drawing closer to Vinny, to the arm rest. “Where’s the lube? Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten.”

A trickle of cold sweat trickles down your spine and it’s you who’s left speechless now. You were so quick to return to him that you did forget the lube, mind void of rationality, filled with him that you forgot such an essential thing. You swear under your breath, feeling stupid.

“Go get it before I rip this fucking belt apart and use it on you.”

Wordlessly, embarrassed with your head down, you go back to his room and fish for his lube in his bedside drawer, noticing that it’s where he keeps the vibrator for you. You haven’t used it in so long in your playtime and you reminisce, briefly, on the last time he made you come with it. On this very bed, on his lap with bunny on yours as he rearranged your guts with the toy on your clit—teasing you by lifting it and placing it between the plushie’s legs, acting for her and screwing up his features in pleasure.

Your heart thuds at the memory, your thighs sodden with your essence, and a certain expectation creeps within its chambers. The expectation that the toy will make a comeback tonight. That is, if you even deserve it.

You cringe at your wetness while your feet pad back to the living room. Jungkook stares you down, guilt written all over his face for being mean and it mollifies your negative feelings, dispersing them away from you. It’s enough for you—you don’t really want to talk about how you pitifully failed, nor do you want to hear a mention of it, but Jungkook seemingly does.

Up close, his eyes are awfully soft as if he made a mistake with his last words. You don’t think he did—he’s always been the leader in your playtime, so you deem he only did the right thing. Besides, you’ve worked him up to the point of anger, so from your standpoint, he didn’t do anything wrong. You did.

“Come here,” he says, gently, leaning in and angling his head. “Put your arms around me.” You do as he says, needing to, needing to be led for a little while before you can resume. You sink your fingers into his hair as you rest your forearms around his shoulders, even though all you want to do is rid him of his restraint and let him fuck it out of you. He kisses you with such tenderness that you whimper in sensitivity and amorousness, taking it one step further and moving your mouth against his, slipping your tongue inside. It’s a brief kiss, no matter its intensity, for he still has something to say. “You’re doing so well tonight. I never thought I’d ever get this hard from you being the boss of me. I’m sorry for snapping, you hear me?” he whispers against your lips, each movement causing his pillows to touch yours in faint, faint kisses that make your mind spin and your desire for him to lengthen across your whole body, deepening. You nod for him, hearing his words, needing them, too—glad for the honesty, for the check in, for the sliver of normalcy. “I’m just so horny and I need you. I didn’t mean it, okay? Daddy didn’t mean to talk to you like this. He loves you and you made him so needy that he’s frustrated, but it’s okay. He can handle it. Do you love your Daddy back, hm?”

You moan at the continuation of his words, running your fingers through his hair, inching closer to him until your chest softly collides with his. And his reassurement, the warm feeling of his skin, the potency of his love—it all erases your mistake, leaving only your sensual craving for him. You nod, again, like a little girl given a talking-to from her father, absorbing the lesson. “I love you.”

Jungkook hums, pleased, pecking you. “Good. I’m gonna do what you want now, baby. Gonna make you proud, listen to every word like a good Daddy, hm? You can do anything you want to me. You’d like that? You wanna keep going?”

You smile at him, sweetly, and he kisses your expression of contentment. It feels so good like this and you feel woozy, too. Sluggish, ready to be taken, on your way to cloud nine. You nod your head for the last time and squirt the lube all over him and Vinny’s intimate parts, your desire to take over him blending into your fuzzy feelings.

With your help, he slides inside her, both pairs of eyes watching the slick intrusion, then meeting at once—your simultaneous groans of delight merging, fading into one another, creating one beautiful, heavenly sound, unheard by all angels and celestial beings. You hold the fleshlight steady as he bottoms out, his mouth parted, brows furrowed, eyes so heavy-lidded as he devours your gaze, your face, the pleasure he feels so overwhelming that you almost think he can’t take it. The flexing of his abdominal muscles, the roll of his hips that takes all of his strength while his arms remain restrained behind his back, his neck shiny with a layer of sweat—fuck, the sight is to die for and you melt into something boneless, jelly and gooey; becoming just a hole for him.

You can’t wait for him to fuck you. Perhaps it’s you, after all, who can’t take it.

Jungkook begins to pound her, his mound hitting her clit with every hard motion and it strikes your awe. Your breathing quickens, the drum in your own bundle of nerves unwaveringly unbearable and what’s worse, he keeps fucking looking at you, perhaps imagining it’s your pussy that he’s ruining and your legs tremble, threatening to give out—

“Rub your pussy on the other end, please,” he begs, vocal cords so awfully strained, and this time you decide to gratify him.

The first moan that your mouth emits makes him fuck the toy harder—so much that it slips out of your grasp. You prop your knee on the armrest, flattening Vinny’s face on the edge of the toy, so you can gain the friction you so desperately need and it works. Your cunt soaks her sleepy countenance and you flick your eyes to it, watching the fur get darker with each rock of your hips.

“Look at me,” he grunts—and you do. A hint of softness in the dark sea of his eyes, boisterous waves of arousal sloshing to and fro. “Use her like I am. Hard—” He shows you how by a stroke that reverberates through your body, stimulating your clit by bumping into it. “And then fast.” Quick thrusts that waggle with your form, your curls bouncing against your spine.

And so you match his rhythm. It stimulates you far more than the pace you had going for yourself, your orgasm enclosing around you, inching closer and closer with each graze of your clit against the now more firm plush fur. Your brows knit, the coil in your stomach tightening to the point that it’s you who ultimately takes over and Jungkook follows, matching your rhythm, fucking Vinny faster—the silicone squeaking with each deep plunge of his length into her hole that causes your tits to slap against each other. But Jungkook doesn’t look at them. No, his eyes are set on you and you know that he knows that you’re about to come.

Jungkook begins to pant, marked chest flushing, adorning him most finely. The knowledge is getting him there, too. “You close, baby?”

You moan, sucking in a breath. “So close, I’m gonna come.”

He moans with you, approving of it. “Come, then, I wanna watch you. Make her nice and wet for me, hm?” You rock your hips faster—closer and closer, gripping Vinny with all your might. “I wanna touch you so bad, princess. Kiss you everywhere. Lick that little clit. Fuck you until all that you know is my fucking name. Please—”

You come so hard that it takes both you and Jungkook by surprise, your body violently shuddering and colliding into his. He groans, deeply, following in suit, your orgasm triggering his and he sloppily fucks the toy while he watches you ride out your high, bliss enveloping you in angelic glow.

“Yes, princess, just like that, fuck. You’re so pretty. My pretty little girl, coming so hard. Yes, fuck.” He’s losing himself, moaning your name over and over until there’s nothing left to give to Vinny, until he’s so spent that he sits back on his feet, eyes closing and opening, tongue licking his dry lips. He moans your name again, in post-high. “Please, get the belt—”

You don’t hesitate. With blurry vision and sex hormones swirling in your brain, numb by your intense orgasm, you edge around him and rid him of his restraint, flinging it somewhere away from the both of you, hating it, not wanting to see it again.

You and Jungkook exchange a look full of soft smiles and love, with his joy like a cherry on top of that. He twists his wrists, standing up to his feet, the size difference and the sudden change in energy causing him to grow solemn. No smiles, though the love remains. You feel it thumping in the atmosphere you’re surrounded by as he completely overpowers you, naturally. And you welcome it, needing it—needing to be dominated and fucked until you’re brainless.

“I love watching you come,” Jungkook murmurs, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and cradling the side of your face. “It’s all I want to see for the rest of my life. Every morning when I wake up and every night before I go to sleep. It’s everything to me.”

It moves through you, his words, almost painfully with their vigor and passion, passing down your body until they settle in your core. You drip for him. Still feel so terribly lightheaded and high. “Just that, huh?”

“And your snores.”

You punch his arm. Jungkook laughs and gathers your hair, pulling it away from your face, stroking it down your back. A grin of your own curls your mouth. You don’t snore, at all. And you tell him.

“You do when you’re tired.” You gasp, lifting your hand again but he catches it in time, intertwining your fingers with his. “You did such a good job today. You learn well from me. Sounded just like me. Made me proud.” He strokes your hair again and you lean into his touch, even though you don’t believe him. You could’ve done a lot better and it could’ve ended just like you planned—fucking him with that fleshlight. You guess you can save that for another time.

You shake your head. “I messed up.”

“But you didn’t.” He angles his head, inching closer so the gravity of his words can pierce your mind, but it does no such thing. You still have one of your own. Solid as a rock.

“No, I shouldn’t have forgotten the lube. It ruined everything.”

Jungkook sighs, drawing back, fondling the back of your hand before he lets go of it and clutches the nape of your neck. “Sex isn’t meant to be perfect. You didn’t ruin anything, why do you think that?” He looks at you for a long time, but you can’t take it—you drop your gaze, still feeling terrible. He calls you by your name, firmly. “Who made you think sex is meant to be perfect, huh? Bring them to me.”

You laugh, softly, at the ridiculousness of his question. It’s him who owns your virginity—you’ve never been with anyone else before him. It’s your own expectations that make you think that. “Right here.” You point to your brain.

Jungkook kisses your forehead. Lingers there, giving you a million tiny pecks, as if erasing everything from there that he doesn’t like. It touches you, deeply, and you can’t stop yourself from submitting to it as it melts your brain. Your mouth rounds in a pout, your bottom lip jutting out and when he gazes down upon you and sees it, he coos at you, kissing it. “I made a mistake, too, didn’t I?” You remain silent—still think he didn’t do anything wrong. “But it was still amazing and we came together, didn’t we?”

He’s right; you’ll give him that. “You really liked it?”

He pecks you, vehemently, on the lips and then points to the fleshlight behind him in all its glory, dripping with cum. So much fucking cum that it makes a puddle on the hardwood floor. “Do you think I would’ve cummed this much if I didn’t? Tell me, baby.”

You swear, unable to take your eyes off of the quantity of his male essence. It draws you in, magnetically, and you obey its call, lifting the fleshlight with your hands, turning around so Jungkook sees and darting out your tongue—

“Don’t.”

You swipe the muscle across the silicone hole, collecting his ivory arousal. Most of it trickles down your neck and bare chest and it’s Jungkook now who swears, loudly. Grabs you by your waist and, flinging the toy away, he kisses you. You didn’t even have the time to swallow. He’s tasting himself on your tongue and it causes you to moan into his mouth. He taps the back of your thighs and you jump, wrapping your legs around his torso. You don’t know where he’s taking you, but at this point you give zero fucks.

His tender bedding grazes your back when he lays you down on it with a harsh thud, breaking the kiss and taking your breath away. Bottom lip between his teeth, he studies your soiled body with his cum, kneeling on the bed by your form. He takes his first two fingers and collects his evidence of pleasure, flicking his eyes to yours. You meet him halfway, expecting him to plunge those digits in your mouth and you’re ecstatic, wanting it badly, but Jungkook pushes you down.

In fact, he turns you around—ass up, face down. With just one hand.

You swear, your arousal gaining new intensity. And it’s your needy hole that he plunges his fingers in, briefly stuffing you with his cum, placing his free hand on your lower back so you can arch your spine for him more. Then, he rubs your clit in hard, slow circles, making you cry out, making your legs tremble all over again—

A spank. A brassy, cacophonous spank that drives you forward, forcing you to grip onto the sheets.

“I told you not to do that, didn’t I?” Jungkook rasps. Doesn’t alleviate the burn. “Answer me.”

Fuck. “Yeah, you told me not to do that.”

You brace yourself for another spank, but it doesn’t come. You feel his lips by your ear, his body heat cocooning you as he bends over you, his fists, pitifully, on either side of your back.

“You’re such a filthy little girl. Licking my cum off like that? Making me hard all over again for you?” he tsks, the sound making you even needier. For him, for his cock, even for another spank. You grind your ass against his hip and he maneuvers so his cock slips between your cheeks. Swears, such guttural noise that you mewl in response. “You just do what you want, huh? I guess you don’t love your Daddy anymore.”

He spanks you again, harder than before, and your vowel of disagreement breaks at the concoction of pain and pleasure coursing through your body. “No—no, I love you.”

Another spank. Lips by your ear again, his body clinging to your side. “You love me?” He clamps your mouth shut, preventing you from answering.

You do, anyways, your words muffled. “I love you. I love you so much.”

Jungkook hums in question. “What did you say? I couldn’t hear you.” He digs his fingers harder into your cheek, other hand rounding around your hip and attacking you with bolts of pleasure that make you quiver against him—rubbing your clit rapidly before he sinks his fingers inside you… and merely keeps them there.

You move his hand away and he lets you, holding it, panting. “I love you so much.”

Jungkook groans, sinking his fingers deeper. “Who do you love, hm?”

He wants you to say his rightful title and you do, with all your heart. “You, Daddy. I love you.”

At your words, Jungkook begins to pump his fingers and you cry out, placing your head on his palm, taking it. “Such a good fucking girl, making me crazy—” He growls, pressing a fat kiss on your cheek, curling his fingers slowly into that place that causes your breath to hitch in your throat, your orgasm quick to catch up to you. “Good little girl that loves her Daddy, fuck. I’m gonna give you everything. Gonna eat that little pussy, hm? You want that? Want Daddy to make you come with his tongue?”

You squeak when he gives you one particular, hard stroke against your special place, mind numbing, a dam broken. “Yes, yes, please, Daddy, please—”

He draws away, instantly. Traces your back with his palms as he straightens, smearing your feminine essence all over your skin that he licks up. And then, his mouth—

Jungkook takes you in his mouth. All of you. Licking against your clit, sucking it, rubbing his face in your cunt and groaning against her. His hands squeeze your ass, painting it redder and he flicks your little bundle of nerves with his tongue until he senses your orgasm. Then, he pulls away for a second, stalling it. Thumbs your other, puckered hole.

“My pretty little pussy. All mine.”

Mewling, you shake your ass for him and he growls, cursing, spanking your cheek, taking the flesh in his hand and squeezing it. Again and again, until you feel yourself drip, until you feel him spread your legs wider and nudge himself between them, opening his mouth for it to trickle down upon his tongue.

“Sit up. Ride my face.”

You moan before you even obey, sitting down on his tongue and grinding your pussy on it. He rolls it against you, back and forth, following your rhythm. Slow and romantic, kissing your clit every once in a while, sucking it as you keep up your movement, inching dangerously close to your orgasm. He’s in absolute control of you, though. Of your pleasure and climax, stalling it before beckoning it forth again. You lose yourself in it, in the profound and all consuming delight toying with all your nerve endings, creating something within you that diffuses you with confidence and allure, that inclines you to ride him harder, whimper a little louder and knead your breast until you leave your handprint in your wake.

He lets you do your thing, but as you saw earlier today, there’s only so much that he can take.

Clasping your hips, he angles them until your hole is at level with his nimble tongue, guiding you to lean back and use his chest to hold yourself steady. And like his fingers, he fucks you with the muscle, curling it each time. The filthy noise of your slick and his saliva, his breaths and hums, your obscene moans and then his thumb rubbing your clit rapidly—it’s enough, with his evident permission, for you to come.

And you come so hard that you sprinkle his face with your dew.

He laughs in utter joy, humming—humming deeply and you’re so obsessed with that sound that you come again, shuddering violently and he spanks you, holds you by your waist, digging in his fingerprints, allowing you to ride out your high, to use him until you’re so boneless that you slump against him.

Jungkook drags you down, though, slipping, instantly, his cock inside of you. And it’s wild, wild butterflies that you feel in your gut owing to it, then pain so acute that you whine. Enveloping his arms around you, tightly, with no way of escaping, his wet face is so tender that you coo at him amidst the rush of your colorful feelings. Wipe away your dew, giggling, kissing him loudly as his cock adjusts in you and the bite from overstimulation withers little by little.

“You can take it, I know you can,” Jungkook whispers, beaming up at you, iridescent. “You feel so good around me. So tight. I love being inside of you.”

Slowly, he begins to move, causing your features to scrunch up. In discomfort at first, then in relish as your stiffened nipples rub against the hardness of his chest.

“You’re my good little girl. You take everything I give you so well. So well.” Jungkook picks up his pace, gathering your hair in his fist. Doesn’t pull on it; merely holds it. You whimper, his words loosening the overbearing tightness of your walls. “I’m gonna take care of you. You’re just my little baby. Mine—” A hard thrust. Your eyes roll back. “My baby.”

“Yes, I’m yours,” you croak out and Jungkook takes your face in his hands and pounds into you until all you see is stars. Pretty, pretty twinkling stars.

Slapping skin, his grunts—you don’t even see your orgasm coming, coming over you so violently and yet in such an exhilarating way. Your dew forces him out, forces his chuckles out again and he brings you back to him, kissing you, plunging his cock back with ease.

You’re so lightheaded that you feel like an angel, soaring in the sky. An angel that years for something more. And you tell him. “Jungkook, please, I want the vibrator.”

He merely smiles at you, arm reaching over and pulling out the toy for you from his bedside table. Turning it on, you’re radiated by the light in his eyes and you whimper in impatience. Jungkook shushes you, like a baby, clicking on the intensity until he’s satisfied, placing it on your clit.

And then he gets up.

Pushes you against his closet, back against the wood, legs around his waist, vibrator on your clit and his hand clasped around your mouth, preventing your loud moans from escaping while letting you know how much he loves being in charge. Giving you hard strokes that secure him your soul on a silver platter before he fucks you so fast that you can’t see anything. Your surroundings are a blur while his face remains clear, painted in tortured pleasure for you as if he were holding himself back.

“Come for me, Daddy,” you beg under his palm, your sound muffled, but it seems that Jungkook understands you.

Pulling away, he turns you around and gets into position again. One hand around your mouth, the other holding the toy on your clit, his dick inside. He begins to play with you, not moving his hips at all, only the vibrator. Panting against the crook of your neck, he takes a second to merely breathe with you while you’re on the pathway to another mind blowing orgasm because he turns up the intensity. “How about you come for Daddy first, hm? I know you don’t need me to move when we do this. You can come just like this. So come.”

And you do, embarrassingly, whining all over the place, twisting your hips to chase your pleasure, causing him to emit the same sounds—causing him to pound you so hard against his closet that he, too, comes in mere minutes. His fingers in your mouth, he’s loud and just as whiny as you, fucking you through his orgasm as you play with digits, sucking on them.

He doesn’t pull away for a long time. Presses you against his chest and holds you like that, still connected. The vibrator buzzes on the floor, the air is stuffed, but you’re content, the happiest angel, held and stuffed, too. With cum and dick. Heaven on earth.

Jungkook begins to kiss your neck, marking you there. Fondles your nipples, making you shudder and sigh, making you utter the three words that he deserves.

“I love you, Ggukie.”

Jungkook makes a sound that tears you apart. A whimper; the whiniest you ever heard him be. He pulls out of you, but stuffs you again with his fingers. Makes you squirt in record time, kissing you everywhere he can reach. Neck, shoulder, jaw, cheek and lips.

You must be soaring again in the clouds because you can’t feel your body, especially not when Jungkook says, “I love you, my little squirter.”

Your knees do give out, after all. Jungkook is quick to pick you up and cradle you in his arms. Wash you clean in the shower. Put on a movie for you while making you food, joining you as soon as he can.

It’s love you feel—love most profound. And as you eat the food together and finish the wine with drenched Vinny on the other side of the couch, you fall asleep with that love thrumming in your heart.

You’ll be his for the rest of your life. And he’ll be yours, too.

BACK to masterlist

#jungkook x oc #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook smut #bts smut #bts imagine #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook #bts scenarios #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fluff #btscreatorscorner #kpop smut #jungkook one shot

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inf3ct3dd · 11 months

Text

streamer!ellie headcanons

warnings: yo no se

content : streamer!ellie headcanons 🔥🔥

authors note : the streets r calling and they’re telling me to write streamer ellie hcs….

- def started off as a faceless streamer. she wasn’t really comfortable on camera, and she just thought it would be way easier. you can only see her shoulders-down leaving her (deliciosu. scrumptious. yummy) arms in the cameras view.

- her twitch user is “creeperewman” cuz shes like…discreetly hiding her initials and referencing the best minecraft parody ever 😕!!!

- bought the most random shitty mic and webcam and started streaming 🔥🔥 she never got rid of either of them its part of her odd loser charm

“‘fartmaster69:it’s probably cuz your camera’ it’s probably bc of YOUR CAMERA!!! theres nothing wrong w my camera bro 😞”

“don’t listen to them…ur perfect 🤫 IM NOT TALKING TO U GUYS IM TALKING TO MY CAMERA”

- only had a few viewers the first couple times she streamed, and it was some random 10 yr old who kept spamming “yassss” in the chat and some dude who said she was shit at minecraft 😞 he was LYING

- started off doing minecraft speed runs (or trying to) and got like way good over time

- she randomly started getting more and more viewers, because people kept posting abt her and calling her fine on tiktok , making edits of her hands and her voice 😭😭 (real)

- as she got more and more viewers, she started branching out more with the games she’d play. def loves shooter games like cod and pubg, but she’d also play like indie horror games like faith (omg markiplier fans would know)

- she has a orange cat she named garfield (cuz…of course she does) and he’s always sitting on her lap during her streams or messing w her setup 💔💔

- def put stickers all over her headset and showed them off all proud on stream

- designed her own cute banners and stuff for streams 😞!!!

- def had a subreddit/disc server with her viewers where she’d let them give her game recs or make memes of her

- ppl saw her guitar in the back of her streams and BEGGED HER to play it and she had her own lil concert stream !!! she was so freaking nervous and messed up a bunch the first like minute or two but like after that she was in the ZONE

“‘ewswife: i wish i was that guitar’ oh!! you guys are so…kind!!!”

- when she INSANELY hit 1k, she did a face reveal and she hit 10k the same day 😦 the amount of edits that ppl made was actually insane. ESP ONES MAKING FUN OF DREAMS FACE REVEALLLL

- started doing much more random shit on stream after she got more famous. she LOVES cooking on stream, and she’d start reacting to random shit ppl sent her on the subreddit

- she cut her hair on stream once, and everyone in the chat kept spamming “yo bob…is fye” for like 5 minutes 😪

- “you’re at work watching me? i hope you get fired. i mean. i hope you don’t get fired 😞”

- she gets so many thirst comments and like…is terrible at responding to them

“‘ewleftbicep: you look so vulnerable today’ WHAT”

- she has her own apartment cuz of her awesome streaming money 🔥🔥🔥 soundproofed walls too cuz she’s. loud.

- one day, you were walking on campus to a class. you had your headphones on, listening to your main playlist on shuffle, when you got stopped by someone. you pulled your headphones off your ears and gave the man in front of you a confused look. you looked down to his hands, holding a tiny mic, and another dude holding a camera.

“what song are you listening to?” he held the microphone towards you, awaiting your response.

you quickly responded “uhm, last goodbye, by jeff buckley.” and stood there awkwardly, pushing a piece of hair out of your face.

the man quickly thanked you and you walked away, slightly suprised.

- after a couple hours, the video had blown up and the comments were filled with people complimenting you.

pickleluna: jeff buckley girl is so fine

minyonlala: 3rd girl is so bad

rilakkila: I NEED JEFF BUCKLEY GIRL

and unknown to you, someone else found you on their fyp.

creeperewman: guys what is the 3rd girls @. im literally BEGGING BRO PLEASEEE

- ewleftbicep: BEING DESPERATE ON MAIN IS CRAZY

- ewsgirlf: random tiktok girl stole my wife 💔

- elliewilliamsidechick: guys im literally the 3rd girl 😂😂😂

- it didn’t take long for your phone to be blown up with people sending you the video, tagging you in funny comments, and finding your instagram. you watched the video, and saw ellie was the top comment. you checked her profile, and saw how FINE she was, and immediately responded

- y/nmainn: guys 😳😳😳 what if i was the third girl 😳😳

- ellie checked her phone and saw thousands of people tagging your comment, and she wasted zero time following you on tiktok. and your instagram. its not stalking if its in your bio, right?

- you two immediately hit it off, and ellie loved the fact that you had absolutely no idea who she was. to you, she was just some hot girl. not some famous streamer you were obsessed with.

- she didn’t even realize you two went to the same school until she saw you in her astrophysics class one day, and she almost had a heart attack when you waved at her and walked over to sit next to her.

“what a coincidence.”

- she took you out on your first date to a planetarium, and not even a week after, asked you to be her girlfriend.

- she definitely teaches you how to play her favorite games. but she gets wayyyy defensive when you beat her.

“im just letting you win.”

“beginners luck.”

but shes SO COCKY when she beats you

“hey, don’t be so hard on yourself after this. not your fault im a professional!”

“aw, maybe one day you’ll be as good as me”

- definitely helps you build your own pc.

- loves watching you play things like animal crossing or stardew valley, always lays on your shoulder while you’re on the couch.

“why are you being so mean to gaston :((“

“because hes UGLY and he has an ugly house and he’s ruining my village.”

“wowww you’re bullying a little bunny man because he doesn’t fit your aesthetic 😒 so mean”

- if you like more aggressive games like cod, she loves listening to you talk shit while you play and always makes fun of people with you. (she thinks its hot when you’re mean to people)

- her chat absolutely loves you, and every time you stream together its a continuous stream of “me and who” and “when is it my turn 😪”

2K notes · View notes

tzyuki · 1 year

Text

— (07.16.23) LOVE 2 HATE ME

IN WHICH ✶ Y/n and Gunwook have a secret thing for each other. Except the two are extremely embarrassed to be seen with one another. Gunwook being the soccer star player, class president, student council vice president, and having awesome grades it was almost impossible for her to not see him as a competitor. They didn’t wanna ruin their reputations, how stubborn could they be?

genre 𓏸 ͘ ࣭⸰ park gunwook x f!reader, academic rivals, fluff, lowk a slowburn

warnings 𓏸 ͘ ࣭⸰ swearing, kms jokes, gunwook has his driver license fr fr, theres like an insane amount of usage of the words “scoffed” and “shrugged”. unwanted touch.

release date 𓏸 ͘ ࣭⸰ 07.16.23

word count 𓏸 ͘ ࣭⸰ 19.6k

perm taglist (open) 𓏸 ͘ ࣭⸰ @jinkyu @jangwonie @cwsana @luvyrin @amara-mars @ineedaherosavemeenow @mintydayeon @love-4-keum @kpopx-xlover @abdiitcryy @beepjeongie @ox1-lovesick @ja4hyvn @shinsou-rii @winkura @ddeonudepressions @tnyhees @wannabeyn @kpoprhia @svnghoonsonly

ej note 𓏸 ͘ ࣭⸰ ahhh finally i am posting this! i’ve been working on this for about over three months going back and fourth to it. reblogs, likes and feedback are appreciated, I hope you guys enjoy this!

Everything Park Gunwook could do Jeon Y/n could do better.

That’s what Jeon Y/n thought at least.

The two were equally as smart and equally as devoted to school, but the two were just too damn competitive and one of them had to be a winner.

Y/n was a recommended tutor for all struggling students, she had perfect attendance, won many school awards, and is studying many languages.

Park Gunwook is the class president, vice principal for the student council, soccer star player, also won many awards, and has outstanding grades.

But what bothered Y/n the most was the fact that he was ranked top of the class and she was right behind him.

She despised him and he despised her.

Gunwook liked the competition and the rush feeling he got whenever he and Y/n were pitted against each other. Whether it was in class, love confessions, being favorited, or literally anything else.

He just enjoyed winning over her and the look on her face every time she lost.

“Soccer is probably the most attractive sport.” Huening Bahiyyih said as she and Y/n were sitting on the field bleachers, watching the soccer game go on. “Hiyyih-ah, what has gotten into you. Clearly badminton is the most attractive sport.” Y/n scoffed.

“You’re only saying that because Park Gunwook plays soccer. As much as you hate him you can’t deny how cute he is.” Hiyyih tried to argue.

“Park Gunwook is my enemy.”

Y/n said, Hiyyih shrugging her shoulders and turning her attention back to the game. Park Gunwook walking off of the field to get a sip of water.

Y/n was watching him with an expression of hatred on her face. Gunwook saw her and waved, being awfully polite just to piss her off.

“Ugh, I despise him.” Y/n looked away and tried to find another player to pay attention to.

—

“Y/n,” Mr. Shin called out before she was able to leave class like her pears. “I need to talk to you. Don’t worry, nothing bad.” Y/n sheepishly smiled as she walked up to his desk.

“I need you to tutor another student, Kim Danbi from class 1-3. You’ll meet up tomorrow after school in the library.”

“Tomorrow?” Y/n hesitated to ask. “Can’t I do it this weekend or something?”

“Y/n, we already scheduled it for tomorrow. It’s the only time she is free and she really needs your help so it’s settled.”

“Ah, okay. If she really needs it then.” Y/n laughed nervously. “Have a good day.” She bowed before leaving.

Shocked to see Park Gunwook waiting outside by the door. “What.” She said as he stared at her for a little. “Nothing.” He said before walking into the class she had just left.

Y/n couldn’t do a tutoring session tomorrow. She hated how her teachers would just schedule sessions for her without even asking if she was free or not. But she loved how good it’ll look in her record.

Everyone knew Jeon Y/n’s life was boring, they had just assumed she was always free.

“Hiyyih,” Y/n approached the girl in the lunch line. “Can you do me a favor tomorrow?” She asked as food was put on her tray. “Is it difficult?” Hiyyih asked as the two walked down the room of the cafeteria to go to the table the two always sat at.

“No, I just need you to pick Hayun and watch her tomorrow. Mr. Shin scheduled a session for me again. I asked if we could reschedule but we couldn't.”

“Sure, I love hanging with Hayun.” Hiyyih agreed. “He seriously needs to stop scheduling sessions for you without letting you know.”

“I know, but I feel so bad if I don’t tutor them. And they’ll look so good on my record. I need to get a scholarship before Gunwook does.”

“What’s up with you and Gunwooks rivalry, it’s so silly.” Hiyyih laughed at the ridiculous words coming out of Y/n’s mouth.

“It shouldn’t matter who gets a scholarship first or who tops the class.”

“It matters to me.” Y/n slightly glared at her best friend. “We’ve been in a rivalry since middle school ever since he decided to steal Kim Dayeon from me.”

“Yah, this is all because you and Gunwook both liked Kim Dayeon at the same time?” Hiyyih chuckled at the thought. “He would laugh in my face whenever Dayeon would choose to do something with him.” Y/n sulked.

“It’s my middle school trauma and my revenge is being better at anything he does.”

“Last time I checked you’re absolutely shit at soccer.”

“Okay so I can learn, soccer can’t be that hard?” She shrugged her shoulders. “I can sign up for that school fundraiser game and beat him in a couple matches.”

“Well that’s surely a goal.” Hiyyih mumbled. “I have months to practice, the fundraiser isn’t till may.” Y/n said.

“Hi, sunbaenim.” A junior of the girls bowed and put down a carton of milk on Y/n’s plate. “Thank you for agreeing to tutor me today! I’m so sorry I couldn’t get you a second milk carton.” She turned to Hiyyih and apologetically shook her head.

“It’s okay, I don’t mind.” Hiyyih smiled at the girl. “It’s no problem, it’s what I do.” Y/n responded to her Junior.

“Thank you again!” Kim Danbi said before making her leave.

“Why do our juniors seem scared of you?” Hiyyih asked. “What do you mean?” Y/n slightly tilted her head in confusion. “I mean, it was hard to not notice the tension.”

“How?” Y/n didn’t notice any tension between the two.

“She was looking down the whole time and I saw her hesitating on coming up to us earlier in the corner of my eye.”

“I’m not sure, she’s probably just shy.”

—

Y/n was waiting in the library for Kim Danbi. She hoped this session went by quickly so she could go home and to take care of her little sister.

“Hi, Sunbaenim.” Kim Danbi sat down in the seat across from Y/n. “Hi.” Y/n smiled and started to pull out books from her bag.

“What topic do you need help with?” Y/n, Danbi pulling her pencil case out. “Just english.”

“Good, It’s one of my best subjects. Hopefully I can teach you quickly, if we need a few more sessions that’ll be fine. It’ll just cost 20 each session.”

“Alright.” Danbi smiled, ready for the session to start.

“Okay, what do you mainly need help on?”

“I have a book assignment due this week. I read the book but I’m having trouble writing an essay for it. I heard you were really good at writing essays and you were recommended by a lot of teachers so I wanted to ask for your input and to help me improve.”

“Alright, it shouldn't be too hard. What book were you assigned?”

“All the bright places.” Danbi pulled the book out and Y/n’s eyes shined a little. “I love that book.” Y/n smiled.

“I remember doing that assignment last year, do you have the same essay assignment or a different one?”

—

“Gunwook-ah, do you have to take so long?” Gyuvin complained as Gunwook was picking out a couple books he needed for an assignment.

“If you wanna go to practice soon you can.” Gunwook hummed. “I’m not forcing you to stay.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to leave you here alone.”

“I’ll be fine.” Gunwook chuckled. “Alright, I’ll see you.” Gyuvin patted his back before leaving the library.

“This is decent, you just need to focus on the emotion. Right now it’s like you’re half-assing it. I don’t mean that in a rude way, I mean it in a way where when somebody else reads this they’ll feel like you didn’t get your point across. Put more detail into it.”

Y/n and Danbi could be seen from the gap of books on the bookshelf. Gunwook listened for a little while. Y/n was good at english and knew how to express emotions with words, he’ll give that to her.

“Hey, actually. Captain is mad right now, so I don’t want to get yelled at.” Gyuvin pops up from behind, startling Gunwook. “You scared me.” Gunwook’s hand rested on his heart from shock.

“What are you looking at?” Gyuvin peeked into the book gap. “Oh, Y/n? That’s a little creepy.”

“It was for a second, I’m not a creep.”

“Oh yeah? Remember the times she was tutoring and you would—“ Gyuvin was trying to rest his hand on the bookshelf but misplaced his hand, knocking down books making themselves seen.

“You make it seem like I did something bad, I just left her juice cartons in her basket without her knowing.” Gunwook whispered and frantically fixed the books.

“I need to check these books out, wait outside for me.” Gunwook gently shoved Gyuvin in the direction of the exit.

“Fine.” Gyuvin put his hands up in defense, almost tripping over a book. “And please stop making noise.” Gunwook sighed.

—

“Unnie! Did you know Hiyyih-Unnie likes mint choco, she’s just like you! You guys have terrible taste.” Hayun spoke as soon as Y/n walked into the house. “Yah, mint choco is amazing.” Y/n scoffed as she hung her bag up.

“Did you eat already?” Y/n asked as she opened a snack cabinet. “Yeah, Hiyyih-Unnie made me a snack.” Hayun and Hiyyih were sitting on top of the island.

“Promise me it was a real snack and not just ice cream.” She glared. “Yes it was.” Hayun groaned.

“Okay, I trust you. Did you call mom and dad today?”

Y/n’s parents were on business trips all the time. They worked as Retail buyers and were always traveling for two weeks twice a month.

“Yes, they asked where you were and I told them you had a tutoring session. They want you to take a break from tutoring. They think you need time to yourself.”

“Believe me, I think so too.” Y/n groaned.

—

Kim Dayeon and Jeon Y/n used to be close friends. Nothing bad happened for the two to stop being close friends, they just drifted apart. Y/n likes to blame Park Gunwook for it because he was like a knife that split a piece of bread in the middle of their friendship.

He had gained an interest in Kim Dayeon and Y/n didn’t like that, no one would. Especially since Y/n’s only friend was Dayeon at the time and she had a secret thing for her, who wouldn’t?

Everyone thought Kim Dayeon was cool, she played basketball in her free time, her parents ran a popular sushi restaurant, and she was class president for a year.

She was funny and nice to everyone. There was just nothing you could dislike Kim Dayeon for.

Park Gunwook made it his goal to get close to Kim Dayeon and to do that he had to hangout with her any chance he got and that was hard since Y/n was with her all the time.

He swears he didn’t mean to make them completely drift apart—only for a little. He found Y/n funny when she would get mad so he would tease her about Dayeon wanting to hang out with Gunwook and not her behind Dayeons back.

Park Gunwook honestly doesn’t dislike Y/n as much as people make it out to be. He thinks they would actually be good friends if they tried, but the two were just equally as competitive. Y/n still had a grudge on him and Gunwook’s life got more interesting once their little rivalry started.

Actually, once he did become closer to Kim Dayeon he realized his interest in her were just pure lies. He actually didn’t like the girl that much, he just thought she was cool and thought he had a crush on her.

But once Y/n was out of the picture it was odd. Y/n wasn’t there to complain, sulk and pull that pouty face to Kim Dayeon that he would see every friday when they argued on who should hang out with Dayeon.

Jeon Y/n completely stopped talking to Kim Dayeon. Yes, it is partially her fault that she and Kim Dayeon don’t talk since she had dropped her out of nowhere but she still blames Park Gunwook since he was the reason Kim Dayeon rarely had time for her.

If he was being completely honest he had a tiny tiny interest in Jeon Y/n. But it would be embarrassing for him to admit to anyone, especially since the two have a known rivalry and “hatred” for each other.

“I wonder how Y/n handles all those tutoring sessions, she has at least three a week.” Dayeon wondered.

Her and Gunwook were hanging out outside by the soccer field.

“I don’t know. She probably has some super ability to teach struggling kids who don’t give a damn about their grades.” Gunwook was kicking around a soccer ball as Dayeon watched.

“Are you gonna sign up for the soccer game fundraiser this year? You should do it.” Gunwook suggested. Dayeon has always said she’d sign up for them but she always ends up not.

“You just want to beat me in a game of soccer.” Dayeon chuckled. “Which is unfair, considering the fact that you are literally our school's star player.” Dayeon rolled her eyes.

“I heard Y/n’s signing up.” Dayeon heard this from a random girl in the bathroom. Everyone was intrigued by her and Gunwook’s rivalry.

“Y/n’s trying so you should try.”

“As if, that’ll be so awkward.” Dayeon sighed. “We haven’t talked in like five years. I wonder if she’s different from back then.”

“Five years is a lot. She probably has changed. I don’t know, I really only talk to her when I wanna tease her about my test score or piss her off.”

“You’re an ass. As if you didn’t torture her enough in middle school.”

“I am not.” Gunwook gasped. “Her reactions are just so funny. When her eyebrows come closer to each other, her eyes shine with hatred and her pouty face she’s had since middle school.”

“That’s a very detailed description for someone who supposedly hates her.” Dayeon had a slight expression of concern on her face, she was shocked at how detailed Gunwook got.

“It’s just very memorable.”

“Sure.” Dayeon just agreed. She knew Park Gunwook could never have pure hatred for anyone.

When she found out about Gunwook’s intentions she was not surprised to say the least. It was obvious. She missed Y/n a lot but she knew it’d be hard to rebuild that friendship. One thing about Y/n is that she knows her worth and knows what’s bad and what’s good for her.

The feeling of jealousy she got with Dayeon and Gunwook was bad. So she stopped talking to Dayeon.

Dayeon stayed close with Gunwook and eventually learned a lot of stuff about him. About how he’s such a big baby despite his intimidating appearance.

—

“Did you hear about that new guy today? I heard he’s cute.” Zhang Hao asked as soon as he sat down in his seat next to Y/n. “It’s only 7 in the morning, how could I have heard of him?” Y/n yawned. “Did you not get sleep?” Hao asked. “You know that’s bad for you, I don’t care about what you were studying for. Sleep and your health is more important!”

“I was not studying.” Y/n pouted. “I was making tutoring notes actually.”

“Even worse.” Zhang Hao was about to speak again but the teacher walked in with a student beside her. The new guy.

“Quiet please. We have a new student.” Ms. Nam said as she pointed to the boy next to her. “Introduce yourself please!” Ms. Nam said joyfully.

“Hi, I’m Ricky Shen and I just recently moved from China.”

“You can sit right behind Y/n and Hao! Please raise your hands!” Ms. Nam said pointing to their direction as the two raised their hands.

“Hi.” Ricky said to the two as he sat right behind Y/n. “What region are you from?” Hao turned around in his seat and asked. “Shanghai.”

“Cool, I’m from Fujian!” Hao smiled. “If you need any help or a "guide ", come to us. Or maybe just me, Y/n is always busy.”

“Oh, are you like the class president? That’s a busy role.” Ricky asked. “I’m not.” Y/n turned to face him. “Park Gunwook is the class president.” Y/n scanned the room to find him staring at her. “The one staring at us.” Y/n pointed out.

“Oh, I see. Why are you so busy then? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“I just study a lot.” Y/n laughed nervously. “She’s downplaying herself, Y/n’s ranked number two in this class and she has this really good reputation with teachers so they send all the struggling kids to her so she can tutor them. Now she spends three days a week tutoring and stays up late at night making notes for them.” Hao just spoke like he told a whole life story.

“It’s kinda messed up in a way.” He shrugged his shoulders. “You could’ve just said I tutor kids. I think you broke Ricky.”

Ricky was confused and lost. Not actually, it just seemed like he was. It was just a lot of information to process.

“Why don’t you say something about not wanting to tutor them? Or that you’re already busy?”

“Oh she does, but she has this rivalry with the class president and she wants to get a college scholarship before him and tutoring looks good on her record so she suffers the pain and sucks it up.”

“At this point you're telling my life story to him.”

“At least he’ll be filled in and not confused. You and Gunwook’s rivalry is kind of the best part of this school. It’s so funny when you guys fight.” Hao teased.

“You guys are crazy.” Ricky laughed, but it wasn’t a loud chaotic laugh like most people. It was a quiet one. Y/n liked that. Ricky seemed like a quiet observer.

“If you think we’re crazy just wait till you meet the soccer team.” Hao hummed. “Are they bad?” Ricky asked. “No, they’re just kinda chaotic—more crazy off the field, y’know? The other day Kim Gyuvin literally knocked books off of the shelves by accident because he misplaced his hand. I don’t know how he’s one of their best players when he's usually so clumsy.”

“And the other day they almost caused a ruckus at the vending machines because it was jammed and Han Yujin was so determined to get his snack he held the line up.”

“And one time Kim Jiwoong flirted his way to get free snacks from the snack bar.”

“That sounds like something I’d do.” Ricky laughed. “They usually only do it to Kim Jiwoong. If it happens to anyone else they’re either really lucky or just extremely attractive.” Y/n explained.

“I think they’ll let you get free snacks. You’re handsome enough.” Y/n looked at Ricky. She found him attractive. He seems sweet as well so that’s a plus. “Hook us up if it works.” She joked.

—

Park Gunwook was upset. Like angry, upset. He wished he had lost all his hearing in his left ear cause all he could hear all class was Y/n laughing with Zhang Hao and Ricky.

He didn’t think Ricky was that funny, so why was Y/n laughing so hard.

“Why are you so upset? You don’t even like Y/n.” Dayeon asked. She was testing the waters, she wanted to know Gunwook’s response knowing in reality he does like the girl.

“Because—they were being distracting. She was laughing so much, they all were! What could’ve been so funny.” He made an excuse.

“I heard Ricky’s getting popular. I’ve heard he also plays basketball, maybe I’ll see him in the courtyard later. I’ll tell you if he’s funny.” Dayeon

“That’s not helpful. You laugh at anything, and since Ricky is mega attractive you’ll just laugh and giggle at everything.” Gunwook sighed. “Oh,” Dayeon laughed, “Are you just jealous that Ricky seems to be so funny and attractive that all the attention will be taken away from you.” Dayeon spoke.

More like the attention of Y/n would be taken from him although he never had it…

But he was also upset at the way she ignored him and didn’t even brag or flaunt her test score which was the best one in that class. The first thing she did was put it in her bag and walk away with Ricky.

“Why would I be upset that the attention isn’t on me?”

“Maybe because you’ve had the attention of others your whole life and this one time it isn’t so you’re upset. I don’t blame you, if I had gotten all the attention growing up and then suddenly someone took that away from me I’d be upset too.”

“Okay, way to take a dig at my heart.” Gunwook glared at Dayeon. “I’m okay with attention not being on me for a couple days.”

“Bullshit, it's a couple of hours not days.” Dayeon argued. “Besides, I heard Ricky’s nice, you’ll probably turn out to really like him.”

“We’ll see.”

—

“Hi,” Gunwook approached the lunch table Ricky was sitting at. Y/n, Hiyyih, and Hao were also sitting at the table. “I’m Park Gunwook, the class president. I didn’t get to introduce myself earlier.” Gunwook smiled as he held his hand out for a handshake.

“It’s okay, I’m Ricky.” Ricky smiled back and shook his hand. “Do you like it here? I hope Y/n hasn’t grown an attachment yet and sulks when someone else hangs out with you.” Gunwook jokes.

Ricky was confused.

“What’s your problem?” Y/n scoffed. “I’m just joking,” Gunwook said as he turned to Y/n. “Forget what I said.” He turned his head back to Ricky.

“I like it here, everyone’s welcoming.”

“That’s good. If you need anything I’m always here.” Gunwook said before walking back to his usual lunch table where his soccer team and more of his friends sat.

“What was that?” Dayeon asked. “Just introducing myself to Ricky.” Gunwook said. “Y/n looked mad. What did you say?” Taerae asked. “It’s nothing. I was just teasing her.”

“Give the girl a break.” Gyuvin suggested. “She already has so much on her plate with tutoring and her little sister, she does not need you teasing her.” He scolded Gunwook.

“We all know why Gunwook’s teasing her, he just wants her attention.” Dayeon spoke out. “Oh my god, are we still on this topic? I thought we were just joking?” Yujin gasped, the group had always joked about Gunwook and Y/n if they had been together.

“It’s still just a joke—it’s nothing.” Gunwook shushed at Dayeon. “Ignore what she said.”

“What are you guys doing after school?” Gunwook asked, trying to divert everyone’s attention to his question. “Well, we have practice and then after that I have my tutoring session.” Yujin answered.

“I’m free after practice.” Gyuvin said, and a couple of ‘Me too’s followed by.

“Dayeon?” Gunwook looked at the girl, in a questioning tone. “I’m free, what are we gonna do?”

“Let’s get something to eat.” Gunwook suggested. “Where to?”Gyuvin asked. “The usual convenience store, duh.” Gunwook scoffed. “Boring. Get money, stop being broke.” Taerae groaned.

“Unless you want to pay for all of us at a nice restaurant then shhh.” Gunwook nodded his head. “Yup. I can barely afford money for the vending machine.” Yujin agreed.

“Yujin, babes you can’t afford anything. You use your cuteness to get everything.” Dayeon called him out. “And I’m proud of it!” Yujin huffed.

—

“How was practice?” Dayeon asked as the group all walked into the convenience store they went to daily. “Hi, Yejun!” Dayeon said as the others waved to the cashier. “It’s like you guys live here, coming here everyday.” Yejun laughed to himself.

Yejun was a student that attended the same school as them, they didn’t have any classes with him but always saw him working at the store.

“It’s in our budget and just so good.” Gunwook placed his items on the counter and waited for the others to come to the front. “How are you?” Gunwook asked. “Good as always, it’s been a slow day.” Yejun sighed, “Did you guys just come back from practice?” He asked.

“Yeah,” Gunwook sighed. “Coach is getting tougher on us, I just hope we win our next game.”

“Hi.” Taerae dragged out as the rest of them placed their items on the counter. “Wow you guys are hungry.” Yejun said as he saw the amount of food on the counter.

“Coach is driving us crazy.” Yujin pouted. “He held us an hour later.” Yujin sulked. “Well, I can’t do much but wish you guys luck on your next game.” Yejun said.

“Oh—by the way, Y/n is here. Please don’t cause a ruckus, I don’t want to disturb the couple over there.”

“Got it.” Gunwook said as he grabbed his bag of his food. The group of friends went towards the seats they usually sat at. There was a couple sitting down a couple seats away from them as Yejun said, and then there was Y/n who was sitting down across from Gunwook’s eyesight. Her head propped up in the palm of her hand. There were books and papers scattered on the table, she was just staring down at the papers.

Y/n looked tired and drained. Gunwook grabbed a Choco Pie and walked over to her table. “Hi, you look tired.” Gunwook said as he dropped the snack on the table. Y/n slowly picked her head up. “It’s because I am.” Y/n rolled her eyes. “What is this?” Y/n asked, picking the snack up.

“A Choco Pie, duh.” Gunwook rolled his eyes. “I know what a Choco Pie—why are you giving me this?”

“You look like you need it.” Gunwook admitted. “Thanks…people have just been coming to get tutored consistently.” Y/n sighed. “It’s so tiring, like I have a life too.”

“Jeon Y/n having a life, something I’d never imagine.” Gunwook chuckled, Y/n looked up and stared at him. Gunwook could see that she hasn’t been in the joking mood due to the lack of comebacks towards him. “Uh—just ask to cancel them or ask for just one student.” Gunwook coughed, clearing his throat.

“You don’t think I’ve tried? Mr. Shin especially keeps sending his students to me for tutoring sessions. It’s so stupid and tiring, at this point I’d rather start selling my notes.” Y/n rambled on and on.

“I could help you.”

“Really?” Y/n’s body jolted up, she was now sitting with a good posture.

“No, I just wanted to tease you.” Gunwook grinned. “I’m also very busy.”

Y/n groaned and quickly shoved all her papers and books into her bag. While she was storming out books and pages fell out but she embarrassingly ran back in with pink rosy cheeks as she picked up her stuff.

—

Y/n was seen sleeping and slacking off in class recently. She had tutor sessions on top of tutor sessions every hour of the week. She could never catch a break.

The bell rang. “Have a good lunch.” Mr. Shin said. Y/n got up a little later than everyone else, shoving her books into her bag. “Y/n, I need to speak with you.” Mr. Shin spoke out, making her stop in her tracks.

Y/n closed her eyes and prayed she wouldn’t get into much trouble. “Yes?” She slowly turned around. “What’s wrong? You’re slacking, you barely passed this test.” Mr. Shin placed her graded test on his table.

“Nothings wrong…,” Y/n tried to find the right words. “Don’t lie to me, Y/n.” Mr. Shin asked firmly. “It’s nothing really—I’m just tired. I’ve been doing a lot.”

“You need to learn how to manage your schedule. Make some time for sleep and studies. No time for fun.” He scolded her. “I’d have time if I didn’t have so many tutoring sessions.” Y/n muttered under her breath. She was honestly hoping he’d hear her.

“Jeon Y/n-ah. Are you talking back? Say what you said out loud.”

“I said, I’d have time if I didn’t have so many tutoring sessions.” Y/n spoke proudly. “Y/n-ah, you tutor because it’ll look good on your applications. You asked me to send students that needed help to you. If you keep this up—.” He picked up her low test score and waved it around, “You’ll never get accepted.”

“Get yourself together, you’re a great and smart student. Don’t waste it.”

Y/n would be lying if she said she was fearless, because she’s not. The cold and confident persona she put out was mostly just an act.

Jeon Y/n was confident and did have a cold personality. She was confident in her ability to stay on top of the school's ranks and almost always had a cold and moody expression on her face.

But she wasn’t just all that. She had fears like everyone else. She feared not being accepted into a good school, she feared failing, she feared disappointing others, most of all she feared not being on top. She wanted to be the best, second place was not enough. Which was the reason her stupid rivalry with Park Gunwook lasted this long.

Park Gunwook didn’t mean to listen to their conversation, he had left his notebook in the room and needed to get it. Y/n and Mr. Shin just so happened to still be in there. He could’ve left but he was way too intrigued once he heard Shin yell at Y/n.

“What the hell!” Y/n jumped as she was met with Park Gunwooks face. “Why are you always here to witness bad moments?” Y/n groaned and stormed off.

“Y/n—wait.” Gunwook grabbed the fabric of her sweater, making her lose her balance a little. “Let me help you tutor.” He said with no hesitation. “Funny. I’m not falling for it again.”

“No seriously, let me help.”

“I don’t want your pity.” Y/n walked off before Gunwook could say another word.

Gunwook sighed.

—

“Hi, Y/n-sunbaenim.” Y/n’s junior bowed. “Hi. Are you ready for today?” Y/n asked. “Yes, I am! I think I’m starting to understand it better!”

“That’s good.” Y/n said, her attention turning to something else. One of the juniors she tutors just walked into the library. “Hyunki, what are you doing here? Our session is tomorrow.” Y/n told the girl as she sat down a seat away from her.

“Oh, Mr. Shin assigned me a new tutor!”

“Oh, is something wrong with my tutoring? Do you know who it is?” Y/n asked, she wondered why Shin suddenly decided to switch Hyunki’s tutor.

“There’s nothing wrong, I honestly don’t know why he switched my tutors. And no, I’m not sure who I got switched to.” Hyunki nodded her head. “I just hope he's good!”

“He?” There were currently no males who tutored at the school, it was all females who volunteered until now. “Yeah, it’s a guy.” Hyunki confirmed. “Oh, Okay. Then he must’ve just signed up to be a tutor.”

“Hi!” Park Gunwook said enthusiastically as he approached the table. “S-sunbaenim.” Hyunki stood up so fast she almost got whiplash. She bowed to him, bowing pretty low to hide her rosy cheeks. Most juniors admired Park Gunwook and thought he was handsome. Hyunki was one of those juniors.

“What are you doing here?” Y/n asked, her eyebrow slightly raised. “I’m tutoring Hyunki!” Y/n’s jaw almost dropped.

“You’re tutoring now? Can’t you just let me have my own thing.” Y/n groaned. “No.” Gunwook chuckled and had a teasing smile on his face.

Gunwook was helping Y/n without Y/n knowing he was helping her. She had just thought it was another attempt at trying to one up her.

—

“Hao, you won’t believe it.” Y/n said as soon as Hao picked the phone up. “Oh my god, really?!” Hao sarcastically gasped. “What happened?” He asked seriously now. “Gunwook started tutoring today. He’s literally coming for my neck. Especially since he saw my argument with Shin about it.”

“First he steals Dayeon, my top spot, and now my whole life!” Y/n said dramatically. “Your whole life?” Hao questioned. “Tutoring takes up all my time, it might as well be my life!”

“You’re overreacting. It’s not like he’ll steal your scholarship.”

“Why would you say that?” Y/n scoffed. “I’m being serious. Gunwook might be an ass to you but he wouldn’t purposely steal your scholarship.”

“Gunwook’s not that bad. He just teases a lot, especially you. He was definitely worse in middle school.” Hao huffed. “But he’s better now. Remember that short period of time where random juice boxes would show up in your bike basket after you tutored?”

“Yeah, what about it?” Y/n was wondering where Hao’s statement was going. “It was Gunwook doing it. I caught him one day. And then remember when it stopped? He probably got scared of getting caught.”

“That was him? Oh my god…no wonder the juices tasted so good! It was probably some expensive ass juice.” Y/n scoffed. “I can’t believe him. He’s so confusing, he teases me all the time but pulls this?”

“I think he actually doesn’t dislike you at all. I mean—he did start tutoring to help you.”

“To help me? That’s crazy, Hao. Why would it be helping me?” Y/n exclaimed, she was pacing around her room now. “Because you said that he always shows up at bad times, like when you and Shin are arguing. He for sure heard your complaints and wanted to help you without you knowing.”

“I mean, he did ask to help me but I said no.” Y/n thought for a second. “I thought he was just fucking with me.”

Hao scoffed. “God, your stupid rivalry is so pointless. You guys could be friends by now if you weren’t so stubborn.”

“Now, you’re blaming me?”

“Am I wrong?” Zhang Hao was not wrong at all. Y/n was stubborn, stupid stubborn. “You think everything is a competition and he just follows along with it looking for entertainment.”

“Even if he started tutoring not to help you and did it for himself you shouldn’t look at it as him trying to steal ‘your thing’. If he’s doing this to look better on applications, don’t be so hypocritical. Because you’re doing exactly that. You’re tutoring to look better on applications, are you not?”

Y/n sighed, “You’re right.” She really hated when Zhang Hao was right, and Zhang Hao is always right. She was glad he was there to bring her to her senses though, she appreciated it.

“I always am.” Hao teased, Y/n scoffed at this.

—

“Hi, Hiyyih.” Y/n said as the tall blonde approached her. “How was your grandparents' house?” Y/n asked. Hiyyih and her siblings spent the weekend at their grandparents house. “Fun, I ate well.”

“I bet you did.” Y/n chuckled. “I gotta go to the gym. Wanna come with?” Y/n shut her locker. “What for?”

“The soccer tournament, duh.” Y/n playfully rolled her eyes. “Oh—you were being serious about that.” Hiyyih’s eyes widened to surprise.

“Why would I lie about that?” Y/n asks seriously. “Because, last time anyone checked you are absolutely shit at soccer.” Hiyyih said with honesty. “If you're doing this simply because of your stupid rivalry with Park Gunwook then don’t do it.”

Y/n had been hearing that a lot recently. She even hears it from people she’s never talked to before.

“It’s not. It’ll look good on my applications. And besides, Jake is gonna help me out.” Y/n sighed.

“Jake? As in, puppy cute aussie jake?”

“Yes—puppy cute aussie jake—why do you call him that?” Y/n’s eyebrow furrowed.

“Because he’s like a cute puppy, and he’s australian.” Hiyyih shrugged her shoulders. “Jake is the only Jake at our school, who else would I be talking about?” Y/n shook her head.

“So—you’re still seriously doing this?” Hiyyih asked as they walked into the gym. A bit crowded from all the signups. “Yes, if Jake Sim said he’d teach me then I’m gonna accept.” Y/n whispered, not wanting anyone else to hear.

“He—he said that!” Hiyyih’s eyes widened. “Yes, Jake Sim would do anything to teach what he loves.” Y/n scoffed. “Oh god—is Kim Dayeon signing up.” Y/n wavered.

“She could be, or she could just be standing with Park Gunwook and Han Yujin.” Hiyyih put some serious thought into it. “Like I am with you.” She shrugged her shoulders. “We’ll see soon, c’mon.” Hiyyih dragged the two into a line.

Park Gunwook, Han Yujin, and Nishimura Riki always signed up for the fundraiser ever since it became a thing. You would think the whole soccer team would but that would just be a disadvantage.

Kim Jiwoong just had better things to do, Kim Gyuvin liked to watch the game rather than play in it once in a while, Jake Sim would actually help people practice since he wouldn’t sign up, Kim Hyunjin had better things to do like karaoke with her close friends, Lee Heeseung would rather do the basketball fundraiser than the soccer one, Hwang Intak also liked to watch rather than play more, Yang Jungwon would actually watch Heeseung play the basketball one, and Kim Sunwoo, the captain who’s in his last year was just far to competitive that he knew it was best not to sign up.

“Okay, Gunwook is taking a sheet of paper…and then Yujin…and now…”

“Okay you don’t have to narrate what’s happening.” Y/n interrupted her. “Okay, she isn’t signing up. You’re good!” Hiyyih gave her best friend a thumbs up.

“So, what team do you want to be on?” Hiyyih asked. There are four teams, red, blue, pink, and green. The sheet of paper they pick before signing up is the team they’ll get, then they’ll sign their name and grade onto the teams sheet.

“Whatever team Park Gunwook is not on.”

“Did Zhang Hao’s little speech not get through to you?” Hiyyih asked and Y/n groaned out loud. “He told you?” Y/n sighed. “Of course he did. Y/n, seriously the rivalry has to stop. What if you both end up getting into the same college and it lasts those four years as well? Your professors are not gonna put up with that shit.”

Y/n huffed. “I don’t know, I have to figure my own shit out first.”

“Hi.” Y/n said as it was her turn to pick up a small sheet of paper. “Red.” Y/n said as she turned her paper around to show Kim Hyunjin and Lee Heeseung. “Sign this sheet right here!” Hyunjin said as she handed Y/n the clipboard with the sign-up sheet.

Y/n scanned the paper to look for a specific name.

Kim MinJi | Grade 12

Moon JaeYun | Grade 12

Huh YunJin | Grade 12

Sim JaYoon/Yoon | Grade 12

Nishimura Riki/Ni-ki | Grade 11

Sohn YoungJae/Eric | Grade 12

Park GunWook | Grade 11

Kum JunHyeon | Grade 12

Naoi Rei | Grade 12

Hirota Riki/Maki | Grade 11

She wrote down her name and quietly sighed.

“Thank you so much.” Y/n smiled and placed the clipboard back down before walking off.

“So?” Hiyyih was waiting to know what made Y/n sigh. “We’re on the same team.” Y/n said bluntly. “I’ll have to be in his range of area for five hours a day for three weeks.”

—

“Hello, is everyone here? Looks like it.” Mrs. Jeo said as she quietly did a head count. “Perfect, all eleven of you are here!”

“I am Mrs. Jeo! I am the red team's coach and representative! Let’s have a safe and fun practice! Please grab a ball and pair up into four groups of two and one group of three!” Mrs. Jeo introduced herself.

Y/n was gonna walk over to Kim Minji and ask if she wanted to be partners but that was before she felt a tug on the sleeve of her shirt.

“Y/n, be my partner.” Park Gunwook said as the girl turned around. “Why?” Y/n asked, eyebrows furrowed. “Because I asked. And who wouldn’t want to be partners with the star player?” Gunwook gassed himself up.

“Me. I don’t want to.” Y/n scoffed.

“Too late. Everyone else already has a partner.” Gunwook hummed and gently grabbed her shoulders, turning the girl around to see everyone else paired up.

“Let’s grab a ball.” Gunwook gave her a taunting smile. “Oh! and these will be your partners for the three weeks! Pick someone you get along with!” Mrs. Jeo said cheerfully.

Everyone’s eyes went to Gunwook and Y/n. Gunwook who had a smile on his face and Y/n who had facepalmed.

“Kill me.” Y/n complained. “Not just yet!” Gunwook gently passed the ball to Y/n by kicking it.

“You don’t seem like a soccer girl? I remember hearing you don't do any sports actually.” Gunwook tried to make conversation with the girl as the two practiced simple passing.

“I’m not. I’m doing this for the hell of it.” Y/n excused. “For the hell of it or just to compete against me? Unfortunately we’re on the same team.” Gunwook teased.

“What made you think you could’ve beaten me anyway? No offense, but you don’t have any experience in soccer.”

“Jake Sim said he’d teach me.”

“Ah~The Jake Sim effect.” Gunwook laughed. “He always does this, instead of signing up he helps the students who absolutely suck at soccer.”

Y/n can’t even take offense to that because it’s true, she absolutely sucks at soccer.

“Tell you what, I’ll teach you if you tell Jake you don’t need to his help anymore.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Because I’m the star player, duh.” Gunwook rolled his eyes. “Yeah, but are you forgetting Jake Sim was a runner up for star player before you took the title?” Y/n reminded him.

“Yeah, but then again he isn’t star player, so.” Gunwook huffed. “Jake Hyung is good but c’mon.” Gunwook dragged the last word out.

“What do I get out of it?”

“Super awesome soccer skills, duh.”

“I could easily get that from Jake Sim.”

“Okay—then, super awesome soccer skills and more time with me.”

“More time with you? As if anyone would like that.” She scoffed. “Hyunki sure does.” Gunwook laughed. “Hyunki’s just got cute boys running in her mind, of course she’ll want to spend time with you.”

“Awh, you think I’m cute? You’re kind of cute too, Y/n.” Gunwook pinched her cheek. “You’re pushing it.” Y/n said sternly.

“Listen, I’m not so bad to be around. I’m sorry I gave you hell back in middle school and—the last three years.” He sheepishly chuckled. “Anyways, the point is that I’m only here to win so the money can go to the charity of the team's choice.”

“Just put some serious thought into it. I won’t force you to.”

—

Y/n put some serious thought into it. Maybe Gunwook coaching her could help them get along. But, would she really do that? No.

“Hi, Jake.” Y/n said as she walked up to the boy on the field. “Hi, Y/n. Are you ready?” He asked as he kicked the ball around and did a few tricks. “Okay, Showoff.” Y/n teased.

“What, you don’t wanna learn a few tricks?” Jake chuckled. “I only need to know the basics.” Y/n shrugged her shoulders.

“The basics? Please, anyone could teach you the basics. Why’d you ask me?”

“Because I know you would’ve said yes. And I know your teammates are busy doing other stuff.”

“I heard Gunwook offered to teach you, why didn’t you take the offer up.” Jake asked. “You know why.” Y/n squinted her eyes as the sun was in her way. “How’d you know anyway?” Y/n asked.

“Please, Park Gunwook and Jeon Y/n. You guys are practically a twitter hashtag trending every week.”

“I can’t stand Gunwook, why would I take his offer up if I can’t even stand him?” Y/n sighed. “Gunwook isn’t that bad. I understand you guys have a bad past but when you get to really know him he’s like a big baby.”

“Park Gunwook, a big baby?” Y/n laughed.

“You love exposing me, don’t you Hyung.” A voice was heard from behind. “Hi, Gunwookie.” Jake teased.

“Whatta’ doing here?” Jake asked. “I can’t watch you guys practice?” Gunwook responded. “Didn’t say that…just kind of…awkward…you’re just gonna watch?”

“I mean, yeah? Everyone’s busy so I’m just gonna watch you guys.” Gunwook shrugged his shoulders. “Help me teach Y/n.” Jake gestured to Gunwook to come closer. “You’re her partner anyway and on the same team.”

“I do end up teaching you after all.” Gunwook whispered as he walked past Y/n.

—

Instead of seeing Gunwook for five hours a day for the next three weeks it turned into six. It was gonna be a living hell for her.

She thought so at least.

The game was soon and they were almost three weeks into the practices plus Jake and Gunwook giving her extra help and it wasn’t so bad actually.

She started to see why people had been so obsessed over Park Gunwook. He was actually sweet and considerate. He would bring extra drinks for the three, towels to wipe sweat, and always brought an extra sweater just in case. He always offers it to Y/n when it gets colder later in the day.

She would be lying if she said that her heart didn’t beat twice as fast those couple of weeks they spent together. But she would never admit that publicly. It was too embarrassing for her and her reputation.

Gunwook pushed aside their rivalry and taught Y/n how to play soccer fairly without any arguments, or trying to start any.

“Y/n, how many times do I have to tell you. Kick harder. You’re not consistent with it.” Gunwook sighed. “I don’t care if you hit me.”

“Trust me I want to hit you.” Y/n groaned. “So why aren’t you doing so?” Gunwook scoffed. “If you get injured, our team is basically in jeopardy.” Y/n was reaching with this, there were plenty of decent Soccer players on their team.

“Please, like you’d even be able to injure me.”

“You’re really testing my patience, Park Gunwook.” Y/n stepped closer to the boy.

“Okay—that’s enough.” Jake pulled the two apart. He found it funny at first but had to stop before it got out of hand. “Take five.” Jake nervously laughed and pushed the two in the direction of the bleachers.

“You guys need to stop this shit. You can’t argue on the field during the game.” Jake scolded the two.

“We got it, Hyung.” Gunwook sighed. “Do you really? This shit has been going on for years, when is it gonna stop?” Jake rarely ever scolded the younger, and Gunwook hated it when he did.

“Yes, we do. We’ll try and get along.”

—

The two ‘got along’ you could say…?

They tried their best not to argue and stay civil with each other and it actually was kind of peaceful for a while.

It was the day of the games and Y/n’s heart was pounding with pressure and anxiety. Her leg shook up and down and her hands shaking and knuckles cracked consistently.

“You’ll do good. Don’t worry. Once you’re on the field you’ll get an adrenaline rush and do your best to keep up and win.” Gunwook assured the girl.

“How do you know that’ll happen?” Y/n asked. “We’re more alike than you think, Y/n.”

“We have the same desire to win and be the best. We get nervous and then a sudden adrenaline rush hits.”

Park Gunwook and Jeon Y/n had a lot more in common.

“Hi, Hyung! Hi, Y/n Noona.” Yujin said cheerfully as he skipped to the tent the red team was resting at.

“Hi, Yujinnie.” Gunwook ruffled the youngest hair. “Hi.” Y/n waved quietly.

“Did you see the lineup?” Yujin asked. “If you win against blue and I win against green we get to play a game against each other!”

“I did. Good luck, you should head back to your tent now. Games are starting soon!” Gunwook patted Yujin’s back.

“Good luck, Yujin.” Y/n said as well. “Thank you.” Yujin said with a big smile on his face.

Gunwook sighed. “I love that kid. A shame that he’ll lose.” Gunwook chuckled. “But he does have some rage on the field. Better watch out for him.” Gunwook warned Y/n.

“The real person you watch out for is Gyu Duho,” Ni-ki pointed out. “He plays dirty. When we had gym together he would break all the rules in the sports. He even sent a girl to the nurse’s office because he shoved her too roughly.”

“I heard he didn’t even apologize either.” Yunjin chimes in. “He’s a weirdo, and it’s drizzling so better be careful out there.”

The Pink and Green team match was up first.

It went smoothly and slid right by. It was a good match, Green (Yujin’s) team won.

Now it was time for the Red versus Blue match.

“Okay Red team! Huddle up before we go on the field!” Mrs Jeo clapped her hands and everyone huddled up.

“I want you all to do your best, have no worries and just have fun!” She exclaimed.

“Go! Go! Go!” She cheered as the team ran into the field.

“Y/n,” Gunwook said as the two were walking to their positions. “Just flow with it and don’t stress.” He patted her shoulder.

“Okay.” Y/n breathed out. “What if I do something horribly wrong and we lose?”

“I’ll bring the team to victory.” He shrugged his shoulders.

“Now we have the Red versus Blue! On the Red team they have Star Player Park Gunwook and Nishimura Riki of the soccer team! Do you think Red or Blue will win?” Danielle Marsh, the sports announcer said.

“Looks like Park Gunwook and Jeon Y/n are getting along? That’s a first.” Danielle’s little laugh could be heard on the mic.

“Is that Park Gunwook’s arm around Y/n’s shoulder? Looks like the two are getting close!”

“Let’s start the match!”

The start of the match went by smoothly as well. Y/n tried her best to keep up and actually didn’t do so bad. Y/n has only seen just a couple of clips of Gunwook on the field but actually being there next to him, playing the game with him, and passing the ball to him, felt different.

It was finally halftime and Y/n was so happy she survived the first half without being as bad as she expected herself to be.

“Y/n, you’re doing good. I don’t know why you were so worried.”

“This is all new to me.” Y/n gulped her water down. “Of course I’m nervous.” She huffed. “I understand why people are so obsessed with the star player now.” Y/n confessed.

“Yeah, and why’s that?” Gunwook smirked. “I can see your passion for soccer on the field. It’s—the realest version of you, y’know?”

Gunwook hesitated for a bit before nodding his head in agreement. “Yeah.”

—

The second half of the game went even smoother now that Y/n got the hang of it.

The Red team won against the Blue team and now the final match is happening soon.

She was nervous about this last match though, she’ll have to face Gyu Duho.

Going against Green was a little more difficult for Y/n. Especially since they had more experienced players.

“Guys, be careful out there. It’s raining a little harder now so the grass is gonna be slippery, Green has players who are more experienced and rough. Put your health first.” Mrs. Jeo patted all their backs before they ran to the field.

“Looks like we got Red and Green going against each other now! For the first time it looks like Park Gunwook and Han Yujin are going against each other! Will the rage of the youngest win or the star player pull through?!”

“Star Player, blah blah blah. All they talk about is Gunwook, does that not upset you?” Duho scoffed as he and Ni-ki were battling for the ball. “Why would it? Gunwook Hyung is good. They’re not lying.”

“Still, it doesn’t bother you that they never mention you or anyone else?”

“It doesn’t. Our team is good but he makes our team better. You’re not gonna get under my skin.” Ni-ki scoffed.

“Hyung!” Ni-ki shouted as he passed the ball to Gunwook.

Gunwook kicked the ball into the goal, scoring the first point.

“Park Gunwook scores the first point for team Red!”

“Hyung. Duho’s trying to get under our skin, watch out. I’ll try and let everyone know.” Ni-ki said quickly as he passed by Gunwook.

Y/n didn’t know what was happening but she could see Ni-ki spreading some sort of word.

“Y/n.” She felt her shoulder being touched. “Duho’s gonna try and get under your skin. Don’t fall for it.” Gunwook warned the girl. “What’s he gonna say?” She asked. “Probably some shit that’ll make you mad.”

“You’re doing good, don’t let him distract you.” Gunwook teased the girl by squeezing her right cheek. “Ugh.” Y/n wiped her cheek. “Be careful with the grass.” He said before running back.

It was like Y/n was cursed because right after that Gyu Duho and her were fighting for the ball.

“How does it feel to be Gunwook’s shadow? Always second while he’s first.” Duho chuckled. “He's a star player, you’re nothing. He’s top of class, your top two. He's the class president, and you're just the girl who lost to him.”

“He’s Kim Dayeon’s best friend and you used to be her best friend.”

Duho knew he struck a nerve, it was perfect timing for him to steal the ball and ‘accidentally’ kick the back of her leg making her slip.

Y/n didn’t move, it wasn’t like she was injured super bad she just needed to take a breather…on the grassy muddy ground.

“Looks like Jeon Y/n is down! Is she okay…do we need to get a medic? Omg.”

“We can’t tell if that was a foul or not. It could’ve been an accident.”

“Looks like she’s good! She’s up but I don’t think she’ll be able to continue, looks like she’s limping. Park Gunwook is running to the scene and…helping Y/n!? He’s got his arm around her shoulders helping her to the sidelines. I think this is the end of their rivalry.”

“Are you okay?” Gunwook asked in a panic tone. “I’m good, I think my ankles just sprained, I’ll be fine. Just—win the match and best Gyu Duho.”

“What’d he say to you?”

“Some shit that got under my skin.”

Yujin ran over to Duho. “Dude. What was that for? We play fair on the field.” Yujin scoffed. “Dude? Where’s your respect for your senior?”

“Respect? Respect my ass, bro.” Yujin scoffed before he ran to the sidelines to check on Y/n before the match began again.

“I’m so sorry about that, noona.” Yujin apologized frantically. “Don’t be sorry. It was Duho’s fault. He’s such an ass.”

“I can purposely be bad so you guys can win!? Or not pass the ball to him.” Yujin suggested. “Don’t do that, I want us to win fairly.” Gunwook said.

“Just play how you would usually play.”

—

Red team celebrated their win with pizza at a restaurant in the city.

“Gyu Duho sucks, like he can literally kiss my ass.” Y/n said out loud. “Y/n! Don’t speak so inappropriately.” Mrs. Jeo scolded the girl.

“But you are not wrong.” She muttered. “What he did tonight on the field was unfair and wrong! What he did to our Y/n should not have gone over everyone’s head!” Mrs. Jeo complained.

“Look at her.” Mrs. Jeo pointed to Y/n who was sitting with a straight face. “Oh—I’m like good actually, I can handle this pain, but thank you for the awesome speech.” Y/n nodded her head.

“Thank you, Y/n.” She put her hands on her chest like her heart was warmed. “Now excuse me, I have to go to the ladies room.”

“So like, what did he say to everyone on the field?” Huh Yunjin asked. “If he did—he was gonna say some shit to me but then I told him to shut up.”

“He was talking about Gunwook being the star player and how he overshines the soccer team but I said it didn’t bother me.” Ni-ki shrugged his shoulders. “Do I? I don’t mean too…” Gunwook asked and went quiet. “I mean—yeah but it’s good. Our team is good but you make it better. It’s not your fault you were gifted with awesome soccer skills.”

“I wasn’t gifted.” Gunwook awkwardly chuckled. “I just practiced a lot when I was younger.”

“Uh—what did he say to you Y/n? If you want to share it.” Gunwook made sure Y/n felt comfortable in the environment, knowing she rarely ever went out. “I’ll—I’ll tell you later. When I feel like it.”

—

Gunwook offered to give Y/n a ride and she accepted, who wouldn’t? It was cold out and Y/n could barely walk without a limp.

“About earlier, when I said I’ll tell you what Duho said to me.” Y/n broke the silence. “Yeah, what about it?” Gunwook’s head tilted slightly.

“Duho was comparing us. He asked how I felt about being in your shadow. He used every example he could, like how you’re ranked one and I’m ranked two, and how you’re a star player and I do nothing, how you’re class president and I was the girl that lost to you. The one that really hit a nerve was when he mentioned Kim Dayeon and how you’re her best friend now and I’m not.” Y/n wasn’t planning on telling him what he had said due to it actually being true.

“I tried to stop caring about what happened but I can’t. Especially since me and Dayeon used to be so close. To be honest, I had the fattest crush on her.” Y/n laughed out loud. “You did?” Gunwook gasped. “Was it not obvious?”

“I just thought you guys were really close and you didn’t want to lose her.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I’m sorry, again. For all that shit I did in middle school and for the other shit I did that may have hurt you.”

“You’re not a shadow of me. We’re both good at our own stuff. Like how you put so much time into tutoring others. I literally want to quit tutoring so bad right now.” He chuckled. “I don’t know how you deal with everyone. Hyunki literally keeps trying to flirt with me.”

Y/n scoffed. “Almost every one of my students is scared of me, I don’t know why.”

“Maybe it’s the straight face you’re pulling right now, it’s a little intimidating.” Gunwook waved his hand to her face.

“Can we settle this? I don’t want to have any more bad blood with you anymore.” Gunwook asked, looking at the girl as he stopped at a red light.

“Yes, oh my god I don’t know how long I could keep this stubbornness up. Like I’m so sick and tired of trying to one up you.” Y/n sighed. “I’ll admit it and say I just hated not being first and took that out on you, but after hearing—from literally everyone on how stupid our rivalry is I’m finally starting to see their point.”

“I never hated you Y/n. I liked to tease you back then because of how cute your little angry face was. It’s still cute now.” Gunwook confessed to the girl.

“Haha—Thanks.” She laughed awkwardly, she wasn’t used to compliments like this. Especially from someone she’s been feuding with for years.

—

Y/n and Gunwook didn’t talk during school, they would only wave to each other in the morning and that was it. They had settled their bad blood but that didn’t mean they were friends.

“So wait—you guys are cool now?” Hao asked. “Yeah, we settled the rivalry but we aren’t friends. It’s kind of embarrassing to me.”

“How is that embarrassing?” Hiyyih asked. “Because everyone knows how much I’ve slandered him over the years, I can’t be caught as a hypocrite!” Y/n spit out. “So now everyone will only think we wave to each other because he helped me on the field.”

“So, you guys are cool…but you guys aren’t friends? So you’re pretending like you guys didn’t have a heart to heart?” Ricky asked, confused with Y/n’s shenanigans as always.

“Yes! Exactly that!”

“And why again?” Ricky asked again. “Because I can’t be caught being a hypocrite all close to him when last week I was literally talking shit about him and his goofy ass highlighter jersey.” Y/n huffed. “But when we had practices he was actually so nice to me I can’t believe I slandered him so much in my lifetime.” Y/n sighed. “And I actually admire his passion for soccer after seeing him play on the field in real time.”

“So you’re hiding secret feelings for him because you don’t want to be caught as a hypocrite?”

“Yes.”

“Y/n that’s so stupid.”

“I’ve never heard something so dumb.”

“Are you for real?”

All three of her friends said to her.

“Yes, I am for real! My reputation is in jeopardy if this ever gets out!”

—

“So you guys are good now?” Kim Dayeon asked Park Gunwook. “Yeah, we’re good. But I don’t think she wants us to be friends.”

“Why?”

“Because all we do is wave to each other…that’s weird.” Gunwook looked around the room trying not to make eye contact with Dayeon. “Why are you looking around the room? I’m right here?” Dayeon asked.

“Okay, don’t tell anyone this but—we had a heart to heart but it was about some shit that Gyu Duho said and he mentioned you so you were in the conversation.”

“Okay…what did he say?”

“He said some shit about Y/n being my shadow and he even went as far as mentioning how I’m your best friend now and she’s not…that’s why she froze up and he took the opportunity to trip her.”

“He said that!? That’s so evil, oh my god.” Dayeon gasped. “I’ll beat his ass—why would he even say that.”

“Because he was trying to get under all our skins! It was such a jerk move.”

“Where is he right now?” Dayeon asked, standing up from her seat. “Woah—Dayeon you’re not seriously gonna beat him up—right?” Gunwook asked as the girl started walking out the classroom.

“No?” Dayeon’s eyebrow furrowed. “I’m just gonna beat him at basketball, duh.”

“What are you gonna do 1v1?”

“No, you’re crazy, I’m good at basketball but Duho’s better. That’d be setting me up for failure.” Dayeons eyes widened. “I’ll get a team of four.”

“Good idea.”

“I know. I get Heeseung and Kim Hyunjin, and you get Ricky.”

“Woah Woah—Ricky? I’m getting Ricky?” Gunwook stopped Dayeon before she could run off. “This is not a time to be jealous, Park Gunwook.”

Dayeon ran to find Heeseung and Hyunjin. Gunwook stood there for a while before deciding to go find Y/n. Because wherever Y/n was, Ricky was with her.

Ever since Ricky started school here he’s been attached to Y/n, Hao, and Hiyyih at the hip. Besides the times he’d go and play basketball with Dayeon or anyone else at the school court.

“Y/n.” Gunwook said, gasping as he reached the lunch table where Y/n, Hao, and Hiyyih were sitting. “Where’s Ricky?”

“He’s at the basketball court, why?” Y/n asked, confused. “Okay good—he’s already there.” Gunwook said in between breaths. “There is about to be an epic awesome amazing 4v4 game going on. Let’s go.” Gunwook grabbed the girl's arm and she grabbed Hao’s and Hiyyih’s.

“Guys—can we walk at least?” Hao shouted.

—

“So why do we need to be here?” Y/n asked, slightly squinting her eyes since the sun was in her way. Gunwook switched spots with her so the sun wouldn’t blind her. “Dayeon’s gonna 4v4 Gyu Duho and Ricky’s apart of her team.”

Hao’s eyes slightly widened and his head turned to look at Hiyyih. They were shocked at Gunwook’s kind gesture. “Let’s sit on the bleachers. I heard news about it is already spreading.” Gunwook said as he dragged the three to the first row of bleachers.

“Why is she having a basketball match with him?” Y/n asked. “I told her about what he did to you at the soccer game.” Y/n’s jaw slightly dropped. “She’s doing this all because of what he did?”

“Yeah, Dayeon still cares about you, y’know? She never stopped.” Y/n went quiet. “It’s about to start.” She was grateful that changed the subject.

“For reals though, who do you think is gonna win? Because everyone on Dayeon’s team is good but everyone on Duho’s team is also good.” Hiyyih asked. “C’mon, Dayeon got Ricky. Ricky’s so good.” Hao scoffed. “Yeah, did you hear how everyone wants to go against Ricky because they couldn’t believe how good he was.” Y/n said next.

“Is he that good? I’ve never seen him play.” Gunwook asked. “Really?” Y/n gasped. “He’s so good, he’s like your level of good but basketball.” Y/n nodded her head.

Gunwook did not like being compared to Ricky at all. Yeah the guy was probably really good, but Gunwook just didn’t like being compared to him. Especially since Y/n was over here gassing him up.

“Am I really that good, Jeon Y/n.” Gunwook teased. “Hmm…You wish.” Y/n flicked his forehead. “This is about Ricky, stop looking for attention.” She flicked his forehead again.

—

“Can’t believe they won.” Duho was complaining to his teammates. “They aren’t even that good, especially Dayeon, can’t believe we got beat by a girl.”

“Say that shit to my face. You wanna act all big and tough during the soccer game but won’t even talk shit to my face?” Dayeon spoke out, she heard them talking as she walked by.

“What’s the soccer game got to do with this?” He scoffed, walking closer to her. “Nothing, it’s just you played really unfairly and I thought you needed a loss in life.”

“That Y/n girl deserved it, she’s so annoying.”

“Don’t speak about her like that.” Dayeon scoffed in disbelief.

“Yeah? What are you gonna do about it if I do?” Duho pushed Dayeons shoulders. “Hit me I dare you.” Dayeon pushed him back.

“Woah! Woah!” Gunwook pulled the two apart. “Guys not here.” He held Dayeon back.

“Dayeon, not now.” Gunwook pulled the girl aside.

“Hello?? You never get into fights, what was that?” Gunwook asked. “It was nothing, he was just being an ass.”

“Let’s just—Let’s go cool off at the convenience store.”

—

The silence was loud and awkward as the six of them stared at each other.

“Thank you again, Dayeon. You didn’t have to.” Y/n thanked Dayeon for the third time this day. “Oh, I had to. Gyu Duho is an ass and deserved to lose. And can you believe he was being misogynistic?” Dayeon scoffed. “He really couldn’t believe he got beat by a girl.”

“Two girls, Kim Hyunjin’s insane.” Ricky chimed in. “Two! Two! and he was so baffled. What is so hard about believing girls can be good at basketball.”

“He’s just like every other jerk, it’s not surprising.” Hao shrugged his shoulders.

“My brother is here, Y/n are you sure you don’t need a ride?” Hiyyih asked as she clicked her phone off. “Yeah, I literally have a tutoring session in a couple minutes.” Y/n checked the time on her phone.

“Okay, get sleep tonight and please for the love of god do not overwork yourself.” Hiyyih blew a kiss to the girl before leaving the shop with Hao and Ricky behind.

“Bye, guys. We’ll see you whenever.” Ricky said as Hao waved bye.

“Y/n, I hope we’re cool now.” Dayeon said as she sat up. “We’ve always been ‘cool’, I never had a problem with you.” Y/n chuckled. “It’s you, I had a problem with.” Y/n pointed her finger towards Gunwook.

“You were just so fun to tease, Y/n-ah. If you saw your face and reactions, you would do the same.” Gunwook patted the girl's head. “I hope we’re cool too.” Gunwook smiled.

“Yeah, if you keep this shit up that chance is very low.”

—

Gunwook started a part time job at the convenience store to fill his time. Also because he would see Y/n fall asleep every Tuesday and Thursday when she tutored those two students after school and he could play hero and wake her up.

Seriously though, he wished the girl would stop falling asleep because something bad can happen to her.

Gunwook sighed as he walked in for his shift, pulling his uniform vest over his head before walking over to Y/n.

“Y/n.” He gently shook the girl awake. Y/n groaned as she awoke from her sleep. “Gunwook, you could’ve just let me sleep.” She sighed. “And what let some weird guy take advantage of you? Certainly not.” He scoffed.

“I know you would’ve beaten his ass for me.” She mumbled as she put her belongings on the table away in her bag.

“Eat something before you go, on the house. As always.” Gunwook offered. “Thanks, but my sister is at home waiting for me. I need to eat with her.”

“Bring her food then. Just pick anything.”

“Why are you being so nice?” Y/n asked. “Remember, I want us to be cool. Although I really do want to keep our top student rivalry still a thing…” He said hesitantly. “Don’t worry. I want to as well.” Y/n chuckled. “You know how embarrassing it’ll be when people start calling me a hypocrite. Especially since last week I called your stupid sweater ugly and everyone heard me.”

“You’re just a fucking hater it was not ugly.”

“You’re right, I am a hater. The sweater was kind of cute. I just wanted to insult you.”

“Awh, want to borrow it?”

“Yeah, so I can burn it!”

—

“Y/n.” One of Y/n’s classmates called her name out. “Hm?” Y/n looked up from her paper. “What’s going on with you and Gunwook? I feel like I haven’t seen you guys argue all week.”

“Oh—bad week? I don’t know.” Y/n awkwardly laughed. “Yeah, bad week! I just don’t feel like wasting my breath on him.”

“Oh, okay.” Her classmate just nodded her head before turning back to her paper.

Y/n stopped by the convenience store to talk to Gunwook. “Hiiii.” Y/n dragged out. “Hi, you’re in a good mood?” Gunwook’s eyebrow raised. “I am, because look!” Y/n pulled out her test paper. “I overheard you tell Yujin your test score on the english test and when I had his class and got mine that was when I found out I did better, hah!”

“Blah blah, we all know you’re better at English.” Gunwook shushed the girl. “Oh, and people are starting to get suspicious of us. We need to start arguing again.”

“We argue, like—all the time? We literally argued about milk earlier today.” Gunwook shrugged his shoulders. “Yeah, that’s not selling it.” Y/n huffed.

“What, you want me to go back to calling you out on everything? That was too mean of me, and I don’t want to upset you again.”

Y/n just stared at the boy and sighed. He was being so sweet it was hard for her not to fall for him.

“C’mon, I’m never losing the “i don’t give a fuck” war. I don’t care anymore. Let’s go back to arguing like we used to. People aren’t buying what we’re selling right now.”

“Okay, but if you get upset it’s on you.” He pointed at the girl. “Hi, welcome to GS25.” Gunwook said as he heard the bell of the door go off.

“Today’s kind of slow. My shift might end early, want to hang out after?” Gunwook asked as he was organizing the lip balms on the counter. “Just us two?” Y/n hesitantly asked. “If you want it to be,” Gunwook shrugged his shoulders. “You can invite Bahiyyih. I know guys are really close.”

“Sure then.” Y/n nodded her head. “Is it fine if I also invite Gyuvin?”

“Why wouldn’t it be? If i’m inviting Hiyyih you should be able to invite Gyuvin. But,” She dragged out the last word. “If it’s my house we’re hanging out at he better not trash it, you know how clumsy he is.”

—

Y/n shut her phone off and put it in her pocket. “Hiyyih is busy, she can’t make it. What about Gyuvin?” She asked as Gunwook took off his vest. “Gyuvin can’t make it either, he’s with some family right now. What about Hao? I know Ricky and Dayeon are playing ball right now.”

“He’s on a date with Sung Hanbin.” Y/n said. “It’s just us then, we don’t have to hangout…”

“Wait—he’s on a date with Sung Hanbin?” Gunwook’s eyes widened. “Like Sung Hanbin? Sung Hanbin, the one he’s been in a rivalry with since the beginning of the year?”

“Who else? Yeah, I was surprised too. Hao told me they were assigned as partners for bio and they started to get along and then they randomly kissed one night while researching.” Y/n shrugged her shoulders as she clutched into her tote bag that hung on her right shoulder.

“Do you still want to hang out?” Y/n watched as Gunwook was cleaning up for the next person's shift. “Yeah, we can. I’m good with hanging at your house, don’t you have to watch your sister anyway?” Gunwook said as he threw away the cleaning wipe and grabbed his bag.

“She’s fourteen, she can watch herself. I just get worried sometimes so I have Hiyyih hang out with her.” Y/n and Gunwook walked out of the store and walked to his car.

“It’s late, let’s hang out at your house.” Gunwook beeped his car and opened the door for Y/n then walked to the drivers side. “But it’s late, like you said. Don’t you have to be home too?” Y/n put her seatbelt on.

“My parents are out for dinner right now, I have time to kill.”

“Oh, okay.” Y/n nodded her head. “What are we gonna do? I hope it’s not awkward, I don’t really have anything fun at my house.”

“Talk? We can talk. I like talking.” Gunwook nodded his head. “Half of the time you tell me to shut the fuck up?? What do you mean you like to talk?” Y/n scoffed and her jaw dropped.

“I just like to get on your nerves.” Gunwook chuckled.

—

“Hi, Hayun.” Y/n said as she took her shoes off at the door, Gunwook as well. “How was school?” She asked as she hung her tote bag on the hooks on the wall, walking into the kitchen where her sister was at, with Gunwook behind her. “It was good. Who’s this?” Hayun asked as she looked up from her phone screen.

“Park Gunwook.”

“Park Gunwook? That guy you’re always shit talking about? Why is he here, don’t you hate him?” Hayun gasped. “It’s—complicated. We’ve squashed that beef.” Y/n’s head slightly tilted. “Mhm, because that’s totally something you’d do.” Hayun’s eyebrows furrowed. “Listen, I know. We’re cool but we still act all mean to each other around people.” Y/n sighed and slapped Gunwook’s shoulder.

“Gunwook, this is my little sister Hayun. She’s just like me so watch out.” Y/n cheekily smiled. “Wow, twice the torture for me.” Gunwook said sarcastically. “I’m not as bad as my Unnie. Don’t worry.” Hayun scoffed.

“Did you call mom and dad?” Y/n asked as she jumped to sit on top of the counter. “By the way, snack in this cabinet. You can take anything, just not my cookies.” Y/n hit the cabinet next to her. “Yeah, we talked about you.”

“Bad or good?” Y/n sucked in her breath. “Good, of course. But they’re seriously worried about you. When are you gonna stop doing these academic lessons?”

“Like—uh, never. Duh.” Y/n scoffed. “My teacher is on my ass bro, whenever I ask to get less sessions he talks about how I’m a good student and should keep this up in order to get into a good college.”

“Man, fuck college.”

“If mom heard you say that right now you’d get bitch snapped.” Y/n’s eyes widened. Hayun and Y/n were alike in many ways but Hayun didn’t have any big plans in life whilst Y/n did.

“But she isn’t.”

“Where are your parents? If you don’t mind me asking.” Gunwook cleared his throat. “They’re retail buyers. So they’re always out on business trips. Like all the time.” Y/n dragged out the last word. “At this point this is just me and Hayuns house.” She shrugged her shoulders.

“Don’t you guys ever miss them or something? I feel like I’d go insane if I didn’t have my mom with me, she helps me with everything.”

“We do. But this happens so often we got used to it.” Hayun nodded her head. “Don’t have that concerned look on your face. Really, it’s nothing.” Y/n ruffled Gunwook’s hair. “Did you just ruffle my hair?”

“Yeah even that was weird for me.” Hayun had a face of disgust on. “I was trying to be nice.” Y/n’s jaw dropped. “Yeah, maybe don’t be nice.” Hayun teasingly smiled at her.

“Unnie, we don’t have anything fun here. Why did you invite Gunwook over?” Hayun groaned. “Because, we just both happened to be free? And besides, I don’t want to leave you alone. Gunwook said his parents are out for dinner and he doesn’t wanna sit at home doing nothing.”

“So you invited him here? Why couldn’t you guys just go get something to eat?”

“Yah, you already want to get rid of me? Are you secretly inviting boys over? Or even girls? Or even throwing parties?”

“Who do you think I am?” Hayun dramatically leaned onto Y/n. “I just wanted some friends over. Can I?” Hayun put her best puppy face on. “It’s late, your friend's parents are gonna let them come? I don’t care, I just don’t want someone’s mom to come lecturing me.”

“It’s only eight! It’ll be a sleepover!”

“Just let her, my parents rarely let friends over when I was her age and I almost rioted against them.” Gunwook suggested. “I’m not her parent, if anything bad happens I’ll get blamed.” Y/n scoffed.

“Please.” Hayun begged. “Fine, just clean up after yourselves.” Y/n gently shoved Hayun away.

“I knew you’d say yes! I already invited them over…they’re almost here.” Hayun confessed. “I know you did. I smelled popcorn the minute I walked in here. Y/n got close to her face and teased her by pinching her cheek.

“Can you guys hangout in your room or something?” Hayun shoved her sister away. “My room?” Y/n gasped. “Are you embarrassed of us?” Y/n turned her head towards Gunwook. “Do you hear this girl?” She scoffed.

“I’m embarrassed of you, not Gunwook.” Hayun said. “Whatever. Just have fun.” Y/n squeezed Hayun’s right cheek for the last time before gesturing to Gunwook. “Let’s go find something to do.” She said as she grabbed her cookies from the cabinet and led the way to her room.

“This is my room. Nothing impressive.” Y/n shrugged as the two walked into the off white colored room. “Damn, you might have more awards than me.” Gunwook chuckled as he saw the amount of awards hung up on the wall and displayed on the girls bookshelf.”

“Best badminton player?” Gunwook’s head tilted slightly as he saw the award on her shelf. “I didn’t know you played badminton?”

“Only for a little.” Y/n was setting her bed up for the two to sit on. “For a year when I was fourteen. I won the award and then I quit.”

“You quit? Why waste talent?” Gunwook asked as he looked back at the girl. “I’m an overachiever. I quit badminton to join the debate club so I can win a medal.” Y/n said. “Damn, you’re worse than me.” Gunwook laughed.

“I blame my parents.” Y/n chuckled. “They’re both overachievers who are perfect for each other.” She patted the spot next to her on her bed, gesturing for him to sit.

“They practically push everything onto me.” Her face scrunched up slightly. “I don’t even want to go to college that bad. My parents want me in medical school.” Gunwook sat on the bed next to her.

“I’m just doing everything because I’m told to, and achieving all that is kind of worthless but feels nice.”

“What do you want to do?” Gunwook asked with pure curiosity. “I don’t know to be honest. If I live life tutoring students then so be it.” She shrugged her shoulders. “It’s almost like it’s all I know now.”

“That’s not true. There must be something you do like, right?” He asked. “You seem to have no control in your life…no offense. It’s just you’re almost graduating soon and you don’t know what you want to do for yourself?”

“You’re so competitive with me over every academic thing but you’re not getting anything out of it. What if you go to medical school, you're rich but not happy?”

Y/n went silent for a second. Processing what Gunwook was saying.

“No offense taken. You’re right, I don’t know what I’m doing with life.” Y/n sighed. “What do you want to do?” Y/n asked to switch the subject to him. “I want to do soccer professionally, if that doesn’t work out I’ll train to be an idol, and if not that then I’ll go to college for Music.”

“I didn’t know you wanted to do that.” Y/n hummed and nodded her head. “I think you’d be a good idol.”

“I’ve never told anyone but Dayeon that, you have to promise to not tell anyone else.” Gunwook panicked and told the girl. “Don’t worry, secrets are safe with me.” She chuckled. “Do you dance too?”

“Yeah, I dance at this studio near my house.”

“Cool. I hope it turns out well for you. You’d be a good professional soccer player as well, it’s your specialty.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want that to be what people only know me for.” He complained. “Like how people know you for being the school’s official tutor.” He teased the girl. “God, I need to quit, but I make a fair amount of money from it.” She groaned and fell back into her pillows.

The two heard a couple of shrieks from the living room. “If they’re watching a horror movie it better be a good one and not some corny one for them to be screaming like that.” Y/n stood up and peaked out her door to check on the girls.

“They’re fine.” She shut her door and went back to lay on her bed.

“That’s good, at least you’re making money. Seriously, when is Shin gonna get off your ass.” Gunwook sighed. “When I told him I wanted to tutor to help you he almost picked a fight with me.”

“Really? How?” Y/n held herself up with her elbow. “He said that you didn’t need help, and said that I was already super busy with being class president and soccer.”

“Well, he’s kind of right. You didn’t need to do that.” Y/n hummed. “I wanted to help you.” Gunwook shrugged his shoulders. “I never really had anything against you, we’re just both equally as competitive and equally as stubborn.”

“Y/n, I mean it when I want us to be cool.” Gunwook nodded his head. “I know.” Y/n said hesitantly. “I’m still getting used to being friends with you.”

“I get it. Just be yourself around me—but not the one where we argue all the time.” He corrected himself. “It gets tiring arguing all the time.” He confessed. “I know.” Y/n had a slight face of disgustment.

“Wanna watch a movie? Or even listen to some music? You like kpop, right?” Y/n asked as she flipped through her CD folder. “Yeah, what do you have?” Gunwook asked as he watched the girl flip through CD’s.

“Same dream, same mind, same night.” Y/n pulled the album CD and put it into her CD player. “By Seventeen, do you listen to them?”

“Who doesn’t?” Gunwook scoffed. “If you don’t then I’ll just assume you’re a loser.” He chuckled. “You’re right, Seventeen is for the cuties.” Y/n agreed as she laid back down on her stomach. “Did you just call me a cutie, Jeon Y/n?” He teased the girl. “Hm, I called myself a cutie. If the shoe fits though.” Y/n mumbled, getting a little reckless due to her tiredness.

“This song is so nice and dreamy, I love it.” Y/n mumbled some more. “Don’t fall asleep on me.” Gunwook laughed as he saw the girl close her eyes for a while. “You’re right. That’d be awkward.” She said as she sat back up.

“It’s getting really late, are your parents still not home yet?” Y/n asked as she checked the time on her watch. “They should be there soon. I should get going as well.” He sighed. “I’ll walk you out.” Y/n stands up and throws a sweater on to walk the boy out.

“I’ll see you tomorrow? At the park, let’s watch Dayeon and Ricky’s game.” Y/n said as she slid her slides on and Gunwook put his shoes on. “Yeah, do you not have any sessions tomorrow?” He asked as the two walked outside to his car.

“I canceled all of them.”

“Woah? All of them? What will Shin say?”

“Screw what he says. I’m sick of his shit.” Y/n groaned. “I’ll see you, okay? Drive safe.” Y/n said.

“I would give you a hug but I feel like we aren’t that cool with each other yet.” Y/n said hesitantly. “Who said that?” Gunwook unexpectedly grabbed the girl by her waist and hoisted her up over his shoulder. “We’re gonna be best friends, Jeon Y/n!” Gunwook spun around in a circle as Y/n laughed and pleaded to get put down.

“Best friends, my ass.” Y/n genuinely laughed, trying to catch her breath. “Goodnight, I’ll see you tomorrow morning.” Y/n chuckled and punched his shoulder.

“Okay, bye.” Gunwook chuckled and finally got into his car. Y/n waved bye until his car was at the end of the street.

She turned around to see Hayun and three of her friends watching her from the window. She walked back to the house and slipped her jacket and shoes off at the doorstep.

“Unnie, was that your boyfriend?” One of Hayun’s friends asked. “No, do you guys think we’re together?” Y/n asked. “Yes! He lifted you up, and even spun you!”

“Yeah, we’re just friends.” Y/n nodded her head. “Don’t stay up too late.” She gave a small smile to Hayun and her friends before walking back to her room.

—

“Hi.” Y/n said as she and Gunwook approached Dayeon who was already with Ricky and Hyunjin. “Hi, you guys seem unusually close lately.” Dayeon pointed out as she pointed to Gunwook’s arm resting on Y/n’s shoulder.

“Yeah, ever since we first started playing games at this park.” Ricky spoke out. “What? Me and Gunwookie are friends now.” Y/n slightly gasped and teased the boy by pinching his cheek.

“She even called him Gunwookie, oh my god we’ve lost her.” Ricky jokes. “This is nice, we’re just not used to it.” Dayeon smiled, talking about the two getting along without any problems. “Trust me, it wasn’t easy for me to get used to it either.” Y/n chuckled.

“When are you guys playing?” Gunwook asked, squinting slightly due to the sun being in his eyes. “Soon. Is hiyyih or hao coming?” Ricky asked. “Hiyyih has a family thing and Hao is on a date.”

“Is Hao still talking to Sung Hanbin?” Dayeon asked, curious on the two’s relationship status due to their known dynamic between the two. “Talking? They’re practically dating now.” Y/n scoffed.

“That’s so crazy. They used to have such a huge rivalry, and now they’re giggling and probably shit talking together.”

“Honestly could be you guys.” Dayeon gestured at Y/n and Gunwook who were standing next to each other almost hip to hip by now. “Pft, no.” Y/n laughed as she took a step away from the boy. “Gunwook’s cute, I’m busy, dating just isn’t in my schedule.”

“So you admit he’s cute?”

“Yeah, I have no shame.” Y/n shrugged her shoulders and looked at the boy who was slightly red. Y/n slowly stopped caring about keeping their rivalry image up. She started to admit things that would’ve made her die hearing it months ago.

“What, I can’t call friends cute.” Y/n said as she saw the stares her friends gave her. “Ouuu, she just friendzoned you.” Ricky teased Gunwook as he patted his shoulder. “You’re cute too, Y/n-ah.” Gunwook ruffled her hair.

“Ugh, I hate you guys.” Dayeon groaned and walked away to the bleachers, the rest following her behind. “Sometimes I miss when you guys used to argue 24/7. People at school are starting to talk.” Dayeon mentioned as she sat down next to Y/n.

“I don’t care anymore, people can talk.” Y/n sighed. “Shin is getting on my ass about me canceling these sessions.” Y/n ran her fingers between her hair, getting it out of her face due to the wind. “I still have good credits and a good GPA, I’m not gonna fail yet it’s like he still wants me to do all this shit.”

“He’s making you do all his dirty work. Just quit it all together.” Hyunjin suggested as she stretched. “But I feel bad for the kids, they actually need help with their studies and Shin isn’t gonna help them with shit.” Y/n sighed.

“I’ll beg him to take half of your students.” Gunwook suggested. “That’s too much, I have like twelve students.” Y/n sighed. “We can split it equally, I take six and you keep six.”

“No, really it’s okay.”

“Y/n, you’re so stubborn just let him help you.” Ricky spoke out. “And so is Gunwook, if you two keep this up you won’t get anywhere.” Dayeon said.

“Fine.” Y/n huffed. “I don’t know how you’ll convince Shin to let you take half of my students.”

—

“Mr. Shin.” Gunwook walked up to his desk. “I wanted to talk to you about something.” Mr. Shin turned his attention to the boy. “What is it?” He asked.

“Wait, Y/n. Can you wait at your seat? I need to talk to you after.” Mr. Shin stopped the girl before she could leave the classroom.

“I wanted to ask if I can tutor more of Y/n’s students? Just half, she has six and I’ll have six. Just to take some things off her back.” Gunwook spoke.

“Why? Y/n is doing fine. Aren’t you super busy with class president duties and soccer? Aren’t you in the debate club too?”

“I assure you I can do this.” Gunwook assured the older man. “Have you noticed how much she’s been canceling?” Gunwook turned his head to the girl behind him.

Mr. Shin sighed. “That’s what I wanted to talk to Y/n about.” He gestured to the girl to come over to his desk. “Y/n, I was told you were seen at the park the other day. You told me you were sick, did you lie to me?”

“Uh—Yes, Mr. Shin.” Y/n said hesitantly. Thinking it was better to tell the truth now than to get caught later. “Why? You have such a bright future ahead. These sessions will help your application look amazing.”

“To be completely honest…I hate doing these sessions. The only good thing that comes out of these is students' grades are improving.”

“What are you saying? You don’t want to go to college? What about medical school? Your parents have spoken very highly of you and how amazing your future will be.”

“Yeah, a future they want. I don’t want to do any of that.” Y/n sighed. “I’ll continue doing the tutor sessions. Only to help the students out. Let Gunwook take half of my students, I have a life of my own. I don’t want to spend my last years of high school spending it in books. I want to make time for myself.”

“I’m not gonna quit it completely, I just want you to understand that I do not have all the time in the world to help other kids while I can barely help myself.”

“You’re good at negotiating, Y/n. Fine, Gunwook can take half your students. Next time tell me the truth. You guys can go now.” He shooed the two out of his room.

“That last part was a little dramatic.” Gunwook mumbled, only for the girl to hear. “I know, I needed to really sell it.” Y/n mumbled back.

—

“I love driving in the spring.” Gunwook shouted as they had blasted music playing through his car. “I love the wind in my face and the warm weather!” He shouted yet again.

“We’re getting stares.” Y/n laughed as she slightly turned down the music. “We’re blasting Seventeen, it’d be weird if we didn’t get stares.” He shrugged his shoulders, pulling into the school parking lot.

“I think it’s because you just drove me to school, not the fact that we’re blasting Seventeen.” Y/n chuckled as she unbuckled her seatbelt.

“Let’s go.” Gunwook turned his car off and unlocked the doors. “Wow, you guys truly stopped giving a fuck.” Hao laughed as the two approached the group of friends that hung around a pillar in the school’s courtyard.

“It was like that one Twilight scene that happened, where all the siblings walk out of the car.” Hiyyih said. “Are we that cool, Hiyyih?.” Y/n smirked. “Cool? Sure, I guess. Big impact? Yes.” Hiyyih laughed.

“I can’t wait to hear what everyone thinks of this.” Dayeon chuckled. “This might be even bigger than me and Hanbin.” Hao raised his eyebrow as he spoke.

“Right, especially since Gunwook and Y/n have had this rivalry shit since middle school.” Hiyyih nodded her head. “I hope they don’t bring up the fact that I talked shit about his pants last week.” Y/n mumbled slightly.

“You’re my biggest hater, y’know that?” Gunwook looked at the girl with widened eyes.

—

All day Y/n heard whispers around her. Either bad or good ones, there was no inbetween.

“Wasn’t she talking shit about him like three days ago? Something about his pants.”

“Yeah, and what about the time she called his sweater ugly? And her huge ass problem of always wanting to beat him at anything?”

“Yeah, she’s just a big fake. I hope he realizes that soon.”

“Y/n, if I beat you to the cafeteria you have to buy me three chocolate bars from the store.” Gunwook spoke out as he sat down in the empty spot next to the girl. “What do I get if I beat you?” Y/n asked.

“You get to borrow my awesome sweater you love.” Gunwook teased. “I might as well then just walk.” Y/n scoffed. “Fine, then you decide what you want.”

The two were waiting for the bell to ring so they could start the bet.

As soon as it did, they sprinted out of the room, they made sure not to bump into anyone on the way out of the room or down the stairs.

Their laughs and giggles were so loud like it was out on the intercom. “You’re more athletic than me, give me a break!” Y/n giggled as she grabbed onto his arm to drag him back and got the chance to move in front of him.

“Was that Park Gunwook and Jeon Y/n?” A classmate said as they saw the pair run past them. “I heard they were friends now, I didn’t believe it. But I guess they’re cool now.” Another one said.

“As expected! I won.” Y/n said as she touched the glass doors of the cafeteria. “Fine, you win.” Gunwook tried to catch his breath. “What do you want?” He put his arm around the girl and walked her towards the cafeteria line.

“Hm, give me some time to think about it.” Y/n nodded her head. “How did you guys not get in trouble for running? I jog in the hallways one time and I get detention.” Ricky said, cutting the people in front of him to get to the two. “Because it’s almost the end of the year, teachers don’t care.” Y/n smirked.

“Have you heard the whispers Y/n?” Ricky asked. “Duh. People are calling me fake. It doesn’t bother me much. I know me and Gunwook are cool with each other so I don’t really care.” She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, these people need to get over it.”

“Y/n’s just my biggest hater, I don’t really mind. It’s kind of cute, she’s like obsessed with me.” Gunwook sneered. “I am not obsessed with you.” Y/n chuckled. “You wish I was.”

—

Everyone started to get used to the fact that Y/n and Gunwook we’re friends now. The two did often still argue about test grades and stuff but it was nothing to the extreme. It was all jokes now.

Sometimes they even would do tutor sessions together and it went by smoothly. The two also had gotten more comfortable with each other, everyone else had noticed this as well.

It started with the little things, like Gunwook resting his arm on her shoulder, Gunwook leaning his head a little too close to Y/n’s shoulder, then giving hugs before saying bye, Gunwook’s teasing got ‘worse’, he would tickle and throw her over his shoulders.

Y/n didn’t mind, she actually quite liked her friendship with Gunwook now. It’s cute and heartwarming especially when you consider their bad past.

The two hung out a lot, even when they didn’t have anything to do they would just listen to Seventeen and talk or study in silence even. That’s how comfortable they were now, they could sit in silence and study with no ounce of discomfort in the air.

The two endearingly tease each other. They unconsciously flirt and it goes over both of their heads. Calling each other cute, ruffling each other's hair, squeezing one’s cheek, and tickling each other.

People started to think they were a couple and not friends. It was hard to believe really, everyone at school was shocked to see how comfortable and touchy the two were with each other.

“Y/n.” Gunwook groaned as he dramatically leaned into the girl sitting next to him. “What.” Y/n dragged out her word. “Why did you give me your worst students ever?” He said with a pout. “They aren’t bad, they’re just so in love with you that they can’t focus.” She laughed out loud.

“Now, go, you have a shift and I have a session soon.” Y/n pushed the boy off of her. “Fine, I’ll see you later.” Gunwook sighed and walked over to the counter.

After Y/n's session she fell asleep. She usually does but doesn’t worry because Gunwook is around the corner.

Y/n was shaken awake. “Gunwook? Is your shift over?” She mumbled as she slowly lifted her head up. “Oh—Sorry, do you need to sit here?” Y/n asked, suddenly standing up as she saw a man a few years older than her.

“Sorry, miss. You were sleeping and something bad could’ve happened.” The man gently put his hand on her shoulder, caressing it. “Heh, yeah.” Y/n awkwardly laughed as she shifted around slightly. “Uhm—thank you for waking me—my boyfriend is almost here!” Y/n looked at her watch. She gently pushed the man’s hand away but he put it back on her, going up and down her arm, slowly.

She knew Gunwook’s shift was about to end and had really hoped he would be quick to get his things together.

“Baby!” Y/n shouted as Gunwook came from around the corner. He was shocked, but quickly understood the situation as he saw the uncomfortable expression on the girl's face.

“Sorry for taking too long, how was your session?” Gunwook said as he pulled the girl into his arms and kissed her forehead. “It was good! I accidentally fell asleep again.” Y/n said as she put one of her backpack straps on her shoulder and put her other arm around Gunwook’s.

The two walked out of the store still arm in arm.

“God, that guy was such a creep.” Y/n scoffed. “He tried to act like some savior, saying he woke me up because something bad could’ve happened, then he started caressing my arm.” Y/n got the shivers.

“Please stop falling asleep after your sessions, especially in public places.” Gunwook expressed his concern. “I don’t want anything bad happening to you.” Gunwook locked eyes with the girl.

“Thank you, for helping me.” Y/n nodded and gave him a small smile.

“I’ll always be there to help you.”

—

For the past couple weeks Y/n has started to feel different around Gunwook. Not a bad difference, just a difference she wasn’t used to…

She started to notice how long their hugs actually lasted, how long his hands lingered in her hair when he’d get it out of her face due to the wind, and how many hours the two actually spent together on a free day.

She liked all those things mentioned. She enjoyed spending time with Gunwook, she enjoyed his hugs, and she enjoyed his lingering touches when he’d tease her or play with her hair.

She also started to notice the swirly butterfly feeling that spread throughout her body around the boy.

She really didn’t want to admit it but deep down she knew. She had started to take a liking for Park Gunwook, in the way where she wanted him to hold her in his arms for as long as he could.

“Y/n-ah, stop staring so hard.” Hiyyih broke Y/n’s focus on the field. “What, I can’t stare at him? He’s the star player.” Y/n turned her head to look at the blonde. “What’s going on between you two?” Hiyyih asked.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean literally almost all of us can sense the odd tension between you and him.” Y/n sighed at that. “So—yes I’ve been feeling a little odd around him. So what?”

“So what? So what about fixing that odd tension? Something bad didn’t happen, right?” Hiyyih asked with concern. “No, nothing bad!” Y/n rushed to say. “Okay, listen. I think I might have feelings for Gunwook in more than a friend way.” Y/n confessed.

“Fina-fucking-ly.” Hiyyih bursted out laughing. “Why are you laughing so hard? What do you mean?” Y/n was confused and lost.

“You're so oblivious. Gunwook has had such a huge crush on you for like—ever!”

“How? Did he tell you guys something?”

“Not exactly. Dayeon told me how much he loved seeing your cute little pouty face you make when you get mad. Why do you think he teases you so much?” Hiyyih had a smug smile on her face. “What if he doesn’t and that’s just his personality?”

“Just take the chance.”

—

Y/n has started to observe Gunwook’s behavior around her. She was confused on how there could be a chance that Gunwook did like her like that. He was so normal and calm around the girl, there was no sign of shyness at all, so how could he see the girl in that way?

“Gunwook,” Y/n said. Interrupting silence that was there. “Yeah?” He lifted his head from his notebook.

The two were studying in Y/n’s room.

“I heard something about you, and I don’t know if it’s true or not. I just wanted to ask.” Y/n said hesitantly. “What is it?” The boy asked. “Do you have a big fat crush on me?” Y/n said in a teasing tone to make it less embarrassing to ask.

“You wish I did!” Gunwook jokes and started poking at her torso with his pen. “No seriously though. I heard you tease me because you like my mad pouty face.” Y/n said seriously this time.

“Yah! Did Dayeon rat me out to you?!” Gunwook panicked. “So it’s true!?” Y/n laughed. “Ugh—I don’t—I don’t even know!” Gunwook spit out. “What do you mean you don’t know?” Y/n asked.

“I don’t know if what I feel for you is THAT.” Gunwook emphasized on the ‘that’.

“Kiss me then.” Y/n suggested, cringing at what she had just said. “Oh my god, ew I can’t believe you just said that.” Gunwook almost gagged. “What? It’s just a kiss.”

“Where is all this confidence coming from, oh my god.” Gunwook’s ears turned red. “It’s a win-win, we kiss and you figure out if you like me or not.” Y/n said.

“Do you just want to kiss me?” Gunwook asked, eyes slightly widened. “Oh my god, a girl is suggesting you kiss her and you still haven’t?” Y/n scoffed. “You’re so clueless.” Y/n shook her head as she mumbled. “Let’s just—forget about this.” Y/n went back to her book.

—

Y/n had been even more odd and off around Park Gunwook ever since that situation between the two happened. She tried not to distance herself but it failed. She happened to take in two more students to tutor to fill in her time so she won’t have any to hang out with the boy.

“I’m sorry, Gunwook. I have to tutor after school.” Y/n said apologetically. “It’s Friday, you don’t have any on Friday’s.” Gunwook knew Y/n’s schedule in and out. “I took two more students in. I have one at four and another at five.” Y/n nodded her head.

“Why would you do that? Didn’t you give me half of your students so you can have more time?”

“I don’t know. They were Danielle’s students but I know she is going back to Australia so I told her I can take them.” Danielle Marsh was another girl who helped tutor students.

“Are you planning to tutor students the whole summer too?” Gunwook jokes. “If I have too.” Y/n sheepishly chuckled. “Seriously? You should drop all the sessions this summer.” Gunwook said.

“Why?” Y/n asked. “I’ve got nothing better to do.” Y/n said. “Because we’re gonna be hanging out all summer, duh? And the whole crew as well.”

“Well—I actually have a soccer camp the first two weeks of summer.” Gunwook interrupted his own thoughts. “But after that we can hang out all day everyday!” He said with excitement. “I don’t want to take you away from hanging with your other friends. I heard you barely hang out with them anymore.” Y/n glanced down at the floor, not wanting to look Gunwook in the eyes.

“What’s up with you? You’re being weird.” Gunwook’s eyebrows furrowed. “I’m not being weird, it’s the truth. What about your other friends?”

“They don’t really care, they have their own lives, they’re busy doing their own things.” Gunwook was starting to get a little frustrated with the girl. “Seriously what’s up with you.” He scoffed.

“Nothing’s up.” Her shoulders shrug. “Something’s definitely up. Why won’t you tell me?” Gunwook gently shoved the girl's shoulder. “Because it’s so stupid, you’ll probably laugh at me and then walk away.” Y/n spat out and walked away in the direction of Hiyyih’s brother’s car before the boy could get a chance to say anything else.

—

“Dayeon, Y/n has been acting weird, have you noticed?” Gunwook asked the girl. “No, she’s normal around me. Why, is something up with you two?” Dayeon asked, looking up from her phone.

“I don’t even know. She’s being weird around me, I don’t know if I did something or if I said something.”

“Did anything happen before she started acting like that?” Dayeon asked. “Just—ugh promise you won’t tell this to anyone.” Gunwook sighed. “Promise.” Dayeon’s face slightly scrunched up.

“A few weeks back Y/n asked me if I liked her in more than a friend way. I said I don’t even know and then she suggested I kiss her. I just said some random shit because I didn’t want to kiss her and turn all red. Then she said “A girl is suggesting you kiss her and you still haven’t.” and said to forget about it. I listened to her and haven't thought about it.”

“Oh my god! You’re so pathetic, I can’t believe you did that.” Dayeon let out a mixture of a scoff and a laugh. “I thought she was just fucking with me.” Gunwook said. “Clearly she wasn’t. She wants to kiss you bro. Clearly she likes you.”

“Y/n is the type to shut down and give up when it comes to shit like this. Take the chance before she loses feelings. I heard this junior likes her, so get her before he does.”

—

Gunwook realized how distanced Y/n had been now that Dayeon had put that thought into his head. She had been getting awfully close to this junior she was tutoring. They had been hanging out on different occasions that did not in fact involve studying.

“Y/n,” Gunwook called out to the girl in a whisper, who was currently tutoring the said junior in the library. “Y/n, can I talk to you real quick?” He asked, Y/n looked a little annoyed at the boy’s interruption.

“What is it?” Y/n said in a frustrated tone as the boy pulled her behind a bookshelf. “Nothing, I just wanted to talk to you.” Gunwook said with a cheesy smile. “Gunwook, seriously? I’m busy.” Y/n scoffed. “I just miss hanging and talking with you. You’re spending all your time with that junior.” Gunwook scoffed and slightly pointed in the direction of the junior.

“And what’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing—nothing is wrong with that. I just want to know what I did wrong and why you barely talk to me anymore.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Then why are you being like this right now.”

“Because—fuck it.” Y/n mumbled the swears that came out of her mouth. “Because, Gunwook I like you. More than a friend, and clearly you don’t. I was just distancing myself so I can get over you.” Y/n finally confessed.

Gunwook was left speechless at that. “See, you don’t even know what to say.” Y/n huffed and walked away but was stopped at the grip of a hand holding her back.

“Y/n, you didn’t even get to say anything.” Gunwook sighed. “I like you, I have for like—ever honestly. I only realized it just a couple weeks ago.”

“Are you just messing with me?”

“No, why would I? I do like you Y/n. I’m not messing with you, this is not a joke at all. I like to spend time with you, I like when you try and argue with me all the time, even when it’s unnecessary and pointless I still argue back because of that fucking face you make. You’re like the death of me!” Gunwook shouted a little too loud, getting a couple looks.

“I like the way you want to achieve things that aren’t even beneficial to you—like who the hell needs to be declared the best pancake maker? No one but you, you have that same competitive fire as me, I thought it’d be hell if I met someone exactly like me but I love to talk and challenge you to anything.”

“Everyone might hate when we argue because it’s annoying and a distraction but I love it, because of that stupid pout you put on.”

Y/n was silent. She didn’t know what to say, she did not expect Gunwook to be so heartfelt to her. Her head slightly dropped down to look at the floor, scared she’d start crying if she looked him in the eyes.

“And I’m so mad that I didn’t kiss you that day. I was so embarrassed that I’d start to stutter and become all red because of a little kiss.” Gunwook’s hands palmed each side of her cheek so the girl could lock eyes with him.

“If I can—If you’ll let me. Can I kiss you?” Gunwook asked boldly, not as shy as he was the day Y/n asked him too. Y/n slowly nodded her head as a few tears rolled down her eyes.

The kiss was short but sweet. Their hearts were racing so fast it could almost malfunction.

“I can’t believe I’m crying in the library.” Y/n said, embarrassed as her head slightly went down.

“It’s normal to cry.” Gunwook wiped the girl's tears with the pad of his thumbs. “Does this mean we’re dating now?” Gunwook said, muffed into the girls hair as they were hugging.

“Yeah, I honestly don’t do this dating shit so I think so.” Y/n said nonchalantly which made Gunwook laugh. “Okay—Jeon Y/n, will you be my girlfriend?” Gunwook said as he pulled himself away from the girl to get a good look at her.

“If I say yes that means you have to admit that I’m better academically than you.”

“You are academically better than me, Jeon Y/n.”

“Then, yes.” Y/n stood on her tippy toes and pecked the boy's cheek.

—

The two decided to keep their relationship hidden from everyone so they could just enjoy each other's time and company without any whispers, rumors, or teasing.

It was going really smoothly. They two had unexpectedly not been awkward about it. They had to make up random excuses on why they couldn’t hang out because they two had scheduled meet up’s and dates.

The only person that did know about the two was Hayun. Hayun didn’t even go to the same school as the two so they didn’t mind telling her.

Gunwook and Hayun got along well and Y/n really liked that. She liked that Hayun liked Gunwook and Gunwook liked Hayun. The two would sometimes gang up on Y/n, she didn’t like that but she liked that the two had gotten close and have a good relationship of their own. After all, her little sister and her boyfriend are probably the people she adores the most in life.

It was hard for her to hide it from Hiyyih, especially since that’s her best friend and she can notice when something is different. She noticed how Y/n had been much happier and was glowing with positivity.

Gunwook knew how hard that must’ve been for her so he agreed to not tell Gyuvin or Dayeon.

Either way the friends would figure out the truth themselves. Or they would catch them secretly kissing one day.

And that they did! They were not that surprised, they had started suspecting it when the two were not available at the same time.

The teasing lasted for about three weeks.

“I almost forgot they were together.” Gyuvin audibly gagged at the sight of the two sitting at a booth with their hands on each other. “Get used to it.” Gunwook threw a fry at his friend as he sat down next to Dayeon and Hiyyih who were squeezed into the seats in front of them.

“I think it’s kind of cute. How they used to despise and hate each other but now they’re all lovey dovey with each other.” Hiyyih said. “Lovey dovey? When Gunwook went to the bathroom she literally called his shirt ugly.” Dayeon said with a tone of disbelief.

“What—you said I looked cute today.” Gunwook gasped and looked at the girl on the side of him. “Because you are cute! The shirt just isn’t.” Y/n smiled cheekily.

“You’re such a hater. You love to hate me.”

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actiniumwrites · 2 months

Text

knots

synopsis: lyney has been head over heels in love with you since the two of you were only ten years old. the only problem? you're friends with lynette and not him. so he spends the next 8-9 years pining over you with seemingly unrequited feelings

characters: lyney x gn!reader

wc: 2.1k

warnings: angst to fluff, misunderstandings, happy ending, best friend's brother trope, an insane amount of obliviousness and pining, idiots to lovers pretty much, the ending is kinda rushed

disclaimer: i know character ages in genshin are a rather controversial topic of discourse within the community. i personally think of lyney and lynette to be around 18-19 years old and i do mention age in this fic as it follows a bit of a timeline. if this somehow bothers you, please just don't read or try to start an argument over it in my comments

notes: THIS IS SO CUTE IM SOBBING 🤧 i did throw in a lot of angst though i'm so sorry but i saw the opportunity and took it. the end is fluffy (and kind of rushed sorry) though‼️ the title is also inspired by lacy by olivia rodrigo as i think it's very fitting for this fic. thank you for the request! (this is my third time posting this cause the first time it didn't show up in the tags)

Lyney was jealous as a kid. It was hard not for him to be when him and Lynette were first introduced to you and you had barely even acknowledged him. He was only ten at the time, but he was so excited to make new friends outside of the House of the Hearth that he was stunned when you had only really talked to Lynette. You had only ever offered him a small wave and a smile to go along with it before running off with Lynette.

It wasn’t fair in his eyes. He was the one more interested in you anyway, not her. She had merely tagged along because he forced her too. Now here she was stealing his potential friends.

You’d clicked instantly with her. Both of you were more on the quiet and shy side, contrasting Lyney’s sunny and outgoing personality. You both liked the same foods, the same clothing, the same everything. Lyney wanted to share those with you too, but it was hard when his tastes differed from yours and you didn’t seem to pay much interest in him anyway.

And growing up, he’d always been around. You’d hang out with all of them, don’t get it twisted. It wasn’t like you’d ever told him he couldn’t spend time with you guys. In fact, you often spent a lot of time together. You were sweet. You loved helping them with their magic tricks, even though they normally failed since you were all thirteen by the time they really began taking it seriously. You’d pretend to be shocked when they guessed your card, despite knowing exactly how the trick worked. You’d be on standby when they performed more dangerous tricks. Hell, you were even an assistant for them nearly eighty-percent of the time.

Lyney was grateful for it all, but he still couldn’t shake the ever growing crush on you he’d developed three years ago when you first met. He wanted you to be closer with him more than his sister. It was selfish, he was well aware of that, but he was the one with a crush. Not Lynette.

Lyney was the one to pick you up and put a bandaid on your knees when you fell at the playground. Lyney was the one to always share his snacks with you, even when you usually said no. Lyney was the one to always sit next to you when you were feeling a little down and let his knee rest quietly against yours, hoping you wouldn’t pull yours away. Lyney was the one who was in love with you by the time you all turned 18.

When the fateful performance happened and they were revealed to be Fatui to the general public, he was sure you’d leave them for good. You had obviously known they were Fatui, but you didn’t know of the extent to which they acted, the crimes they had committed. In your eyes, they were only in training, because that was all they had told you. As close as you were to them, they could never let you know the full details. It was against the rules.

Lyney was so sure you’d up and leave that it was the second time he had ever truly felt anxiety in his life — his sister being taken was the first, but here you were making him feel that horrible pounding in his chest all over again. He was so sure that the ache in his chest would have to make room for more than just jealousy, but grief among heartbreak. That you’d look at them in fear and never speak to them ever again. That he’d never get to profess his love to you.

You proved him wrong, and rather unexpectedly so. You’d shown up to every second of their trial and helped the traveler out as best you could to exonerate them. You’d stuck by their side through it all and made sure they were alright. He was so surprised you almost made him cry.

When they were freed from it all and the crisis was solved, you’d only hugged Lynette and Freminet. That was the part that stung the most. But at this age, Lyney was too nervous around you. How could he not be? You were so pretty and sweet and kind that he didn’t know what to do, especially when he was confused as to where he stood with you. You were all of those things and more with everyone. Everyone but him.

So he pulls away.

He doesn’t want to. God, he’s so in love with you he doesn’t want to ever spend a second away from you, but you never reciprocate any of it. So perhaps, he decides one day, it’d be best to just move on and focus on other things. Lynette could have you to herself and he’d find someone else, no matter how much he wanted you the most.

And you hate it, because well, you’re confused. Which sounds unfair, and in some ways it is, but Lyney was a special light in your life that you couldn’t get too close to. Not because you didn’t want to. No. Of course not. He didn’t realize that you were too scared to. You were so different that you shied away from him, despite feeling all the same toward him. He was like the sun and if you got too close to him, you were scared he’d burn you.

Lynette pushed you toward him regularly. You never seemed to escape her late night gossip sessions where she told you all about how her brother was practically drooling over how good you looked or how sweet you were. You found it endearing while she found it disgusting. Despite it all, though, you had confided in her about your crush on him as well, but how terrified you were to try to actually approach him. She almost slapped you right then and there.

Lynette thinks you’re both stupid. And she’s right. Because now you’re both stuck in a huge misunderstanding. Lyney thinks you hate him and you think he hates you. Could anyone really blame her for being so annoyed?

“You need to talk to him,” she finally breaks one day, about to pass out in her chair from her social energy running out just from hearing about the entire situation nonstop for the past week. You stare at her mortified as she gives you an unimpressed stare.

You nearly choke on the drink you were sipping on just a moment ago, catching a few passerby’s attention as you do, “Why do I have to be the one to say something?! He’s the one that started avoiding me!”

“Are you dense?”

“No?”

She stares at you for a long minute and sighs.

“You’re both idiots. He likes you. You like him. You were too shy to say anything and now he’s decided to move on,” she explains, unimpressed. Did you really not see it after all these years?

“Move on? What?” you place your hands on the table in front of you, panic swimming in your eyes. It all hits you so fast you feel your heart practically about to burst out of your chest.

“I have to go, sorry!” you jump out of your chair, yelling a string of apologies from behind you as you run from the cafe.

It takes you an hour to find him after your conversation with Lynette ends abruptly. Freminet was nice enough to let you know Lyney had gone down to the outskirts of the main city to work on some magic tools by the beach. It was just an excuse to get away. All three of you knew it, but Lyney wasn’t the type to say how he truly feels in fear of being a bad leader.

You wished he had said something sooner. Though perhaps you should’ve been the one to take notice long ago that his advances were more than just friendly.

You suddenly feel regret build up in your stomach at the way you treated him all these years. You were so afraid of your feelings you sabotaged yourself in the process and unknowingly hurt him too.

You find him sitting in the sand, legs crossed as he quietly fiddles with a few parts for some magic props.

“Mind if I sit?” you practically whisper from beside him. Lyney doesn’t even look at you. It’s cold and and unlike him and must be exactly how you looked all these years. He nods anyway.

You watch the waves crash in front of you. Over and over again as they grow closer with the deepening hours of the night. The stars reflect gently upon each and every one of them yet you can’t get yourself to focus on them.

You fidget with a small flower in your hands. It was tucked away gently in your pocket, the petals sticking out to prevent it from getting crushed. It’s a vibrant pink and even with its petals closed for the night, it still looks beautiful in your hand. It reminds you of all the times Lyney had dropped the very same ones at your doorstep or somehow tucked away on a piece of your clothing without you noticing. You hadn’t bothered to look into the meaning back then. You never knew rainbow roses were a declaration of love.

Lyney still sits quietly next to you, now messing with the hat he had taken off when you arrived. His lavender eyes avoid yours, but you don’t hesitate to drop the flower gently into his hands.

“I never knew the meaning of these,” you turn to him and say softly. Your eyes match your voice and he knows you’re telling the truth, even if he doesn’t want to believe it. When he doesn’t move to touch it, nor get rid of it, you speak again, “It’s uh…it’s for you. I picked it on the way here. I thought you’d maybe like it.”

He finally picks it up and turns toward you, a mixture of emotions pooling in his eyes. You see the anger, the fear, the pain, and the love all at once. You wish you had seen it all sooner.

“Why are you giving this to me?” Lyney asks quietly. It comes off a little colder than he’d like, you see it in the way he winces after. You only stare at him with a sad, but hopeful look in your eyes. You couldn’t take back the past, but perhaps you could change the future.

Quietly, you take it from him and tuck it above his ear. He’d done the same to you one time, only it was part of a show and you thought it was just for the act. Oh how oblivious you were back then. “You know what it means to give someone one of these. Lyney, I…I never meant to push you away all these years. I was just scared because I liked you, and Lynette was easier to get closer to than face my feelings for you. Even if we were just ten years old. It was immature and for that, I’m sorry.”

It’s quiet for a moment before his face brightens a bit, “Do you really mean it? You’ve really liked me all these years? Or are you just saying all this to make me feel better?”

You nod, confirming your words and he breaks out into laughter. A sound you’ve dearly missed. Sadness doesn’t suit Lyney.

“Can I…?” He says scooting closer to you, eyes glancing in between yours before falling to your lips. You nod, a small laugh escaping you as you lean in to meet him half way.

Lyney’s lips are soft against yours as he kisses you eagerly. You reciprocate the feeling, matching his pace until you both pull apart out of breath. You laugh nervously standing up and extending a hand, “Wanna go home?”

Lyney jumps up, his hand in yours and nods. He interlaces his fingers with yours tightly, not letting you go after all these missed out years.

When you return to the House of the Hearth, Lyney turns and places one last kiss to your lips. It’s short and sweet and lets you know that he’ll definitely be seeing you tomorrow. You turn and walk away after, wishing him a goodnight as you do. But before you can walk away completely and turns and shouts, “7 PM tomorrow at the Hotel Debourd! I’ll pick you up!”

Lynette appears behind him suddenly, rolling her eyes and waving to you before shutting the door on her twin, “You’re hopeless, brother.”

#genshin #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact fanfiction #lyney #lyney x reader #lyney x you #lyney x y/n

276 notes · View notes

wonton4rang · 3 months

Note

can you do riize bf hcs? 💗💗

hiii, ofc!!! my first riize request/ drabble/ thought, oh my :')

btw, guys, i wanted to make something clear with my riize content, for me riize is 7. i understand that some might be mad at seunghan for having a normal life and dating before he was even an idol, or smoking like he's harming your lungs or something, but i don't really mind. he worked hard to get here and even though he might have come across as someone problematic, i believe we should never mix the idol's personal life with their job (in this case, as it's not something that bad, it's not seungri y'all iykyk). they are people, you talk shit behind someone's back too and you don't get fired for it so please understand this and respect my point of view <3 if you feel uncomfortable with that, feel free to stop reading my riize content and live your life.

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Can I be your boyfriend?

pairing: riize x reader.

warnings: +18, mentions of smut.

summary: how i think riize would be as boyfriends (two povs - daily life + intimacy)

note: i had like over 3-4 weeks with this in drafts because i couldn't finish the maknae line (han, hee & ton) but here it is, hope y'all enjoy !! my first riize post <33 pd. i did NOT read this again so it might contain typos, i will try to correct it asap :')

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shotaro;

daily life: he would be a really funny and nice boyfriend to be around. being so kind and his eye smile being so dreamy that you could literally feel your knees getting weak and that fervent desire of pinching his cheeks. he would definitely selfie text you every time he can, "how you doing, baby?" *insert selca*, "did you eat something already?" *insert mirror selfie*. plus, i also think that he would be the type to like to have you on his lap. idk, it just feels right and natural to me.

intimacy: i have been seeing taro since nct and tbh the amount of sex this dude likes to have is insane. like i just see him fucking you three times a day like a fucking meal. he would be fast yet precise, nothing sloppy or out of place, he would whisper in your ear how much he likes you and would give you a reassuring smile when you were about to come that just melted your heart over and over again.

eunseok;

daily life: contrary to his usual behaviour and demeanour, i do think he would be very touchy. probably not really bubbly or acting all cutesy but he is for sure having an arm around you at all times, acting like it's the most natural and normal thing and like he isn't thinking about the way you breath under his touch with every second that goes by. he would also be the type to stare at you all lovingly when you are saying something and then nod with that "i love you so much i'm going crazy" smile on his pretty lips.

intimacy: i have two things for this one, or he is very dominant or he is a lay back type of person. let me elaborate, in both of them he is dominant but the first one is him actually taking control of your movements, physically manipulating you during sex to get you where he wants, when he wants it. on the second one, is more like he layed back and told you to ride him or something but his face has that smug look that you loved-hated because it meant that he was not touching you and you had to do all the work today. but honestly, i feel like he could also have his lovey dovey days and just make love to you!! also, the way this man loves to receive head has to be studied. it came to me in a vision and i actually can give testimony of it :p

sungchan:

daily life: do you guys know this stereotype of the typical sporty, extroverted, funny, tall, handsome and very loving and centered boyfriend? well, meet sungchan. he would video call you at any time, during his morning lecture at college, during his workout session at the gym, while he was waiting for the showers to empty on the changin room. always, everywhere. he would drop by your house almost every night to check up on you since your job and his daily schedule at college wouldn't allow you guys to meet. he would be the type to be so offended if you ever think he would cheat because he doesn't have eyes for anyone else but you !!

intimacy: mr. i'll make love to you on weekdays and get freaky on the weekends fr. he would usually fuck you missionary, looking into your eyes and kissing your lips like a starved man while his dick reached so deep inside of you that your legs would shake. but when the time came, he would also get creative, bending you over the dining table and fucking you raw before pulling out and coming in your ass, ruining your pajamas but making your night the best :((

wonbin:

daily life: princess treatment type of boyfriend. but not just towards you, he is expecting the princess treatment right back. he would dress up so nicely to go and see you, expecting to find you on your best fit too! he would like to help you choose your clothes and even go shopping, getting you both matching jackets and jewelry. idk why but i also see him as the type to like to cuddle at home with you while watching a movie over going outdoors.

intimacy: he has the strength and the body the fuck you senseless but hear me out when i say this man is more of a sub that you could ever imagine. he would try to play it nice and not be so obvious about the fact that he is creaming his pants when you start to move while sitting on his lap, he would hold his soft whines in by biting his bottom lip and then lowering his head to hide the blush across his cheeks. and it doesn't take you a minute to notice and drop to your knees so you can suck him off, feeling his delicated hands tangle in your hair and press you down so he can slowly fuck your throat. just have in mind that your pussy it's next and wonbin has one of the best staminas i've seen in a dancer.

seunghan:

daily life: i personally see seunghan as an energetic person, always trying to be cheerful and thinking of a joke that matches the current vibe, or just laugh along, but i also feel like he'd be a very romantic boy. really into this gentleman persona that would have you weak on your knees and giggling all day, he would take to you to sweet dates, matching couple sweaters and bracelets, long walks at night while you just hold hands and then end up kissing in the entrance of your apartment before trying to say goodbye because he would push you inside and cuddle you all night whenever he has the chance </3

intimacy: yeah i guess we all know where i'm going with this but lord have mercy on you when he decides to show up and say it's time to get naughty. he would start with soft touches, kisses that would slowly get longer and deeper, and a long forgotten movie on your living room while he undressed you on your room. he would be rougher than sungchan but relatively slower, fucking you nice and deep rather than fast and sharp.

sohee:

daily life: pookie. the pookiest pookie of all. but heads up, he might be really cute, his smile might look so innocent that would make you second guess when you said something with a slight double sense and he just look at you like 🫣 he would try to make you food, try to help you around in the house, try to even help you with your homework but would only end up sitting by your side, caressing your frame, your arms and hair, while he made you one or two jokes and sang some lovey dovey tune to your ear.

intimacy: contrary to popular thought, i don't think he is THAT much of a sub. he mainly is, yes, but i also feel like he would be a great dom. like, picture sohee, nicely built body, sharp eyes, playful smirk, freaky hands and sweet yet masculine voice tone whispering in your ear how good your pussy tightens around of his dick, his hands holding your waist and your fingers tangled in his hair... yeah, we need more dom sohee content :')

anton:

daily life: i've always thought that he would be the messiest boyfie ever. he would try to impress you by doing or saying stuff you really didn't care about but you found it so adorable and endearing that you eventually had interest for all the stuff he showed you, because he wanted you to know you had a great and knowledgeable boyfie!! but on the other side, he would just be himself, turning into this boyfriend-best friend kinda thing that you both loved.

intimacy: idk why i feel like he would be a little shy. maybe not shy shy but like he would hesitate at first, not knowing if you'd like this or that and doing none because he didn't wanna make you uncomfortable. however, when he finally gets a hold of you??? gurllll you better be ready. i feel like he's the type to slowly fuck you so good you would end up edging most of the times because he would just be so patient, so precise and yet lacking velocity, but it was on purpose because he would bring your orgasm in a silver plate when he thrusts so fast into you you actually think the bed would crack.

351 notes · View notes

theitgirlnetwork · 5 months

Text

Earn It

Ch. 2 : Esmerelda Variation

Heaven's outfit at the match:

Note: Thank you for the insane amount of love you guys are showing this. This is still a ground work laying chapter so still a little short but with a bit of drama. I should warn that just like the characters from the movie, Heaven is going to be ambiguous. Sometimes she'll be great, sometimes she'll be toxic (you have to remember she's best friends with Tashi for a reason). Anyways, you will get to know her as the story goes on. Thank you for all of the likes, follows, reblogs and notes, I really love hearing from you all and will be responding to them today. I hope you enjoy this chapter, I wrote it in the middle of the night lol. (P.s. I have a bad track record with tag lists but I'm going to try, let me know if it works.)

Taglist: @spookystitchery @anehkael @fkaams

“You remember when you said you’d let me win this one?”

“That was a lifetime ago.”

Art whips his head to look at Patrick who’s staring out onto the currently empty court, leaning back on the bench with his elbows. “But what about my grandmother?”

“You better hope she has a stroke.” the brown haired man shrugs, patting his friend’s shoulder. “I mean Tashi Duncan is gonna be watching. Tennis princess. And her hot friend. Can’t fuck up, sorry man.”

Art just shakes his head and takes a swig of water. Two hours had passed since this morning’s run-in and he still hadn’t been able to force himself to tell Patrick about the fact that Heaven’s number was on the line too. It’d only be fair, he knows that. But…Art really didn’t want Patrick to have it.

He should’ve just asked her for it directly instead of hiding behind this performance in interest in getting it from her. But he’d been thrown off. He’d truthfully thought he wouldn’t be able to see her again after she announced she had a boyfriend to the group. When he saw her on the beach that morning he found himself jogging down to catch her, and struggling to keep pure thoughts as she talked to him in her skimpy workout gear, telling him she’s single now.

She was just so pretty. The sweat and the morning sun made her skin glisten. Her smile on her face made her cheeks dimple cutely and drew his attention to her soft lips. And she had this look in her eye. She and Tashi are so different yet so alike. She was asking him if competing was how he wanted to get her number. He was asked to make the choice. But it was the challenge he found swimming in her gaze. Like, there was only one right answer, that she expected him to be able to make the decision himself. Like if he shied away now, the little fire he saw in her eyes would die.

Heaven was just as into this as Tashi was.

The thought of her giving that look to Patrick too, it was something he couldn’t handle.

“Shame about that boyfriend though…wonder if it’s serious…Art. Art?”

Art jolts out of his inner thoughts and focuses on his friend opening his breakfast sandwich next to him. “D’you think Heaven’s relationship is serious? I feel like she was flirting a little. Poor bastard. Sending his girl on the road without him when she looks like that? Fuckin’ idiot. And she’s a dancer, do you know what that means?” Patrick asks, holding the sandwich out for Art to take a bite, smiling when he does and swiping his thumb across his mouth to rid him of some crumbs.

“I’m sure you’ll tell me.”

“She’s fuckin’ flexible, Arthur.” He growls, a smirk on his face. “She’s bendy and shit.”

Art’s lip curls in disgust as he shoves his friend, huffing out an irritated laugh when he’s shoved back. “Don’t fuckin’ talk about her like that. Either of them, they’re people, jesus, Patrick.”

“Yes, exactly. Beautiful people. That I would like to fuck.”

“You’re a great guy, man, really.” he sighs sarcastically, tossing his arm around Patrick’s shoulder.

“Thanks man, I really appreciate that.”

Heaven is quiet as she lets Tashi guide her to their seats in the center for the Donaldson v. Zweig match. Her friend had been excited all morning, ready to finally see some “real fuckin’ tennis’. Heaven was excited too. She’s always enjoyed watching people she knows do what they’re passionate about.

That’s why she’s always loved watching Tashi play tennis. Tashi plays tennis like she’s making love and going to war all at the same time. She leaves everything on the court, like each match is the last thing she’ll ever do. She goes somewhere, and Heaven likes going with her. Passion is what moves her. She’s passionate about dance. A life without it is meaningless.

“You good?” Tashi asks, nudging her knee with her own, grabbing Heaven’s attention.

“Yeah, I’m fine, why?”

The taller girl shrugs, flipping her ponytail over her shoulder with pursed lips. “Just making sure you’re not letting that dickhead Trevor get to you. He’s a waste of time and space in your brain. Can’t play basketball for shit and doesn’t know when to stop.” Tashi nudges Heaven again when she rolls her eyes, facing the court. “I mean, you obviously don’t have to listen to me, babe, I just know you’re too good for that shit. Don’t want you to waste your energy.”

That shit. That’s the shit she doesn’t like about Tashi. When she can’t tell if she genuinely is being her best friend, or is jealous that she’s been sharing Heaven’s attention. The condescending demand that Heaven show no weakness regarding someone other than her. Heaven knows Tashi wants what’s best for her. But she doesn’t own her emotions.

“Said I’m fine, T.” Heaven huffs, ignoring Tashi’s stare out of the corner of her eye and opting to watch the announcer climb the ladder and take position. “By the way, I saw Art this morning. I told him that we could double the stakes. Winner gets your number and mine.” When Tashi’s reaction doesn’t come, Heaven looks at her to see that she’s now facing forward, smiling almost evilly at the court.

“God, this is gonna be so good. Do you know how horny those guys are? They think the winner is gonna end up fucking us together, this is gonna be a real match.”

Heaven goes to respond but pauses as the men begin making their way onto the court, their names echoing in the microphone as they begin placing their bags down. Tashi finishes signing an autograph for a fan sitting behind them and settles back into her seat.

Both men immediately seek them out in the crowd, two sets of eyes finding the girls sitting in the center. Patrick points his racket in their direction with a cocky smile before turning to take to the court. Art gages their reactions to his friend, watching both women offer smiles to him and offering them his own wave. A bright grin lights his face when they return it.

“Boys are so easy.” Tashi laughs through her teeth.

“Very.” Heaven agrees, crossing her legs as she watches the match begin. Both men are working their asses off out of the gate. The ball sails back and forth across the net. Their grunts ring out into the air. Their eyes tense, sweat dripping, breathing heavy. At first, they were being showmen. Both of them stopping, looking to the stands for the girls' approval only working harder when the most they are offered back is a small nod.

But they got focused. They moved faster. Worked harder. They forgot them and just played some fucking tennis. And it was sexy as hell. For the first time ever, Heaven was experiencing the feeling she gets watching Tashi play. And she was experiencing it watching someone else.

Tashi was enjoying the game immensely. She loves this shit. This is the game she lives for, and she and her best friend had made it more interesting. She grins as she watches the ball go to Patrick, then Art, then back again. Her head swiveled with everyone else’s and she felt happy. Impressed.

Until she saw Heaven out of the corner of her eye.

Heaven sitting on the edge of her seat, looking at Patrick then Art then Patrick then Art. She hadn’t looked at Tashi since they started. It’s normal. They’ve watched matches together before, but this look on her face. That was supposed to be Tashi’s look.

Biting her lip in focus, breathing slightly elevated in the excitement, one hand toying with her name chain on her otherwise bare collar bone as the other clutched the arm of the chair, arched forward, leaning towards them.

Tashi shakes her head briefly and focuses back on the match, placing one hand on Heaven’s knee.

Just in case she slipped from her seat.

When Patrick took his bow, looking through his dark lashes to see Heaven and Tashi’s reactions. Both of them look pleased. Offering him applause as he stands before going to grab his things.

Art watches in defeat. The muscle in his jaw jumps as he clenches it in irritation. He walks off his adrenaline, pacing between clearing his things from the bench. He feels a heavy hand clap on his back. “Good game, man. I’ll meet you out front, yeah? I’ve got a number to collect.”

“Yeah. Good game.” he says quietly.

Two. Two numbers. Both. He’s getting both. He deserves neither, and he’s getting Tashi Duncan and Heaven Whitlock.

Art sits on the competitor’s chair, pulling his shirt off and tossing it over his head to shield himself from the sun as he puts his head back. He doesn’t know how long he’s sitting there. But he can’t bring himself to get up. To meet Patrick. To watch Tashi know he’s better than him as she gives him her number. To watch Heaven decide that he hadn’t earned the right to want her.

He doesn’t remove the shirt until he hears shoes clacking on the court. He’s expecting to see an employee of the tournament but is shocked to see Heaven standing in front of him with an unenthused look.

“Oh, good, I thought you were crying.”

“Um, nope.” Art huffs, a wry smile on his face. “That would be a little pathetic, even for me.”

Heaven’s head tilts, her dark, silky hair falling to the side as she does. She shifts her weight from one foot to the other and Art hops out of the chair, offering it to her. “How is almost winning pathetic?”

“I didn’t almost win-”

“He didn’t sweep you. You could’ve won. He’s just better today. When Tashi wins, the other person usually doesn’t even get more than one point.” Heaven pushes up into the seat, crossing one leg over the other. Art can’t help but reminisce. Her legs are now covered by her light washed jeans, but her bare shoulders remind him of the expanse of glowing skin he’d seen earlier this morning. “The score was close.”

Art smiles slightly at that. He’s still annoyed he was unable to beat his friend, but her words, while based solely in logic, still managed to be comforting. “So, uh, I bet Patrick was pretty fuckin’ happy to get you and Tashi’s numbers.”

“Oh, he was pretty damn excited.” Heaven laughs. “It was cute.”

Ouch. “Yeah, I’m sure I won’t hear the end of it.”

Heaven nods, lips rolling inward as she uses her arms to push herself forward, kicking him lightly with her leg, smiling flirtily when he catches her foot, his large hand encasing her ankle. He rights her gold anklet, turning it so that the cross on it is facing upward before bringing her foot back to the ground. “What about you?”

“What about me? I lost. Fair and square.”

“You did.” she grins, resting her chin in her hand. “But the wager changed this morning didn’t it? I agreed that the winner would get my and Tashi’s numbers, but you had an added requirement, right?”

Art’s brows furrowed in confusion briefly before the realization hits him. “I had to earn it.”

“If you’d won, but didn’t earn the win, I wouldn’t give it to you. I have my opinion. What’s yours? Do you feel like you earned my number today?”

“You want to give it to me anyway?”

Heaven shakes her head and hops down from the seat, moving closer to Art and fully expecting him to back up, pleasantly surprised when he just tilts his head down to accommodate her height. “I want you to tell me if today was your best.”

Art breathes out heavily. There’s a part of him that wants to just say ‘fuck it, yes’. He wants to say that's the best he can do, and he did earn her number already. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t look her in the face and say he couldn’t do better. He couldn’t have her look at him like he didn’t have potential. “No.”

That’s apparently the right answer, because Heaven offers him a quiet, “Good.” before brushing past him, her arm narrowly missing his, causing the hairs on his skin to stand.

As he watches the girl prance away from him gracefully, Art bites back his own smirk, looking to the ground and nodding to himself.

He has some work to do.

“Just tell me. I just wanna know.” Art chews his gum, trying to look nonchalant as possible as he and Patrick make their way onto the courts.

He’d been haunted by the way his friend is seemingly getting joy from being very secretive about what he’s been doing with Tashi and Heaven. He knows he’s been talking to them. He can tell. It’s in the smug looks. The fucking half stories without names. He’s fucking keeping them to himself. Won’t even share their names with him. And in response to Art’s irritation, Patrick smirks. The same stupid fucking crooked smirk that always hides his snide remarks and secrets. Usually, Art has a twin one to match, now, the joke is on him.

“I can’t believe you, of all people, are telling me to kiss and tell. You used to be a gentleman, Art.” Patrick chuckles, grabbing a ball and preparing to serve.

“Just tell me if you slept with either of them.” Art pushes, moving to the opposite side of the net and getting into position. “C’mon, it doesn’t matter. If you’ve slept with Tashi, do a normal serve. Serve like me.”

Patrick hesitates a bit, shaking his head as he looks at his friend’s determined face. He knows Art is not gonna stop asking. But he’s gonna be so butthurt about the answer. He rolls his choices around in his head, briefly considering if it would piss off the girls for him to talk about it and deciding they wouldn’t care about Art knowing. And, he couldn’t help himself from bragging.

Setting up the serve and sending the ball sailing over the net, Patrick gives Art the confirmation he was seeking. Art offers him a smile in an attempt to appear nonchalant, and goes to hit the ball, only to see a second one flying past him on his other side.

“Wh-”

Patrick grins again, watching the two balls bounce and roll on the opposite sides of Art. He shrugs, strolling over to the net. “I figured you’d ask about Heaven too.” Holding his hand out in front of Art’s mouth he catches the gum he spits into it. “They…uh fancy themselves a package deal.”

“Really?” Art breathes through the smile he has painted on his face.

“Yeah.” Patrick squirts water into his mouth. “S’fuckin’ awesome.”

Art just chuckles politely until Patrick turns around to get another ball, using his friend’s distraction to let his smile drop into an aggravated frown.

The next time the whole group is all together is move in week. Heaven and Tashi had somehow convinced the men that even though Patrick was packing up for his tour and Art was also moving in, they needed to help them move into their dorms. They were starting with Stanford today and planned to make their way to UCLA tomorrow to get Heaven’s stuff together. While Art now naturally had Tashi's number because they were going to school together, he and Heaven had stuck to their deal. He hadn't decided what he was going to do to get it. Maybe win a match while she was here visiting in a couple weeks. Or maybe he had to beat Patrick specifically. He didn't know, but he as much as he wants her respect, he was getting sick of waiting.

Both men had removed their shirts in the California heat, carrying Tashi’s tennis equipment, replacement mattress, mini fridge and all ten tons of luggage she brought.

The women were being helpful too. Heaven was apparently resting her legs in anticipation of her audition tomorrow, and rode comfortably on Patrick’s back up the steps during the first trip from the van. After that the girls had made Tashi’s bed before both climbing onto it and sharing a lollipop as they watched the boys work.

“No, I want my printer over there.” Tashi calls, popping the candy out her mouth and passing it to Heaven, who is absently scrolling on her phone when she drags it into hers.

“Next time, I want green apple.”

Patrick drops the printer on the desk and turns to them. “You know, people hire movers for stuff like this. Where’s your dad?”

Tashi just ignores him, leaning her head over to look at whatever Heaven is staring at on her phone.

“Men used to build houses, you know.” Heaven says, tilting the device so Tashi can see better. The latter nodding at whatever she’s being shown.

“Mm, and go to war.” Tashi sighs boredly, “You guys can’t carry mini furniture?”

Patrick huffs irritably and looks to Art to back him up. “We’re almost done.” The blond shrugs, wiping the sweat from his brow.

“You just like kissing their asses.”

“And you don’t?” Tashi calls from the bed.

Patrick huffs and lifts the printer again, moving it to where Tashi indicated it should go. Meanwhile, Art moves over to the bed finally done emptying the trolley they borrowed from the university. “What’re you two looking at?”

“I’m helping Heaven decide what piece she should do for her audition in a couple days.” Tashi rolls off of the bed and stretches her muscles, “she’s being stubborn.”

Art’s brows furrow as he looks down at Heaven, her eyes staring blankly at the ceiling, not reacting to Tashi’s criticism at all. She’d known about that audition since before they met them. He’s shocked to hear she still hasn’t decided on a piece.

“It’s not being stubborn, Tashi-” the girl pauses her movements at the use of her real name, brow raising. “It’s my audition.”

“Okay. Yeah, I just don’t wanna hear you whine for the next two weeks about how you should’ve done Odile from Swan Lake but pussied out because it’s hard and you know you’d complain.”

“I’ve done it before.”

“Exactly, babe, exactly. That’s why I don’t get why you don’t just go set the tone.” Tashi chirps. Her voice does that thing. That thing she does when she's pretending she's being casual about something. Going up an octave to show just how much she doesn't care.

Heaven sits up then, a stern look on her face that can rival the one Tashi gives, both hands planted in the bed as she stares the other girl down. “You don’t think I’ll get the lead with whatever I pick.”

It’s not a question. It’s a statement. A dare. The look she gives dares Tashi to say the wrong thing.

Patrick and Art don’t know what to do. They’d never seen the girls disagree before. They’re always tag-teaming everyone. Tagging in and out of conversations, finishing each other’s quick remarks, cutting people down with sharp looks together. They’d never seen them face off before.

“I know you’d better get the lead.” Tashi shrugs, flipping her hair over and tying it up with a hair tie.

“I’m gonna. Have I ever not?” Heaven sends back.

Tashi gives her a noncommittal look before snatching up Patrick’s shirt, tossing it into his hands. “Come hit the ball with me.”

She offers Art one glance. It’s an invitation, very clearly for everyone except Heaven, who was already turned away on the bed, scrolling on her phone again.

Patrick and Art have their own wide-eyed, silent conversation, finally settling through gestures. ‘You go with that one, I’ll stay with this one, hopefully no one pitches a fit.’

The dorm room door slips shut and the room is quiet aside from the clock ticking on Tashi’s dresser. A few moments pass before Heaven lets out a loud sigh and rolls over, gasping when she sees Art sitting at the desk on his own phone. “What the fuck?”

His eyes widen as he looks at her. “What?”

“I thought you left with Tashi and Patrick.”

He softens as that, offering her a smile. “And leave you by yourself? Nah. Anyway, we’re gonna be playing tennis everyday for the rest of this semester. Let’s go tour my college campus.”

Heaven looks up at the blond man outstretching his hand to her. Part of it is because she’s pissed at Tashi and didn’t wanna be laying here when she got back, but another part of her thought it might be fun to use this as an opportunity to get to know Art more.

Since she, Patrick and Tashi started hooking up, she’d decided she was satisfied with keeping the set up she had. She had some fun, they dated, and ultimately, there weren’t many requirements. Her focus was just dance now, she wasn’t looking to waste her time on another boyfriend who wouldn’t work out, and going down the exclusive route with Tashi would get…complicated.

But sometimes she thought about Art. She thought about his cute smile and blond hair. She thought about his voice and muscles. And since the match, she thinks about how he played tennis. She could’ve came from watching him play tennis.

A secret she’ll take to the grave, mind you.

But one that led her to walking around campus with him, despite the fact that she and Tashi had agreed she needed to rest her legs before her audition.

Art told her all about the stuff the guide book talked about, showing her the historic buildings, the dorm he now calls home and the dining hall. And somehow, they ended up in the small theater that’s located on the campus.

He smiles, glancing at her, rocking on his feet as they stand outside the building.

Heaven rolls her eyes playfully, nudging his shoulder. “Huh. I wonder how we ended up here.

“Couldn’t tell you. Definitely didn’t walk you to this…very small theater on purpose.” Art shrugs. “Probably should go in though.” He says breezily, pushing the door open for Heaven to walk through.

As she steps over the threshold, Heaven’s bad mood nearly dissolves. Her tense shoulders relax and her eyes slip closed. Art watches her all but melt into the environment, her pretty features smooth out as she breathes in deeply. “A theater is a theater. I missed this, traveling with Tashi.”

“I’d bet. I’m sure you don’t get much time to dance when you do that.” He says softly, watching her run her hands along the stage.

“Just drills so I don’t get rusty.” She hums. “I’m gonna end up doing Odile. She’s right, it’s a show stopper, guaranteed lead.”

Art sits in the front, center seat, watching as Heaven pushes her way up onto the stage, sitting on the edge. “I’m sure you’d get it no matter what you did. You’re a beautiful dancer.”

Heaven sweeps her hair over her shoulder. “You’ve never seen me dance, Arthur.”

He looks at her with an earnest, almost pleading expression that makes her stomach flip. “Could I? Please?”

“Okay.”

Art hasn’t experienced that much of life yet. He’s young, he’s had the same best friend forever. He went to a boarding school for tennis. He hasn’t traveled the world yet or anything.

But he’s pretty sure he would like to watch Heaven Whitlock dance.

She was in sweats. Unprepared, with no shoes. Though she denied it, she was clearly nervous that her friend would bust in, see her, and it would start round two of their squabble. But she stretches for a moment before crouching to set up her phone. “Do you know what you wanna see or…”

Art blushes at that, he doesn’t exactly know any ballets. He just wanted to see Heaven in her element. “How about you show me the dance you wanna do.”

There it is. The truth. They both know she’s gonna do the dance Tashi is recommending. But right now she’s not here. And Art wants to see what Heaven would enjoy doing.

“It’s the Esmeralda Variation.” She says, untying her shoelaces before pulling her shoes off altogether. “I need something to kick.”

Art immediately pulls his hat off, tossing it up to her and chuckling as she giggles catching it. One tap on her phone and the muffled music is echoing in the empty theater.

And she’s moving.

And Art can’t breathe.

He’s never seen anything like it, like her. The grace. The control she has over her body. He didn’t know people could look like that. He didn’t know balance could be so beautiful. It was like, he didn’t even want to blink. He didn’t want to miss a minute of it.

His eyes tracked her body’s movements with precision, but what they really focused on was her face. He’d never seen perfection like that. Peace like that. This was what Tashi was talking about. This is what she feels with tennis, Heaven has dance. She was in a relationship. With the song. With her body. The floor. The audience. Him.

Watching Heaven dance felt like witnessing love.

She’s amazing.

The dance was fun, playful, and looked difficult as hell. And she did it with ease.

He didn’t realize he was holding his breath until she stopped, sliding down into a final split with a bright smile on her face. “That’s…you’re beautiful. That’s amazing, what you just did.”

Heaven gives him a pleased look that has him feeling warm. She moves to sit on the edge of the stage, letting her legs dangle as she looks at him. Her hands rest on her knees. “Thanks, Art, that means a lot.”

He shifts in his own seat, leaning forward. He pushes up out of the red theater chair and makes his way over to stand in front of her. “I mean it. I’ve never seen anything like that.”

“You’re really good at that, you know.” Heaven says, her voice dropping to a whisper as she looks at him. This is the first time they’ve been face to face before. He’s tall, and imposing despite his accommodating demeanor. She bites her lip and watches his eyes immediately drop before he forces them back to her eyes. “Making people feel good about themselves.”

Art’s startled by the compliment, and immediately starts to laugh it off. Betrayed by the redness of his ears. “You have a gift.” He shrugs. “You should be told you have a gift, all the time.”

He doesn’t know what comes over him. The wave of boldness. It might’ve been that they were alone. Or he was still worked up from what he just witnessed. Or the way Heaven was looking at him, with intensity. Like she saw something. He rests one hand on her leg, feeling smooth skin. And pushes into her space, bringing their faces impossibly closer. Heaven’s big eyes flutter shut as he gets closer, and he smiles.

She wants him to kiss her.

Grabbing his hat from behind her and placing it on his head.

Her eyes open after a beat and she gasps out a laugh, their faces still just a breath apart. “Ha. You’re funny-”

He presses his lips to hers in a brief but deep kiss, pulling away just as she pressed her lips back. “I’m sorry.”

Heaven balls her fist in the front of his shirt, dragging him back to her and making their lips meet again. Their mouths move together in a new dance. Suddenly the room is filled with the sounds of their heavy breathing and hums of contentment. Heaven’s hands find their way into Art’s hair as he anchors her waist, pulling her to the very edge of the stage so he can stand between her thighs.

When they pull away their lips cause a loud smack in the dimly lit room. Art’s thumb sweeps over the soft skin of Heaven’s cheek as they both desperately try to catch their breath. Her own hand moves about his curls, smoothing them before sliding to his jaw. Art turns his head to press a kiss to her palm before he speaks.

“Heaven-”

His eyes widen as he sees the girl’s eyes watering, her rose petal lips trembling as she looks at him. Chest rising and falling with her rapid breaths. She runs her hands through her hair with a stressed look that Art thinks he would do anything to remove.

“Please don’t tell Tashi.”

#oc #art donaldson x tashi duncan #art donaldson x you #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson #patrick zweig #patrick zweig x tashi duncan #art donaldson x patrick zweig #patrick zweig x reader #tashi duncan x reader #love #challengers 2024 #challengers movie #challengers spoilers #heaven whitlock #earn it

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leclsrc · 1 year

Text

more than anyone ✴︎ cl16

genre: childhood friends to enemies to lovers (a mouthful), smut, humor, Fluffff!!!!, angst

word count: 13.7k

You moved out of Monaco at fourteen with an unrepaired friendship hanging by a thread. Ten years and a whole lifetime later, you’re forced to work with him confront it all over again.

auds here… hi hi hi!!!! HAPPY 4k to us guys!!!!! i am so insanely thankful for all of u and i will make this a longer note when i wake up tomorrow because i have so much to say but have this for now. i hope u like it,i love love love u guys forever also i changed the banner because i wanted to

nsfw warnings under the cut!

18+ because... penetrative sex, semi public sex, praise central, size kink (pretty tame smut in auds world)

You know it’s bad when your assistant-and-friend-aka-friendsistant (her vernacular) Rachel walks in with a free coffee without a quip about how dependent you are on this exact order of coffee (she’s a millennial, so caffeine and lack thereof are in her arsenal of Funny Jokes). You fear you didn’t correctly anticipate just how bad it was going to be when she stays instead of leaving to work on your schedule, combing a few fingers through her fringe and sitting herself on your couch stiffly. Maybe you’re intuitive, maybe you spend too much time with Rachel and you can spot the way she scratches at her eye, maybe both—but it’s bad.

You don’t take a sip from the Starbucks that sits idly on the coaster, opting to watch the latte sweat instead. You do stare, though, at Rachel’s stagnant posture, scrutinizing her every movement. She takes a few deep breaths and drops the bomb.

“David sent me to tell you he has good news. But there is, um. Bad news.” Dread writhes through you at the mention of your manager with bad news, and you clear your throat to compose yourself.

“What’s going on?”

She purses her lips. “He’s on his way over here. Just…” She cocks her head sharply to the glass door of your home office, expression antsy. “Sorry. Wait for him. I can’t tell you anything yet.”

You take a swig from the pity coffee. “Am I getting blacklisted?”

“God, you dumbass, no—” She makes an incredulous noise, but before she can open her mouth to elaborate, your manager walks in with an excited expression on his face, pocketing his Juul to take a seat by your table. His smile is the radiant one of a man over forty with a comical amount of Botox.

“Rachel told me you had”—you stifle the adjective—“news.”

“That I do, yes.” He hums, tracing the edge of your table. “Did you enjoy Paris Fashion Week?”

Beside the brash Frenchmen, God-awful timezone differences and consequent calls at half past three, hungover show attendances, posing for pictures until your ankles blistered, and a temporary diet of black coffee, cigarettes, and stale croissants—sure, it was fun. It was your job to attend anyway, your obligation to shake hands with important people and be photographed in designer clothing and benefit from the PR, but how often could people call work fun?

“Sure.” You take another gulp off your coffee. “It was… fun.”

“Well, since your movie’s doing well,” David pauses and hums, “how do you feel about another few weeks of fun?”

“Like Paris Fashion Week—weeks… this month?” You frown, eyebrows knitting together. Is this a new Vogue thing? You’re not sure how many updates they give the schedule, but you wouldn’t mind too much if you could travel again for a little bit. “So soon after spring? Did Anna want this?”

“Iiiit’s, er, Vogue’s new project. Capsule shows in Europe, coastal and summery. She wanted an exclusive guest list. She asked for you by name,” David says smugly. “Well, she called my office, granted. But to ask for you—”

“Are you fucking serious?” You stand up, and if you hadn’t had some fix of coffee you would’ve gotten dizzy. “David, tell me you’re serious.” Time seems to have suspended itself as you await his answer—which, if affirmative, would be a pretty big deal to you.

“Yeah, I am.” He plays off a grin. “She loved your movie with Greta, and would love to send you to Europe to do PR on a few shows and pair up with some guests on a couple features. Exclusive stuff.”

You sit back down, mouth slack. “Oh, my God. I can’t believe it.” Your eyes dart to Rachel, who’s caught between a smile and an awkward purse of her lips. “Fuck! This is huge, David.”

“Yeah—okay, yeah, it is.” David shifts in his seat and crosses, then uncrosses, his legs, then his arms. He stutters for a second. “Good and bad news, remember?”

You blink a few times. You’d nearly totally forgotten the fact that this good news—and it is overwhelmingly good—comes with a bout of bad news, so bad apparently that it’s noteworthy enough to state alongside this massive deal. But it’s. Fine. It’s whatever. Worst case scenario, you’re going to need to fucking swim to Europe sans oxygen canister.

“So… the shows? Events, and shit?” He watches, waiting for you to signal that you follow. When you nod, he continues, averting his gaze to the face of his Patek. “They’re all in Monaco.”

Wrong.

“Monaco.” You repeat, deadpanning your delivery. It’s not out of the ordinary, the glitz and coast of the city being a perfect venue for high fashion. But Monaco is different for you, vastly different, and you tend to avoid the place to the best of your abilities. “Monaco. Are—you’re sure?”

“Mmm,” he hums in affirmation. “I know, I know you’re not exactly privy to Monaco because, bleh, childhood shit, whatever. But this—like you said, this is huge! And I don’t think we should jeopardize that.” He pulls a piece of paper from the folders tucked in his arm and waves it around.

“Well—yeah, I suppose. I’ll deal with it.”

“Yeah.” He sucks his teeth, eyes gliding over the scenery of L.A. that your window offers. “Okay, that’s it, so. Byeandhaveagoodlunch.” He slams the paper onto your desk, jostling you a little, but as he makes his exeunt, Rachel raises her arm to stop him.

“Is that it, David?” She asks, an edge to her voice.

You pick up the paper as they make hushed, stifled conversation, and find that it’s a call sheet of sorts, listing all the collaborators traveling to Monaco and what or who they’re in charge of, or paired up with, there. Models, athletes, celebrities, influencers—all making TikToks, or appearances, or brand deals, or interviews, or YouTube videos, the whole shebang.

“Yeah,” says David dismissively—nervously? “That’s it.”

You search for your name. “Okay. Um, hey.” Rachel turns to you, trying to catch your eye, which is busy scanning the sheet. “Did, um—did David mention you’re paired up with Charles Leclerc for a feature? Because you are. Paired up with Charles Leclerc for a feature, I mean.”

David sucks his teeth. “Thank you very much for graciously reminding me of that, Rachel.”

Still half-distracted and growing increasingly worried with the exchange happening in front of you, you make haste in your search—eventually, you find your name, printed in plain letters beside one you’ve wished to never read over ever again.

“Wait, my Charles?” You pause and look up, suppressing a yell as your eyes widen, and you blunder over a pathetic self-correction. “I mean—no, sorry—Charles, as in Charles Leclerc? I can’t work with him, you know this!”

“Wh—well, Vogue apparently wanted a really good Monaco-born pair and they seriously lucked out on you two. Also,” Rachel says, adamantly defending herself, “you’re always saying you can work ‘with anyone’!” She raises two comically vigorous air quotes to further her (moot) point.

“I didn’t ev—I never say that,” you lie straight through your teeth, mouth dry. You definitely do. You can place all the exact moments. “I would’ve known if I did. Rach—David—I cannot, absolutely cannot work with Leclerc. He’s my… we…” You shut your eyes and sneak two fingers upward to massage your temple, slowly caving into defeat.

David makes an oh well face and shrugs passively. “Fine. Then it’s either Anna Wintour’s special job that will help the Academy campaign or not meeting the ex-bo—”

“—friend.” You look up to cut him off, eyes narrowed. “Ex-friend.”

“Alright, kid. Suuuure.” David leans against the back wall of your office as Rachel comes to comfort you, her eyes already sympathetic and droopy. It shouldn’t be so bad, right? She asks sweetly, nudging the latte closer to your catatonic figure. You have seen him since, anyway.

With a despondent gaze, you just remain silent, refusing to state the negative aloud, opting to stare at the latte. At your disagreeable silence, Rachel continues, tone anxious: You have seen him since. Right?

You moved out of Monaco at fourteen, right after the school year finished and your father had gotten the opportunity to transfer out. The whole thing would’ve—should’ve, even—been a sentimental affair, full of tears and dramatic caresses of your bedroom wall, whispering thank yous to the city air in French and Italian, but it wasn’t. Months prior, you’d been preparing yourself for this kind of goodbye; but when it came to it, you merely kissed your extended family goodbye and slept en route to the airport, silk sleeping mask pulled taut over your shut eyelids. The only thing you left in the city was a letter written only to Gi and Cha about how much you’d miss them, with your email address scribbled at the bottom for an added touch, in case they felt like sending you longer messages.

“Do you two at least get along?” David asks, noting how genuinely aghast you appear.

“It’s not that simple.” You tap a nail against your desk a few times. “But I think it’ll be fine. I hope, at least. We used to be… good friends? As teenagers.”

You feel like an alien hearing yourself talk about it, talk about him and the whole circumstance a decade later. Your friendship with Charles was the only thing that mattered to your adolescent self, all lemonade stands and long car rides and stealthy conversations about your futures (racing and acting, respectively). It was happiness, in what you consider to be its truest form, it was lovely and real. And it ended abruptly, no goodbyes, no nothing.

“So it’s a no.”

“I’m just saying it’s impossible for me to work with him, and in Monaco no less?!” Your eyes are wild with frustration and anxiety at the prospect of your past whipping you in the face, full-fledged. “I don’t even talk about the guy or the city, how can I spend time with him there?”

“Are you seriously going to junk this amazing fucking opportunity just because of some petty childhood fight?” David’s tone is comparable to that of a dad’s, scolding and horrified, almost. “Look. If you don’t take this, career-wise, it doesn’t mean much. You get paid a shit ton, you’ll survive—you’ll do well. But emotions-wise? Maturity-wise? Be the bigger person and do it—I mean it.”

You stare back at him because you know he’s right. “Maybe it won’t be a big, long feature?” Rachel offers as some advice, some comfort. “If you reject it, his team will know, and so will he.”

And yes, you were fourteen, and yes it was petty and unexplainable even for fourteen—but there was a catalyst to all of this, a reason why the move became easy and forgetting childhood memories became second nature. A reason why you’re selective with who you make contact with from home. A reason why Giada and Charlotte are selective with topics they choose to bring up with you.

So, fuck it, really. That’s how you end up in Monaco, booked for the next three weeks, sharing a studio and public appearances and a 24-hour shoot with the last person you’d ever want to be in a room with. Ten years later—the person still is, and no doubt will always be, Charles Leclerc.

—

“MAMAN!” Charles’ voice was loud, loud, and so incredibly loud. You followed not far behind, legs running at full speed to try and leap onto his lanky figure and wrap an arm around his head to quiet him. It’d been futile: he ended up at the dining table facing his family with a victorious smile on his pink face. He breathed heavy, waiting for everyone to turn their attention to him.

“Charles,” you chimed in warningly, breathing even harder with the effort you had exerted to chase him from the sidewalk to here. “Don’t.”

“Guess who got the lead spot in the recital.” He slowly turned to point at to your angry face, and then bent, rifling through his already messy, grubby knapsack for something that he raised with glee: a headress that read…

“But-ter-cup.” Hervé sounded amused when he looked at your fuming expression. “You?”

“Yes, Papa! Maybe, just maybe,” he sing-songed, using the term wrong yet again, “she got the titular role!” He walked over to you and placed the headress square on your head, beaming.

“There is no titular role in a school recital,” you seethed, burning with embarrassment. Your stellar academic record had apparently granted you incentive to be centre stage during the routine year-end recital, where years were lumped into twos or threes (in your and Charles’ cases, Years 8 and 9) and the student body would dance or sing a variety of teacher-selected music.

In your case, it was Build Me Up, Buttercup, complete with choreography you’d be practicing over the next month and a half. Charles laughed at your pouting expression, didn’t stop laughing even when you’d both sat down and twirled through forkfuls of spaghetti, didn’t stop chuckling even when Lorenzo got the turn to speak and he started talking about how Bringing Up Baby was his movie of the month.

You allowed him to laugh—even laughed yourself at some point—because all day, you’d been absently wondering how you’d break the news about your moving away to him.

—

Charles is not okay. He’d gotten off a red-eye from a short vacation stint, and now he’s back in Monaco, sleepy and a bit jetlagged, being briefed on brand deals and press junkets he has to accomplish by three p.m. today. “On the dot, sharp,” said his assistant, like the two didn’t just mean the same fucking thing. He’s patient, though, smiling through the exhaustion, through the dressing room, the tape around his waist and legs to measure clothes for this fashion… thing.

“A meeting for Ferrari, two TikToks, a vlog for your personal YouTube channel, three stories by noon… oh, and in the next few weeks, you’re going to film a Vogue-sponsored 24 Hours With… with—”

“D’accord, thank you,” he cuts in, already exhausted from the spiel alone. He’s a professional; no matter what people believed or what gossip rags liked to say about him, he maintains a well-kept reputation of being polite and kind to people he works with. Maybe it’s the jetlag, maybe it’s the lack of sleep, maybe it’s the heat outside, but today he just wants to close his eyes and sleep for days.

But the assistant follows, clipboard and Excel sheet and all, still spouting all his media obligations lest he forget (and mark his words, he definitely will). “Sorry,” he says. He’s new, probably assigned as a part of the Vogue team, lanky and tall and nervous looking. “I’m new. I’m Greg.”

Briefly, Charles is left alone to stare at his tired reflection while the assistants reconvene and connect. There’s several of them, each assigned or already committed to a different celebrity. Charles should know more details, but there’s only so much reading of a call sheet he can do before he’s conked out on Ambien; he trusts he’ll be around people much more famous than he is, probably American or English, actors and athletes alike. He’ll figure it out.

Yeah, she’s almost ready. Is Charles here? One of the assistants says, a bright-eyed American. They need to be introduced before 11. Her voice is quiet, quick and hushed, and Charles has to focus to hear what she’s saying. Greg chips in with something he can’t decipher; in response, the American whispers, Yeah, I’ll get her to sign it for you. Bring Charles out in five.

In five, he is indeed being brought out to the lobby of this hotel; the outdoor area is decked out with models, cocktail tables, Vogue signage and a carpet for pictures. It’s even busier inside, wait staff and event coordinators conversing in angry, aggressive French—table settings, mineral water, extra forks are needed. Greg keeps a steady pace transporting Charles through the indoor throng, and at 10:59, Charles is outside, by the pool.

“Um, right, yeah. Okay, uh—wait here. Your partner—not really partner, but like, mate? Fuck, definitely not. Um, partner. She’s on her way heeere…” He checks his phone. “Okay. You caught her name, right?” Charles nods to fend him off. “Okay. So, wait here.”

There are cameras taking pictures of him when Greg departs, some microphones waved his way; in the distance he spots fans waving crazily, sporting Ferrari merch. Charles is doing what he’s told (waiting, maybe posing a bit) when an even bigger crowd appears, surrounding one person; with their arrival, ameras click even faster, and an uproar follows. Greg waves him over, pointing at the person frantically, so Charles smiles, extends a hand, and when the crowd parts—

There you are, in all your glory. Pink dress, hair clipped into a bun, a tanline on your exposed skin, lithe hand coming up to shake his. Your eyes are flat but the lack of expression doesn’t inoculate them from beauty; they remain sparkling and pretty all the same. Cameras snap the interaction, seemingly innocent, seemingly the first.

He fights, he really does, to keep his hands shaking yours. He forces himself not to hug you, press a kiss to your cheek even if that might look friendly, caress a hand across your cheekbone, brush the tendrils of hair out of your eyes. It’s a valiant effort.

A valiant effort that pays off because, as soon as you’re ushered into a room by yourselves, your smile turns into a scoff; your hands are kept to yourself, slipping a pair of sunglasses on, and; underneath them, your eyes begin to roll. “I need a drink,” you huff, not even looking at him.

You’re on two couches opposite each other, in what he assumes to be a foyer to a hotel room that’s much bigger than the one he was in earlier. A-list fame and that. The girl he’d seen earlier scurries off, mumbling something about a martini. Greg, beside him, goes: “Do you need a drink, too?” But he shakes his head.

“Are you voluntarily working for this guy, Greg?” You refer to his assistant by name, offering a sarastic, honeyed smile. You adjust the strap of your dress and he blinks his gaze away.

“Oh, no. I mean—yeah. Kind of. I was assigned to him.”

“It’s okay, I don’t expect you to do it of your own will,” you joke, crossing your legs.

Charles laughs dryly. “Who asked?”

“So he speaks…” You ping off his retort without missing a beat, a sardonic smile playing at your lips.

“In the two minutes we’ve been around each other, you’ve insulted me and my assistant. I’d prefer silence, your highness.”

“Aww, did my joke and asking Greg a question piss you off?” You suck your teeth. “You must be fun at parties.”

“Do you two, um. I don’t want to, like, overstep, but do you know each other?” Charles notices that Greg’s forearm is signed by you and realizes he has no allies here, with an inward grimace. “Or if you don’t, like, are you two just… not in good moods or something?”

The girl comes in then, saying here’s the martini and catering you a sweaty glass with a smile. You offer up the empty space beside you, patting the white leather for her to sit down on. Your eyes meet his again briefly, catty and a bit challenging, before you turn back to the girl. “Sit.”

Maybe Charles spends too much time with Max, because he’s starting to become more and more inclined to getting the last word in lately. “Bossing people around, eh? Fame really does change you.” He offers a smile of his own.

“She’s my assistant, Rachel,” you say sweetly, but your smile is gritty. “We need to check my schedule.”

He wants to slap himself. “Too busy to open your calendar?” Nevermind, he’s a god.

Your sarcastic smile drops. “And what’s on yours? P6 this week, P7 next, DNF after?”

Fuck. The tension is so thick at this point, it’s almost steaming hot. Both the assistants stare at you, waiting for Charles to wedge something in, but he bites himself back. Thankfully, right as the silence just begins to settle like oil on water, the door swings open and one of the coordinators steps in, noisily rattling off the week’s plans and proclaiming you’re both free for the remainder of the day before things pick back up—Schiaparelli show at noon, both of you, front row—tomorrow.

The four of you filter out of the room, and you make a quip about your autograph on Greg’s arm, which grants your assistant some face time with Charles. She turns to him, combing a hand through her hair and furrowing her thick eyebrows. “Hey, I’m Rachel, by the way.”

“Charles.”

“I know,” she says sheepishly. “Listen. I know you two have history, she—we—she’s, um, told me about it before. I don’t know the whole story, and I’m not… like, I’m not saying I do, so I respect it, whatever it is. But I hope you can find it in you to work with her properly. It’s a huge gig for you both. So—yeah, uh. Great job, and good luck.”

She smiles with a nod before exiting the room, leaving Charles alone and stirring with thoughts and memories woken from wild unrest.

—

“Alors,” Charles had said, not turning from his position in front of your vanity mirror. He’d been picking at his face, stopping only when you tsked at him not to. “What is the problem?” His eyes flicked over to you, your lying figure on the bed exhaling little puffs of frustrated air to the ceiling. “Are you missing the recital?”

“Quoi? Non.” You gnawed at your lip, accepting your defeat. You couldn’t lie for much longer, not when you’d been keeping this under wraps for two months. “Listen. Charles.” He nodded, clearly preoccupied with something. “Charles.”

“Hmm?”

“Can you ple—look at me.” Your voice hardened.

He’d noticed it then, the curt cutoff of your voice, the absent look in your eyes. He knows you even through a mirror, even in the low light of your room. “Desolé. This pimple won’t go away.”

“Charles,” you said, groaning but allowing yourself to laugh. “Listen.”

“Okay.” He turned to face you, a spot on his chin red from how long he’d been scratching at it.

You shrugged then, suddenly scared to deal with the realness of it all. You didn’t understand why you felt so torn. “It’s something to do with me,” you said.

“Yeah.”

“I’m moving.” You rubbed at your nose, the cold draft coming in through the window causing you to sniffle. “Out of Monaco.”

A beat. “What?”

You closed your fingers around your necklace, scratching absently at the divots of the pendant. One, two, three little dips in the gold locket, tiny but comforting. “Yeah. In a few months, like, after school. It’s Papa—his job. It’s a whole thing.”

“Europe?” You shook your head. America.

“What… well, what does that mean, then?” His expression didn’t waver but if anything did, it was his eyes—desperate, seeking more answers, wanting them with a guttural, belly-deep desire. You’re his best friend, so if he has to let you go in this life, he at least needs to know everything about the move.

“We’ll keep in touch,” you reassured, kicking your leg to further your point. “You were bound to get busy with karting anyway, so it’s like. Ça revient au même.”

“It isn’t the same,” he said, his voice thin and cracking.

“You’ll be fine.”

“You have a very misguided idea of who I am.”

“Shut up. Come off it,” you laughed, sitting up straighter. “We’ll call everyday, and I’ll meet all the famous people who’ll get me a real acting job, and I’ll come for the holidays or summer or something. Things won’t change. Not that much, at least.”

“Maybe, just maybe.” He pauses. “Will you be here for my birthday, at least?” He’d made a big deal all year of his turning sixteen on the sixteenth.

“Charles,” you sighed.

“No, yeah. I get it.” He looked down, rubbing his thumbs together, like he’s just been hit across the face. He will tell you one day it felt infinitely more painful than that. But at the time he shook his head and looked up at you, reached his pinky to yours, a thin slip of paper around the finger that matched your interlocked one, and didn’t say anything else.

Just: “We’ll be okay.”

—

You could pin a lot of adjectives on Monaco: picturesque, without a doubt; warm, glamorous, but you’d sooner die than pin the word home over it. The city is sprawling even with the little surface area it possesses, and only few things seem familiar. Your lodging is a hotel in Monte-Carlo, a penthouse suite that requires you to travel very little. It feels like a vacation.

And you embody the role of a vacationer very well—the first five, six days of your stay in Monaco went great, mainly appearances that lasted a few hours at most and several junkets to promote Vogue and your latest film, before you were free to do whatever you wished. You’d gone the touristy route already: shopping more times than you could count, trying your immense luck at the casinos, and eating at Michelin-starred restaurants; eventually all the fun blurred into each other and you found solace in naps instead.

Your troubles are not far behind, however, and they finally come after you on Day 7. The event coordinators had informed Rachel, who in turn informed you, that the first of next week’s agenda would be a photographed tour of the Musée Océanographique de Monaco, a grand seaside building right at the edge of the water. Today is, apparently, a day for you to “fraternize with” Charles, which meant you would once again need to put a façade over your less-than-kind appearance toward him.

Those are the concluding words of David’s very firm text, encouraging (read: coercing) you to settle things with Charles into some approximation of civility. You resolve things by calling him to skip over the awkwardness that comes with texting. It takes you all of twenty minutes and twice your body weight in courage to press the green telephone button.

“B’jour,” he goes, his voice quick. French people (he will hate that you called him French, even if it was just in your head; you relish in this) always talk rapidly. After some silence, he clears his throat: “Hello?”

Butterflies—some form of them, whatever—flutter in your stomach. “It’s me.”

He drops formalities and adopts a disinterested voice. “Huh. What do you want?” The butterflies have rotted to death.

“I need to talk to you.”

“To insult me again?” He sounds a little amused even over the phone, a breath of laughter landing in your ear. “Bah, I get it. We are enemies. You have no interest in reconnecting, et cetera. C’est tout ce que tu as à dire? I gotta go.”

Your face warms at his accusatory tone. “Wow, leave it to a guy to be charming, huh?”

“Why should I be charming with you?”

“At least be polite,” you taunt, but your voice lacks its usual edge. On the other line, Charles lets his own defiant tone ebb downward.

At least be polite. It’s the least he can owe you after ten years of forgetting. It wasn’t as if you two had a mutual agreement then, in 2013 when you moved away, to stop becoming friends. For months before you moved out, he completely stopped talking to you, like he’d forgotten you two were even connected, were even friends. What little words you two shared became petty and abrasive, and suddenly Monaco lost its color. The closeness you had with him, which for so long you’d convinced yourself was once-in-a-lifetime, was ripped from you, robbed from you—by him, no less, which hurt all the more. You’d given up on finding out why at some point. You waited for him to reach out. Maybe, you told yourself, just maybe, it would take a few months, a year.

Ten years of radio silence. He owes you that: politeness.

“It doesn’t matter,” you say to nobody in particular, in an effort to segue into the topic of your choosing. “Look, we’re supposed to be friends. In… on camera, at least. It’s disastrous if we look like we, you know, hate each other. We need to be professional.”

“For the cameras,” he says back, solemn.

“Yeah.” You wind a finger through your hair. “Just… for the sake of civility.”

You hear his little hums of consideration. “D’accord,” he says after a few minutes. “Truce, then.”

“Sure.” You smile a little. “I have to go.”

—

You were halfway through your mess of clothes when your mum peeked through your door, her hair held back by a headband. “Call you yet, poppet?”

“Non,” you said, decimating your voice to a monotonous murmur. You looked up from the dress you’d been folding and offer a half-hearted, sardonic smile. “Je t’ai dit qu’il ne le ferait pas.” You were right: he wouldn’t call. What difference did a month make, anyway? This time, though, the usual victory of being right settled into an ugly disappointment in the pit of your stomach.

You wanted so badly to be wrong. To clamber to the telephone, to your Skype, to your cellphone, any of the three, and see his name flashed across the helm or his voice in your ear. Maybe he was dialing your number now, to ask if you wanted to grab dinner after the year-end recital, or to update you on karting, or to tell you Pascale wanted lunch.

She could tell, as all mothers can, that you’d been upset. The knit in your brows that didn’t go away, the bottom lip being chewed, the tight clutch of your fingers over the already-folded dress. She sighed. “I’m sorry, baby.”

“It’s fine.” Your voice came out sharper than you intended and you have to roll it back, recede it, to sound more relaxed, more at ease. “It’s… fine. I’m fine.” She knew better than to pry, closing the door softly to continue packing up the living room.

You heaved a dry sigh to express the nausea that came with his absence. It began a month ago, two days after you first told him about it and poked at the zit on his chin. He’d buried his head in your shoulder until tears seeped into the cotton sleeve of your shirt, and you let him. You felt guilty, after all, for keeping it a secret for so long. You would leave in September, you told him. We have time.

Two days later he walked you home as always, on the “dangerous” side of the street, lanky legs skipping to the tree in front of your house. You pointed at the beginnings of clementines on its dewy branches, smiling, inviting him in, but he remained leaning against the trunk, playing with his mop of hair that covered his forehead.

“Bah, trop dramatique,” you said, poking fun. Lorenzo had showed you both some art house films he studied in class, and with the bout of French cinema, you and Charles had grown obsessed with making fun of overdramatic stills that often included the classic leaning-against-a-surface. “Come on, Mum made bouillabasse, I smell it.”

“We need to talk,” he eked out awkwardly. “I have something important to tell you.”

You dropped your knapsack, leather scratching against the concrete of the steps to the front door as you walked over to him. “Ouais?”

“I…” His lips moved, wobbled, but nothing left, so he shut them and his eyes, like he was considering something. His breathing slowed into one rhythm you find yourself unconsciously matching, just two kids looking at each other in the dusky breeze of Monaco, the orange sun casting shadows over the clementine tree. You closed your hand over his, a tight clamp over his knobby wrist with certainty. “I…”

“Say it.”

“I want to.” His eyes were shut. Exhale. Inhale, open. “I… I’m going… going home.”

You breathed out apprehensively and relaxed. “Oh.” You blinked. “That’s it?”

“Ye—ouais. Yeah. I gotta.” Already he was climbing to the gate, waving a half-hearted goodbye. “Save some for me, oui? Bye.”

“Charles,” you warned after him, voice tinged with concern. “That’s it, promise?” Your hand flexed around air.

“Cross my heart!” The last thing he ever said with any bit of something genuine.

—

You reunite with Charles at a meeting; under the guise of your truce, he makes the barely-necessary small talk. The rest of the staff file out of the restaurant in due time, but you both stay. You ask about Lorenzo and Arthur, leaving out questions you’d rather not listen to him answer, and he tells you they’re both alright. That his mum asks about you sometimes. That makes you smile. He asks if you’re still dating the guy you’d most recently been partnered with in Us Weekly.

“God, no. We never even dated, the… um, tabloids always make shit up.” You purse your lips. “Anyway. Is Lorenzo still in film?” You ask, turning your head a little. You don’t think you’ll ever forget his affinity for cinema.

“Not professionally, but I still sit through hours-long… you know, reviews, and stuff.” He laughs when he sees you laugh, eyes half-closed and meeting the ceiling.

“He introduced me to some of my favorite movies, especially when I got into acting and I was kind of… like, I wanted some inspiration, acting-wise. But not my actual favorite movie.”

“Which is?” He segues into a more personal topic. “Is it still Bambi?”

“Oh, it was, for the longest time!” You almost squeal with excitement. “Not anymore, though. It’s been dethroned, ha ha. I think it’s… I’d say it’s maybe Casablanca now.”

“How American.”

“Shut up.” Your face warms. “It’s so romantic. When he says—when he goes, um. We’ll always have Paris. And then, God—when Ilsa goes, I said I would never leave you—and Rick goes, And you never will… isn’t it so classic? Romance movies nowadays are—I, I, I… I get scripts sent to me that are just so bad, and they’re either too idealistic or too pessimistic, or too indie or too commercial, and.” You sigh. “It’s like nobody gets love right anymore.”

“Us Weekly disagrees,” he says weakly, after a period of silence.

“Stop,” you laugh warningly. “And don’t act like you’re not being paired up with different girls, too.”

For a minute you sit with the realization that you’ve both been keeping tabs on each other all these years, even just a little bit. It’s a bit jarring, it’s a bit warm, it’s a lot confusing. You make a move to ask for the bill but Charles is quicker, opens his mouth to implore your presence.

“Come see me tonight.” He says it like he didn’t mean to, like it escaped him on a whim, a blurted out confession born out of your memories and conversation. His voice is dreamy, faraway. “Earth to…?”

“Wh—sorry. Fuck.” You clear your throat and deduce your next words. “Where?”

“I’ll text you. A club, near your hotel.”

“Yeah… yeah, sure.” You hum an affirming noise.

—

Your name is on the list, though you’re sure it doesn’t matter whether or not it was. No ID is needed, and paps catch a bouncer being dispatched to guide you through the nightclub toward the elevated area with significantly less people. It’s low-lit, smoky, vaguely blue and purple, smelling of flows of alcohol and fresh ice. An Azealia Banks song is playing, pounding through your head.

Tabloids don’t care about nightclubs. They care if you come out drunk or with a smidge of snow under your nose, neither of which have happened to you; entering is fair game, a fun affair, especially in a district like Monte-Carlo. You don’t have any explaining to do, not even to questions like are you clubbing with your professional Vogue collaborator, Charles Leclerc?

The collaborator in question is the first to greet you, getting up and approaching you with a smile so obviously tense. The picture in front of him is like if he’d conjured up a forlorn fantasy of his to life—your hair fell loosely over black lace, a hand pinched around the hem of your dress. “Hey.”

“Hi.”

“So.” He realizes he’s in charge of the socializing, and turns to properly introduce you. “Um, guys, this is my—friend—you already know”—he fusses over your name, which everyone in the world knows, anyway—“and these are my friends. Pierre, Alex, George, Lando, Daniel… you know Joris.” He points to each guy's face as he goes, eliciting a beam every time he gestures.

You wave with a polite smile before you station yourself beside the only one you know: Joris, with whom Charles shares a longtime friendship. He greets you first, with a side hug. “Long time.”

“Yeah, it’s been.” You watch him turn toward the low table, and back around with two shots, offering them to you with haste.

You thank the Lord that he makes quick, dextrous work of it, and before long you’ve downed a glass or three of some strawberry four seasons thing, socializing with the different people around the table. One of them, Lando, talks about your latest film for five whole minutes (“I rated it five stars on Letterboxd. I left a review, if you wanna see”) before he leans close and asks: “Are you his girlfriend?” His is obviously referencing Charles, and you pull back from the proximity to shake your head.

“No,” you holler to emphasize it. “We used to know each other. I grew up here.”

“Oh shit! Native!” He whoops, offering you another glass. This must be your fifth, maybe, fifth G&T or Cosmo or something or other of the night. You take it, drinking as you walk, planning to collect your bag to take with you to the bathroom—another hand takes yours, though, dragging you down the steps. Halfway through, you realize it’s Charles.

“How’s the drink?” He asks, brows straight.

“That’s all you wanted to ask?” You raise your voice above the bass. “Someone needs to teach you fucking… proper small talk.” A laugh involuntarily bubbles past your lips, eyes crinkling.

He laughs, too, despite himself. “Non, I was—I was just asking. We should—I brought you over here to—so we could…” He realizes he’s been talking too fast without getting to the point and pauses, resetting himself with a pinched sigh. “Dance.”

Your heart pulses. Dance? You hear yourself ask. For wh…Why?

“For the sake of the truce.” His voice is light. “We should try being closer.”

“We were close once,” you say, loose. “Did you forget?”

He’s looking right at you, and you’re warm all over. “How could I?”

It feels too real. Not the words—yes the words—but the alcohol, the alcohol is what you’re referring to, and all those shots and drinks suddenly seem not as harmless as they’d seemed earlier. You scan the periphery for the WC sign and try your best not to look deranged on your way there, offering the same pretty smile to recognizing passersby. Behind you, Charles calls out; but you wave him off, heaving dryly.

The restroom is clean because the nightclub is outrageously expensive; you push yourself into the available stall that’s in your direct path and crumple above it. You heave. Heave some more. Nothing comes. The nausea rises and recedes, so you decide to wait it out.

The bathroom door hauls open, bringing with it a few seconds of noise before it swings heavily onto the frame again, sealing the sterile silence. The momentary return of the bass from the dance floor sends your head spinning all over again and you freeze, willing yourself not to wind up hurling your guts into the toilet. It’s a futile effort, though, because you’re feeling nauseated beyond your limit again, and you need water and maybe a salve or something.

“This stall is open,” somebody says, a chipper American voice that grows in volume as it nears you. A gasp follows, and then: “Oh, my God. Are you okay?”

You turn, your face flushed and lips parted. “I’m so sorry. I just—I’ve been nauseous all night.”

“I have water,” she answers, reaching her arm outward, as if seeking it. “Carmen, the water!” A bottle of Evian is thrust into her hand by another girl (Carmen, you presume), and she doesn’t hesitate to bend next to you to feed it into your mouth. She stares for a second, then goes: “On the off chance I’m lucky, and you’re the famous actress, by the way, I just want to say I’m a huge fan of your work.”

Eyes wide, you lock eyes with her and pull away from the water. “Oh, God. Yeah, that’s me. I’m so sorry—this is so humiliating.”

“It’s not—it’s normal,” she assures, nodding. “We’ve all… y’know, puked into a club toilet before.” From the stall doorframe, Carmen nods. “What’d you drink?”

“Fruity stuff,” you recall, eyebrows knitting at the memory. “And shots.”

They both grimace at the same time, knowing the exact feeling, the exact taste, it seems. “Are you heartbroken or something?” Carmen asks; Lily shoots her a look that can only really mean don’t ask the world-famous actress if she’s heartbroken. But you laugh it off, shaking your head.

“No. There’s a guy, though, and he’s… we’re… it’s a lot. I think I thought alcohol would absorb all of it, but… clearly, it did not.” Your lips simmer into a straight line and you’re quiet for a few moments before remembering you’re on a dingy club floor being supported by two nice girls who are strangers. “Anyway! Sorry. I’m clearly, um, delirious.” You get up on semi-wobbly feet, swallowing the nausea as you go.

You walk to the sink, and behind your back, the girl and Carmen share a telepathic exchange (should we ask her to elaborate? Yes! Should we really? Fuck, no.) You rinse your mouth out, washing your hands and focusing on your reflection—your tired eyes, your smudged lip gloss, your fussed-up hair. You turn after rinsing, offering a small smile. “Thank you.”

“It’s nothing,” says the first girl, offering her hand and a tube of lip gloss. “I’m Lily, by the way. And just so you know—I’m so sure that guy has nothing on you.” Carmen, beside her, nods in solidarity, and your heart blooms.

Your smile grows as your hand shakes hers, accepting the lip gloss. “You’re too kind. Thank y—”

“Lil? Baby, are you puking?” Comes a disembodied male voice from the door, ajar ever so slightly. Lily visibly cringes and walks over to the door, pulling it open further. On the other side—the detective of sorts—happens to be Alex, who you’d been introduced to a few hours ago. At the sight of you, his eyes widen with recognition.

“We’re fine. Leave us alone,” replies Lily in a conspiratorial whisper. “Carmen and I have a new friend.” She doesn’t even need to drop your name; your face alone is enough to make people recognize who you are.

Alex, however, refuses to admit defeat. “Try harder next time.” He pumps his eyebrows. “We were introduced earlier.” He looks up and waves to demonstrate his truth; when you smile back, Lily’s jaw drops as she turns to her boyfriend again, aghast.

“What the hell? How?” A pause. “No offense. It’s like. Two levels of fame, right there.”

He makes a pinched face. “She’s Charles’… friend? I don’t—coworker? Something, something. They were both vague about it. Actually, George and I were talking about it, and we both think something is up. With them.”

“Wait—you might be right.” Her eyes are hyperfocused, and her voice drops to a whisper for a second. “Let’s talk about it at the hotel.”

You and Carmen watch their hushed exchange, and eventually Alex leaves you three alone again with a loud goodbye, which allows Lily to rejoin your conversation. “Sorry,” she says with a smile. “That was my boyfriend, Alex. I didn’t know you two were introduced! He told me you knew Charles?”

“Oh.” Your shoulders relax. “Yeah, um. We knew each other as kids, but I moved away and we kind of—we drifted apart, so. I’m here on a business trip, and he’s just welcoming me.” You try to reduce the decade-long mess into a sentence.

“So you’re friends?”

“Yeah.” You feel like vomiting all over again.

—

The sky’s a searing blue at noon, silver clouds lining the horizon. Charles has to press a finger to the high point of his cheek to test if he’s sunburned from the heat, and the cameras catch it; he doesn’t doubt the fans will spin that into something cute later. You’re somewhere else on the property, this big, massive thing of a museum that’s crashed into by the waves.

He remembers Andrea first telling him about this whole arrangement. He and the team had deliberately left out any mention of you, like they could predict the immediate veto. He wonders if you knew, or if you, too, had been surprised when seeing him, a ghost of your past looking into your eyes. He wonders if you, too, are now in this endless emotional turmoil. Inside there’s a photoshoot ongoing, with you but also with some models in varying aquatic-related poses to convey the intent of the building; he’s done his share of pictures already, just needs to sit down with you for an interview.

“And a B-roll of you guys, um, like, walking, like—around?” Greg’s voice invades his head again, the nervous man beside him running through a to-do list like this is boot camp.

You’d left him hanging at the club—he couldn’t blame you though. A truce hardly called for the bringing forth of memories you two are now supposed to have buried beneath you. Memories he buried first. But alcohol had loosened him, and maybe you had, too, your eyes in the vaguely bluish light and your smile.

He wishes to apologize. He makes up some excuse and finds you nursing an Evian by a faraway corner, against a screen of stingrays. Your eyes widen when you see him, in recognition. He waves and then, with a thumb, gestures to the catering outside.

You end up by the water eating one of the caterer’s churros, a recommendation he deems “very special.” (“Have you worked with these caterers before?” “No.”) It’s also his excuse to cheat on his diet and eat a churro or three—chocolate dip included, always. You rave over the taste, smile, enjoy the view. Charles realizes this looks deceivingly like a date, and at the same time realizes he would not stop to correct someone if they assumed so.

“Our truce seems to be working.” You say in-between chews, voice flat but eyes bright.

“It seems so. I owe that to my personality.”

You really laugh at that. “I didn’t know you had one. It’s very fit for someone as unapproachable as I am.”

“Who said that?”

“No, noth—nobody.” You comb a lock of hair behind your ear. “Aw, putain. I’m ruining my lipstick. Pat’s going to kill me. I look awful.” There are no reflective surfaces around you to affirm your statement, but you sound so sure of yourself.

He smiles. He enjoys the illusion, the mask that you two seem to wear, albeit involuntarily. The chocolate syrup he squeezes on your little paper box of churros. The muttered back merci when he’s finished. Your flushed face, eyes darting from the delicacy to the ocean, eyelashes fluttering, lips smiling, curving into a laugh at some random realization. Briefly he imagines what he might tell somebody if they stopped to ask if you were dating.

Some old woman, French accent and short in stature. You two are so cute. Si mignon! And she would ask how you two met. Charles would tell her the story. But that is imagination. He blinks out of it and focuses on the beauty in front of him, so very real.

“No. You are very pretty, you know.” He says then, and it’s taken him all his nerves and then some just to wrangle it out of his mouth and past his lips. Anticipatory, he watches you, waits for your response.

You comb the hair out of your face messily, licking over the cinnamon sugar on your lips; then you smile up at him, turning your head in question. “Sorry,” you laugh, and his heart’s frozen because it’s the prettiest sound he’s ever heard. “What did you say?”

The wind roars in his ears, so Charles barely hears himself when he says, stuttering, “What? Nothing, I said nothing.”

You make a face—confused, suspicious—but all your allegations quell once you bite into another churro, stepping yourself a path along the area. Having blocked off the building, production staff and models are all that populate your surroundings, big headphones and even bigger cameras, rolling around racks of monochrome and Hermés, Birkins to match Loro Pianas. It’s easy to get lost in a crowd—in a city—where everyone looks the same, and knows the other’s name. Perhaps that’s also why, even at fourteen, you were excited to leave, he thinks.

“The coast was always my favorite part about the city.”

He notices. The way your eyes have softened, become more fond than when you’re in the centre of it all, in the bustle. Here it’s busy, but less busy; the distinction, perhaps, matters. Your gaze is not one of distaste, of disdain. It’s nostalgic, homesick, yearning. He supposes he describes this gaze so well because it’s the way he catches himself looking at you over the week.

“I wanted to…” He trails off. “I wanted to talk to you because, ah. I’m sorry. It was foolish of me to put you on the spot last night. I should’ve been more… yeah. I’m sorry. I hope you’re okay.”

You stare at the sea and nod quietly. Instead of responding, you launch a story: “I always…” You’re clearly lost in a different sphere of thought, and you have to fall quiet while finding the right words to say. “I remember, um. In Year 3, we—I came here with my mum. And I was super mad, because I got, like, three mistakes on my Maths paper?” You laugh and he does, too, but more because your storytelling is so effortlessly enthralling and funny and he needs to shut himself up.

“Anyway.” You pace around again, and he follows. “So, I’m mad, and she’s trying to cheer me up, buys me glace and everything, but no. So I go sit myself on a random bench. It must’ve been around here, I think.” You look around and point at an empty area. “There. But it’s—they must’ve ripped it out. Whatever. So yeah, I’m sitting there, and moping, and all of a sudden All You Need is Love by The Beatles comes blaring into the entire area.”

Charles’ eyebrows knit confusedly. “What, the bench area?”

“No—the whole pier, I guess? Like, it was loud, I almost jumped. And then this guy comes in holding this huge—this, um, board? Sign? Poster? And he’s got half the pier in on his whole thing, and I’m totally… it was just… yeah.” You smile. It’s the biggest smile he’s seen on you since you got here and the fact that he’s even around to see it gets him all warm.

“So what happened?”

“It was a flash mob. You know those—yeah, they’re usually insufferable, but that one was a little calmer. Nobody was, you know, dancing and yelling. It was just a bunch of people cheering and all, and the guy was actually proposing to his girlfriend. It was so cute.” You sigh a little, a brief exhale of air, and it turns into a smile. “I’d love that.”

He raises his eyebrows and, despite himself, laughs. “Vraiment?”

You turn to him, ready to defend yourself, mid-laugh. “Heeey. Everyone says they find big, romantic gestures cheesy, but I think deep down, if you trust the person enough, you’ll like it. Maybe not a proposal, though—can you imagine the pressure?” You pause. “But I don’t know. There’s something so nice about just knowing that person loves you so much they think it’s worth it to share it to everyone around you. So even if it’s cheesy, I wouldn’t mind much. You?”

“It’s cheesy for me,” he disagrees, shrugging. “But I see your point.” Truth be told, he didn’t see you as a romantic type—but all he’s ever seen you do lately is work, and even back in childhood, all you ever did was study. He likes learning these little facts, ones you wouldn’t share in interviews—likes knowing you feel comfortable enough to share with him. “Dancing is a bit overboard.”

“Oh, definitely.” You throw your head back to laugh, eyes half-shut and crinkled and reflecting the sun. Would you look the same if he was dancing to The Beatles, proclaiming all the words he hasn’t had the courage to say?

—

Next question is who your first love was—we’re rolling in three…

“First love?” You laughed a little, facing the camera to continue your Screen Test interview with W. The questions had been candid and lovely, but they were about your career, which you answered with familiar ease. First love is different—uncharted, private territory. But you’d realized all this too late, and the director called go, and you let words spill out of you like a bag popped open.

“I want to be funny and witty and say acting, but that would be a lie. Um, my first love was a childhood friend. We lived near each other, our parents were friends, and I… I really did, I liked him a lot. But these—there were so many factors at tension with each other, like me moving away in 2013—that’s, what, six years ago now? And us being young and not really knowing how to communicate. When you’re a teenager, you’re kind of just like, oh, no worries, um, that’ll sort itself out, and then you grow up and look back and realize, these things never do. But I miss him a, a, a… a lot, and I think of him always.” Your smile didn’t reach your eyes when you looked at the camera again. “We learn a lot from childhood loves.”

Cut. Lovely. Just lovely.

“Thank you, Lynn,” you said with a small smile. A pause as silence creeps up onto the room, and then, quieter: “Could we omit that? I—sorry. I could answer anything else. First kiss, or something? I’m sorry, I just. Sorry.” For the first time in five years, you realize, you’ve conjured his memory again.

—

“Okay. What else do you remember?”

“I… do you remember the recital song?”

“Of course I do! The dance is… that’s a different story.” You’d been at Charles’ hotel room earlier to go over some video shoot regulations for a 24 Hours With video you’re doing in a few days. You stayed because—that’s beyond you at this point, and you’d rather not delve into the rationality of it all. You’re content with thinking about how nice this conversation is, a trip down memory lane.

“The dance, mon dieu, the dance.” He smothers a hand over his face, smiles fondly. “You were at the center!”

“Stop. Stop,” you protest, letting laughter settle into quiet. “It’s crazy, you know? How we… like, we share a life. Not—but like, we had a whole childhood together.”

“And nobody knows.” It’s not something you keep a secret on purpose—it’s just that neither of you feel like name-dropping the other. Some stories have surfaced, but none of you have fully commented. Somehow, that’s a good thing for you.

“Do people ask?”

“People ask, yes.” His accent is a reminder of your past—you’d once had the same thick wraparound, the loose reign over English you’ve now grown to master. Now your accent is a lot thinner, to the point where it’s barely perceptible, and if it is, your coworkers and fans call it cute, chic, use it as a jumping off point to ask where you grew up. But in this hotel room, legs folded underneath you and glass of wine in hand, you have no coworkers or fans, it feels like; no one to perceive you but Charles. Charles and his accent, nostalgic and so very his, which you wouldn’t describe as anything but home.

“What do you tell them, then?” Quickly, you add: “The truth, or…?”

“That we knew each other as kids,” he says, smiling absently. “That is the truth, no?”

You cover a smile with the rim of your wine glass, nodding. There’s no revisionist history in that statement, but it hides a lot of the truth, the nitty gritty of it. You know it, he knows it, you both know it. “What would you want me to say?” His voice is soft and thin and imploring, so different from the boisterous voice he uses in public, from the slurred voice you heard in the club. This sounds real. This sounds like a conversation you would’ve had years ago in your childhood bedroom before everything went—

“Nothing, that’s fine.” You cut your own reverie off, clearing your throat. You even laugh, to alleviate the tension, but he sees right through you so many years later. “Unless you’re privy to telling people how we didn’t talk for months before I left.”

He blinks, smothers a palm over his face again, and sighs, eyes meeting yours. “I’m sorry. I don’t—I… I’ve wanted to bring it up.”

“I’m not mad.” It’s a half-lie. “Okay, no—I am, a bit. It just—it would’ve been nice to hear it two weeks ago.”

“I know.” He doesn’t even need to say it, but him saying it sends a low thrum of reassurance in you. Charles has found, in the two weeks of being in your company, that he accomplishes a sense of self—a sense of quiet, a sense of privacy—when he’s alone with you. Perhaps it’s your natural ability to bring out the best in people, to talk and loosen tongues and make everyone around you feel safe. Or, and this is on a likely front, maybe he misses being one of those people.

He pretends he’s back to last week after another club rendezvous left you tipsier than the first time, dropping you off at your hotel room with two hands taut at your shoulders, one pinching a keycard. You’d been muttering something under your breath, stumbling as you went—you weren’t tripping too much, really; he didn’t need to hold you, but he told himself he had to—and leaning against the doorframe of your room, staring at him blankly. When he met your eyes, you said: maybe, just maybe. Just those three words. If he tries to remember right, you’d been smiling, but he was sufficiently tipsy, too, so he could just as well be wrong.

He does remember a few things right. The eyeliner smudged across your lower eye, lipstick smacked to a point where it looked like you wore none, beads of salt by your lip, your hand wrapped around your necklace.

The silence is anything but awkward; still, he resolves to break it. “When you were drunk last week.” He looks up. “You said—you kept saying, maybe, just maybe.”

A laugh escapes you, stilted and a bit nervous. “Oh. That was—yeah, okay.”

“What’s it mean?”

“You seriously don’t remember?” You’re laughing for real now, your hair bobbing with it, eyebrows furrowed to emphasize your confusion. “Oh, my God. Charles, it’s all you ever said in Year… what, 7? I don’t… anyway. But when we were maybe twelve, I…”

Momentarily, you’re stunned by the memories of him—you’d forgotten they were even there. You press a few fingers to your lips and clear your throat. “Sorry. Yeah, I, um—I think you heard it in a movie or read it somewhere, and for ages it was your favorite saying. Maybe, just maybe.”

“I don’t underst—”

“—You were always just saying it,” you cut in, laughing, your voices layering as you discuss the origin of his former favorite term. “No, you really—”

“I don’t—I do not ever remember say—”

“—Well,” you say, “I remember.” He stays silent for a few seconds, the intensity of your stare and the little smile on your face and everything beating down on him. For a split second he thinks of opening his mouth and getting on his knees and telling you everything, all the apologies, all the things unsaid in the months and years you became strangers. He seriously does. The pressure is almost physical, beyond overwhelming.

“I have to go.” You swallow the lump in your throat, disentangle your legs and clamber off the couch, setting the empty glass on his coffee table. “Good?”

“Yeah,” he says, blinking. “Yeah. Take care. Should I drive you?”

“God, no.” You laugh breathily. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He closes the door after you leave, stares at it, as if that will conjure you back to him. It occurs to him, jolts him almost, that he’d almost let slip a quiet utterance of love you as you slipped out. His stomach boils. With thankfulness over not having said it, he wonders—or with regret?

—

“Best friends now, are you?” Lily, Carmen, and Rachel look up to the sound of your voice, their serious faces breaking out into smiles. If you could chart the time you spent here, there are definitely people you’ve spent the most time with—these three are at the top of the list. You hang your coat and drop your Chanel bag on the entryway seat, already picking up on the British noises of Love Island UK from the telly.

“Wait, so she’s hooking up with him?” Lily asks, confused; her train of thought is cut off by your flopping onto the bed. “Hiiii. Where’ve you been?”

Muffled by the bedspread: Charles’ place.

Silence. The television switches off and you hear the precarious preparation of three girls readying themselves for a debrief-or-sobfest of a lifetime, a noise you’ve heard and partaken in countless times over your life. You suddenly feel too watched, too spectated; you break the quiet by looking up, displaying your tear-streaked face.

“Talk to us,” Rachel encourages, her voice raspy with unuse (Love Island will keep one occupied and quiet for hours on end). Three of them are touching you in some way or other, reassuring grips on your hair or shoulders. “Did you two fight?”

And, oh Christ, fight? It’s not like you’re dating. You aren’t even halfway to that (not that you want to be, but that’s a discussion for another time). The idea of a fight with him is so terribly juvenile, so horribly reminiscent of secondary school and Monaco and being together and being friends. You can’t fight with a guy who’s not your boyfriend. You can’t fight with a guy you’re not close to, for Chrissake. You squeeze your tears out of your eyes and breathe hiccups out.

“Do you want gelato?” No, no.

“Love Island?” In a minute.

The truth is, you want both, but you really just want to sort everything out with Charles. It was no use—hating each other was futile, but pretending everything was fine in some pathetic attempt at a “truce” seemed even worse. You just want to talk everything out, even if it excavates feelings you’d once been able to suppress.

“What kind of crush doesn’t disappear after ten years?” You ask through tears. It’s almost funny, but the question comes straight from the heart. “I’ve dated guys, lived across the world, started a whole new life pretending he never—pretending we were—fuck. Pretending he didn’t exist. It was—I’m not lying, it was easy, pretending. But one glimpse—I see him one time and suddenly it feels like all of it was in vain. It’s the same crush I had before, coming back, like it’s never going to leave me alone.”

“Maybe it’s not a crush,” says Lily, slowly.

“So what is it then?” You ask, hopelessly. What is this—this revival of memories? This little feeling, this sense that no matter where he is or what he’s doing, you’ll be just as in tune when you reunite even if it takes a decade? A decade spurred by months of being given the cold shoulder? What kind of magic is that?

She doesn’t answer, because you already know.

—

“Hey Vogue—I’m here with Charles Leclerc, and we’re here to take you along with us on all our little adventures here in Monaco.” Your smile is rehearsed, the perfectly-orchestrated blend of fun and serious, and when the cameraman calls cut, it falls into a more natural resting face. It’s the one Charles turns to and observes for any signs of a grudge.

The day is busy, which is precisely why it was chosen as the film day: three shows in the morning, press junkets for your movie and Charles’ season in the afternoon, and then a gala in the evening, hosted and attended by Anna Wintour herself.

The day’s business is only trumped by its tension, which reaches its crescendo in the janitor’s closet of the fourth floor of your hotel. It’d begun with a fight over the color palette, then a fight over last conversation you shared, then a fight over him fucking up the color palette, and then kissing against the door. Ironically enough, this floor houses a fair number of honeymoon suites.

It’s ironic beause hardly anything about this is or should be romantic—it’s a temporary fix, a pause from the turmoil, his hand squeezing your thigh. He’s gentle but you feel his possessiveness, lingering longer, higher and higher up until he’s playing with the high hem of your skirt. You knot your fingers in his hair, smell the shampoo and hairspray and cologne in the wispy curls there.

He kisses your jaw, then downward, until he’s licking, nipping at your throat. Charles.

“Yeah?” His voice is rough against your pulse point.

“Make it—we gotta—quicker.” Your hands tremble, heart hammering loud and bold in your chest. His voice is sure, gravelly, quiet, and you have to focus on something—so you centre on his hands, up your thighs and slipping under the lace of your skirt, bunching the fabric up around your hips. His hands, big and calloused, fingers resting on your hipbones, on your ass.

He’s hard against your thigh, straining against his jeans. You could cry. “I want more.”

“I know, baby. I know.” The pet name, so new but so natural, sends you into a dopamine rush.

You squirm when he doesn’t let up on his touches, over every inch of your body, groping you. He wants to take his time—he hates that he can’t—and counts on the possibility of a next time. You pull him in for a spit-slick kiss, needy and whimpering, sloppy and tongues knotted. It feels good—fuck, it feels like this was all you were ever made for, his touch.

You buck your hips into the air desperately. “We really—fuck. We don’t have time.” Cameras, a shoot, a video; reminders ring in your head like alarm bells. He nods, goes I know, and you pick up the strain in his voice as he tugs his jeans down just enough to rub his clothed cock under your entrance, hard and drooling through the fabric.

You moan softly. “Please, I can take it,” you breathe. You’ve never been this wet, this worked up, this teased. You need to feel him, be full of him; he presses you flush against the door with a hand at the small of your back to keep it from aching too much, and drops forward as he pushes into you. Your noses brush and he goes deeper, air thick and muffled with little moans and whimpers.

His mouth is against your jaw, thrusting slowly to get you used to the size of him. The angle gets you dizzy, draws a burst of wetness out and gets you clenching around him. You’re flushed and sweaty, moaning. Feels s’good. So good, Charles, so, so good. He fucks harder, the door rattling, dirty talk cooed from his lips to your ear: Yeah? Feels real good? You’re so good for me, baby, come on.

Your needy voice, needier movements, are driving him crazy, getting him to fuck you harder, licking over his lips as he watches you fall apart on his dick. Relax, he slurs. You squeeze around him and moan, wretched and raw. Oh fuck, fuck, fuck. You’re so big. You’re getting his dick wetter and wetter with every thrust, shiny and drooling with cum.

Yeah? He says it so well, the best kind of reassurance. Come on, we don’t have time, baby. Let me feel you cum.

I know— you whine. I’m cumming—it feels too good—

You cum first, thighs shaky around him and lip curling into your teeth. You lean forward, mouth to his shoulder, and bite at the cotton. Fuck, he grunts, and releases then, a groan spilled into your hair. You watch, laughing breathlessly, and feel the world click into something different.

You two will do anything, apparently, but talk this all through.

—

The gala is big and extravagant and you’re seated not with Charles this time, but with a roster of celebrities straight out of an LAX red-eye. Anna is at the table adjacent, andy you were able to talk to her about the experience, though not without leaving out bits with Charles in them.

You’re beside Florence and she’s talking about something, about a new movie she’s working on, and you chip in with jokes and laughs but your smile doesn’t really reach your eyes. You’re still caught in a web of fragile confusion. “I need to excuse myself for a moment,” you say after a while, after you’ve done nothing but smile and push broccoli puree around on your plate.

Consolation comes with isolation, at least tonight, at least right now. You find an empty balcony on the third floor, stare into the black sea. You try and try to remember what life was like three weeks ago, but it’s irrevocable now, the change that’s come since then. You tap the glass of your beer bottle against the marble banister, solid and probably expensive—a match for the rest of the hotel, you realize. It’s starkingly clean and smooth, and white, the kind of things you’d only say about a marble banister when you’re trying to avoid an adult introspection.

Behind you: “Are you okay?”

In response, you say, “We shouldn’t have had sex.”

Charles settles himself into a spot near you, not totally beside but not too far—he, too, holds onto a bottle of beer. There are fancier drinks around, but somehow the dry taste of ale is all that brings you comfort right now. Your gears turn and, without prompt or question, you spill yourself forth.

“It was hard, when you didn’t… when we didn’t talk, and you didn’t ever tell me why, so I didn’t know anything. I keep remembering it, even now, what—ten years later, ha ha, even after… I don’t know, after the fact. We’re supposed to have moved on from shit that happened to us when we were fifteen but I’m finding it to be the hardest thing in the world. It was so… like, I had no trouble saying goodbye to anything else but you. And I’m famous now, my life is a whole thing, a—this whole party, and I’m supposed to… fuck.” You shut your eyes, and you can feel, through the thick fog of embarrassment and delirium, the tears that stain your cheeks. “It’s like. You know when you’re a teenager and you see all of it in movies and TV, this, like, moment where you’re staring at someone from across a room, and you’re smiling and talking to other people and you’re happy because you know in a few hours, you’ll be with that person anyway? At home, rearranging furniture, feeding the dog, eating leftovers? That… I always thought you’d be that person for me. Maybe because you were the only—you know—the only love I ever knew, and now, what. Four? Boyfriends and ten years later, you might expect me to feel differently—hell I expect myself to feel differently, but, unfortunately for you and me, I don’t. Sorry. I’m not—I’m not drunk, or anything.”

He stares at you, his expression soft and unreadable. It feels like it’s just the two of you in the world today, twenty-somethings, ten years later, unearthing all you left buried. “I…” he says, before pausing. “I’m sorry for leaving.”

You nod in response.

“I always thought you would forgive me.” His face is sullen and handsome and your heart seizes. “I wanted to be your person.”

“How could I forgive you without an apology?” Your voice comes out fragile. “I leave in three days. You’ve fu—you’ve… you’ve kissed me, had sex with me, flirted with me. You’ve done everything but that.”

“I did apologize. I don’t think it was enough, but—”

“But you didn’t,” you reply, a jagged response. “You never said anything.”

“I wrote you.” His eyebrows knit. “I wrote you.”

“You wrote me.” You repeat, deadpan. Your head spins with it. “What, a letter?”

“An e-mail. Before your first film came out—2014? A year after you… yeah.” He’s quiet and timid and nervous. “I forced Gi to tell me your address.”

“I didn’t… I wasn’t using that e-mail anymore. I haven’t in years.” You pinch your nose and let the silence settle like fine dust onto the room, an unspoken bomb that explodes over the both of you, raining regret and unsaid words. “I have to go.” You push yourself off the banister, turning already to the doors of the balcony. He stops you before you can step any further, a hand closed over your wrist, rough and warm.

“If you find the message,” he says, “will you read it?”

“I don’t plan to,” you lie. “Goodnight.”

—

From: Charles Perceval Leclerc <[email protected]>

Date: 14 October 2014

To: You

Subject: Urgent!

hey buttercup, I asked Giada for this email address. my bday in 2 days. Will you be home for Xmas this year btw? ill show you some new places that open ed + we can bike around. mum misses u a lot too. parfois je souhaite que tu ne partes pas… not sometimes but always. i think i need to edit this a little let me try ag

From: Charles Perceval Leclerc <[email protected]>

Date: 14 October 2014

To: You

Subject: Buttercup

j’appellerais mais je ne pense pas que tu veuilles répondre. it’s been more than a year since you moved out, in two days i’ll be celebrating my second birthday w/o you. i’ve been karting a lot, things are looking up, just like we always said they would :) just want to say i miss you a lot, and i hope you’re doing good. i would say i hate radio silence but i know it’s my fault all this happened in the first place. i’m sorry i stopped talking to you last year when you were moving away. i was being childish, but the truth is it was the only way i could handle it - by pretending we werent friends at all… i don’t want to make you pity me or anything (ne pense pas que je suis) but yeah you’re my best friend and you always will be. i’m sorry for being a knot head.

i was always scared to tell you but it’s been there since forever: i love you. i should’ve enjoyed your months here instead of leaving you in the air. i know i ignored you but it’s the 1 thing i regret. should’ve done a lot more, i know.. but i didn’t. we have a lot of promises i broke because i was being selfish. i kept the paper ring to remind me. remember that? we had a “playground wedding” when we were 5/6?

tu ne me dois rien - i just want you to give me a chance to make you happy, even if it’s just in the way we’ve always been (as friends). if you write me back i’ll try and fly there. mum is always asking me if we’ve talked yet. if not, that’s ok. i love you all the same and i will love you as you reach your dreams. this will never change.

charles

p.s: est-ce que je te manque?

p.p.s: call me if you can and wish me a happy birthday?

—

“Rachel, I would sooner die than wait another two hours for the tarmac to clear again.” You try to up the firmness in your voice but it fails, only serving to make you sound less angry and more agitated. When all you get in response is a muffled I’m coming! you grumble and hang up the phone. Your plane was delayed all of three times, and the instant it arrives and is scheduled to take off on time, your friendsistant is nowhere to be found.

Lily and Carmen had thrown you a goodbye party the night prior, with sprinklers and music and cocktails, and promised to be on the next flight to L.A. Vogue and David had emailed you for a job done spectacularly, and to watch out for the videos and interviews’ release dates. Twitter is raving about your movie. Everything should be good, and yet, it’s not.

You check your inbox. IM COMJNG LILTIERALLY IM RUNNING THRU AJRPPRT!!!!!! You scoff again, hoping the plane doesn’t somehow take off for the fourth time, and take a seat on the VIP waiting area sofa again, shaking your now-empty chai latte. The room, sectioned off from economy and business, is fairly full.

A woman paces over to you, a bright grin on her face. “Hi. I’m a huge fan.”

“Thank you,” you smile, despite your tiredness.

“This is so embarrassing—but do you happen to have the time?”

“Sure”—you tap your phone open—“half past four.”

“Great,” she says. “Thanks, Buttercup.”

You’re opening your mouth to say you’re welcome, but it catches like cotton in your throat. You watch her depart like nothing happened, a strange feeling settling in your chest. You have barely any time to answer it, because a flight attendant is tapping you on the shoulder, addressing you by name, thankfully. She maintains a tone of professionalism all throughout her announcement that the aircraft under your name will have to evacuate the runway in ten minutes or less.

“I know, I know—I’m just, um. I’m waiting for somebody. She should be near now, though.”

“Tremendous. Merci, Buttercup.”

“Wh—” You stutter, blinking and watching her leave. “What?”

She doesn’t turn, walking to the kiosk to exchange information with her coworkers. You look around the airport, for a camera hidden somewhere maybe. Perhaps you’ve been unknowingly listed in some Impractical Jokers skit.

Rach hurry you text instead, leaning back and hoping you’re in some grandiose delusion. Your phone dings. Omw promise! It reads. Then: Look up buttercup

Your head snaps upward faster than you can register what you’ve just read, matching the opening notes of a song you’ve grown all too familiar with in your lifetime. The opening beat to Build Me Up, Buttercup flows like honey through the room’s intercom and floods it with life.

Mouth agape, you watch as the staff and guests perform the routine you’d learned at fourteen, complete with hops and turns you were too embarrassed to do even then. They’re smiling and whooping themselves and each other as they go, finishing the entire first verse before turning collectively to the entrance of the room. There, in all his glory: Charles, wearing an entirely too-small headdress that reads Buttercup, worn dusty from years of being stored away.

He’s dancing, too, closer to you. You refuse to budge for the express purpose that he dance some more, which he complies with, though not without an eyeroll and an exasperated sigh. Your heart beats with something irregular and warm. You’d told him about this before. He’d listened.

The music settles for a little and the dancers do, too, so he takes the time to raise his sign. Will you forgive me? It reads. No pressure. Except kind of. You laugh, throwing your head back at the gesture, at this entire affair that must have taken some amount of effort to prepare. As the lyric comes on, so does his sign: I need you… more than anyone, darling.

He drops the sign when you approach him, arms crossed over your torso. He removed the headdress and places it gingerly on yours. “I believe that belongs to you.”

And, hyperaware of all the eyes and yet the complete lack of cameras—you’re grateful for it—you finally, finally, finally pull him in for a kiss. You’ve kissed before, done your worst, but still means volumes to the both of you.

In-between kisses and cheers (from voices belonging to Lorenzo, Rachel, Lily—so many familiar ones), he says it again: “I’m sorry. I’ll make it all up to you.”

“You better,” you tease into his lips, smiling. “I know. I love you.” Ten years later—your person still is, and no doubt will always be, Charles Leclerc.

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