#guys i auditioned for my college’s musical and i find out today if i get a role lol | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

wincore · 4 years ago

Text

atlas | kim dongyoung

pairing: doyoung x reader

words: 15.4k

summary: kim doyoung has a lot of titles. student body president, music club president, favourite student of every professor who’s blessed enough to have him. in other words, he’s not your type and never will be. at least he’s a good kisser.

or, you feel the weight of the world on your shoulders and you do not know how to hold things as delicate as glass.

genre: college au, fwb au, hurt/comfort, angst, some fluff

warnings: very suggestive content, making out, language, smoking, alcohol, mentions of sex under influence, me being pretentious,,

prompt: anonymous said: slippery + doyoung + "you can rely on me, you know." from the first dialogue link! LOVE YOU ❤️

song rec(s): playlist here !

a/n: yes it’s me experimenting out of my comfort zone again. yes you are required by law to listen to keshi while reading this hahahaha anyway writing this was painful. <3 (aka today i tried writing very complex human emotions and failed again. classic.)

In the beginning, there was no beginning. Ergo, this isn’t really a thing.

You shouldn’t be thinking of summer in Introduction to Latin. You are a good (perhaps great, if your ego allows) student after all. Here you are, though, listening to the ticking of the clock and wondering if you sigh loud enough, you won’t have to construct another sentence with the word for ‘death’. You pause to tell yourself that you shouldn’t be thinking of summer out of class either. Unremarkable; that's what it was and you don’t like unremarkable things.

When two people end up alone together, there’s not much to make of.

“You know,” he had said, locking eyes. “We should get out of here.”

“And then what?”

“Fuck.”

So here’s the thing: this isn’t and won’t be a thing.

Doyoung has never been subtle when drunk, you found out, and he’s not as gentle as he looks. You flip the page of your notebook absentmindedly. You don’t like where your thoughts are going; the clinking of ice against glass rings in your ears again. It’s been far too long (one whole month) and you’re craving a bit of fun. You may forget yourself but you’re reaching your fingertips a little too far to call him again. More excuses pop up. See, in your world of perfection, there’s a hierarchy of things; men rank rather low.

(Fun doesn’t.)

Here’s another thing: you forget yourself quite often. You know very well that you’re the one who continued this not-thing and now you’re daydreaming of Kim Doyoung in class hours.

And under grey bed sheets with a tired smile, Doyoung is hard to forget.

It was a party, it always is. That time, however, was the first party of the year Doyoung and you happened to be attending at the same time. You can’t remember who hosted it—the frat probably—but it was at a bar called the ‘The Meeting Place’ which had too many people you didn’t care about. Doyoung was there, in his laid-back glory, and you were drawn in far too easily. Being single did not help your case—and the alcohol certainly didn’t. You’re not sure if it was the gentle touches against your wrist or quick words that left his mouth or the attractive all-black get-up. All you know is that it was your mouth against his by the end of the night in a small booth, hot and impatient. Once, twice, thrice and you didn’t even need parties anymore.

It’s not like you weren’t aware of what you were doing; it’s just that you were quick to give in—like you didn’t want to resist in the first place. And now, summer smells like Doyoung’s perfume.

The first night had given Mr. Student Body President a near-stroke. You weren’t the type to sleep with strange (semi-acquainted) men at parties either so the morning had been full of awkward explanations to each other till you’d kissed him to shut him up (much like in a disgusting romantic comedy, minus the feelings) and somehow, it worked. He didn’t refuse and if you recall, he’d eventually pulled you closer by the waist.

You huff, twirling your pen. He’d never admit it.

You didn’t kiss so sloppily after that, unless it was to make out against a wall or while fumbling with the keys to your apartment. The lack of alcohol can bring wonders. You were a little surprised that he’d agreed—he is the Doyoung you’ve known since freshman year after all; blunt, rude, cares more for his grades than he’d ever for you. How laughable. He’s almost the same as you.

Here’s one last thing: Kim Doyoung is not and cannot be your type.

You had the same part-time job in your second semester at a local fast food joint, and to summarize, your interactions were less than friendly. You can’t possibly count the number of times he yelled at you for trivial mistakes, and the number of times you sent angry, clipped sentences his way. So, yes, neither of you have told anyone—just acting friendly got you enough eyebrow raises. If there’s anything worse than contradicting yourself almost directly, it’s having to explain that to your friends. So, you kept it a secret and so did he, for his own reasons.

You massage your forehead. If you think any more of this during class hours, you’re going to have to classify this as a terrible, terrible problem; like you don’t have enough already. You tune in to the lecture again, hoping it drowns out the rest of your thoughts.

You tap your pen against the desk till you’re asked to stop by the professor. There goes your last resort. It isn’t the first time, but you breathe a sigh of relief at the hands of the clock. Casual means casual—you know it better than anyone. Maybe it would be easier if you could be more open about it. But you can’t. Your own problems aside, Doyoung would kill you if his reputation went down, even a nick. Men like that are so difficult, you curse to yourself.

You run into Ten in the hallways, brightening at his absurdly wide grin. In fact, you haven’t seen him remotely upset since freshman year, when he couldn’t join the dance club, not because he failed the audition but because he mixed up the dates and missed it entirely. (It’s okay; he got in the next year.)

“Guess what!” he yells before you’re even in conversation range.

“What?” you yell back.

“No, guess,” he says, when you’re close enough.

You roll your eyes. “You scored a date?”

Ten deadpans. “No. I don’t even want one.”

“Loser.”

“No, you.”

“How clever.”

Ten flicks your forehead with no provocation whatsoever, making you yelp in pain. After a minute of cursing on your part, he squishes your cheeks to bring you back to reality—like he wasn’t the cause. You bite your lip to keep yourself from scowling. His hair is still light brown from the bleach, and you fix his bangs out of habit; your dumb friends are all you have at the end of the day. You sigh. They all lean on you unwittingly.

“Anyway, the news? I’m not guessing anything else,” you warn, taking a sip of your coffee.

“Well,” he draws out the syllable. “I heard- know you’re into the smart type. You know, student council kinda guys? So…”

You choke, the coffee leaving your mouth just as quick as it entered.

“Who told you that?” The laugh that leaves your mouth is forced and certainly fake but it’s the best you can do.

Ten rolls her eyes, still smiling. “I was thinking if you would be interested in a certain Park Hyungmin.”

Oh. Student body vice-president. He’s most definitely your type, with a gifted body and equally strong academic prowess—not to mention perfectly maintained tan skin and the most radiant smile you’ve ever seen in your life.

“Oh, yeah, he’s hot,” you nod in agreement. “What do you want me to do with him?”

“He likes you. Like, totally has the hots for you. And I owe him so please help me out here.”

You furrow your brows, heaving a deep sigh.

“You...want me to go on a date with him?” you ask.

You can oblige. Park Hyungmin is the hottest dude on campus (probably). It’s a win-win situation—in fact, it’s even better. A certain bitter taste finds itself in your mouth. It must be the coffee. You swallow it.

“Yeah.”

And the deal’s done.

It was casual commitment, like most things you do for fun. You don’t think much of it, and the thought takes its final bow when you run into Doyoung himself.

Well, sort of.

You turn heel when he appears in your line of sight, pretending to fix your hair against a damn wall. You aren’t quite ready to face him yet, considering the coffee hasn’t kicked in—it’s not healthy how much you depend on it. Dependence is different, however, from consciously drowning yourself in it.

See, Doyoung is anything but tolerable without a few shots of vodka. Or after sex. Or when he’s mumbling in his sleep. And you can’t erase any of those scenes. This is you trying to save yourself (and Doyoung) from embarrassment and a whole lot of explanation.

His coat looks expensive and you’d rather he had it on instead of on his arm. The tucked-in sweater and pants combo accentuates the line of his waist and the colour—you wonder where he found a teal so fitting—looks serene in the crowd. He’s wearing his glasses though, looking a little less put together than usual. Still, no one seems to notice and he continues to explain something to his group of friends.

God forbid you find Doyoung attractive during daytime.

His lips are chapped but pink as ever, the hair messed up by either the wind or his friends—you should stop staring by now. You give in. You’ll text him to book a hotel room tonight.

Sometimes you wonder how he has that large a friend circle, and always, the question answers itself. Eloquence, wit and regrettably, good looks—what does he lack? Maybe if he lost the habit to nag people around fifty-six times a day, he’d be the perfect man.

An arm slings over your shoulder, punting the soul right out of your body.

“Fuck, Johnny, don’t do that,” you hiss, placing your hand over your chest involuntarily.

The head of the photography club apparently spends his time terrorizing everyone he remotely knows. You make a foul expression but iIt’s not like he ever minds your scowling. He says he’s had enough practice from teasing Doyoung (and you’ll admit, it’s the only time you feel sorry for him). You were certain Doyoung would have filed him for harassment sometime in sophomore year.

“What are you even looking at?” Johnny asks, raising an eyebrow at the plain offwhite expanse of the wall in front of you.

You feel hot at the neck. “I was fixing my hair.”

“In front of a wall?”

You click your tongue. “Do you not have class?”

“Oh, don’t be so quick to send me off.” He places a hand over his chest in mock hurt, fingers stretched delicately.

To your dismay, the rest of his friends gather around giving you happy greetings—greetings only carefree college boys are capable of delivering. To your further dismay, Kim Doyoung arches an eyebrow at you, the same way he does on nights you’re doing things less than appropriate to think of in broad daylight.

“Hey, Doyoung, don’t you have anything to say? Or were you too drunk to remember?”

You bite down on your lip a little too hard. Doyoung, on the other hand, looks like he’s just seen God, stammering out a “what?” nevertheless.

“Weren’t you supposed to buy (name) a drink for driving you home that night?”

“Right,” he says, clearing his throat.

Oh, he’s bought you a drink enough times. Summer has waned but whatever thread you tied around your wrists hasn’t. Right now, your guess is that Doyoung has been ensnared in the common ritual for college boys to walk around campus and declare their friend is single just to embarrass him (or by some miracle, score him a date).

Everything, apart from the way you look at Doyoung, feels like a charade. You shake your head with a quick laugh, smacking Johnny in the arm and pay your condolences to Doyoung—keep it light. You’re good at it, or pretending you’re good at it, at the very least.

Doyoung’s gaze on you lingers for a moment and then you breathe. You’re going to be late for class—you offer the classic excuse and you’re out of there. In a way, it’s exciting. You’ve always wanted to have a secret relationship, even if this isn’t a real one.

Doyoung is like the summer breeze, and you’d like for him to stay that way.

The next time you grace each other’s presence is when Doyoung’s tongue is in your mouth and his hands are running up under your shirt.

He’s quite a pretty sight—messy hair, red lips and rosy cheeks. He moans into the kiss as he has quite a few times now and there’s the lovers’ high running through either of your minds. When he presses his lips to your neck, a soft restrained sound escapes you, not quite prepared for the sting of electricity through your skin. He moves to your collarbone and shoulders and then even lower, hands gripping your waist tight. The walls do not have ears here; these hotels are cheap but they’re built for privacy and maybe you’ll let yourself believe for once that you can belong to someone.

“Why did you text me in the middle of the goddamn night?” he mutters against the base of your neck.

“You want reasons now?” you whisper, hands running through his hair.

Doyoung has pretty fingers, pressing at the right places and prettier eyes that look at you with something akin to, dare you say it, love. He kisses you like he hasn’t had enough; and it makes you feel important.

He’s even better when he’s annoyed.

You wake up at around five in the morning. Propping yourself up on one arm, you take a moment to look at your partner. It’s easy to make out the line of his nose against the pillow, and if you focus, you can see his lashes against his cheek and his dark mop of hair clinging to his forehead. However gentle the moonlight is, it is kindest on a lover.

Funny.

Too tired to sneak out, you go back to sleep.

“All I’m saying is that you have too much coffee,” Doyoung complains, slipping on his loose black sweatshirt. “It can’t be good for your health.”

You shake your head, scrolling through your phone as you lay on your belly. You’ve seen this view enough times—his back to you and sitting at the opposite edge of the bed, his incessant complaints and opinions about something that happened recently, running his hand through his hair when he sighs. You press on the calendar app and type in a note labeled ‘x’. Keeping tabs isn’t a bad thing; especially if you like order. Spending too many nights with someone is going to land you in trouble. That said, if you could trap love in a bottle, you would.

“You taste like coffee,” Doyoung adds with reddening ears.

Sometimes, it’s easy to ignore what he says if you listen to the sound of his voice instead. You sit up, scooting closer as Doyoung shoots you an alarmed look. He’s so cute like this; something about all the painted fences he puts up around him makes you want to lean in closer.

“So,” you poke his side. “How many relationships have you been in? Proper ones.”

“Three,” he answers, to your surprise.

Your eyebrows shoot up. “That’s more than I’ve been in!”

Doyoung furrows his. “How many have you been in?”

“One.”

He seems equally surprised but doesn’t probe further. After all, the price sticker that spells ��youth’ clings to his forehead just as it clings to yours.

“How many people have you fucked?” you ask suddenly, enjoying the visible flush across his neck.

“You’re doing this on purpose,” he notes, flicking your forehead.

“Ow!” You place your palm against your forehead. “Okay, I get it, you have nothing to brag about.”

He shakes his head, an exasperated sigh leaving him. “I just don’t think you have to know. I like privacy.”

“Wait.” You gasp. “Don’t tell me- That night- don’t tell me you were a virgin—”

Doyoung squishes your cheeks between his thumb and forefinger, a laugh erupting from your mouth.

“Who’s a virgin?”

Nothing about this, you find yourself realizing, is complicated. It’s easy, gentle, natural, like a breath of fresh air—everything but complicated. Even under dim lights and within the depths of night, Doyoung is warm and uncomplicated. His chest, his hands, his lips—they are warm, as are his words.

But Doyoung is a fucking fairytale.

Even after these few months, all you know about him, in the definitive format, is that he plays the keys for more hours than he sleeps. What he does for fun, what his classes are, how he became student body president—you could play guessing games all night.

“Do your friends know where you spend your nights?” you ask, leaning back against the pillows.

“They know what I’m doing, not who I’m with,” he responds, running his fingers through his hair.

You purse your lips. It’s nothing hurtful but you don’t like the hush-hush in his tone.

“Why not?”

“Because this is a secret,” he responds as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Do you want them to know?”

He’s right.

“Ah, whatever,” you mutter, a stream of curses following when your elbow collides hard with the edge of the bedside table.

“Your mouth is filthy.” He looks away to his phone. “I don’t swear as much.”

“Well, of course it is. I had your—”

Doyoung presses his palm against your lips with a tired sigh. “Please. Don’t speak. For the sake of my sanity.”

You smile under his hand and he returns it; and the November morning warms up.

“Where were you last night?”

You were expecting the question. Areum is the worst possible candidate for a roommate if you want some privacy. You don’t think she ever sleeps; sometimes, you wonder if she even showers because all she does is stare at her laptop screen and adjust her designs. Her lips are always chapped and her hair is always in a simple low ponytail but somehow still messy. You’ve never met someone so exhausted yet so full of life at the same time.

“Who were you with last night?” Eunji yells from the bathroom, before the two of them laugh.

You knew you shouldn’t have stayed the morning. You have the nosiest roommates anyone could (not) ask for. But they’re still your friends, you tell yourself begrudgingly. You would tell them about Doyoung if it weren’t for Eunji’s big mouth and Areum’s lack of common sense. And if it weren’t for the inherent comfort of privacy.

(Some part of you wants to keep him to yourself. You don’t care about student council president Doyoung or his friend group’s everything-regulator Doyoung or always-has-his-shit-together Doyoung. The one in your bed is the most loving.)

Areum adjusts her glasses, narrowing her eyes at you. “So? Any answer?”

You break out of your daydream at her voice, feeling a flush creep up your neck.

“I don’t have to explain anything,” you retort, snatching the coffee she brewed from the tabletop. “It was a Friday night and the two of you like Netflix more than me.”

“That’s mine,” Areum mumbles out a weak complaint.

“But don’t go out alone,” Eunji whines. “It can’t be safe.”

You laugh. “You know me. I don’t do anything too dangerous. Besides, you guys have that tracker app.”

They shrug, offering you a thin smile. A part of you is happy that they trust you but another part wonders what it would be like to be worried over. Maybe getting nagged isn’t so bad.

You take a sip of Areum’s coffee and almost spit it out right back.

“Did you add salt?” you ask, wiping at your mouth and hoping the taste disappears.

“Uh.” A reply so intelligent, you wonder if she ever pays attention to anything she's doing.

You take a moment (a few), sigh (several times) and make your way to the shelves. Grumbling, you make her a proper cup of coffee before you leave.

Classes don’t wait for you (even if you think they should) and the world doesn’t wait for you (again, you think it should wait for people) so you’ve made it a point to understand the whole deal about rules. If everyone followed the rules, it would be quite a pretty scene; messing up is only valid if it’s done prettily. You laugh at the thought. That’s near impossible. The bus ride to the campus consists of music and thoughts of bleak tomorrows—an average commute for college kids, you think. You sure hope you aren’t alone in this.

Doyoung smiles at you in the hallway today, and despite your best efforts, it makes your day smell a little fresher.

Your day: classes, coffee break, classes, complaining with Ten, assignments, ‘me’ time. For someone who pretends to be laid back, you use your planner as though for survival. There’s no sticky notes or colourful sketches (except on occasion); just good old fashioned to-do lists and a calendar marked with time you’ve spent on productivity. Every day is a list to be completed. If people call routine a man-made cage, instinct is the biological cage. You’d rather be in control of the cage you’re in. You’d rather be in control of yourself. It’s scary otherwise.

So you know how to get the job done—it’s ingrained into you the same way you would place your hands over your ears at loud sounds, or the way you would run to your bed in the dark after switching off the lights.

It never occurs to you that the reason your world is so perfect is a sad one.

Sometime next month, it’s going to snow. Not yet though, and it’s still too cold.

The inside of the cafe helps the slightest, the heaters situated far back from where you sit. Christmas decorations are up already and the combination of red and green meshes delightfully into the form of an aching headache. The wood paneling on the walls are worn at the corners, the garlands hardly covering them, and the barista behind the counter seems as gloomy as the decorations are bright. You wouldn’t be noticing all of this if you weren’t stuck in one position.

You lean your cheek further into your palm and sigh, only this time Ten asks you to, quote, ‘shut the fuck up’.

He pulls up his sleeve and reaches for another pencil. His cryptic process continues, as it has been for the past half an hour and you feel yourself getting impatient, trying to not bounce your leg and get another bout of quibbling from your half-mad artist friend. You don’t usually run low on patience; but Ten has a special pass to test drive it.

“How much lon—”

“Shh!” He hushes you quickly. You can’t remember why you agreed to being his portrait study subject but you sure as hell regret it.

Around fifteen minutes later, you take a (permitted) breath. You have neither the energy nor the neck strength to glare at Ten but you make sure to show your displeasure by snatching the cookies from the table with a particularly sour look. He gets up and pushes you to the side of the small worn-out couch offered by the equally small booth.

“God, that chair was uncomfortable. My butt is frozen solid,” he lets you know, and you roll your eyes.

“You know, if we weren’t friends in high school, I would never be friends with you,” you state.

Ten tilts his head to the side, a mocking pout over his lips. “I would die without you, (name). Really.”

You smack his arm and he yelps, smacking your arm right back. The sound attracts some attention and giggles, and you make a gagging gesture to let them know you are in way or form in a relationship. The low-volume music changes to something with a more distinguishable beat, the sound of doors opening and closing almost every two minutes accompanying. Arriving on time is an accomplishment, especially arriving before rush hour on Fridays at the only decent cafe on campus, but both of your classes end early and there is no way you aren’t taking advantage of that. Leaving, however, is mostly done when you’re being glared at by the waiters and waitresses.

“Doyoung asked about you,” Ten says, all of a sudden. “Kim Doyoung.”

You try to not show concern, but raise an eyebrow. “What? So? He’s not my type or anything.”

You bite your tongue. That was too quick a response, too obvious. Your cheeks grow hot. Ten doesn't say anything, however, and for a moment, you think you’re in safe waters.

“Are you guys… into each other or not?”

You cough, trying to show your surprise at something so outrageous. “Why would you think that? Does he look like someone who dates around?”

“Actually, he’s been on quite a few dates.”

“No way.”

You know that. He’s told you about it before, in vague references, but you know about them nonetheless.

“Isn’t one student council guy enough?” you mumble. “Why are we talking about Doyoung?”

He shrugs, a familiar feline smile on his face. “Just asking. He talks about you sometimes. Actually, we forced it out of him but whatever.”

You shake your head. “You’re all terrible.”

“You seem to like him though.”

“Who said that?”

Ten sighs, ignoring your question. “If you guys are dating—”

“We’re not.”

“—or fucking—”

“Ten.”

“—you should learn a thing or two about him. The guy’s not as annoying as he looks. Or stuck-up. He’s really nice but don’t tell him I said that.”

“I know that,” you snap, feeling warm at the neck all of a sudden. “I know him.”

“Oh, you do? Tell me what his hobbies are then. Or his major. Or the clubs he’s in, apart from the student council.”

“He- He likes to sing and he’s- he’s—god, what is this? An interrogation? I’m not going to meet his mom for dinner.”

Ten gives you an ‘I knew it’ look before leaning his elbow onto the table. “You’re sleeping with a guy you don’t know anything about. Serial killers would love you.”

You massage your forehead. “Look, I know he’s a good guy, okay? And he’s sweet- and- and—wait a minute. Oh my god, you tricked me.”

Ten lets out a snort. “Hey. Okay, look, the other guys might be dumb as shit but I have, you know, a working set of eyes. I can tell. It’s not that hard.”

You grumble but the cat’s out of the bag anyway. You should’ve known Ten would figure it out—he’s a nosy little shit, and he’s been that way since high school.

“Whatever. As long as Doyoung doesn’t start panicking about his tarnished reputation or whatever.”

“Oh, I think he’s desperate to let everyone know.”

“To you, Ten, everything seems obvious. It’s annoying.” You mess up his hair.

“No, I mean, I thought you were dating.”

“Well, we’re not.”

Ten shrugs.

“And I don’t like him,” you add. “I like the- the thing that’s going on because there’s no feelings attached.”

He looks somewhat pained, eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed, but doesn’t respond to your explanation. “Can I ask for a favour?”

“No.”

Ten sighs. “Come on. You didn’t even hear me out.”

“You’re going to say something stupid. Or insulting.”

“It’s neither, promise.”

You run your hand through your hair, breathing shallow. “Fine. I don’t have to agree though.”

Ten purses his lips. “It’d be better if you did.”

You hum in response, biting into the cookie and trying to ignore the glare from the nearby waitress. It’s about time you left anyway.

“Get to know him, dude. Don’t break his heart.”

“What?”

“Just kidding. There’s a party tonight. Hosted by yours truly. Finally moved out of that stinky dorm room. Bring over some friends but not more than three. And lend me some money for a juicebox.”

“That’s a lot,” you mutter. “You ask for a lot of favours.”

“Oh, speaking of which, Hyungmin—”

“He already asked me out on a date. Am I supposed to say no? You never mentioned he has such an attractive voice.”

“Oh, I’m not telling you to not go on that date. You have to, actually. I’m going to be in a lot of trouble otherwise.”

“That sounds good to me.”

“Shut up. I’m not done speaking.”

You roll your eyes.

“But if you didn’t, I could draw some conclusions.”

“What am I, your chemistry experiment now?”

“Well, you and Doyoung seem to be—”

“Don’t complete that sentence.”

“I was going to say something funny.”

Ten flashes you a blinding smile and you sigh. By now, you’re about to get kicked out of here so you stand up discreetly while he packs up his stuff. You hug your jacket close to you as soon as you leave, shivering at the evening breeze. The sky is inky, but with a faint sort of ink—deep blue and light, all at once. From the crowd, you can tell classes just got over for quite a few people, eclectic chatter filling up the street.

“Fine. I’ll bring Eunji,” you tell Ten after some contemplation. “And whoever else responds to my text first. Areum never leaves the room. You know that.”

“Thanks, (name)!” he messes up your hair. “I would give you a kiss but someone will end up punching my pretty face.”

You furrow your brows. “Well, you’re not my type anyway.”

“I’m too good for you,” he responds in a sing-song manner, waving at you before running off and disappearing into the university crowd.

There’s always a sort of buzz in the air you can’t quite describe at college parties.

Even if this is a relatively small one, you feel an oncoming headache the moment you enter Ten’s new apartment, which you’re sure had a ‘no parties’ rule in the rental contract. You spot Kun, Ten’s roommate from the dorms and he flashes you a quick smile in greeting before he’s swept up by a doting crowd. Apparently, a cute guy in animal sciences is rare and it makes him rather popular.

Eunji disappears from your side the moment she spots Johnny, and the number of eye rolls you’ve given her haven’t warned her off him yet. You suppose it takes heartbreak to change a person. Sighing, you make your way to the kitchen only to be greeted with the strange sight of Yuta trying to balance Jaehyun on his back so they can imitate some anime formation and back out immediately. Living room, it is, despite its populous space. (You don’t really want to think of bedrooms right now.)

The apartment is quite big for what Ten told you the rent was. The hallway to the two bedrooms is narrow but you suppose something has to be sacrificed for space. You furrow your eyebrows at the two bedroom doors. Ten never said he was getting a roommate. You shrug it off, sitting down on the rather stiff couch. The lack of furniture, apart from the couch and a coffee table, makes the place look even larger and people sparse. You like the beige walls; Ten’s always loved warmer colours but something makes you think he’s going to be ruining them in a few days with garish green paint before he comes crying about that to you.

“Hey.”

You look up to the familiar voice, heart rising to your throat.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Doyoung remarks before sitting down beside you and offering you a cup of god-knows-what.

“I don’t take drinks from strange men,” you say, biting down your smile and crossing your arms.

“If you didn’t take drinks from strange men, we wouldn’t be fu—”

“Doyoung!” you hiss before looking at him with careful suspicion. “Are you drunk?”

“No. A little bit. Not enough.”

You sigh. “How will you get home now?”

“I live here, idiot.”

“You’re- You’re Ten’s roommate?” you sputter.

“Yeah. New one,” he responds. “He used to live across our room in the dorms, I can’t believe I actually agreed to this.”

“I can’t believe it either. I’ve seen cats and dogs friendlier with each other than the two of you.”

Doyoung laughs. “He’s surprisingly one of the better people to room with. I’d rather eat my own blanket than room with Yuta again.”

You laugh at his irked expression, eyebrows furrowed so cutely. The line of his brow bone to nose to lips, it seems a little too perfect to belong to someone. He relaxes his shoulders a little, leaning back on the couch as he looks somewhat lost in thought. (“You think too much,” you’d told him once. “And you think too little.”) If only that were true, you smile to yourself.

“Are you sure you can hold parties here?” you as when the music suddenly rises in volume.

“Well, it said student-friendly,” Doyoung responds, looking visibly disturbed. “Not sure if I want to test the limits of that so early.”

There’s a pause, filled in with loud pop music. You don’t think Ten, your dear introvert, would have agreed to such a party but there’s a chance Johnny or Jaehyun had something to do with this. You don’t know who to suspect when it comes to their group of friends.

“I still can’t believe you’re rooming with Ten.” You look at Doyoung.

“Well, that makes, what, eleven of us, I guess?”

You laugh, feeling conscious all of sudden. Maybe you should listen to Ten’s advice.

“Doyoung,” you call, looking at the cup in your hands a little too passionately. “What’s your major?”

He looks at you with eyes widened ever so slightly, and a pause over his lips.

“Linguistics,” he answers.

“Oh. You said something about it once,” you mumble, recalling something vague about an assignment of his. “You know mine?”

“Yeah,” he answers, eyes cast on his watch.

“Well, that makes me feel a little guilty,” you mumble as softly as you can.

“You should be,” he says. “You never listen to anything I say.”

You scoff. “You just complain most of the time.”

“Really now?”

“Yes,” you snap, looking away.

You look back again when you hear the sound of Doyoung’s laugh, a distinct brightness in it. Sometimes, you wonder if you really are as awful as you’ve made yourself be.

“You’re cute,” he says. “No wonder everyone is so in love with you.”

For a moment, you think he’s going to kiss you.

“Everyone?” you laugh. You don’t care about everyone. It’s burdensome.

“Everyone. They hate you too, by the way.” He smiles to himself. “Heard you’re going on a date with that dimwit. Hyungmin.”

You feel a sudden discomfort in your being. Taking a sip of the drink, you try to shake it off as best as you can.

“Yeah, I- I don’t think I’ll go,” you say, waving it off.

Why are you lying? You left it hanging on a maybe. Part of you wants to tell Doyoung; he is your friend after all and you tell friends stuff like this. The other part tells you this is cheating; lying and pretending everything is okay—it feels like cheating.

“Oh.” He looks lost before he focuses on you. “Why not?”

“Why do you care?” you ask, trying desperately to calm the uprising in your chest.

He stays quiet for a few seconds and then shrugs, looking away from you. It makes you feel a little guilty to dismiss the situation so quickly, another item to add to your troubles. You sigh.

“Sorry,” you say. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“No, it’s okay. You’re right.” You can see his Adam's apple bob up and down.

“I’m not,” you say. “I’m wrong. I really didn’t mean it.”

He looks at you all at once, his gaze so gentle that it makes you think he wants to kiss you, or do something equally affectionate. Instead he sighs, downing whatever’s left of his drink before a wash of sudden looseness does away with the tension in his body.

“You have any more questions for me?” he asks, smiling. “What's it like to be student body president—or, or what instruments can I play? My favourite animal? Colour?”

You smile back. “What is your favourite animal?”

“I don’t have one. Don’t like them. Unless it’s a soft toy.”

“No way. You’re lying.”

“Now, I answer your questions and you call me a liar? Makes me a little hesitant to answer the next.”

You roll your eyes. “Okay, next then. Why didn’t you join the frat? All your friends are in it.”

“Hurts my ego.”

You laugh. He’s still probably an honorary member. There is no way he’s apart from friends for too long with all those feelings of fraternity he has, no matter what he says. It’s the same as you. Affection leads nowhere though; just to short-lived moments of comfort.

You realize, through the course of the night, that you never asked. How he got into the student council, what his classes are, what he does for fun—you never asked. It’s almost like you didn’t want to know.

How sad, you muse to yourself, to be this way. To be so wrapped up in your own problems that you fail to see people around you. Pity, however, isn’t something to feel at a party. You talk with Doyoung for the rest of the night till the sound of his voice makes you feel certain ghosts of butterflies, and till you have to take Eunji home before she does something she regrets. This is what it really means to have the price tag of ‘youth’ strung across you perhaps—when you feel old and immature all at once, and in between, when you feel nothing at all.

Doyoung is too old to mistake love. Or too young.

Labels don’t define anything, especially when it comes to relationships—so even if he calls it love, whispers it to himself at midnight when he’s sitting alone on his bed while his friends are passed out drunk on the floor, it is empty. And then there’s you. The heat of your skin, the curse of your smile and that cheeky laugh you do to get on his nerves. He wants all of it and he’s not ashamed—but he’d be a liar to say he can shout it to the whole world. He’s not that kind of man, and what is his can remain his without the rest of the world prying its damn fingers in. The first night, no, the second—third? He can’t remember which night it was but something pent up in him exploded and he didn’t try to control it for once.

“Ow,” he mutters.

His throat burns from the whiskey. He hates drinking alone but you’re either asleep or with friends and he can’t think of anyone else but you. He tugs at the turtleneck collar, getting uncomfortable by the minute, and then proceeds to take off his coat.

For a moment, he considers getting back to the living room. There were more than enough people with lingering touches against his shoulder and longing gazes—they’re not you. He leans back onto his bed. Another hour and everyone will be gone; why did he even let them hold a party in the first place? Parties just remind him of you—he takes a whiff and smells summer and lemon vodka all of a sudden. A deep sigh leaves his lips.

You might not seem to find yourself especially sad, but Doyoung finds something oddly touching about you. Maybe it’s the way you say his name, he muses, like you’re desperately trying to fill the gaps. But it can’t be him in particular, of course—it’s a lover, any lover.

He hates long nights, just as he hates winter but lately, they haven’t been feeling too cold. Isn’t it ridiculous the way he’s running after you? Doyoung was never meant for this. It’s fucking pathetic and it makes him want to tear all his hair out but there he is, still and quiet in the same place. A certain agony makes its way through him. His hands are freezing and yet his insides are burning—nothing makes sense and right now, he doesn’t want it to. He presses his cold hands to the warmth of his cheeks and a laugh erupts from his mouth.

He must be going crazy to laugh like this in an empty room. The car lights from the window travel slowly from wall to ceiling, the only thing moving in the stagnant of his room.

Inevitably, he thinks of the end. It should come quick; in fact, he’s never been one to do this. He’s always been someone to get attached to people. He doesn’t know how the end will come because this shouldn’t have begun in the first place.

Doyoung’s out of breath.

“Crazy bastard,” he mumbles to himself, followed by a groan when he lifts his head up. As if on cue, the door opens and shuts with a bang. Ten walks in looking drowsy, running his hand through his hair with a disgruntled face.

“I hate to say this,” he slurs. “But you’re right. We can’t have extra furniture and parties. Gotta choose one.”

Ten lays down flat on the bed. “I vote out that ugly ass clock you bought. Why do we need it? We have phones and laptops.”

“It was a gift,” Doyoung mutters.

“Oh. Uh. Actually, someone already, uh—”

“Leave it. We’ll talk about that in the morning.”

Doyoung massages his forehead, groaning at the pain when Ten suddenly decides he’s all up for cuddling.

“Ew,” he says, scooting away from Ten. “Get away from me.”

“You don’t mean that,” Ten whines, trying very hard to pull Doyoung into a hug. Of course, his attempts are blocked by Doyoung’s palm against his forehead.

After a few more seconds of trying, Ten huffs and turns away, crossing his arms. “I don’t like you anyway.”

“I know,” Doyoung mutters.

Ten erupts into laughter, sounding more like a psychopath than a close friend of his.

“You do that every time you like someone?” he asks in between fits.

Doyoung raises an eyebrow. “I just said—okay, yeah. Whatever.”

There’s a much needed silence and Doyoung wonders if he can just fall asleep without kicking Ten out.

“You should tell (name),” Ten says all of a sudden, Doyoung’s heart stopping at your name.

“What?” he whispers.

Ten looks at him as though he’s talking to a particularly stupid child. It makes Doyoung scowl but there’s too much alcohol in his system to know if he really means it.

“You don’t- you’re- everyone in this goddamn building knows,” Ten explains, exasperated. “Jaehyun knows, and he’s the densest kid I’ve ever met. God, if you like (name), go for it.”

Doyoung blushes so deep, he considers pressing his palms to his cheeks again. He thinks for the next few moments. Ah well, if they had to find out, he’s glad he didn’t have to declare it himself.

“Whatever, just ask (name) out. It can’t be that complicated.”

Except it is. You don’t have to spell it out for him—he knows the way you feel. The two of you only ever wanted one thing out of this. But if there’s something Doyoung isn’t good at, it’s keeping his mouth shut. He wonders how many times he let it slip, wonders if you even care enough to notice. God, it’s starting to sound pitiful for him.

“Ten. How much did you drink?” Doyoung asks, raising his head.

“Nothing. None. I’m not drunk.” Ten shrugs. “Just sleepy.”

A ‘wow’ is all Doyoung can respond with. He still isn’t quite finished figuring out what sort of horrific planet Ten stumbled from. A notification ding distracts him from kicking Ten off his bed and he has half a mind to toss it onto the bedside table but it’s still half. He softens almost immediately.

It’s a text from you: a ‘u’ followed by a smiley face and then a meme he can’t quite read through hazy eyes. He finds himself smiling anyway and sends a barrage of emojis, whatever he finds because he likes the way you get annoyed at them. Sighing, he decides that’s enough. He’s not in the right state of mind for conversation.

Doyoung shuts his phone off, attempts to push Ten off the bed one last time before closing his eyes and dozing off.

Not every day is meant to be fun—you know that in your twenties—but it’s still somewhat disappointing to have bad days. Like youth is meant to give you some sort of happiness daily. That’s what they make it sound like.

You groan, rubbing at your back. Sitting at your study desk for so long does not have good long term effects. At least, your temporary, meaningless assignments are done. You scowl at the text on your laptop screen; the more you look at it, the more you hate it and so, you shut it off. It’s not like your pissy professor is going to be impressed by anything you do. However, you like the orderly certainty of schoolwork.

Break time consists of guilt and sugary snacks. You’re done with most everything and you suppose leaving the final review of things to a later date can’t hurt. In fact, it sounds rather appeasing. A few more moments pass in making a decision.

You get dressed. The apartment feels eerie all alone, and you’re sure as hell not going to spend the rest of your evening here. You shiver, quickly striding out the front door and locking it before taking out your phone.

People misunderstand winter. Winter is only the end of things; and sometimes, the beginning. It isn’t cruel or crushing, it’s just taking its course. However, you have a tendency to blame seasons for all that happen in it. For instance, you shouldn’t be missing summer when you really miss the first night with Doyoung.

He picks up after calling thrice. You wonder what he’s even up to, if Saturday evenings are also booked full for such a guy.

“Why do you take so long to pick up?” you complain. “Do you not get days off?”

“I’m busy,” he hisses.

Something’s wrong.

You pause, unsure what to do. It’s not his voice but the one in the background that catches your attention.

Inviting him somewhere.

Rather sensually.

Your ears feel hot and you drop the call. Of course. Of fucking course. You’re the idiot thinking it was a thing. This whole thing is casual—feeling sorry wasn’t in the contract. Fucking around was.

It’s not like you’ll be heartbroken by something like this. Of course not. Of course. Doyoung and you never had a beginning so there isn’t an end, really. It’s fine. It’s fine. You take a deep breath and browse through your phone. With the onset of Christmas holidays, you have around three options left. Ten (yikes), Jaehyun (no way) or the latest addition, Hyungmin.

Well, you’re dressed. You have to go somewhere. And your statement about Hyungmin being the hottest guy on campus still stands.

You send two texts to the boy before deciding that’s apparently enough time waiting. He picks up after a few rings, voice groggy from what you assume to be a late afternoon nap.

“You up for a drink?” You cut to the point.

“Uh? Oh, uh, now? I am, of course- I just need—”

“Twenty minutes. I’ll text you the address.”

Nothing cheers you up like your favourite bar. Or friends. Or people who respond to calls.

Hongdae is as busy as ever. You knew the bar would be packed but not this packed. Still, you managed to grab a seat at the bar table. With the oncoming night, the smell is just going to get worse—so there’s nothing wrong with treating yourself to some lemon vodka (and its refreshing scent).

Hyungmin arrives exactly four minutes early, and the mussed up hair makes you think he must have been in a hurry. For what, you can’t be sure.

You can still see the inklings of Hongdae nightlights on his hair right before he enters, and in the fallacy of that moment, you think it’s going to be Doyoung. You sigh. This isn’t the time for that.

“Sorry,” you say, gesturing to the bar table. “All the tables were booked.”

“No, no,” he responds quickly. “I actually prefer it here.”

He’s tall, not that it’s the first time you’re noticing, but even when he’s sitting, he’s at least two heads taller than you are. His shoulders are accentuated by the mocha coat, no doubt part of the latest trend this winter. As a fashion student, he hits the mark and more.

For a moment, you feel bad for knowing his major. Ten let it slip about him and yet still, you feel guilty for remembering it. You’re not supposed to go into unnecessary detail about people that don’t matter. Does he matter?

“Surprised you could make it,” you joke half-heartedly. “Aren’t you lot always busy with something?”

He laughs. “The student council? Oh, we’re busy alright.”

Busy. Right.

“What about you? Aren’t you part of like three different clubs?”

“So what kind of busy?” you ask, ignoring his question. You’re part of two, now that you left the music club last semester. It’s not like small talk matters though.

“Uh,” he hesitates. “You know- attend meetings and events, coordinate committee work, supervise stuff, etcetera etcetera. So busy, yeah.”

“Busy on Saturdays too?” you ask, before thanking the bartender for the drinks.

“Yeah, I guess. Doyoung has it worse than me honestly. Even now, he has to take care of stuff because of me. Hah…”

You gulp down your drink making Hyungmin raise an eyebrow in concern. “Stuff? Because of you?”

“Yeah.” Hyungmin scratches the back of his head. “He’s with the girls.”

“Girls?” you ask, playing with the glass. You’re starting to feel annoyed, red lining your vision.

“Yeah.” He makes no notion of clarifying his statement.

“Must be quite the president,” you say, resting your cheek against your palm.

“Oh, he’s a nightmare.” Hyungmin laughs. “He has to control everything.”

You try to mask your scoff. You know what he can be like when you’re working beside him.

“Oh, and the guy has no sense of humour,” Hyungmin laughs, the sound easy on the ears.

You blink.

“I think he’s funny,” you say quickly. You swear you have no idea why you sound so defensive.

He hums in response and you consider biting your tongue, telling him you’re only here for one thing and forgetting the uncomfortable churning of feelings inside your chest.

“Forget I- I’m a little confused today.”

Is that an acceptable explanation? You can’t think straight enough to decide. The silence on Hyungmin’s part, however, worries you. The crowd around you fills in for the next few moments as your companion seems to debate something with himself.

“Look, I know you and Doyoung are… I don’t know, something.”

You huff in irked amusement. “God, does everyone seem to know?”

“Not until late actually.” Hyungmin takes a gulp. “He’s been acting weird. Doyoung.”

You look away, breathing shallow. You don’t like it, the way things seem to be getting out of hand. All this time, the world seemed to be in the palm of your hand and now, it’s spilling everywhere; the sand in the hourglass is already up to your knees and you don’t know what happens when it fills.

“Do you actually like him?” he asks, leaning back just a little. You know where this is going. “Are you guys dating?”

“No,” you respond, checking your watch.

“Oh.”

There’s a moment’s hesitation in him but you’ve seen that look before. You know that look.

“Then we can- uh- we can—”

“Fuck?” you ask.

He gulps. “I mean, you can say no any time—”

You pull him by the collar and kiss him, hard enough to melt away your hovering thoughts. He kisses like you expect him to, not how you want him to. You know this sort, and somehow, that makes you feel comfortable. Knowing what you’re getting into is easing but it doesn’t lessen the weight of it.

It’s sickening. The way you’re pretending it’s Doyoung.

Hyungmin pulls apart, panting heavily. “Oh, okay.”

“Tell me you drove here.”

He holds up his car keys in response.

You’re not the type to sleep with strange (semi-acquainted) men, but it’s better than falling in love with them.

So you follow a lover to a hotel room and try to feel something. Some time, when he’s kissing you against the hotel room walls, he pulls apart and asks, “You’re thinking of someone else, aren’t you?”

You know the answer; it just won’t leave your lips.

“It’s okay,” he says with a weak smile, “Let’s just have fun.”

And every time his mouth was on yours, every time you saw stars, you felt the ghost of Doyoung and his haunting touches. It was strange and unfair and unlike you—or at least, unlike the you that you built over the past few years. You feel as though you’ve misplaced something—like something was supposed to be there when you reached out but instead, it was empty space.

The night ends as it should and you leave right before dawn with an apology text you couldn’t put half your heart into.

Most winter nights, you wake up with pain so profound, it’s seeping into your bones.

It never made sense. You never tried to make sense of it. So you let the aches push you down by the shoulders, lodge itself into your neck and back; and you tell yourself, it must be what you deserve. It’s cold and you’re walking barefoot on frozen ground.

You gasp. The weight of who you are and who you have to be—it has its knee on the back of your neck, shoving you into the damp earth. There’s no particular reason to it; it makes it seem as though it’s insignificant. Unimportant. Irrelevant. But that’s the problem—the weight of the world on your shoulders makes no sense. Whose world are you even carrying? Whose approval are you trying to win? You scramble to get up, messing up your bedsheets in the process, and pull your blanket around you. Your own warmth surrounds you and it makes no difference. You frown.

You remember your phone call with your mom, and your lips tremble. You shouldn’t have told her about how crappy your finals went but it slipped. You tried to explain that you did work for them, that you gave it your best but sometimes things don’t work out. She didn’t have to say it out loud for you to hear her thoughts.

You’re disappointing.

You wipe at your eyes, feeling annoyed at the emotion. If you could let the ground swallow you whole, you would. In a heartbeat. You don’t even know what you’re doing most of the days despite that pretty planner of yours.

You get out of bed, pull on your cardigan beside the bed and grab your lighter and pack. The tiny balcony makes for a great smoking spot and while you would scold any of your friends for committing to this, you do it yourself. Hypocrite.

For all you try to shove into yourself—hobbies, student clubs, actual clubbing, friends—the more you feel less than enough, as if everything just vanishes into thin air inside you. As if you aren’t enough and never will be. You play by the rules and you lose, you break the rules and you lose.

Maybe it’s because you let yourself be filled by the intricacies of other people that they like you. And thus, you cannot stop for fear of loneliness.

Just as you’re feeling crushed again, you picture Doyoung against your back, placing his nose in the crook of your neck—something he has never done—and you wonder why it helps.

Sucking in air too fast, you cough. You shouldn’t have let it go on for so long.

It was fun—harmless fun. You shouldn’t even be thinking of taking a step in some other direction. You’re friends, barely, but you like where you are. If Doyoung was that important, you wouldn’t be going about this all backwards. You sigh, though it comes out jagged. The room is quiet and that’s the way it should be at four a.m, of course, but you crave music all of a sudden. Doyoung and you are just a temporary fix; and you let that thought relax you.

When you think of his chin on your shoulder, however, it feels feather light.

“Why are we doing this?” you ask.

The atmosphere is warm and toasty, just like you expect it to be in a bakery with light pink doors and a collection of plastic potted plants on display. The decorations aren’t an eyesore here and somehow, it makes you feel better. It’s a little far but you decide it’s worth it.

Doyoung shrugs, sipping his hot chocolate. “It’s Christmas, and we’re both here.”

Your eyes follow the hanging lights over the counter, wrapped in pine tree stickers and eventually to the neat display of a ‘Season’s Greetings’ menu, the contents of which are currently at your table. A Christmas song by some singer who’s been popular lately plays, tunes light and dancing. You hate the end of the year solely because of the extra pressure January brings. Nothing you can’t handle, of course. Nothing you can’t handle.

You sigh. It’s been a little difficult lately.

“Doyoung, really, why are we doing this?” you ask, genuinely curious.

“Are you- uh- are you not enjoying this? I could—”

“No! No, it’s not that. I feel better, actually.” You bite your tongue almost immediately after. It’s not like he’s supposed to know the sort of hell week you’re having. A poorly received term paper, finals that weren’t up to your expectations, crippling loneliness without friends and, oh, the self-doubt—you are at the lowest you can be in college. The only sweetener right now is in the hot chocolate and the way Doyoung’s looking at you.

You feel something close to guilt.

“Good.” He smiles. “You seemed… You seemed a little down.”

The sliver of warmth between your ribs makes you think this is unreal. It feels uneasy to be so affected by someone but you let it slide, turning back to your hot chocolate.

“Why didn’t you go home this time?” you ask, sipping your drink.

“Oh, I didn't really want to face my parents,” he says before leaning. “Didn’t do too well this semester. And my brother’s going to be there with all his achievements.”

You chuckle in disbelief. “You don’t like your brother?”

“I love him to bits. Just can’t stand my mom’s nagging when he’s around.”

“That’s rich coming from you.” You cross your arms, smiling triumphantly. You feel like children squabbling but it’s so lighthearted, you want to laugh.

Doyoung raises a pointed finger, about to retort but nothing comes out. He puts his hand down.

“I guess you’re right.”

You shake your head. “I’m sure she’s proud of you too.”

“I know that,” he says, laughing. “Of course she is. I don’t keep myself busy for nothing.”

You gulp, a sudden sourness rising at the base of your tongue.

“Busy, huh? Didn’t know spending saturday evenings with girls also counted as busy,” you mutter against the cup, half-hoping he doesn’t hear you.

“What?” There’s a perplexed look across his face.

You wave your hand in dismissal. “Oh don’t mind me.”

“Are you talking about me giving a tour to the fresher girls?” Doyoung leans forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. “Hyungmin does that usually but Mr Man was sore from soccer practice and Friday fucking.”

You blink. “Fresher… girls?”

“What, did you think I was at a brothel?” Doyoung laughs in amusement.

You feel your cheeks heat up in embarrassment. “No! No, of course not.”

You wave your hands about for a few more seconds, trying to come up with an explanation. This makes things rather embarrassing.

“Sorry,” you say finally. “I jumped to conclusions.”

Doyoung laughs, rather deep and heartily, and you wonder if your apology really did sound as stupid to him as it did to you.

“You do that a lot,” he notes.

“Thanks,” you quip, cutting the pastry with your fork a little too forcefully. His laugh follows. (You hate it so much. It sounds like pure adoration.)

The next few moments consist of scrolling through your phones (because Doyoung says his ‘mouth hurts from talking to you’) and you would’ve been in a better state of mind if everyone wasn’t posting pre-Christmas photos with their families.

“You know they’re opening that park. What’s it called- Winter Wonderland or something. You said you wanted to visit.”

You look up at Doyoung amused.

“Let’s be honest. You want to be in bed, Doyoung,” you say. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I care,” he answers, looking at you with his doe eyes. “About you. You sulk when you’re upset.”

“I don’t sulk,” you reply but your smile is obvious when you exit the cafe.

It’s like a date. The more you think of it that way, the more it makes you smile.

The evening is perfect—orange and pink and loving and happy. Doyoung trails behind you as you tread over the sidewalk with cheeky remarks about his speed.

“I’m in the track club, you know?” he huffs, finally tired of your jabs.

“As what, the start point?”

A fake, sarcastic laugh leaves him. “I wouldn’t get to see you if I walked ahead.”

You feel warmth creep up your face. You mumble, “that’s cheesy.” It’s too weak though, and it goes unheard.

For the first time, you notice his eyes are a little like yours in what they reflect. You love them.

So this is where the crowd went. The amusement park, or whatever you call it, is buzzing with a faint sort of excitement, mostly in the children that didn’t get to go on a vacation elsewhere. It’s quite the wonderland though so you can’t see them complaining.

“Do you think they’ll kick us out if we make out on the Ferris wheel?” you ask, smiling at Doyoung.

“I’m not making out with you on the Ferris wheel,” he replies, making a face.

You do end up making out on the Ferris wheel, and you get butterflies from it. It’s like a teenage dream but Doyoung looks even better. You pass on the cotton candy because frankly, you’ve had enough of sweet things. You sit at the frozen wooden seat, hoping it warms up while Doyoung brings the two of you some fries.

Your phone buzzes with a notification. Your eyes light up at the mail from your professor. You had turned in the term paper three days ago, weeks ahead of schedule and were particularly proud of the way it turned out.

You look at the email and zero in on the word ‘redo’.

Your shoulders sag immediately. You spent four weeks on that—and it’s not good enough? You search frantically for how it could have gone wrong and come up with none. That’s not supposed to happen. Something’s wrong. Something’s very wrong. The week’s exhaustion swallows you up again.

When Doyoung returns, he looks at you concerned before quickly setting the fries on the table.

“(name). Is something wrong?”

“Huh?” Your voice sounds so weak and squeaky, you feel embarrassed. It’s embarrassing that after all these years, you still don’t know how to handle failure.

Because it’s not supposed to happen. You tell yourself that over and over and it makes things worse.

You feel dirty, underneath all that dust and crumbled rock dangling in your hair. Whatever rests on your shoulders is cracking and collapsing, and you’re pushing in the wrong direction to make sure it all stays up.

He reaches out his hand but you avoid it.

“No,” you mutter, weakly shaking your head.

You rub at your nose and eyes, hoping you can hide behind your forearms. Doyoung shouldn’t be seeing you like this, he doesn’t deserve to see you like this. You turn away from him, your palm gently pushing against the soft material of his shirt.

Doyoung doesn’t move. Instead, he gently tugs on your wrist so you have no choice but to face him with your red-rimmed eyes. You’re not sure if it’s embarrassment or pity, but the concern in his eyes makes you cry harder.

“You don’t have to do that,” he whispers. “You don’t have to find a place to cry.”

For the first time in adulthood, you learn what it’s like to lean your forehead against someone’s chest this way. Doyoung wraps his arms around you and the sound of his breathing soothes your near-erratic heart.

“I worked really hard on it, you know?” you mumble against his chest. “My term paper.”

“I know,” he whispers.

Doyoung strokes your head delicately, fingers running through your hair with airy touches. Eventually, you let go of a final sigh and look up to his lips.

He seems surprised at the kiss but it’s all you can think of now. It’s gentler than usual and Doyoung moves cautiously though he seems to like it all the same. His arms feel comfortable around you. When he pulls apart, he looks at you yet still with careful concern.

“We can- we should stop if you want,” he says, and he means it.

You shake your head. Night is creeping in overhead, deep and quiet and slow.

“I like you, Doyoung,” you say finally. “I really, really like you.”

Doyoung’s eyes widen, as though a rabbit wary of the traps it might set foot on but he eases into your touch almost immediately.

“I like… I like you too.” His lips waver but he looks away and takes a deep breath. “I like you so much.”

You smile and think that maybe everything is set right now, with his chin against your shoulder and your arms around him.

Doyoung discards the jacket once you’re in your apartment, kissing you fuller now. Every other thought leaves you; you beg him to make you forget the rest of the world. The walls are comforting now that he’s here, and it’s warmer, hotter.

“Can we- Can we go a little slower?” you mumble, his arms still gentle when they wrap around your waist. He parts his lips from your neck to look at you momentarily before nodding.

You suddenly understand why he always makes you feel so good. There’s a certain fondness to his touch and warmth to his kisses. There’s no one quite like him, really.

“I love digging graves, especially if it’s my own,” you mutter against the pillow.

Doyoung laughs. “What did you do this time?”

“This time? Excuse me? Do you think I’m some sort of trouble child?”

“Hm. Let’s see. Yes.”

You pause. Why do you hesitate to tell him you slept with Hyungmin? It’s not like you were cheating—you weren’t dating Doyoung. Besides, that night with Hyungmin didn’t mean anything. A horrid feeling snakes around your throat, heavy and piercing. You resort to changing the topic.

“I’m… I took another course beyond my understanding.”

“That’s it?” he asks.

You nod.

No, no, no; it’s all backwards now and you don’t know how to reverse it.

Doyoung takes your hand in his, delicately and yet firm. His chest is against your back, bare and warm. When he presses his lips against your knuckles, the warmth that flushes through you makes you want to believe in something else entirely. You feel weak.

A part of you argues that you feel honest—in a moment of clarity you don’t think you deserve. Neither vodka nor whiskey can make you this clear in the head; you struggle to breathe straight. How awful it is to feel warmth and not believe in it at the same time.

“You can rely on me, you know?” he whispers.

The knot in your chest makes you want to cry.

You feel lonely and the opposite of it all at once. Doyoung is too much for you—too kind, too pretty and too true. He makes you realize too many things at once.

There are a few things in the world that can stifle loneliness. Like the notes Doyoung plays on the piano, like the songs he hums in the morning till you place open-mouthed kisses against his neck.

You realize, all of a sudden, that Doyoung really is your dearest friend.

And yet, you don’t think you deserve it. You’ve never loved, you believe, but you have. You don’t remember it well enough. The lovers’ touches you kept searching for led to this. Hypocrite. You wanted a lover’s touch and you rejected the love that came with it. What a complicated bundle of emotions. You weren’t always this way.

You loved your first cat when you were six, all the way till it died a warm death in your bed. You loved your mother even when she yelled at you for skipping your chores. You loved your middle school friends when you talked about comics and movies you saw for the first time.

It’s hard to love the same way now.

You suppose sympathy needs a little backstory. Nothing is unconditional.

It had all started when your heart had broken into two clean pieces. You put a bandaid on it and called it a day. No one taught you to ask for help.

Your friends know someone broke your heart; you tell them everything. Friends, friends—you wanted them so bad and yet, you keep them as far from you as you can. You pretend to be paper-thin and so shallow, sometimes you wonder if that’s all there is to you. But for all they know, they know next to nothing. It wasn’t just the aftermath of reckless puppy love.

The first time your heart broke, it was watching your mother cry in the living room for a reason you didn’t understand. You wondered who committed the crime, who should be charged—and you found no one. A loveless marriage is cruel, yes, but you cannot point fingers. It isn’t just cruel; it’s infuriating.

The second time, the two pieces of your heart broke into a few more. It was a boy with an inviting smile and flags whose colour you couldn’t quite discern. They must have been red, but everything else was too—hearts, cheeks, lips, and the threads around your wrists. And eventually, he guided you to the conclusion that you are undeserving, unworthy, unloved.

You were strong, however. It was easy to collapse on the bed and feel the weight of the world settling in, but you stood up again on shaking knees and you told yourself to have fun; you can have fun without feelings. You know better than to attach meaning to fun—you might hate insignificant things but it’s only fun if it’s pointless. You’re not letting go of this place you’ve worked so hard to arrive at, with all the shattered pieces in your hands.

It’s better to offer nothing at all than offer broken pieces.

“Can we stay like this?” Doyoung’s arms tighten around your waist, his breath shallow against your shoulder. “Just for a little bit.”

His voice is beautiful as always, but for a moment, it strikes you as sad.

Everything’s twisting up into knots and you are frantically running your fingers over them to straighten it all out. You know what it’s like to let things rot; and you are tired of it. Why can’t everything disappear for one moment? Why can’t you just let it be the two of you?

You sigh in response, nodding.

“I might not know what’s happening in there,” he starts, drawing circles on your chest with his finger, touch comfortably light. “But…”

I’m here and I get it.

Is that what he wants to say? You don’t think you’ll get to know. You’re not exactly voicing yourself either.

Stay the night. You want to say it but your lips are frozen.

Instead, you rub your thumb over the back of his hand, fitting into each other as perfect as a lie. You would tell him, you try to convince yourself, if you could say it with enough conviction. There’s no point to saying things that are half-meant, that are true but only just enough. You’re a coward.

And now, this has gotten complicated.

An end.

Tapping his pen against the desk, Doyoung grows increasingly annoyed. The council's next meeting agenda isn’t going to finish writing itself but he can’t bring himself to either. Besides, Ten’s pacing outside his room is starting to get on his nerves.

“Ten!” he yells. “Can you quit it? You’re making too much noise.”

His disapproval is met with silence. For a moment, he spaces out and reflexively thinks of you, only to feel a confusing sort of emotion. It’s normal, he tells himself, and that it’ll sort itself out.

Doyoung feels like a glass box more often than not. If he breaks, who picks up the pieces? Who gets cuts all over their fingers?

‘Whoever breaks him’ should be the answer. But that’s wishful thinking. It’s not that simple.

He’s so see-through that it’s painful. He used to tell Taeyong he’s wrong but he’s never been able to prove it. He is easy. It’s embarrassing.

But then again, part of him likes it when it comes to you. He likes it when you kiss him after a particularly heated disagreement, he likes when you get on his nerves just so he’d fuck you and most of all, he loves the push and pull. Fun is just that. He doesn’t know what he’d do if that heart of his he placed so gingerly into your palms falls and shatters.

The line between hate and love is thin; and he’s enjoying walking it too much.

He has nothing to offer but himself. He laughs at the thought and shakes his head. It’s somewhat dirty, and not just in the sexual sense.

“Ten!” he yells again. “Stop pacing!”

Getting up from his seat, he strides over to his door, swings it open and finds Ten scratching his head and glancing at his phone in repeated action.

“Ten?”

He’s so in a trance that he hasn’t noticed Doyoung. He is the lovable sort of idiot if he ever chooses to be so. Most of the time though, he’s just a smartass.

“Oh, oh no, I’m a bad friend,” Ten mutters to himself, his pacing growing more restless. He scratches the back of his head, eyebrows furrowed and too inside his head to notice Doyoung. He wants to ask but something tells him he shouldn’t.

Turns out, his apprehension isn’t strong enough these days.

“Whose date did you crash?” Doyoung asks, more than annoyed already.

When Ten looks at him, Doyoung feels rather shriveled and freezes on the spot. Call it instinct but Doyoung respects fear and pain. Ten has a mixture of the two, amplified when he looks at Doyoung.

“Doyoung. Hey,” he says, trying to tone down the distress in his voice.

Doyoung still hasn’t recovered from the initial surprise of Ten looking that way.

“Did you fuck up? Did someone fuck up? Why do you look like that?”

Ten sits down on the small couch. “Long story… I guess. Too many details, you- you know? Just—”

“What the fuck happened?”

Ten still can’t look him in the eye. “The group chat’s a little…”

“Ten,” Doyoung snaps. “Cut the crap.”

“No, that’s- that’s what I’m- You’re going to be upset.”

Doyoung straightens, furrowing his brows. “I think I can fucking handle it.”

“You know that date I set up for (name) and Hyungmin?”

“You set that up?”

“(name) slept with Hyungmin.”

Doyoung quietens. The silence seems to make Ten uncomfortable as he shifts in his seat, getting up when Doyoung speaks.

“So?”

Ten blinks. “You’re not upset?”

“Just what kind of loser do you think I am?” Doyoung mutters.

Glass shatters just that easily. Maybe he wanted you to shatter him. Maybe he was already cracking at the edges.

“Doyoung, you don’t have to—”

“Stop,” he exclaims a little louder than he intended. “Stop looking at me like that. I’m a grown man, I can handle shit like this.”

It still hurts though. You lied to him and he let you in. You lied to him. Doyoung sighs, returning to his room with a realization he should have had long ago. His night ends with more deleted drafts than he’s supposed to have and eventually, with increased discomfort, he delegates the job to Park Hyungmin himself with the excuse of sickness.

Doyoung does feel sick. He felt this way once, in highschool, but it had turned to red, hot anger ready to lash at anyone and everyone, spilling from his lips as easy as it was to breathe. And Doyoung can never feel that way towards you. He was different back then too, of course, but you—you’re unlike anyone he’s ever met. He loves the comfort of you, and something like that is hard to come by.

He feels like laughing again but instead he finds tears on his cheeks. Silly boy, he can hear his mother tell him. You don’t give your heart to heartbreakers.

So Doyoung falls asleep to the sound of upbeat music in his earphones, music he hates even just to pass the night. Morning will come and he will have to become stronger. Comfort is fleeting, after all.

With everything said and done, you know very well that if you were to tell someone you love them—genuinely, truly, from the heart—it would be Doyoung. It’s not a sudden realization, like the sky falling apart or a tidal wave crashing against the shore and sweeping away the city. It is like the gentle lapping of water, though, or the way the clouds change shape—natural and anything but alarming. You want to stare at it forever, and you want to believe that’s how it will be forever.

“You told everyone we had sex?” Your voice is boiled to a shout.

Hyungmin looks torn, lips moving but no explanation making its way out. “I- I told my friends, not everyone.”

“And you forgot that your friends talk? Everybody talks, Hyungmin, what were you thinking?”

He sighs before taking a step towards you. “Why are you so angry about it? As far as I remember, you had no trouble talking about whose pants you got into.”

You scoff. “With friends, not the whole campus.”

“That’s exactly what I did!”

You cross your arms, feeling so upset you might cry and unsure as to why. You’re usually good at dealing with stuff like this, keeping things in the right place.

“It’s because of Doyoung, isn’t it?”

You snap your head to Hyungmin. There’s a serene sort of look to him despite his unkempt appearance, and a look of understanding.

“I’m sorry. Really. But if you were so into him, you shouldn’t have called me that evening. It might not matter to me but…”

You broke his heart. All that devotion he had towards you led to this.

“You’re right.” You choke on your words, leaning against the wall. “Fuck… Fucking…”

You turn around, making your way out of the hallway and hope the tears on your cheeks dry faster if you run.

You can’t remember the last time you ran. Your world didn’t need running from, it was right in the palm of your hands. Now that you look back, the world was always on your shoulders and heavy as it can be. Maybe you liked it—the weight. You could’ve shrugged it off any time; you didn’t need all those caging schedules or careful, elegant steps.

No. Atlas couldn’t shrug because his punishment was his existence. To have weight is to have meaning; and that is how you intended to live out your life.

Doyoung makes you see it differently. To love so fully even if it seems cautious—you, who has never loved at all, couldn’t comprehend it. And because he makes you see it differently, the box is now open and all hell is loose.

For once, you don’t want to live in the world you crafted. You want more love, more hurt and you want to open the doors. You don’t mind hell if it’s for him.

You ring the bell to Doyoung and Ten’s apartment and pray the news hasn’t reached him yet. He said he was busy this weekend; maybe he was detached enough from his phone for once. You just want to be the person to tell him. It’s not a perfect apology otherwise.

Doyoung opens the door with pursed lips and cold eyes. There’s a sense of ease over his shoulders and arms but he won’t look at you and panic rises to your throat.

“We’re not fucking tonight, (name),” he says.

“That’s not- That’s not why I’m here.” Your voice is so meek, you wonder what happened.

Doyoung steps back, crossing his arms. He’s still looking at his feet and you feel the urge to reach for his face.

“I wanted to tell you- I… I just—”

“That you’re fucking other people?”

“God, Doyoung, stop with the fucking. I don’t care about that right now.”

“Really?” His voice is so sharp, it digs into your skin. “You were just in it for that. That’s the fun part in your stupid life, isn’t it?”

You feel a sharp pain in your nose and forehead. “You’re- Now that’s- Doyoung. I’m sorry. That’s what I wanted to say.”

“After—” His voice chokes up. “After everything is done? Stop with the excuses and face it for fuck’s sake. You aren’t made to fall in love. That’s why you dance around it all the time.”

Although he says that, he doesn’t sound angry. He sounds defeated.

“It’s not like you aren’t cautious,” you retort, throat feeling heavy. “You said it yourself- you don’t want to care too much.”

“I was wrong,” he says, voice hoarse. “I care about everything more than I’d like to admit. I care about you more than I’d like to admit.”

“The Hyungmin thing didn’t mean anything, okay? You were busy and—”

“So why did you lie?” He strains to not raise his voice. “Of course I knew our little thing didn’t mean shit to you. Why did you pretend it did? Last week, you said- you said—”

“Doyoung, last week- last week I- I wasn’t pretending, I swear.”

“You could’ve just saved yourself the trouble and the dignity.” A short, humorless laugh leaves him.

You feel your lips tremble, the explanation not quite made its way out yet. He looks so innocent like this, rabbit-like eyes watery and full of pain, pure the way they have always been. This is your mistake, isn’t it?

“Doyoung, please,” you manage to say. “That was wrong. I couldn’t clear up my head. Please don’t—”

“No. I was an idiot. Or you see me as one.” He frowns deeper, lips trembling. “I shouldn’t- I shouldn’t have. We shouldn’t have been at the same fucking party and I shouldn’t have drank so much. You’re- I’m not that kind of person.”

You bite down your lip. “What kind?”

Doyoung laughs, the sound raspy and empty. “The kind to not fall in love with you.”

It damn near breaks your heart to look at him. You have to say something, it shouldn’t end like this. You’re desperate and all you think is that you don’t want it to end at all.

“Please, I thought of you as a friend, that’s why—”

“And this is what you call being a friend?” he cuts you off.

You feel the sting in your eyes and nose, making you turn sharply to the side. You wish he’d just make you cry. It makes you feel the rancid guilt all the more.

“Make Hyungmin your friend for all I care. Let’s stop this.”

You stare at your feet, unable to respond.

“You can have every boy in the world, (name). Don’t come to me.”

“Can you just stop talking about everyone else?” you yell, desperate. “Do I talk about your exes? Seungjae or- or what’s-her-name—”

“That’s different!” He looks distraught, breathing heavily and with a painful red flush over his nose and cheeks. He runs his hand through his hair, tousling it further. “You lied to me, (name). You lied.”

Your cheeks are wet and the look that flashes over Doyoung makes you think he wants to step right out to you. He stays frozen in place, however, looking away to the side.

“Did you notice?” he asks softly. “Even once? How much I cared?”

You can’t answer, letting the tears drip down your face. It’s getting colder and colder.

Doyoung bites down his lip before parting them. “All we did was have sex anyway. So please just- just leave.”

You take a long few moments but nod, hugging your coat closer and stepping out of his apartment. You think you hear Ten’s footsteps but it’s followed by the bang of a door—this is how it ends then.

The line between hate and love is thin; and you are deserving of neither.

You perfect your next semester’s academics, and the next. It still feels empty. You go out to drink with friends and return to a messy bed you sleep in alone. You smile as always and you laugh as always. No one asks you how you are as always. You never needed anyone to ask you how you are.

Ten tries but you push him away. You don’t need to drag in other people into a mess you made. He feels sorry for the whole thing but you tell him it was you that spilled the paint, Ten just handed a dash of it to you.

You were right. You don’t deserve Doyoung. At least, you made it so that you don’t deserve him.

‘It’s better to have loved and lost than to not have loved at all’—it still hurts.

Every day is part of a list again. You doodled in some of the pages, when you thought you were starting to fall in love. There’s only a skeleton of it left now. Soon, you’ll let it crumble to dust too.

You tear apart the planner sometime after graduation and cry and curse at yourself for doing that. No one’s good at parting with things they care about. You’re no exception.

It’s December again.

This place is a little strange to visit right after graduating, especially with the memories flashing you by. Johnny said he booked one of the private booths (“A senior’s treat!”) but you feel your steps growing hesitant when you reach the neon signs by the stairs. It spells ‘The Meeting Place’ and smells of cigarettes just like it did the first time.

You stop midway up the stairs. For a moment, you think of Doyoung sitting there and wonder if you’ll ever be able to talk to him again. If you had the chance now, would you take it?

Of course, you wouldn’t. There’s too much to be set right and you can’t do it.

There’s supposed to be the six of you. Johnny mentioned Ten and you know Eunji’s invited too. You saw Jaehyun on the way here, still a student. You sigh. It must be him, the one they failed to mention to you. Kim Doyoung. There’s no one quite like him.

You spot him first. Looking a little forlorn as he gazes absentmindedly to the side, he faces away from you and you get the inevitable urge to run away. It’s a funny feeling.

Your stomach is churning. You don’t want him to see you. Ten babbles on about something to Johnny, smiling like he found candy while clearing his drawers. Eunji looks tired, leaning against Johnny’s shoulder and you wonder if she already drank more than enough shots.

“(name).”

You jump at Jaehyun’s voice from behind you.

“Hey,” you respond, giving him a wide smile.

He hesitates. “Are you okay? Not that you don’t look okay- you look really good actually. I mean, are you and… you know okay?”

“I don’t think so, Jaehyun,” you say and make your way to the booth.

It’s a little cramped for the six of you and Doyoung gets up before you can even greet him. It’s not like you deserve it anyway but it tugs at the wound.

“I’m going to go take a drag,” he mutters.

“You don’t smoke,” you say, looking up.

He stares at you momentarily and you look away. You think Ten and Johnny glance at you with pity but you don’t really care.

“Can I come with you?” you ask, barely a whisper.

“Sure,” he says, to your surprise.

The smoking area is so small, you’re surprised it’s even there. A glass structure overlooking the neighbourhood, there’s barely any light within. The only thing nice is how warm it’s in there.

Doyoung lights his cigarette and then offers to light yours. It’s quiet, the music from inside numbed to the cold doors. You really can’t take it. You stub the barely consumed cigarette and throw it into the bin.

You’d rather just stay quietly in his presence.

“You’re not smoking,” he notes.

“It’s a bad habit.” You look out through the glass.

Doyoung chuckles. “You were a collection of bad habits.”

“And good ones too,” you quip. “I was a perfect student. I was perfect in most everything actually.”

Doyoung’s smile widens. “You were. You certainly were.”

A few more moments pass in silence, your eyes traveling over the outside scenery which seems to be growing duller by the second. City lights have never felt fainter.

“It was an accident, right?” You say suddenly. “The whole thing? Us?”

Doyoung hums. “Yeah. I fell in love by accident.”

You smile weakly. “Right. I never got to apologize.”

“I loved you on purpose.”

You look up at him. There’s not a lot of people who say what they mean. He looks the same as he used to under your grey blankets, with a warm blush over his cheeks and kind, wide eyes.

“You’re so damn pretty,” he murmurs, “even now.”

You scan his face for signs of lying.

“You’re drunk, aren’t you?” you ask finally.

Doyoung blinks before easing into laughter. “You- You’re- You’re the same as ever.”

You let yourself crack a smile.

“Doyoung I- I really am sorry,” you say quietly. “And I did- do care for you.”

Doyoung stubs out his cigarette and discards it before looking you in the eye. You notice he’s wearing his favourite black turtleneck in the proximity, the grey plaid coat covering most of it. You really liked that look on him.

“I’m sorry,” you say once again. “I want you to know that. I didn’t want to hurt you and I promise I won’t ever do it again.”

You mean it. You’re never going to hold glass again. He doesn’t deserve it.

“That’s a problem,” he responds, breath mingling with yours. “I want you… I want you to hurt me. If you really do love me, I’ll take it.”

“Doyoung,” you whisper, turning away despite your whole body screaming at you to give in. “I meant it. I can’t hurt you.”

Doyoung cups your cheek with one hand, glancing at your lips for a moment.

“You’re warm,” he says.

He’s warmer.

“I want to kiss you,” he says.

You want to kiss him too.

“We went about this all wrong, didn’t we?” he asks.

“We did,” you answer, voice barely above a whisper. “I did.”

Doyoung pulls back. “Then let’s start again. I’m Kim Doyoung, I majored in linguistics. I was student council president and I made a mistake.”

You smile. “We don’t have to do that.”

Doyoung raises an eyebrow. “After all the trouble I went through to make a good introduction?”

The two of you laugh, and it gets warmer.

“I’m (name),” you say. “I was a top student and I made a bigger mistake, Kim Doyoung.”

“Oh? I wonder what it was.”

“Kind of a long story.”

“I’ve got all the time for you.”

You smile and start. He responds with gentle kisses. You’re piecing your world back together again; but this time it’s feather-light and fits right in the palm of your hand.

2K notes · View notes

babymetaldoll · 4 years ago

Text

Danger Days - Chapter one: “Nobody puts Baby in a corner”

Pairing: OCx Matthew Gray Gubler + My Chemical Romance. I know. Weirdest mix ever.

Summary: MCR has only one more drummer audition before they have to start touring again. None of them knows their last chance is a girl. Matthew Gray Gubler's girlfriend.

Word count: 5,4K

Warnings: Cursing, and funny shit so far.

A/N: Ok... I don't know if you'll ever read this shit, but I am in love with this story. So, I'll start posting it.

Masterlist

::: Los Angeles, October 13th, 2010 :::

There are many ways to be locked down: quarantine, jail, or long trips. But being locked down with pretty much strangers has to be the worst. Or weirdest. Or more exciting, depending on how you see it.

Frank Iero walked fast. He was late. In his defense, Iero was always late. He didn’t try to make it on time today because he didn’t want to tour. But they had to. He just wanted to stay fucking home for a while. That’s precisely what he had said to the band when they saw the schedule for the following months. He was tremendously worn out. But he had to. The thing that made it all worse for him was knowing they had to get a new drummer, ‘cos Bob was out of the picture, and they didn’t have a replacement yet. They had tried a few guys out there, but they didn’t seem to get it. It wasn’t just playing the songs. It meant being part of it. Whatever that means.

They only had one more option on their list, and they were all hoping it would work, ‘cos they didn’t really have a lot of time to find someone else.

Ray was sitting on the floor in the practice studio, playing with his guitar, all alone in the place. It was early, and he knew it. Well, he was on time, but he knew everybody was always late for rehearsal.

- “Hello?”- a brown-haired woman walked in with a tall, thin guy and smiled- “I’m Joey. I’m here for the drummer audition.”

It sounded more like a question than a statement. Ray stood up and shook her hand, smiling.

- “Ray Toro, nice to meet you.”- he looked at the guy and shook his hand

- "Matthew Gray Gubler, my pleasure."

- "I’m sorry the rest of the guys aren’t here yet,"- Ray apologized as Joey looked around and sighed. She hated it when people were late.

- "Maybe we can go get a coffee"- Matthew suggested, and the young woman nodded- "I saw a place just around the corner."

- "Do you want one?"- she asked Ray

- "Yeah, sure"- he said, confused by her unexpected gesture.

- "How do you drink it?"

- "Lots of cream, lots of sugar"- Joey smiled and nodded.

- "Ok, Mr. Wolf. We’ll be right back"- Ray chuckled when he noticed she had gotten the Tarantino joke and watched her and who seemed to be her boyfriend walking out the room.

- "Are you sure you wanna do this?"- Joey frowned and looked at Matthew after he just shot the question while they walked out of the coffee shop.

- "What?"

- "Don’t get me wrong, it’s just that you don’t know any of those guys"

- "Yeah, I know, but they are a professional and major band! This could be great for my career"- he nodded and stared at his girlfriend, cupping her face with a hand and looking right into her eyes.

- "I just don’t want you to feel discouraged if you don’t make it"- he whispered.

- "Why wouldn’t I make it? You said I’m an excellent drummer, I’ve worked with many great bands, I’m good at my job!"

- "I know you are the best drummer, Yami"- Matthew quickly answered, trying to rearrange his words- "I’m just trying to say do your best, I know you are gonna be great."

He held her hands as he stood in front of her and looked into her eyes sweetly.

- "I’m just scared those guys are gonna break your heart."

- "Come on! If they don’t like me, it’s their loss."

Joey would say those things, but she was a nervous wreck inside. She wanted the band to love her. She needed the job, her career as a drummer really needed a boost, and since her last band had broken up, she only got small recording sessions and a few backup gigs with some bands. But that was it. Working with My Chemical Romance was just what she needed.

- "So, where’s the drummer?"- Gerard asked and looked around- "I hate when people are late, it’s rude! It shows you don’t care."

- "You just got twenty minutes late"- Mikey quickly said and raised an eyebrow at his brother- "So shut up."

- "Wait, he has a point"- Frank added and looked at Gerard for a second, who was walking around the practice studio playing with his hair- "We can be late, we are the band, he can’t be late, he is auditioning."

Ray was about to correct his friend when Joey and Matthew walked into the room.

- "Hi!"- she said and smiled- "Here’s your coffee"- Joey walked to Ray, and he thanked her immediately.

- "How much is it?"

- "Dude, don’t worry, it’s just coffee,"- meanwhile, Gerard, Frank, and Mikey shook Gubler’s hand.

- "Nice to meet you, Joey"- Frank said and looked at the guy in front of him, thinking he seemed familiar- "Wait, did you play a gig with Mellon Collie last week?"- Matthew frowned and shook his head, while Mikey turned to Joey and asked.

- "Can you get me a coffee too? I take it black with almond milk."

- "Make that two!"- Gerard said, raising his hand, and Joey looked at Ray, not getting what was going on.

- "So, Joey, we checked at your resume, and to be honest, it’s pretty impressive,"- Frank said and grabbed the sheet of paper from upon an amplifier- "You’ve played with some great bands, like the Distillers."

- "Thanks"- Joey said and smiled, but Frank raised an eyebrow at her, not getting why she had answered.

- "She is Joey"- Ray explained- "He is Matthew, her boyfriend."

- "Hi"- Joey waved, and the whole band looked at her astonished- "Yeah, girl drummer, I know…"

- "I’m sorry, I just… Joey didn’t sound like a girly name"- Frank apologized and cut her a short smile.

- "Don’t worry, it is not the first it happens"

Joey lied. It was the first time it happened. It was uncomfortable ‘cos it made her feel the band wasn’t expecting to audition a woman for the position. Maybe they didn’t want her. She thought her resume implied she was a girl, but apparently, it didn’t.

- "So… well, you’ve worked with amazing bands"- Frank repeated- "Why do you wanna work with us?"

- "Well, I admire your work. I think touring with you represents a significant challenge in my career. And mostly because I don’t have a job, and I really need one right now."- the band looked at Joey in silence until Mikey chuckled. At least he got the joke.

- "Tell us more about you,"- Gerard asked as he lit a cigarette and kept walking around the practice studio- "You can sit down if you want."

Joey nodded but didn’t move, she wasn’t feeling comfortable in the room, and a part of her wanted to stay on her feet and close to the door, ready to run away.

- "I’m from Seattle, so grunge was my biggest influence growing up. Ever since I was six, I wanted to be Matt Cameron or Jimmy Chamberlin… or Kim Gordon"- the young woman made a pause and sighed. She wasn’t feeling the love.

- "I studied music at Berklee after my first band experience, mainly because my dad said if I wanted to be in music, I had to have proper education."

- "Tell us about the bands you’ve worked with"- Ray asked.

- "I’ve worked with Dashboard Confessional; we did a small tour last summer. On the road, I’ve been with Julieta Venegas, she is an amazing Mexican musician."

- "You toured with Vampire Weekend"- Matthew added and looked at his girlfriend.

- "Right! When their drummer broke his arm. That was a fun tour"- Joey added and smiled- "Well anyway, in the studio I’ve recorded with Fiona Apple, Brody Dalle, Amanda Palmer, some small jazz bands I met in college, Johnny Lang… I’ve tried to work as many different musical genres as possible."

The band nodded and stayed in silence. Neither of them knew what to say.

- "So… do you wanna hear me play?"

- "Yeah! Sure"- Ray smiled at her, and Joey walked to the other room, at the other side of the glass, and say behind the drum set.

- "What did you prepare?"- Ray asked as Joey put on the headphones and nodded.

- "I have three songs for you to pick: “It’s not a fashion statement,” “Famous last words,” and “House of wolves.”

She looked at the band talking to each other as Matthew stood on a side and smiled sweetly. She knew things weren’t peachy so far, but she tried her best to get the job. She really needed it 'cos she was running out of savings, and she had no other job prospect but a few commercial jingles.

- "Wolves"- Gerard answered, and Joey nodded. Joey took a look at the drum and sighed. She was left-handed, and the drum was someone right-handed. Jo didn’t want to make a fuzz and change it, 'cos she felt the band wasn’t already into her. But at the same time, she wanted to kick ass and show them how good she was.

- "Just give me a second."

Joey stood up and rearranged the drum. Gerard looked at Ray, annoyed but making his best not to show. Mikey was stuck at his phone, barely paying attention to anything around him, and Frank stared at Matthew, trying to remember where he had seen him before.

- "Ready?"- Ray asked as Joey sat down again and tried the drum.

- "Yeah, much better, sorry for wasting your time"- Gerard looked at her, feeling she knew he was annoyed, and tried to change his bitchy face. It was too late for that anyway.

Joey started playing and just focused on the music, making her best. She had rehearsed the songs for weeks and even added a solo. She heard all the live versions she could and was sure she was doing a good job.

- "I don’t know, guys"- Gerard texted the band so Matthew would hear them.

- "I like her"- Ray answered

- "That’s your cock talking"- Frank answered and chuckled- "She ain’t bad, but I don’t know if she works for the band."

- "She sounds cool"- Mikey said out loud- "Maybe we could jam a little with her."

Frank and Gerard turned to him with widened eyes, surprised and embarrassed he had answered his comments aloud, so Matthew could hear.

- "Yeah, I saw the text, but talking is faster"- Gerard had to turn around to hide his face, red of anger against his brother, and make his best not to look at Matthew, who nodded and got the hint.

- "I’ll wait outside."

Frank stared at Mikey, who stood up and looked at Joey playing eyes wide shut, making her best to give a good impression. At least it worked with Mikey and Ray.

- "Thanks for making us look like an asshole"- Frank argued and huffed- "What was wrong with answering the fucking text?"

- "Dude, grow up…"- that’s all Mikey answered and stayed in silence until Joey finished the song.

She raised her eyes from the drumset and stared at the band, pretty scared of their reaction. Mikey and Ray smiled at her, while Gerard and Frank were serious and totally… annoyed? Bored? she couldn’t really figure it out.

- "Do you want me to play anything else?"- the young woman asked, afraid she was gonna get a cold no as an answer. Gerard was about to do it until he saw his brother walking over and grab his bass.

- "Wanna jam a little?"- Joey quickly smiled at Mikey, thinking maybe he liked her job, which was always a nice feeling, especially when trying to get a job.

- "Yeah! Sure!"

They played Destroya and improvised for a while. Ray joined them, and the three of them actually had fun for a good twenty minutes jamming.

- "That was pretty good"- Gerard said as he walked over and put on his dark glasses- "Unfortunately, we have to go."

- "Where?"- Mikey asked, surprised- "We had a clear schedule today."

- "Yeah, well, we totally forgot about an interview, and we are running late, so…"- he made a pause and looked at Joey.

- "Sure, I have to get going too, I have to reach the studio in an hour so…"- she stood up and shook Mikey and Ray’s hand- "Thank you so much for your time, I had a lot of fun with you."

- "Thank you for coming!"- Ray quickly answered- "I’ll walk you to the door."

- "Don’t worry, it’s just there anyway"- Joey smiled and turned to the other two guys- "Sorry for taking so much of your time. I hope you have a good day"- she shook their hands too, and they nodded with a sympathetic smile.

- "You too"- Gerard whispered.

- "And the answer is Criminal Minds"- Joey said and smiled at Frank, who looked dumbstruck- "See ya!"

And the young woman walked out.

- "Fuck! that’s it!"- Frank grumbled, and no one got why- "That’s where I’ve seen that guy."

- "What?"- Gerard asked him

- "Her boyfriend is on that tv show"- but it seemed it didn’t matter to Gerard one tiny bit.

- "Oh… who cares anyway…"- Mikey turned to his brother and punched his arm.

- "Did you have to be so annoying?"

- "I wasn’t annoying!"- Gerard nearly yelled, feeling insulted.

- "Dude! you were rude at her! and she did nothing to you!"- his brother was about to his him a lecture, but it seemed it was going to be useless, Gerard wasn’t even listening.

- "Oh! Come on! I wasn’t!"

- "Yeah, you were,"- Ray added and teamed up with Mikey- "You were a bitch, and she noticed."

- "So what?"

- "What if she felt bad about it? or what if she is pissed with us?"

- "If she is pissed, she is pissed! do you care?"

- "Why are you so mean? she was great!"- Mikey was surprised by his brother's attitude.

- "Yeah, she was good, but are you actually considering having a female drummer?"- Ray and Mikey looked at him in shock.

- "What the fuck is your problem with her being a girl?"

- "I don’t have a problem if she is a girl, a boy, or a cat. I’m just saying she is not the right choice for this band."

Ray and Mikey kept looking at him, confused. He had never been such an ass before

- "Come on, Frank, back me up here!"

- "I agree"- Iero simply said- "She was a good drummer, but… what are we gonna do with a chick on tour?"- Ray couldn’t believe his own ears.

- "Seriously? she was awesome! Perfect timing, great improvisation, and she had the ear to follow every single fucking curveball we threw her."

Gerard knew Ray was right, he heard it too, but he just didn’t want to work with Joey. Why? he didn’t know. He just looked at her and thought she couldn’t be on a bus with them, or on stage with them, or anywhere with them. As simple as that.

- "My vote is no"- he sentenced.

- "She is the best we’ve had"- Mikey argued right away- "And I’m saying yes."

- "Nope, I’m with Gerard"- Frankie claimed- "I just don’t want her in the band."

- "You fucking assholes, I’m saying yes, and it’s a tie!"- Ray felt he was five years old, calling that conversation “a tie” and arguing under those stupid terms with his friends.

- "Great! so that means no!"- of course, Gerard’s childish answer made him feel a little better about himself.

- "Seriously? What the fuck is your problem with her?"

Mikey asked his brother and stood right in front of him, just to push him to answer with the truth.

- "You said you wanted to make a fantastic show. You said you wanted to do something no one could ever expect from us, so we made this album that we love after years in the studio. It’s completely different than anything we’ve made! Do you know what would also be something no one could ever expect? having this amazing female drummer!"

- "But why her?"

- "‘Cos she is the best we’ve seen!"- Ray stepped into the conversation, trying to make some sense from Gerard and Frank.

- "Dude… I don’t know"- Iero whispered- "She was good, but… wouldn’t it be weird to have a girl on the bus with us?"

- "That’s what keeps you from saying yes?!"- Ray was honestly shocked- "Because you won’t be able to fart and walk about in your underwear?"

- "I wasn’t planning to stop any of that…"

- "Then?"

- "I don’t wanna have problems with my wife!"- Frank finally assumed and sighed- "I’ve had enough of that shit already"- the band stared at him in silence. Mikey was the only one who spoke his mind.

- "Wuss."

Matthew walked in silence, holding Joey’s hand until they reached his car. She sighed and sat at the passenger seat, thinking she didn’t want to call her parents and ask for another loan. The last time she had sworn to herself, it was never gonna happen again.

- "If they don’t hire you, it’s their loss"- Gubler finally whispered and looked at his girlfriend with a sweet glance- "You are awesome, and everybody knows it"- Joey sighed and cut him a short smile.

- "Thanks, Akumu."

- "And besides, they were assholes."

- "I know!!"- Joey waved her arms, absolutely upset- "That’s so disappointing 'cos everybody said they were so nice!"

- "Are you gonna call Tucker?"

- "I don’t know"- the young woman whispered and sighed- "He was so excited, and I don’t wanna disappoint him"

- "You did your best, Yami… maybe they didn’t want to work with a female drummer"- Joey thought about it for a moment and nodded.

- "Could be. I did my best anyway. Maybe they were all having a crappy day. Anyway, can you drive me to the studio, please? pretty, pretty, please?"- Matthew laughed and stared at his girlfriend with a warm look in his eyes.

- "Only if you kiss me first"

- "That’s blackmailing"

- "Maybe, but I’m driving, I make the rules"

- "Damn… fine! but just ‘cos I’m late"

Joey giggled and leaned in to kiss Matthew, who caressed her cheek slowly.

- "It’s gonna be ok, I promise"- he whispered, trying to comfort his girlfriend, and she nodded. She knew he was nice to her, but she still felt her life was totally out of focus.

- "Hello?"- Joey picked up her phone as she walked out of the studio after recording for the day. She was working in a small studio recording jingles. It wasn’t much, but at least she wasn’t selling drugs to survive.

- "How was it?"

- "Tucker, hey…"

- "So? When do you start? did they love you? of course, they did!"

- "Yeah… well…"

Joey didn’t want to tell his friend and break his heart. Tucker was so excited Joey was auditioning for My Chem ‘cos he knew the band for years. And though he had offered Joey to introduce her first, she refused, decided to audition under her own terms. Which sucked.

- "What?"

- "I don’t think they liked me"

- "What are you talking about? you are fantastic!"

- "You know it, I know it, but I don’t think they got it…"

- "What did they say?"

- "Nothing really, just… ok, just don’t tell them I said this, ok?"

- "Cross my heart and all that shit, what happened?"- Joey rested her back against the wall and sighed.

- "Gerard had a bitch face the whole time like he hated the guts out of me, and I don’t know why! then Frank wouldn’t even look at me, nothing, he wasn’t there, so I’m guessing neither of them wanted a female drummer, 'cos they all thought I was a guy."

- "Why?"

- "Apparently, Joey is a guy’s name"

- "So you didn’t put your real name in the application? brilliant!"

- "What for? So they can’t spell it? Anyway, can you imagine Mikey thought I was an assistant or whatever and asked me to go get him a coffee when we got there? They thought Matthew was auditioning and ignored me the whole time!"

- "Shit can’t be right! they are not like that"

- "Well, in the end, Ray and Mikey were the nicest. We jammed and had fun for a while, playing a few of their songs. But neither Gerard nor Frank even looked at us. It felt they hated me."

- "Maybe they were having a bad day, but they are very nice people."

- "Maybe… anyway… thank you for your support."

- "What are best friends for?"

- "Getting beer?"

- "Right, when are we getting beer?"- Joey smiled and sighed.

- "Next time I’m in New York or when you come to this shitty city."

- "If you hate Los Angeles so much, why don’t you move?"

- "‘Cos I’ve got my life here, I guess."

- "You know it’s just ‘cos you are dating that nerd

- "I happen to love that nerd!"- Joey laughed and shook her head, thinking Tucker didn’t even know Gubler and he already knew he was a nerd- "Anyway, gotta go, I have a class in an hour."

- "Are you taking a class?"

- "No, dude, I’m teaching in a community center in Santa Monica."

- "Aren’t you lovely! I’m proud of you!"

- "Shut up!"

- "As long as you don’t teach them to drink as we did when we toured together."

- "Hey! I’m no longer 20!"- Joey argued, laughing- "I’m a role model for those kids now!"

- "Yeah, sure! Talk to you later!"

Tucker hung down the phone and walked around his house for a minute. He loved that kid. He met her when she was still in college and toured with Thursday for a few dates with her old band. She was like a little sister to him. And it hurt to think she was wasting her talent in shitty sessions with shitty bands when she could be doing something better with her skills. Something meaningful. And it honestly made him angry to think his friends had been mean to her.

- "Hey, dude!"- Gerard picked up the phone, excited to see Tucker’s name on the screen.

- "Hey! why were you an asshole today?"- Gerard frowned and took out his sunglasses. He was in his backyard smoking, and he was not getting what his friend was talking about

- "Sorry, what?"

- "You were an asshole today with my friend"

- "Dude, I’m gonna need more information"

- "I asked Joey to audition for your band because I thought you would value her talent, and you ignored her?"

- "I didn’t ignore her… wait!"- Gerard wasn’t getting what was going on- "You know her?"

- "Of course! for the last… shit, I don’t know, like five or six years, we toured together, I taught her a lot, she is like my little sister!"

- "Yeah, she is an excellent drummer, but… I don’t feel she is suitable for the band."

- "Why?"

- "‘Cos… she has tits"- Gerard whispered, and Tucker made one long eternal pause.

- "Wow… ok, I see why she said you were an asshole."

- "She did?!"- Gerard felt so insulted he clenched his fist.

- "And she wasn’t wrong. I’m so sorry I asked her to go to your audition. It was a waste of her time."

Tucker hung down the phone and dialed Frank. He knew he had been pretty hard on Gerard, so he made his way to stay calm and not yell, at least not right away.

- "Ho, man!"

- "Hey Frank, listen, my friend, Joey was today auditioning for your drummer position. How was that?"

- "Joey? The girl? Do you know her?"

- "Yeah, I set the audition for her, actually. She is one of my closest friends, so how was it?"

Frank looked around at Ray smoking next to him in a small bar, then took a sip of his beer and decided the best thing to do was clear: lying.

- "She was awesome. Too bad the position is already taken 'cos she was real good"

- "I see, and that’s why you acted like an asshole?"

- "I didn’t!"- Frank knew he was busted

- "Dude, she told me everything. You didn’t even look at her!"

Ray’s phone hummed, and he read the text Gerard had sent them: “The chick is friends with Tucker. She sold us.” Toro chuckled and looked at Frank red in anger, trying to explain to his friend why he had been mean.

- “Too little too late”- Ray typed and sent the text. Mikey read them and chuckled while he ate a bowl of cereal and milk back in his house.

- "They deserve it for being assholes"- he said out loud and sighed.

He looked around at his home and realized he was talking all alone. His wife wasn’t around. His wife was never around anymore. But that was something Mikey didn’t want to think about, not then, not never.

- "Can you believe that bitch?"- Frank turned to Ray as soon as he hung down with Tucker- "She called our friend to snitch on us."

- "Well, you kinda deserved it"- Ray simply answered and sipped his beer- "You and Gerard should apologize to her."

- "No way, can we just let it pass?"- Iero was honestly upset as he lit another cigarette and remained in silence for a moment- "She was excellent, I give you that, but I don’t fucking want a girl in the band right now"

- "To avoid arguing with Jamia?"

- "Yeah! Shit has been hard lately, and I don’t want her to be threatened by anyone anymore"- Ray looked at his friend, nodding.

- "We should all talk about this seriously, we only got a week before the first show, and we have to rehearsal with the new drummer."

- "I know"- their cell phone hummed again, and they all read the exact text.

- "Meeting in my house now"- Gerard sighed as soon as he read his brother’s text. He surely knew what it was all about, and he had no intention to continue that argument, though he had absolutely no choice.

- "I hope Mikey at least asks for pizza"- he stood up and walked inside the house- "Honey, I’m going to Mikey’s"- he announced as he walked into his wife art studio and found her working on a collage on her desk

- "Say hello to your brother from me, hey! can you pick something for dinner?"

- "Sure, I’ll see you later"- he kissed her lips and cut her a short smile

- "Wait, turn around"- she asked, and he slowly moved over- "What happened?"

- "Nothing"- Lynz raised an eyebrow and waited for the honest answer- "We just had a bad audition for a drummer this morning. It turns out she was friends with Tucker Rule, and he called me an asshole for being mean to her."

- "Were you mean to her?"- Gerard made a long pause and stared at his wife’s expression change- "Why did you do that?"

- "I don’t know! I just didn’t like her!"

- "Was she right?"

- "Yeah"

- "Was she nice?"

- "Yes"

- "Was she hot?"

- "No! definitely not!"

- "Then what was the problem?"

- "She is the best we’ve had so far, but I don’t wanna turn everything we’ve been working on into “they are working with a girl” and get the attention away from the music."- Lynz nodded as she listened to her husband’s words.

- "You are making it seem like no one had ever had a female drummer or musician on stage before."

- "No, it’s not that, it’s just that…"- Gerard thought his answer carefully- "We haven’t, and we are so deep into the spot I’m afraid it will impact our show the wrong way"- Lynz made a pause and stared at her husband’s face

- "What did the band say?"

- "Frank is with me, and Ray and Mikey disagree."

- "Why is Frank with you?"

- "‘Cos he thinks having a girl on the bus is weird."

- "I was the girl in a band, and it wasn’t weird at all!"

Gerard knew that would be the subject in the conversation eventually as soon as he started talking about this with his wife.

- "I think you are acting kinda selfish and a little sexist."

- "No, we are just trying to do what’s best for the band."

- "Do whatever you want. I’m just giving you my opinion."

Gee felt Lynz was judging him. And he knew he would never win that fight.

- "I’m gonna talk about it with the band"

- "Ok, see you for dinner"- Gerard kissed his wife again and walked away feeling like a douche.

Had he been an asshole with that girl?

And besides, Gerard had lied to his wife when she asked if the girl was hot, ‘cos he actually thought so. He would never admit it in front of her anyway. And neither in front of anyone else. Never.

Matthew waited for Joey outside the community center, where she taught drums for kids in need as a way to keep them from being in the street and teaching him a new skill. He thought that was amazing and felt pretty proud of his girlfriend for giving the community her time and knowledge. He waved at her as she walked outside and cut her a big smile.

- "Hey! I didn’t know you were picking me up today!"

- "I wanted to surprise you and cheer you up!"- Joey leaned over and kissed Matthew sweetly.

- "Thank you so, so much!"

- "I’m the best boyfriend. I know."

- "What’s the plan?"

- "Wanna ask for Chinese and watch a movie at my place?"- it was a bit disappointing plan ‘cos that was pretty much every day in their routine, but Joey smiled and nodded.

- "As long as I pick the horror movie tonight, sounds perfect."

After a few minutes of driving, Matthew turned to his girlfriend and whispered.

- "I forgot tomorrow we’ll have table reading. We are gonna start shooting this week. I’m sorry I won’t be able to hang out so often."

- "Don’t worry, you have to work, and I need to get a new extra job ‘cos it’s obvious and I didn’t get the MCR shit…"- her cell phone interrupted her as she spoke. An unlisted number was calling- "Hello?"

- "Joey… Svein… björn...dottir?"

- "Yes?"- her last name was mispronounced entirely, but she was pretty used to that.

- "Hi, I’m Ray Toro, from My Chemical Romance."

- "Hey, Ray! How are you?"- Gubler wide opened his eyes as he turned to his girl for a second. She was honestly surprised the band was calling her.

- "Good! listen… I hope I’m not interrupting."

- "Not, it’s cool"- Gerard turned around and walked the other way just ‘cos he didn’t want to see Ray do what he was about to do.

- "Great, the band and I were talking, and we want you to come to the studio tomorrow to do a second tryout… do they even call it “tryouts”? more like an audition, I think."- Ray started rambling as Joey wide opened her eyes in shock.

- "Sorry, what? do you want me there again?"

- "Yeah, so we can jam a little, try a few new things. We are having trouble deciding on one drummer, so we need a bit more info. Besides, we couldn’t finish today so… can you come tomorrow at ten?"

- "Noon"- Frank said, thinking he didn’t feel like waking up early to meet that chick.

- "Sorry, at noon"- Ray corrected, embarrassed.

- "Noon…"- Joey had absolutely nothing to do at noon, but she wanted to make believe she had a life- "I think I can move a few things… to meet you."

- "Awesome! See you tomorrow"- Joey turned to Matthew as soon as she hung down and nearly screamed.

- "They want to see me again!!! I can’t believe it"- the young woman jumped on the seat completely excited- "I thought they hated…"- but suddenly, it hit her.

- "Congrats, Yami!!"- Matthew yelled and grabbed her knee, which was all he could do, considering he was driving.

- "No, it wasn’t me. It was Tucker."

- "Did you call him?"

- "He called. I didn’t want to tell him about the shitshow I was through this morning"- Joey grabbed her phone again and looked for the last number that called.

- "What are you doing?"

- "I’m canceling. I’m not gonna go if they are only doing this ‘cos my friend forced them."

- "What?! no! just go and kick their asses!"- Matthew quickly grabbed the phone from Joey’s and hid it in his pocket, far from her reach- "You are going tomorrow, and you are proving them wrong."

- "I don’t want to! Akumu! Come on! it’s gonna be embarrassing and awkward to see them knowing Tucker called them to get me a second chance!"

- "No! It’s gonna be awesome ‘cos you are gonna kick ass!!"

Joey whined for another while, honestly trying to get out of that awkward situation. But by the time they reached Matthew’s, he had convinced her she had to do it.

#matthew gray gubler #my chemical romance #fanfiction #babymetaldoll writes #mgg #criminal minds #frank iero #mikey way #i never thought I'd post this #gerard way

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xavadak3davrax · 4 years ago

Text

Primed for Sin / George Weasley

Actor!George

Primed for sin

George x Fem Reader

Warnings: Smut (18+), female receiving pleasure, unprotected sex, dirty talk, fluff, angst (?).

Summary: George is a famous actor and y/n is starting her career in the cinematic world.

a/n: So basically actor George came to my mind in a ‘puf’ moment. I had to write it for George because I felt like he deserved another moment after I wrote four parts por Prince Fred ahah.

☾☾☾

George started his career in acting like any other person. He grew up loving everything related to movies, series, music, he loved acting. It had started in the small school plays his mother, Molly, made him participate in. In the first ever school play George remember being so embarrassed because none of his friends were in it.

But then he got the taste of what it was like to have people clapping and enjoying and his love for acting started there. Let’s just say after that Molly didn’t make him participate in anything. He did that on his own. He had everything to thank his parents and family for. Because they were the ones who were there for every single play George was in all throughout his school years. Fred, his twin brother was the one who helped George make all the costumes and necessary things for the play he was gonna be in, since his parents weren’t rich and just couldn’t afford to pay someone to do that for them.

It was Ginny and Fred, and then later Molly and Arthur who convinced George to audition for the first movie he ever participated in. George was eighteen at the time was finishing up high school, along with working a part-time job at the local ice-cream store when the opportunity presented it self. When he saw the ad he was finishing up work, it was late and he had been so tired because it was peek summer time and a good ice-cream was what people were looking for. The paper was on the ground all wrinkled up because so many people had step on it already. But George took one good look at it and his heart felt all kinds of weird. Was that a sign? Should he take it had one?

He took the paper with him, but that night he told nobody about it. He left himself to think about it, what it said and what he read. And laying in bed that night, in the bedroom he shared with his twin brother he fell asleep thinking about a better future for him.

The next morning Ron, his younger brother had found the paper in the pocked of George’s jeans. George had forgotten it there and that’s when he thought he had made a mistake. But the events that happened next told him otherwise. His mom was so thrilled about that idea than when he woke up and came to the kitchen to have breakfast with all his family the first thing he got was a bright smile from his mom and then a tight hug.

“George you gotta audition for it.” His mother had said, he was a little confused and took him a moment to realize what she was talking about. But when he looked at Ron and he shook the little paper he knew they now knew what had consumed his thoughts all night.

George ended up auditioning for that movie after he saw how supportive his family was of it and how they seemed to find this a great opportunity for him. That was the first movie he ever started in.

Turns out being a tall ginger haired boy has it’s perks and people seem to want a lot of him. He stared in a lot of small movies before he actually had his break through. The movie that actually put him in the spot light was a romance movie, where he was for the first time ever since staring in films, the main character. Until then he had only been in the not so important positions.

George was twenty-one when that happen.

He was now twenty-five and people came from every part of the world begging to have him started in their movies. His agent, Leah was always denying people because George had a busy schedule. When his acting had started to grow and the money and fame had started to grow George also started doing something more than just acting. He volunteered in numerous occasions, he also donated a lot of money and was always made sure he was working towards a better world. But being nice here didn’t mean he was nice when it came to his main career.

Leah had warned in various occasion to be more cautious and careful and nicer because he had lost a lot of opportunities because of his bad attitude. George always clamed it didn’t matter because he never stopped getting other more amazing ones.

So now, while he’s finishing up the knot on tie, turned to the mirror eyes focused on what his doing, he’s also rolling them from time to time while he listens to Leah. George was to star in a movie that was expected already to be nominated for numerous grammys and other awards. He didn’t even had audition, he was the chosen one from the beginning and they had also asked him to be part of the process of choosing the other main character he was going to act with. So now he was getting ready to go to that meeting and Leah was going on about how he should be nice and should behave.

“Please George, this is very important, and don’t forget, they picked you for this but that doesn’t mean you can budge in and deny everything. If they find someone they like and the majority agrees, you have to go with it.” Leah said, finally looking up from the Ipad and locked eyes with George. They were the same age, George had hired her after his second good paid gig when he understood things could be better for him and he needed someone to manage all the stuff he was to unorganized to do. Leah at the time was someone who had just lost her job, was looking for anything to do and George had swooped in and helped her. She was so grateful for that, but it didn’t mean she was gonna give him an easy time. George was grateful for that. He liked that she was hard on him, that’s what he needed to keep himself focused on what was important.

“I’m gonna give my opinion. I’m sorry Leah but didn’t they chose me to help?” He questioned, now turning around to her, his hands smoothing the fabric of his black jacket. When she didn’t say anything he continued. “They did. And so if they did that it’s because they need my expertise on the matter so I’m not gonna hold back. Besides when I started this years ago people were hard on me and that’s how I got to where I am today.” He stated, coming down the small step from the zone in his room where he usually got ready. He smiled at her when he passed her and then went towards the leaving room.

“George, I know, but you have to be nicer. Besides there’s gonna be a lot of people where it’s gonna be a first time going to such a big audition. Please, I beg you, have some consideration.” Her voice was pleading. George sighed heavily and before he responded he was already nodding.

“Okay, okay, I’ll see what I can pull of.”

The smile Leah had on her when he turned around was massive.

☾☾

“George thank you so much for coming in.” Said James, the director of the movie, along side him was the scrip writer and then the author of the book the movie was inspired in. George shook all their hands, a fake smile on his face. Although he enjoyed the opportunity, he never really liked a lot of the people who worked in this universe, some of them were to fake for him. “There’s a big queue outside so this might take some time, but I’m sure some of them won’t even make it pass de minute mark.” The guy gave a laugh that had a lot of negativity to it. And Leah was worried that George was gonna be the mean one.

“So since I see everyone is here, should we just get started?” George asked, trying to conceal the little boredom in his voice. When they all nodded, they went to their designated places in a small very brightly lit room ready to star.

The first ten girls that came in George thought they didn’t even know exactly what they were auditioning for. Although with the script in her hands, none of them was able to form one sentence that didn’t have a mistake in. or that completely changed the meaning of that it was actually suppose to be.

Then they found a girl who was good and performed well but they couldn’t accept her in that moment so they told her they would contact her. George thought it was impossible to find any better than her and she wasn’t even that good, she was just able to say the part of the script she was asked to, without any mistakes.

And also because he was loosing all hope, it had been two hours of this and they had only found that one girl. No other seemed to fit the role of what they were looking for. Until y/n came in.

y/n had been preparing for this audition for a whole month if not more. At only twenty one y/n thought her life was a complete mess. Almost all of her friends had finished college, some already working for big firms, some married, some with kids. They all seemed to have a path in their lives. Y/n? Well in this moment exactly she was swimming in debt, leaving in the cheapest apartment she could find and working full time at a supermarket near her house. Her plan since she was little was to become an actress, y/n loved every aspect of what it entailed. She loved to go to the movies and think it could be her one day on the big screen. She liked when she saw people around her clap at the end of an amazing movie and think maybe, just maybe one day people would clap for her too.

The luck was on her side when the audition was to be on the same day she had her day of work. But even if she hadn’t Piper, her work friend had already made plans to change days with her just so she could go to this audition. She was the most supportive friend y/n now had regarding her dream. Let’s just say all of her friends with their big lives sometimes pitted her for still being so stuck. y/n although a very negative person in life, thought that this was just a small little bump in the road and that one day she would get what she so hard worked for.

So for the past month every time y/n had a small window of a chance she was preparing herself for this. It wasn’t her first audition, but it would be her first big audition. She new the ‘jury’ was gonna be composed of big people, including one of her favorite actors (George Weasley) and one of her favorite writers (Clara Hart), so what better mix than that? She didn’t know any. She wanted to give her best on this, to be prepared for anything they might throw at her to see how good she is. And so she tried to prepare in her head any possible scenario.

So when she opened the door gently and looked at all of them staring right at her, the confidence that she was made of suddenly disappeared, and she was left nervous and speechless until she hit the yellow line on the ground were she should stay to then perform.

“So, please state your name and date of birth please.” The director spoke, she knew that because he had a plaque in front of him with his name and his position, so had all the other. y/n let her eyes follow every person on the table, and she swallowed hard. Now in front of two of the people she liked most she felt like she would never succeed. What if she made a fool of herself? What if they just plain and simple didn’t like her? What if they wouldn’t even give her a chance to do better? Shit. Everything was coming at her, at once. y/n gave a small smile and stated her name. “Good, now please turn to page twenty on your script and we would like you to do that scene, George here is gonna do his part.”

They were choosing different scenes throughout the script to make sure they got the full view of it, but always making sure they chose scenes where George was included because they wanted to see of both people would work together. For them it was important to choose people who had some type of chemistry, so the movie itself would work out better.

y/n nodded, turned to the page in question and then look at George who was looking at the script. He was the first one to start so she was ready for him to do so. But he stayed silent, and after a few minutes talked.

“What are you waiting for?” George spoke rudely, y/n was taken aback by that.

“Ahm- i- I’m sorry but you start.” y/n spoke very quietly a little scared of his tone of voice. The director got close to George and pointed to the scene in question, he then nodded and without any warning or preparation after what he just did he stated spilling out the lines. y/n quickly got back to herself and did her part.

After they finished that and made y/n do a scene of just herself, it seemed like forever before they said something. They were writing in their papers (well, all besides George, he was just looking at them) and then they were talking very quietly in inaudible whispers between themselves. And y/n was just left standing there, her eyes looking everywhere but the jury.

“So, miss y/l/n…” The write spoke this time, she unlike the director and George, had a kind smile on her face. “We have your contact here, expect a call in the next seven business days about your situation.”

She could feel her heart beat so fast and for a second wondered if anyone else could hear it. Shit, she had never gotten that answer before. She had been rejected had soon as she had finished. But now… now she had chance, this meant she had a chance. She was elated, she couldn’t believe it. When they kept looking at her she realized she had still not spoken.

“So sorry, yes, of course, thank you so much.” She said, smiled and then went on her way, not wishing to stall them anymore given they still had a lot of people to audition. That didn’t mean she got the part, she bets a lot more girl were given that answer, but for her that momen was a big win for her.

But what if they had said that out of the kindness of their hearts because the actor had been rude to her? Had that been it? Was his action so bad that they felt bad for her and decided to giver a thread of hope? Oh no, please no, let it no be it y/n thought nervously, it couldn’t be. She wanted to believe that they had said that because she performed well and deserved a chance at the part she auditioned for.

☾☾

It had been four days. Four long and tiring business days of y/n waking up, getting dress in her sleepy state to go to work. For days of just existing at her work because her anxiety was too much for her to handle. They said seven days… but it wouldn’t actually take them that long right? They probably just had said that because they felt bad for her, and had found someone way better than her.

“y/n, please, please, stop walking around like the world is gonna end.” Piper said coming up behind y/n and putting her hands on her shoulder shaking her gently. “You are gonna receive that call, and you’re they’re going to accept you and you’re gonna leave this shitty job and get us a nice vacation somewhere sunny.” She said, earing a small laugh from y/n who then turned to her friend, teeth bitting on her bottom lip, a nervous tic she had.

“But what if they don’t? I mean do they really take this long? I mean I know they probably found a million other girls who are suitable for the part, but for days?” y/n clearly exaggerated on the ‘million part’.

“Yes they do y/n, because this is a big movie and they need to get the person to act with the George Weasley to be the best of the best. They just haven’t realized that’s you.”

“Thanks for the positivity. I’m just gonna scan this fish sticks in and the work on the toilet paper isle to take my mind of this.” y/n gave her a look of ‘thank you really’ and then left to do her things.

She was leaving work at seven, the summer breeze hitting her face, her eyes puffy from tiredness and maybe from a little bit of crying. She lived close to the supermarket so she was going on foot, the walk barely hitting the ten minute mark. But it was when she was close to her door that her phone rang. She picked it up, not looking at the ID because she thought is was piper who had forgotten something.

“Yes?” That’s all she said, before she thought piper was gonna burst in, distressed because she had forgotten something important. But the voice on the other side was male.

“Hi, is this y/n y/l/n?”

“Yes this is she, who am I speaking to?”

“Hi, I’m James, you audition for the movie I’m working on.”

The bried moment where y/n’s thought were not on the movie and so she had a small window where she didn’t feel anxious stopped completely and abruptly and her anxiety came back like crazy. Were they calling her because she hadn’t make the cut? And in the world was she, a somehow positive person, thinking the worst lately?

She thinks it’s because of the crazy amount of bills pilling up in her coffee table because her salary isn’t enough to pay all of them at once so she had to pay them given their priority and need. She usually pays rent, and with the rest of the money that’s left water or electricity. And tries to put some aside for some food, after all she had to survive.

“Ahm yes, yes, sorry.” She apologized when she realized she had stayed quiet for longer than she thought and james had asked if she was there.

“Amazing. So I don’t how to say this in other words other than, I would like you to at this address,” he stated said address “on Friday by nine does that work for you?”

“Sure, yes, but may I ask why?” y/n was lost, why did she need to be there if she didn’t even know if she got the part or not? They were trying to make her look like a fool.

“Because we’re gonna have a meeting and need the two main actors in the movie presen-“ he didn’t get to fisnish the sentence because the scream with had been holding up for what feel like forever finally got out. On the other side James had a smile on his face and his phone way from his ear.

“Thank you, thank you so much I will be there.”

And then they hang up. And for a long moment y/n stayed at the for of her apartment speechless, hands shanking like crazy, her eyes watery but a smile on her face. She got it. Her first ever movie, and a big one at that.

All those millions of auditions where she was left crying because she felt like wasn’t good enough, they now didn’t matter. Didn’t matter because she got the part. And she felt the happiest she had been in a long, long while.

☾☾

“Ok, I’ll hang up now but good luck and call me when you leave.” Piper said swifly, knowing y/n was about to enter her first ever meeting. The begging of her dream career. She hung up, put the phone in the back pocket of her jeans and breath in deeply.

She decided to not dress any of the old jeans she used for her (now old) work. So she used on of the best jeans she had, she might’ve worn them too or three times before that, and pared then with a nice blouse and one of her best jackets. Since she didn’t have anything fancy, she wore her tennis. They were kind of old but maybe no one would notice. She got close to the door and knocked three times and when a voice came from inside saying ‘come in’ she did.

She was met with a cute girl, she was the same height had y/n, she had black hair and brown eyes and was looking intensely at y/n. Next to her was George Weasley sitting in of the green colored sofas, one of his legs on top of the other and a phone in his hands.

“I’m Leah, pleasure to meet you. You must be y/n?” She nodded unable to form any kind of sentence in that moment. “I’m George’s assistant. We came in early in case you decided to arrive early as well.”

“Ahm yes, it wouldn’t look nice of me to arrive late.”

“No it wouldn’t.” George said, looking at her with hard eyes, for a moment and then back at his phone.

“Excuse him, he’s a grumpy old man when he had to get up early.” y/n tried no to laugh at that and then sat herself in the chair Leah had pointed to, and then she sat next to her.

“I made him do this because I know this is your first your first ever work related to this. And I you choose to accept some advice I’m more than willing to give it you.”

y/n couldn’t answer her in that moment because they heard the door slam hard, and when Leah looked at the sofa the place where George was empty.

“Like I said, a little moody in the mornings but no worries. Since he left we can do this in silence.” She smiled, and then proceeded to start explaining some brief stuff to y/n. y/n felt that the small amount of time she had with Leah made her felt less nervous. Leah helped her navigate through this new world and how she thought things would go for this movie. “Don’t worry about George, he’s gonna give you a hard time but I’ll give him a harder time.”

“He doesn’t really like the fact that they chose me the, I assume.” y/n gave a nervous laugh, trying to ease the moment.

“It’s not like that. George just thinks they should’ve hire an actress in a name, and experience and no someone who’s doing this first time…” She pretty much had agreed with what y/n had said, but she decided not to dwell on it much longer. “But everyone else loved the way you acted and showed a different passion in the way you acted, you are what they need for this. George just as to suck it up.”

They both laughed together, being interrupted by the door opening and George coming in with the rest of the people, James, Clara included.

“You’re already amazing, let’s get started then.” James said happily, sitting down and giving everyone a gesture to do the same. Leah stayed next to y/n, and George sat next to Leah. Because of the conversation Leah had with y/n before hand she didn’t feel as lost as ever. She understood points and things that were necessary to do. They were also talking and planning how things for the movie would work out, how y/n and George should meet to stage and act the many ,many scenes they had together. How it was important because it created chemistry and the right mood they were looking for in the movie. At the end, after they asked if anyone had any questions, they got up to leave. y/n stayed in her sit even though George had gotten up.

“I think we can take the time to talk about the meetings you both have to do.” Leah said, but she was looking at George because he was the one who was ready to leave.

“You can both talk about that, you have my schedule make her work around it.” George said, looking at Leah. “I have a date with Madison now.” Madison was a singer George had been talking and seeing for a while now.

“y/n doesn’t have to work around anything George, you both have to compromise.”

“No it’s ok, show me is schedule and I can work around it.” y/n tried to make this moment less tense, and soften the angry look Leah had. George smiled cynically and then left leaving the both alone. “Really it’s ok, I have more free time then him. We just gotta work things out so I can organize myself. I have to catch the bus and all of that so it’s better if I know before hand what to do and where to go.”

“Thank you y/n. But I’ll still have a talk with him, he cannot act like this, it’s rude and disrespectful and you are both gonna be working together so he better stop acting up.”

☾☾

“y/n is about to arrive, can you please put on some nicer clothes?” Leah exasperated, hands in the hair and her face showed stress. She had arrived about half an hour ago expecting George to be ready in some nice comfy clothes, with his breakfast eaten and ready to start whenever y/n appeared at the hour they had established. But instead George was hungover in his bed, only in his boxers, still soundly asleep. Leah had to come in, wake him up loudly and make him get is ass up from the bed to get ready. He go up still in his boxers and went down to his kitchen to eat what Leah had kindly prepared for him to eat since she knew in his state he wouldn’t prepare much less eat anything.

She watched George move lazily around his house, going to his room to dress something nicer. That ended up being some grey sweatpants and a t-shirt that had some sex quote on it.

“I won’t be here while you both work on the script, but please George be nice to her. y/n is new to this and the least we can do is be nice and helpful. She’s gonna make mistakes but so do you and you are a big actor. So instead of being a dumbass, try and be just dumb.” George flipped his middle finger at her.

The door bell rang and Leah got up excitedly. She was the one who went to open the door, while George put a yellow marker and a pen on top of the script that had been sitting at the top of his dinning table for what feels like forever now.

“Hi y/n. George is in the dinning room, it’s the door to the right.” George heard Leah say and then continue. “I’m not gonna be here so you can both concentrate on the work, but…” and then he stopped listening because she lowered her voice to much for him to be able to hear. The last thing he heard was the front door to his house close and then steps that let him know y/n was getting close.

“Hi.” She said, front the door of the room, she was in comfy clothes, some leggings a sweat shirt and instead of the old shoes she had on the day of the audition she had some sandals. “beautiful house you got here.”

George wanted to growl. He wasn’t here to talk about anything else other than his work. He didn’t wish to make any other conversation other than the necessary one. So was she talking?

“We should get started. I have some meeting in the afternoon and would like for us to make some progress.” y/n nodded quickly, pulling her bag from where it rested and taking her things out. George noticed her script had already written stuff on it along with some highlighted parts. So she had been working, and George had nothing written on it and didn’t really even know where to start even after Leah had asked and warned him to work on it. y/n let her eyes fall on the papers in front of him and then to him again and when she saw the awkward look he had she felt the need to say something nice to ease whatever he might be feeling.

“Look, I took some notes of where I think we should start and something I think we should do in each part to help us get this write.” She started, and pushed her papers towards him for him to see and read. George nodded and took a look at all her little notes. She had a beautiful writing. When he nodded she continued. “Yeah? You agree?” he nodded again. “Great so let’s start.”

“You should seat first, so we’re both more comfortable.” George reminded her when he saw her still standing up.

George realized during the time they started talking that maybe he was wrong in judging her so soon. y/n knew what she was doing, she had worked hard to get everything to his liking and every time they had to try again on a scene wasn’t because of her but because of him. Because somehow he let his mind wonder a bit to much during these times, and also because she looked soft in that hoodie, we thought he could squish her gently and kiss the top of her head, and then hug her closely to him. He was gonna do all of that, the movie had more than enough scenes for them to hug, be gentle with each other and even kiss. What would it be like to kiss her? George wondered. Maybe her lips would be soft, they looked soft right now. Maybe she would taste like mint, or a fruit, like strawberry or lemon. Lemon looks like a bad choice, but he loved the sour taste of it. And her hands, what you they feel like holding his face while pulling him closer to her so they could kiss, would they be cold? Leah had told him the other day how y/n’s hand were always cold, but always soft. She moisturized.

“George? Everything ok?” George looked at her, a little embarrassed because he had zoned out on their conversation and so he had lost the last paragraph of what she said.

“Sorry.” He apologized and asked her to repeat what she had said so he could say his part.

And the meeting itself was not half had bad had George had been dreading it to be. How he thought each minute would drag out, how three hours of this would probably look like a whole day to him. No, instead, three hours felt like five minutes because y/n was easy to work with. It almost looked like she was doing this for longer than him and had more experience than him. She took this very seriously and George wanted to punch himself because he didn’t believe she would.

“So this sums it up for today.” y/n was putting all her things back in her bag, she had a content smile on her, feeling like they had accomplished so much in such little time and this being their first encounter of many before they would start shooting in just a month time.

“Yeah, we did a lot. Do you know when he have another meeting?” He felt stupid asking this, he should’ve waited and asked Leah about this, maybe then y/n wouldn’t think so low of him. Think how he couldn’t manage his time well at anything that he had to have Leah do everything for him. It was not like that, George was busy outside acting. Being as famous as he was he felt some kind of responsibility to show other famous people what it was like to do good.

He grew up poor, like so many other did, she just wanted his fame to not go to his brain. Every time he felt like that was happening to him he would go to Fred, his twin, oh boy he would definitely bring George back to reality.

“I mean it almost everyday.” She said casually, his scared face made her laugh. “I’m joking. We have another one this week and then the rest of the other weeks until filming is only once a week. But I think this went so well we have nothing to worry about. But if you do feel like we should work more just have to let Leah know, and she’ll talk to me.”

George nodded and watched her get up, all her stuff already put and she was ready to go.

“Well it was a pleasure working with you face to face for the first time Mr. Weasley, see you next time.”

And then George was left alone to all his thoughts.

☾☾

They were now only a few days way from the first day of shooting and today was the last day they had their meetings. This time Leah was present because after hearing George talk so much about how amazing it had been she needed to see for herself. In general in any of the other movies she had seen George work in he never really had any closeness to the person he was acting with. So this was a first.

“Look who it is, the man of the hour.” Leah said, she was on one side of the kitchen isle turned to the stairs in George’s apartment, and y/n had her back to him.

“Morning Leah, morning y/n.” the look y/n gave him gave him chills. He still wasn’t use to this weird feeling every time she looked at him.

After their first meeting George tried to really keep those thought to him, to not let it get to his head and ruin everything. But every time y/n came she looked even softer, even cuter and it was impossible for him to feel some type of way for her. She just squished herself in his heart and now had a small place in it. He wasn’t rude anymore.

“Leah is watching us today. My first audience.” y/n joked, making George laugh and look at Leah.

“Great. After this I think we could all for lunch. My treat?” George asked looking at both of them. “Just you know to celebrate this last era of just us, before the big part.” They both nodded agreeing to him.

☾☾

When y/n entered the studio where they were going to film for the first time, she felt small. Everything was so big and bright and everyone was talking to someone but she had arrived alone, after taking a three buses and almost loosing herself. She looked around, looking or Leah who said she would be close by the entrance to help y/n. She assumed George would already be getting ready to start shooting the scene they were to start today.

When she walked a little more people started looking at her and she started to overthink everything she did. What she wore, how she walked and if her hair was messy. Shit, it could be. The wind outside was crazy.

“Y/n come on.” Leah came up to her side and grabbed her hand, everything went so fast that she didn’t have time to see were she was being taken. Leah had been a guardian angel in all of this, helping y/n through everything and managing both her and George. “George is almost ready, and I cannot believe it, you two are gonna be amazing.”

y/n nodded nervously, and closed herself in her trailer to get ready. Everything laid out for her. And she tried not to be late, and she was able to get to the scene just in time. George taking the rest of what was left of her breath, way. He was in a back suit, green tie and his shoes were black and shinny. The scene in question was not the very first scene of the movie but something more towards the middle, so this scene had touching and some kissing. y/n had made sure she washed her mouth extra good this morning. George came in to hug her, a gesture that had became normal between both of them.

She wrapped her hands around him, they hugged each other tightly.

“You’re gonna do amazing.” He whispered in her ear, y/n shivered, George noticing it, a smile on his face.

“Ok, everyone in your place.” James said loudly. And George and y/n hurried to their places. She gave one last look to Leah who was next to James, her face happy and she gave them both a thumbs up.

y/n started to say her line. Following what the script had, George had his hands on her waist, y/n had hers on his shoulders and slowly they would go up his neck. He was leaning in close to kiss her. Although having to show a certain emotion on screen, the way her heartbeat faster with how close he got was a different emotion. She felt her hands sweat a little and wondered if he would notice when she got way from him.

George whispered something, just before their lips touched. Her fingers closing in around the fabric of his suit, tighten her grip even more when their kiss deepened. And when he pushed away his eyes never left hers.

The scene continued until a little after, so y/n had to bring herself back together and not let anyone understand how she felt after kissing George. When James yelled ‘cut’ she let out a deep breath she hadn’t realized until then she was holding.

“You did amazing.” George said, although with the amount of people around them he wasn’t scared of being a little to close to her. Although he should because rumors with any girl he was with flared up like crazy.

“Thank to you and your helpful very experienced tips.” She nudge his side and they both walked up to meet James and listen to some helpful advice from him.

☾☾

They way things were going amazing was to good to be true. George started inviting y/n after their time on set to just spend some time with him, at first the excuse was that they should work a little more on their scenes, but after the third time y/n stopped biting it and he just had do admit he genuinely wanted to spend some time with her.

So they were both longing in his enormous sofa, watching one of George’s movie because y/n had instated in doing so. George was a little embarrassed he usually never watched his own movies outside the first time they aired on the cinema. He liked to just think they didn’t existed. Not that he didn’t like the job he did, he just didn’t like to look at himself for long periods of time. But y/n had bugging him about it of for so long and the day she gave him those puppy eyes he gave in.

y/n had her legs on top of his, she was in some comfy pajamas because sometime she ended up falling asleep on his sofa and he couldn’t bring himself to wake her up and sent her home, not when she looked like a true angel. So he advised her to bring her pajamas so she would sleep comfortably.

“You look too good.” y/n laughed when a particular scene called for such statement. George rolled his eyes and looked at her.

“This is the last time I’m ever doing something like this. You watched them by yourself from now on.” He stated pretending to be angry, but y/n knew he was playing.

“Shut up, you love it. Every second of this you’re enjoying it.” She nuzzled herself closer to him but when that position of her legs on top of his was not enough closeness to her she decided to change. Turning around so now her head was on his lap and one of his hands came up to gently stroke her hair, her eyes immediately started closing, because it felt so nice and she was tired but she hadn’t realized until that moment.

“If you continue that I’m gonna fall,” she was interrupted by a yawn from her part, “I’m gonna fall asleep.” She finished, eyes already closed and her hands on the thigh she had her head on.

“It’s ok.” He whispered. She did end up doing just that and George had to get up has careful had he could as to not wake her up. Turned the tv and before he left he covered with a thick blanket and the went to his room.

It was about two in the morning when y/n woke up from a wet dream.

She was confused. Her hair was all over her face, some in her mouth. She felt sticky between her thighs and when she uncovered herself she look to see a wet spot on her pajama pants. How? How had it happen? Her and George and been close yes and friendly maybe a little to much with lingering touches and some discreet kisses when no one was looking. But was that reason for her to dream such filth? Her breathing was uneven had she got up, her brain and her legs seemingly not connecting while they guided her upstairs towards George’s room. The lights were off so he must already been asleep. With her legs still shaky she stopped at his door, it sounded so creepy to her, standing there looking at his peacefully asleep. But her body craved his touch.

“georgie?” Y/n voice called quietly while entering the room towards his bed, his king size bed. She kneeled at the bottom of the bed looking at him while his eyes slowly opened, his hands coming up to his head to rub them.

“y/n? Everything alright?” His voice was ruff and sleepy and she felt the wetness between her legs become more prominent but she tried to hide it.

“I-i woke up and can’t fall back asleep” she hadn’t even tried to do so. “Can i- can i sleep with you?” She murmured voice small and hand moving nervously in front of her.

“Of course sweet pea. Come here.” He hold the covers of his bed up so she could come in.

At first after she got in y/n stayed far from him. She was already in embarrassed of coming up here and asking him that, and he said yes so now she was in his bed his warm comfort bed.

“You can get closer, come on.” his sweet voice came from behind her, being she had back to him.

She turned around and got closer one hand under her head and the other on his arm. “Thank you.” she said a smile on her face. He gave a gentle kiss to her nose making her scrunch it up but none the less, laugh. She nuzzled even closer to him, letting her head hide in his neck, he felt her breathing there. The closeness they had made him feel hot all over his body and when a particular change of position made his uncovered leg brush close to her he felt wetness. Her breath caught in her throat. Shit had he felt it? He had to, the way his movements stoped abruptly and the way his hand squeezed her, he had.

“I’m sorry” she hurried to say, now very embarrassed because of what she had said.

“Oh my poor baby, did you have a wet dream?” She nodded unable to speak for herself. “Can I?” He asked gently his hand squeezing her also like that and when he got her agreement his hand traveled towards where she was the most warm. “Sweet thing look at how wet you are. Who made you like this?” He asked, curiosity all over his voice. The hand in his arm came to push his hair.

“You.” He was left genuinely surprised at that. He knew they were close and did things not normal for their relationship but he didn’t know she was dreaming of him like this. Hell if he knew he’d done something about it sooner because she was also filling his mind. His hand gently cupped her pussy thru the thin fabric of her bottoms, a moan leaving her mouth and her hips moving against his palm to find friction.

“So desperate.” She could feel his breath now close to her face his lips leaving kisses all over her face. ‘Tell me baby what did you dream of?’ He asked, his hand putting more pressure on her pussy, her swollen clit loving the attention. She mewled continuing the friction with her hips but now a little faster, almost like she was the one choosing the pace. ‘Nuh uh precious. You gotta tell me first, what was I doing in that dream of yours?’ He pushed his hand way stopping all contact and the broken cry that left her almost made him come back, but he wanted her to speak.

“I- you were.” she tried to speak, her voice shaky. “you were fucking me.”

“oh was I baby? And what more?”

“You- you touched me, with your hands, and they- Oh George they’re so big” The leg that was now in between hers was a great opportunity for y/n to buck her hips into it, the touch to her clit felt like it was too much and too little at the same time. He put his hands at her hips to stop her from getting her pleasure.

y/n brough her hands to his and squeezed them both, her eyes looking at him. “They’re so fucking big George shit, and your fingers.” She was so lost in pleasure that thoughts that made sense almost didn’t pass her mind. “Please.” She begged.

George felt sorry for the way she was feeling. George lets one hand slip from her face, down to her shoulder, sliding his fingers along her collarbone. He drags them down her front, dipping beneath the sheets as he cups the soft mound of her breast. A small gasp leaves her mouth, his hand rubbed against her nipples that immediately got hard from his touch. His mouth came to meet hers letting her moan into his mouth, his tongue touched hers and she felt a shiver run down the entirety of her spine. She did taste like strawberries, the ones he had imagine the first day she had come to his house, and she was soft and squishy like he dreamed of. She let her head fall back a little still kissing him, but that deepened the kiss and her hands came to roam his body staying in the line of the boxers he had.

George pushed of her and looked at her, a smile creeping up on his face. He lowered his head, and bit down on her throat while his hand went thru her pajama bottoms and her thin undergarments to finally touch her now bare pussy. She was even warmer now and the gasp that left her lips was marvelous. He gently brushed his fingers thru her pussy, he could’ve sworn he felt her clit twitch against his hands. The urge he felt then was big and he let his thumb slide against the gentle twitching button that was begging to be touched. He first rolled it gently and when mewled little a kitty he took that had a yes and then rolled again but a little stronger this time. Her legs shook wrapping around one of his legs.

“Oh sweet girl you are quivering, this is your sweet spot isn’t it?” She could only nod.

George’s cock twitched with interest again, he’s hard, he doesn’t think he felt this hard ever, and when her hands gain the courage to pull his boxers down his cock came with force slapping against his abdomen, the pre-cum that left the tip leaving them both messy with the sticky substance. He was stiff has stone beneath the sheets that now felt to much.

“Get undressed.” He said, his voice now a little less sweet and more dominant, he pushed the sheets of them because he now knew both of them were hot. And he also took the chance to finish up taking his boxers, the only piece of clothing that he had. He watched intensely as y/n tried to take her clothes of, but her shaky hands weren’t helping.

When he came down again, y/n took his hand and brought it to her chest, he understood the gesture and gave another squeeze and let, after that, his fingers wrap again around the now hard button that was her nipple and pulled, her hand opening but the pleasure consuming her was so much that the moan that was coming out got stuck in her throat.

He then let is fingers stay in her nipple while the other hand came to her pussy and he plunged two fingers into her, she was so wet that he had his hands soaking again with her juices, she was squishy inside and warm and thigh and he could only imagine how his cock would feel. The movements of his fingers in her so slow that she was bucking her hips again against him fucking herself onto him.

“Desperate, sweet pea.” He kissed her throat again and sucked on it again, the other mark from earlier already purple and this would have the same ending. “You want me to make your sweet little dream come true don’t you?”

The fingers he had inside her pick up it’s pace, her pussy convulsing and spasming around his fingers, whimpers and moans were all y/n was able to let out, her brain was mushy and no thoughts were able to form. And as with his quick pace comes a stron movement, her whimpers turn into longer moans her hands shake, she put one hand on his neck and pulled him to her kissing him hard moaning into his mouth, into his tongue.

She’s so close, he can feel it, this is the first time he’s touching her but it feels like he knows her like the palm of his hand, the way she squeezes even harder around his fingers, how her hips look to closer to him, how he knows she feels any sort of touch from him is never enough. Her orgasm is stopped when he pulls his fingers out, looking for eye contact with her before bringing his fingers coated in her wetness to her lips.

“Open baby, taste yourself.” Ans she obeyed, opening her lips slightly, just enough to wrap around his fingers and she sucked fervently on them. She brought both of her hands to hold his wrist as if telling him to stay there. The way her warm tongue enveloped his fingers had his leaking cock bloat even more with pleasure.

He took his fingers out. “Enough greedy baby, I’ll give you my cock now.”

y/n laid back letting him get on top of her, she opened her legs so he could fit in between them, her hands on his back, her fingernails scratching very lightly at his. It made George shiver and loose a little balance. One of his hands was next to her head holding himself up while the other came down to his cock, he stroked it gently a few times, biting down on his lips to suppress a moan, and then positioned himself at her entrance.

She felt his the head of his swollen cock brush up against her hole, and how he pushed in ever so gently letting them both deep in the pleasure of her cunt enveloping his cock for the first time. The moan that leaves her mouth is something out of an adult movie George is almost sure, he pulls out almost all the way before pushing back in.

“Shit-“ his moans his cut of by the pleasure cursing through his body. “So tight around me baby, just perfect for my cock.” His hands that were supporting his body came to change their position. He kneels between her legs, carefully because he was still inside her, and his hands picked up her legs bending them so she was more open to him. He begins to buck his hips against her quicker and more vigorously, their moans filing the whole room, the only sound they could hear besides the snap of his hips against her bottom, his pelvis sometimes brushed against her clit making her tighten her pussy around him.

George doesn’t hold back on his moans, and the way she feels and responds to his moans makes him know that she also likes. When she moves her hips, he bottoms out on her, his whole length inside her touching the spot that makes her shiver and quiver.

“Fuck, George- so deep.” Her hands come to her breast to touch them, moving them around and toying with her hard nipples making her pleasure even stronger. She was throbbing around him. The smile on his face is big, thrusting up into her while also letting her hips meet his, his balls slap around her bum. y/n’s thighs are tense, her orgasm is starting to build, the pressure in her lower belly starting to get stronger, her legs sometimes twitch as if they’re gonna close.

George keeps bumping into her soft, if she was wet before she’s soaking now, her juices coming from her letting a wet noise be heard, squelching noises every time his fucks into her sweet pussy.

“Sweeteste little pussy baby, can’t believe I’ve been dreaming of this and it’s even better than I dreamed of.” His hips flutter a little in his speed when he also starts to feel his own orgasm building up. She’s convulsing around him, her hands are now bunching up the sheets in her hands and she screams. “My best little girl you are, giving your all on my cock ahm?” The growl tha leaves his mouth is grutal and strong and he gives on last hard trhust agains her as she comes around his cock, her juices coating all of him and his whole cock is even wetter, the pressure from her strong orgasm pushes him out of her and his hand immediately meets his cock.

y/n locks eyes with the hand on his cock, his movement rapid and smooth knowing perfectly how to finish himself, and although she’s looking at his cock he’s looking at her, his free hand comes to one of her breasts and toys with her nipple. “Such cute tits, I’m-“ his voice breaks “i-m gonna fuck them one day, one day- shit.” He’s unable to finish his sentence as his orgasm ripples truh him, his whole body shaking and y/n has to bring her hands to help as best as she can with his fall.

Even with limp arms he tries to not put his whole weigh on her but the aftermath of his orgasm makes such thing impossible. His cum his leaving a mess between her thighs, all over that and his tummy and hers and they both feel sticky.

Sticky but happy, as her arms come to wrap around his body hugging him she feels the best she’s ever felt in a while, even with everything in her life going good. But she feels so close to him, she knows for sure she’s falling in love with the man on top of her and she couldn’t wish for anyone better.

“Thank you.” He murmured. “You are amazing.” He kissed her shoulder sweetly and y/n smiled repeating a ‘thank you’ to him.

This made everything that was to come more interesting. How they still had a whole movie to shoot, and how she knew this wasn’t the end and only the beginning of them.

#smut #george weasley #george weasley imagine #george weasley imagines #george weasley smut

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wonderlustlucas · 5 years ago

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jack pot ; part 3 - hwang hyunjin

⇢ prompt You know it’s bad when you’re high as a kite and he’s still on your mind. ⇢ pairing hwang hyunjin x female reader ⇢ word count 6.4k ⇢ genre fluff & angst (not heavy, just in a slow burn kind of way) ⇢ warnings (18+) drug use, a suggestive make out & the mention of a boner twice maybe ⇢ summary College is a matter of working hard and playing hard. It’s an opportunity to start fresh, to grow as an individual and to blossom with those you befriend. People come and people go, leaving their mark on your life and showing you all the parts of becoming an adult. Some, however, do more than leave their mark. Some take just as much as they give. Things become complicated once they take the entirety of your love because you outright offered it to them.—college!au ; stoner!au ; friends to lovers!au ⇢ a/n AAAAAAAA omg im so excited to post this, this by far is my fav part of jack pot & i cant wait to hear what u all think!!! sorry its a bit shorter than the other parts, & technically this is the *last* part, but there will be an epilogue where you will see how everything comes to be!!!! have fun reading!!! <3

⇠ part 2

five.

“Oh, fuck, he’s good,” Yeji gasps, shoving her phone into Maddie’s hands before faceplanting into the table.

“Are you H-T-T-P because I’m colon-slash-slash without you,” Maddie reads with a chuckle, thumbs hesitating over the keyboard. “Quick, YN, look up some pick-up lines.”

Closing the tab on the article you should be reading but has been long forgotten, you promptly do as you are told and open the first link from your search, Minho and Jisung leaning in to help. “There,” Jisung stops you, pointing to one, “’Are you a parking ticket? Because you have fine written all over you.’”

The table can’t help but burst into laughter at such a sentence. It’s stupid, but ever since Yeji and Kim Sunwoo began texting, their conversations have been full of tacky puns and emoji-filled compliments.

“Damn,” Maddie whistles, setting the phone back into Yeji’s limp hand, “he’s already typing back.”

“Gross,” Ryujin teases, busy typing away on her laptop. How she manages to multitask so well is a skill you certainly lack. “Why don’t you just like, I don’t know, ask him out?” Jisung asks and when you glance up, he’s looking at you. “Because that’s the guy’s job,” Maddie quickly saves the day, winking to you when you send her a grateful smile.

“Bullshit,” Jeongin scoffs. Everyone, even Ryujin, stops to look at him.

Did he just curse?

“I mean, like,” he stammers, cheeks turning rosy at all the attention, “it’s 2020. Guys have insecurities, too.”

“I agree,” Minho hums, looking to Maddie with hearts in his eyes, “that kind of confidence is enough to make any boy fall in love.”

“Yeah, but—”

Lia rebuts, but your attention quickly falls elsewhere when a text message first appears on your laptop, then your phone.

hwang hyunjin🦔🕺🏻💞🧻 [now] Where r u rn?

Unable to fight your smile, you quickly type back.

[3:39 PM] YN: outside hollin st café [3:39 PM] YN: why? :)

“Have you seen their new house, YN?” Minho asks, prompting you to click your phone off and set it back on the table. “Whose house?”

“Changbin’s parents.”

“Oh,” shaking your head, you distantly curse Chan for keeping your friend busy today. Unlike Jisung, Changbin likes to write lyrics and do whatever other music stuff during the day at a normal time instead of the middle of the fucking night while stoned and trying to finish his computer science assignments at the same time. “No, he forgot to send me pictures.”

“Dude,” Jisung sighs dreamily, “it’s huge. So nice. I think the front door alone could cover tuition.”

“Is it really that nice?” Maddie asks in awe.

“He started to show me pics the other day but couldn’t finish but the kitchen… unnecessary,” Ryujin quips, pausing her work to check her phone. “Yeah, it’s insane. The whole place is unnecessary but the kitchen is like, a house in itself,” Jeongin hums, head shaking in disbelief.

“Damn, now I really want to see it,” you sigh, making a mental note to hunt Changbin down so he can show you. “It’s like Hyunjin and his rings,” Minho snickers, “he has so many. Whenever we’re out, if he sees a ring, boom. It’s his.”

Well, he’s not wrong but… You bite your tongue no matter how badly you wish to defend Hyunjin and his affinity for rings and jewelry in general. The boy has taste, what can you say? You certainly are not complaining about Hyunjin’s long fingers and the way he chooses to decorate them.

“I never thought I’d hear Changbin’s parent’s kitchen be analogous to Hyunjin’s jewelry collection, yet here we are,” Maddie chuckles, leaning over Yeji to peek at her conversation with Sunwoo.

“Wow, speak of the devil,” Jisung pipes up of course as soon as you have reopened the tab to your assignment. Changbin or Hyunjin, you don’t know, head whipping up to find out and a peculiar mix of relief and panic settling over you once you spot the latter. “Uh oh, YN’s gonna go into cardiac arrest.”

As subtly as you can, you elbow Jisung in the stomach and smile at Hyunjin as he nears. “Hey,” keeping his eyes on you, Hyunjin approaches your table and stops behind Maddie opposite from you, “I’m sorry, I should have asked if you were busy.” His cheeks, already flushed, burn pinker once he looks away to smile weakly at everyone else.

“I’m not busy!” You squeak, scrambling to close your laptop and shove it in your bag. “Are you sure? I can come back later?” He offers, tilting his head and this is when you realize he is holding a bubble tea in each hand. And from the looks of it, one seems to be your usual order. “No, she’s not,” Jeongin answers for you, recognizing your stupefied expression.

“I was just – yeah. No,” rushing to stand and swing your legs out around the bench, you nearly fall flat on your face, “I wasn’t doing anything, actually.” Steadying yourself with a hand on Minho’s shoulder, you heave a labored breath before carefully walking to meet Hyunjin.

“Okay,” he beams, either oblivious to how flustered you are or simply choosing to ignore it. Turning to wave to your friends, he hands you one of the cups and you realize it is, in fact, your favorite boba. Oh boy. “See ya later,” you wave to them as well, nose wrinkling when both Jisung and Maddie wink in return.

Following after Hyunjin, you finally allow yourself to take notice of his attire and can’t help but feel confused. He looks good. And not in the good attractive way—he always looks good. But good as in formal. It’s four o’clock on a Tuesday in October and he’s out here looking as if he just got out of a business meeting. White button-down tucked into fitted black slacks, dress shoes, black tie, and he even has a black suit jacket draped over his arm. His hair is styled, too; ever since he dyed it back to black, he’s been growing it out long enough for his bangs to cover his eyes. Now, however, it’s parted down the middle and seems as if he’s ever so slightly curled it away from his face.

Suddenly, you feel ridiculous walking beside him in mom jeans and a baggy sweatshirt from high school.

“Thanks for the boba,” you mumble around your straw, brain still preoccupied trying to get over how utterly handsome he is. “Why do you look so fancy?”

The side of his mouth twitches up at your words, but his eyes stay glued to the sidewalk as you continue to your unknown destination. “I had an audition,” Hyunjin admits, voice devoid of emotion as if it’s not important at all. “An audition?” You echo. “Why do you sound so not super mega excited? How did it go? What was it for?”

“Well—”

“Wait!” You interrupt, stopping your walk once you realize he had an audition and you didn’t know. “You had an audition? What – why didn’t you tell me?”

Hyunjin frowns, avoiding your gaze and dragging his bottom teeth over his top lip. “I didn’t tell anyone,” he finally says before reaching for your hand and tugging you away from the walkway and into your campus’ main courtyard. “Why? Is it some sort of secret or something, Hyunjin?” You scoff, sounding way more annoyed than you intended. But you are annoyed; why didn’t he want to tell anyone?

“No,” he sighs, finding an empty area in the grass and lowering himself to sit, “I just… didn’t want anyone to know. Didn’t want to make it a big deal.”

“Hyunjin,” you sigh, visibly softening for him and settling down next to him, crisscrossing your legs, “it is a big deal. I don’t know what it’s for, but if it’s important enough for you to audition, then it’s important to us, too. You don’t need to be humble twenty-four-seven, you know. I’m sure you could have used our support.”

“I didn’t get it, though,” Hyunjin whispers, “they just – I didn’t get in. I wasn’t good enough.” Sensing the sadness in his voice, you find a lump forming in your throat when you notice the way his bottom lip trembles. “Hey,” panicking, you set your boba down and sit up on your knees to wrap your arms around him, cradling his head into your chest once tears start falling, “no. Don’t ever say you’re not good enough, Hyunjin.”

“But if I did better, practiced more, than I would—"

“Stop,” you hush, combing your fingers through his hair and brushing strands away from his eyes, “I’ve never met someone who works as hard as you do. You can’t beat yourself up over this. Everything happens for a reason. You don’t know what could have happened if you got in. You could have hurt yourself eventually, or maybe met someone who’s a real asshole.”

“Yeah,” is all he says, quiet and muffled when he turns to press his forehead into your sternum, body still trembling as he lets out all his tears. You stay like that for a while, holding him against you and soothing a hand up and down his back until his sniffling falls quiet. “Listen,” you finally sigh, grabbing him by the shoulders and pulling him back. Your heart sinks once you take in the wet trails down his cheeks and the puffiness of his eyes. “Forget about it. Was it something for dance?”

When he nods subtly, you cup his face in your hands and swipe his cheeks with your thumbs. “You are an amazing dancer, Hyunjin. You can’t let this get to your head. And I don’t want you working your ass off more than you do already. Practice makes perfect, sure, but you need to rest. What about the idea Changbin came up with?”

“The YouTube thing?”

“Yes! Filming dance tutorials or just posting your routines is a really good idea,” you remind him, wiping your hands on your jeans once he falls back onto the grass with a gentle thud, hair flaying around him like a halo. Your limbs twitch with the urge to lie beside him, maybe throw an arm around him and rest your cheek on his chest, fingers tracing the soft features of his face, stroking through his hair and reminding him just how innately perfect he is, inside and out. You, of course, resist such a temptation, flopping down beside him and staring up at the clouds with a heavy heart.

“I could do that. Maybe,” Hyunjin huffs. Tilting your head to look at him, you find yourself knee-deep in that familiar longing feeling, pausing simply to appreciate how pretty he is in the evening sun, cheeks rosy from crying and hair begging to be touched. Shaking your head to rid such daydreams, you remind yourself how fragile his emotions are right now. Now is no time to get caught up on a fantasy. Reaching for your tea, you lean up on an elbow and redirect your gaze to the trees, the promise of winter having turned what was green burnt sienna and butterscotch, leaving trees barren and branches swaying gently in the crisp breeze that leaves you curling into yourself. “You should,” you hum, distant, mind clawing to come up with the words you want to say.

“Come here,” Hyunjin says now, voice stronger than before and when his hand wraps gently around your wrist, you can’t find it in yourself to resist. Allowing him to pull you back down beside him, you curl into his side, resting your head a safe distance away from his own and onto the curve of his arm. “Thank you for being so good to me,” he expresses. You squeeze your eyes shut when the arm you lie on wraps around your shoulders and pulls you substantially closer. “I need to tell you something.”

A long stretch of silence falls upon you and for a moment, you are unsure the words even left your mouth. What are you thinking?

“Wait! I have something first,” Hyunjin sighs, missing the way your breath hitches. “Okay,” you whisper, fiddling with one of the buttons on his shirt and focusing all your attention there.

“I just – I think… I owe you an apology,” he finally says, “I need to apologize for something that I did a while ago that I know probably hurt.” Your chest tightens. There’s a lot that has hurt you when it comes to Hyunjin, but none that he’s done purposely. None that are his fault. None that he should be apologizing for.

“I feel like we came to some mutual understanding to not mention what happened when we were freshmen, but it kills me to know that – that something happened, and we never talked about it,” Hyunjin starts, grip tightening on your shoulder and suddenly, you think you are dreaming. This cannot possibly be real. “I know it was awkward but, I also know me and Yiren dating was… ah. I don’t know.”

When he falls silent, you are unsure of what to say or do. You have no idea what the end goal of this conversation is. Hardly a minute ago, your heart and your brain decided it was time to tell him. Now, you’re not so sure you can do that until he finishes, and you are not about to give him your two cents if his reasoning for bringing it up is not the same as yours.

“I just want to apologize for not being brave enough to talk to you about it. I know I was confused, but I’m sure it was worse for you when they told you about her,” Hyunjin continues, sensing your rendered silence, “and it’s been so long since that happened, and now, you’re one of my closest friends.” Ouch.

“But I’ve been thinking,” when he picks up again, your eyes fly open in a panic. He’s been thinking. Hyunjinhas been thinking. You think you are going to pass out. “And I just feel like we… me and you, I mean—"

The standard iPhone alarm blares from beside you, promptly cutting him off and you think it is the biggest cockblock known to man. “Shit,” he hisses, leaning up to tug his phone from his pocket and in the process nudging you from your comfortable position. Sitting back up, nerves aflame and heart racing, your brows shoot up in confusion when all he does is stare at the number calling him. “What are you doing?”

“It’s the studio I was just at,” he scoffs in disbelief, barely glancing at you before looking back to his phone. You have never wanted to shrivel up and die as much as you want to right now. “Well? Aren’t you going to answer?”

Hyunjin makes a noise of acknowledgement before tapping the green icon and bringing the phone to his ear. “Hello?”

Sitting quietly beside him, you watch with a forced smile as his hummed responses and subtle nods morph into enthusiastic laughs and wide, beaming smiles. Hyunjin notices your confusion when you tilt your head, mouthing a ‘What?’ to him.

“They made a mistake,” he whispers, covering the speaker of his phone, “read off the wrong Hwang. I’m in.” When he grins excitedly at you, your response isn’t as cheerful as it could be. As it should be. “Yay!” You whisper, clapping gently but quickly turning to your boba when the other line begins speaking again. Looking away, you take a hefty sip, nearly choke on a tapioca ball, and build the walls around your heart up all over again in a matter of seconds.

“I’ve gotta go,” whispering, you manage one more pained smile before getting to your feet and wiping your butt of any possible grass stains, “good luck!” When he shines you one more breathtaking smile and waves excitedly, you hastily head in the other direction, wrapping your arms around yourself and swallowing past the lump that threatens to form the farther you walk.

It must be nice, you think, frantically wiping at your waterline. Must be nice to put yourself out there and have things work out the way you want them to. Must be nice being told you’re ‘in,’ you’re wanted, you’re desired.

It must be nice.

six.

Pick up food, you said. Ask Jisung, you said.

Your conscience is a big fat oompa loompa ass bitch. You would have never called Jisung to ask him if he wanted anything from Taco Bell if you knew he was with Changbin. And not just Changbin, you realized four minutes into your call; Seungmin and Hyunjin, too. Apparently he went over their place to record, or something, and didn’t care to let you know. Not that you’re his mom and he has too—but it would have been nice, and would have saved you from spending almost fifty dollars at Taco Bell.

“I tried calling Jisung but he didn’t answer,” you snap once Seungmin answers your call with a muffled hello. “Can one of you please come out and help me carry this in?” You glance at the five large sodas and two bags full of food in your passenger seat with a grimace. “Sure,” he agrees and you make a mental note for the umpteenth time just how much you love Seungmin, “I’ll be out in a sec.”

True to his word, you spot him making his way out of their apartment and across the small courtyard to meet you by your car not even a minute later, hauling each bag under his arms. “Thank you,” left only with the cupholder, you hurriedly lock your car and follow after him. “No problem. Thanks for being our Uber Eats,” then, pursing his lips, “how much was this?”

“Forty-seven something,” you grumble unhappily, knowing this was a big hit to your debit. “We’ll pay you back, don’t worry,” Seungmin smiles, leading you up the final flight of stairs and kicking open the ajar door.

Immediately, you’re hit with the smell.

“Dear, fucking hell,” making a face, you rub your nose to keep from sneezing, “it reeks in here. How have you guys not been kicked out yet?”

The stench of weed generally does not bother you anymore, but still—they could light a candle, or something. Seungmin shrugs, setting the bags down on the kitchen counter. “Luck, I guess.”

“IS THAT YN?” From another room, you hear Changbin shout, followed by an excited shriek from Jisung. “They’re high. Very high. You’ve been warned,” Seungmin whispers just as tweedle dee and tweedle dum themselves come flying around the corner. “YN!” Jisung grins, engulfing you in a dramatic hug. “Watch,” you hiss, regarding the blunt held between his fingers that comes dangerously close to your hair.

“Sorry,” he smiles, then, without warning, sticks the thing right between your lips. “I didn’t even offer.” Well, when life gives you lemons…

You hesitantly take the hit and blow the smoke away from him. You weren’t planning on getting high today, but here you are. “Thanks,” shaking your head as if that will clear it, you turn to Changbin and snugly wrap your arms around him. Every day you thank the heavens that he is a chill, calm high, unlike your maniac of a roommate.

“Thanks for the food,” fishing into his pockets and pulling out a crumpled ten-dollar bill, he slaps it into your palm. You only hum in reply, shoving it into your own pocket and praying you don’t lose it before you remember to put it in your wallet. “Where’s Hyunjin?” You ask, no longer caring about being slick.

“In his room,” Seungmin answers, rummaging through the bags to find what he ordered. Then, “HYUNJIN!” You jump, reaching for your soda and standing away from the other three until they have claimed whatever belongs to them. No sooner than Seungmin calls for him, you hear a door being cracked open and out comes Hyunjin.

He looks extremely disheveled. Like, just woke up from a two-month hibernation, disheveled. In the blink of an eye, however, he rakes a hand through long blonde hair and promptly sets a baseball cap backwards to keep the strands away and suddenly, he doesn’t look so disheveled anymore. You force yourself to look away, cursing the way your gut twists.

“Gimme my crunchwrap,” you say around your straw, snatching the blunt from Jisung’s fingers and moving around him to fetch your dinner. He doesn’t even protest.

He knows you need it more than he does.

“That’s a lot of food,” Hyunjin says once he has finally entered the kitchen, voice groggy and eyes puffy from sleep. Or from being high, you can’t tell. Pressing his chest to your back, he wraps one arm around you to keep you against him while the other reaches into a bag to take what’s his. Swallowing past the desert dryness of your throat, you manage a thick inhale from the blunt before tilting your head to look at him and mentally thanking the other three for taking it as their cue to head out.

“Not my fault you guys eat like animals,” you chuckle shakily, trying to ignore the firmness of his body against yours, veins prominent on the arm that holds you against him and the ripple of muscle along his abdomen noticeable even through his shirt and yours. Dear god, it is too early for this. Not even seven o’clock and you are already drooling in more places than one.

Hyunjin pouts as if it is not true. “How much do I owe you?” He asks, finally moving away to grab his drink and you can’t help your disappointment, quickly finishing the blunt before tapping it out into one of the many ashtrays. “Don’t worry about it,” you wave off, digging through their drawers for a paper plate.

“YN,” Hyunjin deadpans, regarding you with a raised brow once you come up and begin unwrapping your food. You refuse to look him in the eye. “What do I owe you?” He repeats, firmer this time and it sends a chill down your spine when it most certainly should not. Sighing, you retrieve the receipt from your pocket and count everything he got. “Thirteen.”

Humming in content, Hyunjin reaches for his wallet on the counter and pulls a ten and five out. “There,” he beams, tucking the bills into your pocket himself. Rolling your eyes, you pray he does not notice how you flush and hurry out of the kitchen to join Seungmin on the sofa.

“House Hunters?” You ask with a laugh, looking at the TV once you have settled next to him. “I told you HGTV is the best.”

Seungmin hums in agreement. “I thought it was stupid at first, but Hyunjin was watching Fixer Upper and I got addicted,” he says, nodding to the older boy doing a little dance in the kitchen as he eats one of his tacos. Your heart does somersaults at the sight. “They’re all so good,” you agree after taking a few bites of your own food, eyes trained on the television, “House Hunters is a classic, though.”

“I like the international one,” Hyunjin adds on his way over, crashing unceremoniously next to you. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Seungmin wrinkle his nose when Hyunjin sets his free hand casually on your thigh. “Shh,” he grumbles, vaguely gesturing to the screen and chewing a mouthful of food, “I wanna hear what the house has.”

One episode turns to two, which turns to three, which turns to four, and suddenly you have been watching House Hunters with Seungmin and Hyunjin for almost three hours. It definitely is the weed, always making time perpetually slower, and it did not help when Jisung and Changbin reappeared sometime during your binge with one of Felix’s bongs. Not necessarily how you intended to spend your precious Friday night, but there is no sense in complaining when you are with your buddies and Hyunjin, of course.

Taco Bell long gone, you watch with blurry eyes when Hyunjin gets up from his slumped position against you to head into the kitchen and open the freezer. This, as well as the realization that House Hunters has ended and gone to some other, not-as-cool show, brings both you and Seungmin somewhat back to reality.

“It’s almost ten,” Seungmin announces, staring dazedly at the time on his phone. You hum in acknowledgment, certainly sober enough to reply but simply too lazy to. “I think I’m going to bed. Or play something. Don’t wreck the place,” he sighs, dragging a hand down his face before standing up. “G’night, Minnie,” you smile, watching with a furrowed brow as he continues down the hall and into his room. It isn’t until you hear his door click shut does the weight of being alone with Hyunjin settle on your chest.

It’s not like you haven’t spent time alone with Hyunjin before. In fact, that usually is the way it’s been in the past three years; whether the two of you decided to do your own thing or the rest of your friends eventually left or went to bed, you are used to this feeling. Used to ignoring the butterflies in your gut when he does something particularly cute and used to tampering down the mental images you conjure up knowing it’s just you and him.

But that doesn’t make things any easier. No matter how hard you try, you simply can’t help but feel this way around Hyunjin, especially when you’re alone. That’s just the way the cookie crumbles.

“Whatcha wanna watch?” Hyunjin asks around one last spoonful of ice cream before setting the pint back into the freezer. “Uhh…” You drone, blinking heavily at the TV and back to him as he makes his way back over. “I dunno, I’m sure you’ve been watching some drama. You can put that on.”

“You sure?” He asks with a raised brow, collapsing next to you and slumping dramatically halfway down the cushions. “Yes,” laughing, you find yourself reaching out to tuck messy strands of hair back behind his ear without hesitation, “also, why are you wearing a hat inside?”

Hyunjin pauses, straining to look up as if he will be able to see the back of his cap against his forehead. “I’m wearing a hat?”

“Yes, you idiot,” in comes the endless weed giggles and you find yourself unable to stop laughing, watching with teary eyes as he sits up and takes his hat off. “I don’t remember putting this on,” he chuckles airily, flipping the cap back and forth in his hands before tossing it onto the coffee table. “Should I cut it?”

“No!” You shout a little too quickly and a little too loudly. Shrinking against the arm of the couch, you ignore his amused smile and look to his long hair, freshly bleached strands falling down to his neck and shorter pieces brushing against his cheeks. Fuck, it should be illegal to look this good. “I like it long. It really suits you.”

“It’s annoying,” Hyunjin grins despite his complaint, lifting his legs onto the couch and flopping onto his side, head now resting on your lap. “I don’t know what to do with it.”

Now that he’s offered playing with his hair on a silver platter, you don’t hesitate combing your fingers through it, tugging out pieces stuck under his head and brushing it out completely. “You could pull the sides back,” you hum distantly, separating a section of hair near his temple to pull back, “or make a bun with what you can. You just have to play around with it.”

Humming in agreement, Hyunjin resituates himself after reaching for the remote and switching to Netflix. When you go back to simply raking your fingers from root to tip in irregular directions, you don’t miss the way his eyelids flutter at the motion and make sure to pay extra attention to his scalp. When this turned into a head massage, you’re not entirely sure.

The drama Hyunjin puts on is unbearable. You stopped paying attention a while ago, focusing more on him and how he seems to enjoy it, fingers busy braiding random sections of hair, taking them out, and then braiding them again. With two finally done the way you want them to, you are midway through the third when your fingers begin to cramp up.

“Why’d you stop?” Hyunjin asks seconds after you drop the braid and stretch your fingers out. “Fingers are cramping,” chuckling at the disappointed pout of his lips, you crack what knuckles you can before going back and undoing the unfinished braid. “Oh,” he mutters, cheek still pressed against your leg, “feels good.”

Humming in response, you ignore the way his words make your heart swell and begin gathering all his hair into a ponytail, pressing the braids to lay flat and finally tying it with a hair tie once you have combed up all that you can. Immediately, his bangs and hairs closer to the nape of his neck fall out, leaving the ponytail spikey and messy. At least the braids look good. You can’t help but giggle.

“What?” Hyunjin asks, pausing his show and leaning up. “What’d you do?”

“Go see for yourself,” pointing to the bathroom, you comb out a looped piece of hair before he stands to do just that. His ponytail bobs the entire walk there.

When he reaches the door and flips the light on, you watch from your position as he checks himself out, brushing away his bangs and flicking the pony. You frown when he accidentally yanks at a braid.

“Come here,” you say, sitting up, “you messed up the braid.”

“Honestly,” Hyunjin considers his reflection one last time before skipping his way over, “it doesn’t look half bad.” Expecting him to sit back next to you, your pulse quickens when he anchors a hand to the armrest and leans in front you, only inches away from your face. “No, definitely,” you say once you have gotten over the shock of him being so close so suddenly, “I like it in the ponytail. You’d really impress the girls if you braided your hair yourself.” Reaching up to tuck hair back into the braid and press it down flat once more, you don’t miss the way his brows draw together and lips twitch down. “What?”

Time ceases to exist as Hyunjin begins to come closer. In reality, you know it simply is a matter of seconds, but all of space and time seems to still once he leans forward. It feels as if an eternity goes by, allowing you to count each individual eyelash, memorize the details of his skin, take note of the smoothed lines on his plump lips. The way time slows is cruel; it allows panic to set in, the realization that he most certainly is looming over you with his eyes on your lips sending a spark of excitement and anxiety through your veins.

And then, just as this realization and this panic has set your nerves aflame, a gentle hand comes to cradle your jaw before Hyunjin’s lips press against yours.

It is so easy to surrender to the taste and touch of him. Instantly, an eruption of emotions and thoughts spiraling out of control fills you, yet your brain focuses only on Hyunjin, Hyunjin, Hyunjin. This is not the first time you have kissed him, nor the first time simply having him so close, but the feeling that radiates from your heart outward is unlike anything you have felt before. This is uncalled for. This is not like two years ago. You were not expecting this.

Hyunjin sighs into the kiss when you lean up to loop your arms around his neck. No sooner have you done this, he breaks away to sit beside you once more, hands reaching for your waist and guiding you to sit over his lap.

You could kiss him all day, you think, palms lying flat by his collarbones before fisting the material of his shirt when his tongue prods at the seam of your lips. Blood seemingly coming to a boil and nerves sparking dangerously, you find yourself quickly sobering up as the minutes tick by, completely and utterly addicted to him and this feeling, this feeling you have craved but never crossed the line for. And now, it’s yours to keep.

Forgetting the braids, you seize the opportunity to rake your fingers through his hair. Different, than how you did earlier. Desperate. Combing it away from his face once, twice, swallowing his groans when you tug at the roots, you realize with a whine that his hands have left your face in favor of dragging down your sides, circling back to squeeze at your breasts, rubbing at your thighs and finally sliding back to your ass, situating you more comfortably on his thighs.

When Hyunjin finally breaks the kiss to journey elsewhere, littering chaste kisses across your jaw, below your ear, down your neck, the weight of your actions finally hits you. It is overwhelming, the way you come spiraling back to reality, and you are not sure if the quiet moan that leaves you is due to the press of something else against your thigh or simply the realization that you are making out with Hyunjin.

You have to stop before you get hurt again.

“Hyunjin,” you gasp, shuddering when his soft lips brush against your jaw, “wait. We need to talk.”

He pauses at this, fingers digging into your sides and you feel his frown against your neck. “What’s there to talk about?” He murmurs, arms sliding around you and tugging you closer, prompting you to wrap your arms around his neck and hug him close and pretend like his boner isn’t digging into you.

It’s your turn to frown. “About us,” whispering, you lift one hand to stroke through his hair, “we need to talk about us.”

“I thought my feelings were very clear,” Hyunjin scoffs, all tenderness in his voice gone. Instinctively, you lean back, blinking at him in surprise. “Unless this is just another one of your games? Does this not mean anything to you, YN? I don’t think I could stomach you running off to Changbin or fucking Chan again.”

His words pierce your heart before you have even fully processed them, hurt flashing across your features and your body goes numb. “What?” Is all you can manage, scrambling to get away from him, chest heaving and eyes suddenly burning with the brine of tears. “What are you talking about, Hyunjin?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about!” He shouts. You flinch, not from the way he raises his voice, but from the genuine sadness in his eyes. “The past three years have been a constant battle with you. We’re best friends, for fucks sake, I figured out a long time ago that you have feelings for me. Feelings more than best friends. Yet every fucking time we started moving in the right direction, you turned your back on me.”

You can do nothing but stand there and let the tears fall. All the words and bottled emotions you wish to say are right there on the tip of your tongue, but you simply cannot bring yourself to voice them. Not when he’s right. Not when you have turned your back on him time and time again.

And then, he hisses more to himself than you, “Is this just sloppy seconds? You never once thought about my feelings in all of this?”

The anger brewing within you suddenly bursts from the dam and hisses through your body like deadly poison. “Sloppy seconds?” You snarl, fists clenching. “Who the fuck do you think you are? Your feelings? You just said you know how I feel about you, so why didn’t you ever do anything about it? How was I supposed to know you felt the same?”

“I thought it was pretty fucking obvious,” Hyunjin spits back, gaze narrowing, “didn’t think I had to spell out the fact that I like you, YN. You’re a smart girl.”

“Do not treat me like a child,” clenching your jaw, you have to look away for a moment, pacing one, two, three steps, hands raking through your hair and wiping away the stream of tears from your cheeks. You have never been filled with such rage. Having finally reached its boiling point, it now consumes you whole, sweeping off in waves and destroying all boundaries. “Confessing is not an easy thing, as you apparentlyknow, so don’t make me seem like the only idiot here. But maybe I was wrong about you if you think of me as just sloppy seconds.”

“I never said that!” Hyunjin barks, standing up to grasp your wrist when you turn away to grab your keys. “Don’t put words in my mouth! I would never, never think of you that way. I just don’t understand why you never spoke up after all this time. I’ve been dying, YN, you have no clue how badly I have been—”

“Oh, believe me, I know,” you snap, yanking your arm away from him, “I told you, Hyunjin. Telling someone you love them isn’t as easy as learning to ride a bike. You’re right, I have turned my back on you. But not intentionally. I’ve been scared, I’m a pussy, whatever.” Biting your top lip as if it will stop the tears that continue to fall freely, you avoid looking at him and glance back to find not only Seungmin, but Jisung and Changbin, too, peeking out from their doors with eyes blown wide with shock. Once you have noticed them, however, they panic and scramble to get out of sight.

Sighing shakily, you look back to Hyunjin and cannot ignore the way your heart sinks at the sight of him. Even upset, he is beautiful. You wonder how much you will see him after this.

“You don’t have to tell me you like me back to make me feel better, Hyunjin,” bouncing on your heels, you suddenly feel exhausted, body and soul heavy with the words you not only spoke, but heard, too. “We can figure this out another day, but for now, I need to go home. I’ll see you.”

Turning away once more, you do not make it very close to the front door before he stops you once more. “Wait, YN,” Hyunjin huffs, smiling softly when he reaches for your hand and you do not pull away. Running his tongue over his lip, he seems to hesitate for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts.

“Did you mean it when you said you love me?”

⇢ epilogue

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ohh-baekhyun · 5 years ago

Text

Sugar | 02 - [M]

summary: Getting into a performing arts college isn’t cheap. In desperate need of money, you sign yourself up on an online dating site called Sugar. There, you match with a wealthy and handsome man named Mr Byun.

genre: Softdom!baek, sugardaddy!au, collegeprofessor!au.

[m]: Parking lot sex.

a/n: Merry christmas everyone. here’s a small gift for you, thank you for reading my stories all these times :D i hope you like this!

TWO - Mr Savage

One week later, the movers came by in the morning to pack and shift your things to the new apartment. The new place was sumptuous, as you expected, and you were still trying to wrap your head around this sudden change in your life. You didn’t know if you were doing the right thing, but you knew you needed the money urgently. You had just received your acceptance letter from the college you applied to, along with an invoice for your first semester’s fee. There’s nothing you wanted more than getting into this college.

Hanlim Conservatorie was one of the most prestigious, elite and expensive performing art colleges in the nation. Their acceptance rate was among the lowest. Getting into this school was like a dream and you had worked your ass off to pass the entrance audition. Now all you needed was to pay for the tuition fee. Only Mr Byun could help you with it, and he already did. Last night, you received a ten thousand dollars cheque from him as a ‘signing bonus’ for agreeing to be his sub. You had cashed the cheque and made payment to the school administrative, now you were just waiting for college to start in a few weeks.

In the afternoon, Mr Byun dropped by to check up on you. While he was there, he found out you only had cup ramen stocked in the kitchen, that’s how you ended up in the grocery store with him now.

You’d never been to a grocery store like this before. You glanced around in awe, wondering if this was where rich people shopped. The environment was cozy with a faint sound of classical music in the background paired with soft chatterings. The lighting was warm and you liked that it wasn’t so crowded. Most of the things sold here were either organic or gluten free, though there are some things you’ve seen in a regular store before, but they were marked at a higher price.

You and Baekhyun were strolling side by side through the aisles. He wore a white t-shirt and jeans today, and with you wearing the same colored top tucked in your denim skirt, you two looked almost like a couple. You studied the way he shopped, noting that unlike you, Baekhyun didn’t go for the cheapest item on the shelves but the highest quality.

“Do you do your own shopping too?” you asked, staring up at him as he reached up to pull out a carton of strawberry milk from the shelves.

“I have someone does it for me,” he muttered absentmindedly as he read the label on the carton. He finally dunked the item into the shopping cart and continued walking.

After getting a few things from the deli section, he moved to the condiments aisle. You looked up at him and found him glancing from left to right, searching for something. “What are you looking for, Baekhyun?” you asked.

“Mixed herbs,” he muttered distantly, his eyes searching. You tug at his sleeve to get his attention. He dropped his gaze to you. “Hmm?”

“I think I saw it somewhere just now,” you told him. “Can I go get it for you?” you asked. He permitted with a hum and you wandered off to find the item he was looking for.

After searching for a minute or two, you found an array of herbs bottle in the canned goods section. You craned forward and squinted your eyes at the items on the shelves. There were so many similar looking items.

“Are you looking for something, pretty?”

Your eyes drifted to where the voice was coming from. A male around Mr Byun’s age was already standing by your side, a grin tugged at the side of his lips.

“Can I help you?” he asked.

Actually, you didn’t need his help, but being someone who was afraid to say no to people, you nodded. Anyway, this stranger was kind enough to offer help, you didn’t want to offend him. “Yeah, I’m looking for mixed herbs,” you told him.

The stranger glanced up at the shelves, searching for it. It looked like he had found something when he shifted himself closer to you with one raised hand to reach for the item. You shifted aside when you felt the brush of his arm over yours, but he scooted closer again. Suddenly, his free hand was resting on your lower back causing your whole body to stiffen up. You were uncomfortable but you didn’t have the guts to push him away. What if it was just a friendly gesture, you didn’t want to wrongly accused someone who has helped you.

“Here.” The guy handed you the herbs bottle.

You gulped, taking the item from his grasp. “T-thank you,” you say in a slightly shaky voice.

His eyes were currently scanning your body in a way that made you stomach felt nauseous. He looked back at your face with lazy eyes. “Are you here alone, babe?” He asked, sliding his hand from your lower back down to your ass. Your heart hammered with fear. The lump in your throat was muting you. He caressed your butt cheek and inched his face closer. “Who are you here with?”

“She’s with me, Jaebum, get your hands off her.”

The strangers groaned and dropped his hand immediately. Recognizing the owner of that voice, you wasted no time to turn around. The menacing look on Mr Byun’s face scared you, but it didn’t stop your from rushing over to him to seek his protection. As soon as you reached his side, he held your hand and guided you to stand behind him. Half of your view was blocked by his broad back, but you could still see what’s before you.

Mr Byun knew this guy, and it was easy to tell they didn’t like each other.

“Your new play thing?” The stranger asked casually, shoving his hands into his pants’ pockets. Mr Byun didn’t answer to that. The guy smiled scornfully. “What happened to the last one? Got bored?”

“It’s none of your business,” Mr Byun answered coldly. He clenched his palm around your hand and tugged you with him.

“See you around, Byun,” the stranger said when you moved past him. “One more thing,” he said and Mr Byun halted, although he didn’t turn around to look at him. “Let me know when you got bored of this one, I’ll have her.”

“I don’t want you.” The words stumbled out of your mouth before you even knew it. You gasped quietly when you realize.

Mr Byun huffed mockingly. “You heard her, Jaebum.” he muttered, then he walked away.

Now that it was just you and him, you became so aware of the anger radiating off of him. He walked you back to the condiments aisle where you left him earlier, the shopping cart was parked by the shelves. He finally let go of your and and move to stand before you.

You had to lift your head to look at him because he was a head taller than you. It was obvious he looked pissed.

“Did you know he was touching you?”

His voice was low, but your heart still jumped at his hard tone. He furrowed his brows as he waited for your answer. You bobbed your head timidly.

His frown deepened. “You knew? And you didn’t say a goddamn thing to stop him?” His tone was slightly raised this time. You couldn’t help but to cower under his domineering stare. “This is a public place. You could’ve shouted for help and someone would’ve heard you,” he went on, “What if I wasn’t here? You’d just let him molest you?”

“I–“ you parted your lips to say something, when nothing came out your pressed it close again. You sighed, dropping your head instead of replying.

Mr Byun gripped your chin, lifted it up to pin you under his hard stare. “You have a mouth. Use it.”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice quivering.

“What are you sorry for?” he frowned.

“I don’t know…for being groped?” You said in a small, unsure tone.

“No, that’s not–“ he sighed in frustration. “Sweetheart, it wasn’t your fault he groped you. He was a jerk.”

Your forehead creased. You were confused. If it wasn’t your fault, why was he mad at you then?

Mr Byun finally let go of your chin with a grunt. You cast your eyes down regretfully. He stared at you for a short moment before sighing and shaking his head. “If something similar happens again, I hope you’d at least try to defend yourself and speak up when you’re uncomfortable,” He chastised and though his voice was softer, the disappointment was obvious. “Do you understand me?” He said firmly.

Once he received your yes, he walked away. Your shoulders dropped in dismay. It’s only been a week and you were already making Mr Byun unhappy. He was definitely changing his mind after today, and you couldn’t help the sadness washing over you at the thought. With the sadness, came fear. How are you going to pay him back? You’d cleared the check and used the money.

Mr Byun cleared his throat loudly enough to snap you out of your daze. You glanced at him, who was already standing at a distance from you. He gave a curt nod to beckoned you over. You immediately broke out of your trance and dashed over to him like a puppy to its owner.

When you fell into step next to the shopping cart, Mr Byun grabbed your wrist to pull you closer to him. “Stay by my side,” he murmured, peering down at you.

There wasn’t any warmth in his demeanour but your pulse still quickened at the way he looked at you. You swallowed and nodded in compliance.

Both of you were presently strolling down the frozen food section. It felt like you were walking on eggshells. You stood by and watched Mr Byun grabbed two packs of frozen blueberries and dunk it in the cart. None of you muttered a word to each other. You couldn’t stop stealing glances at him to check on him. There was a cold distance in his expression, he was definitely in a sour mood after what happened.

You couldn’t help but to blame yourself, even if there was a chance that his bad mood was caused by Jaebum, not you. You have always been an overly sensitive child growing up, especially to other’s feelings and emotions. Sometimes, just a subtle change in someone’s expression made you anxious, and you’d start questioning if you’d done something wrong. Like now.

For the umpteenth time, you stole a glance at the man next to you, except this time he caught you in the act. His brows pulled together into a tight frown, almost a glare. “What?” He bit out. His tone startled you, and you unconsciously made a pout with your lips. He gave you a long, assessing stare. At last, he sighed and softened his voice, “Is there anything you want?”

Tentatively, you took a step towards him and clutched on the fabric of his shirt. He peered down at you in confusion. You gave him your pleading eyes. “I want you to stop being mad,” you begged softly. “I promise I’ll be a good girl.”

Thick silence stretched between the two of you. The knit between his eyebrows was slowly disappearing, and the coldness in his eyes morphed into something heated. You can feel his breathing slowed. He looked like he was turned on. By what though? Did he like it when you begged?

“Please, Mr Byun…” you tried again.

“So help me God,” he whispered harshly under his breath. “I’m going to welt your ass for being so cute.”

Your lips parted in a surprise. You certainly didn’t expect him to say that.

Mr Byun groaned when he noticed the blush rising on your cheek. He tore his gaze from you and stared at the fridge behind you. He reached a hand over your shoulder to open it. You felt a cold breeze puffing against your back. “Do you want ice-cream?” He asked, dropping his gaze to you again.

His unpredictability surprised you. One moment he was telling you he wanted to spank you, and the next moment he was offering to buy you ice-cream.

“Sweetheart?”

You shook your head lightly to pull yourself out of your reverie, then you glanced up. “You’re not mad at me anymore?”

He gave a soft smile. “I was never mad at you.”

“At who then?”

“You know who.”

Jaebum, you thought. And the relief made you smile.

“Ice-cream?” Mr Byun asked again. You gave him a nod and a sweeter smile. He lifted his gaze to examine the content of the fridge. “Which flavor?”

You swiveled around to face the fridge, running your gaze through the stacks of ice-cream tubs. “That one,” you gestured. “Strawberry shortcake.”

Mr Byun dropped his gaze to you, the side of his lip curled up. You blink cluelessly, not understanding the look he gave you. He let out a deep chuckle. “What a baby,” he teased endearingly.

You cocked your head to the side, puzzled. “What baby?”

“My baby,” he said, giving your heart a little jump.

You blushed harder. You knew Baekhyun didn’t mean his word in a i love you baby kind of way, but more in a i’m your sugar daddy, and you’re my baby girl kind of way, but it was heart fluttering all the same.

Once Baekhyun withdrew the ice-cream tub from the fridge, he held your arm to pull you back so he could close the door. He leaned over to set the tub above a pile of goods in the cart. It was then you realised that he had bought a lot, and they were all for you. For someone who used to go for days without food, you were beyond grateful. You didn’t have to worry about going to sleep hungry and having to endure the stomach pain it caused you anymore.

Mr Byun was going to push the cart when you held his wrist to stop him. He turned his head to your side and that’s when you tiptoed to cup his face and kissed him. Being with him, even if it has only been a week, you learned that he really loved kisses. He hadn’t done anything besides kissed you actually. And since you couldn’t offer him anything in return for his kindness, you thought giving him a kiss would at least made him happy. But to your dismay, he didn’t return it.

Slowly, you pulled back and lowered your heels to the ground. Baekhyun had an unreadable look on his face. You honestly couldn’t tell what he was feeling, you just knew you felt stupid for doing what you did. You dropped your head, embarrassed.

He cleared his throat. “Let’s go.”

The journey towards the checkout counter was filled with silence. Baekhyun parked the shopping cart by the conveyor belt and started unloading the things. You flashed the cashier a smile when she greeted you before helping Baekhyun out. Once the cart was empty, he pushed it out of the counter so he could stand next to you.

You didn’t know how long you stood there waiting. It felt like forever. The lady was slow. She actually reminded you of that sloth from zootopia. You glanced at Baekhyun. He was watching the lady scanned the items while tapping his fingertips rapidly on the counter. There’s a tight knit in between his brows. It was obvious he was losing his patience, but he fought to hold it back. Somehow that brought a grin to your face and you couldn’t stop the chuckle from escaping.

Baekhyun looked over at you with a frown, and you wiped the grin off your face before he could see it.

“Your total would be—“ Both of you returned your attention to the cashier. “Wait—I’m sorry, give me a moment.” the lady had a frown on her face as she tapped her forefinger frantically on the cash register’s screen. You could hear Baekhyun’s deep inhalation and exhalation that made you press your lips together. His frustration was adorable, and you were on the verge of laughing.

You slide your palm up his arm and squeezed his bicep to get him to look at you. You offered him a warm smile, hoping it would calm him down. But his feature only tighten up under your touch. You pursed your lips in dissapointment and peeled your hand away.

It’s a good thing the lady was finally done. “Your total would be two hundred and sixteen dollar.”

Your jaw dropped when you heard the amount. You’d never spent so much at a grocery store before.

Mr Byun pulled out his wallet from the back pocket of his jeans and silently handed three one hundred dollar notes to the lady. Once his hands were free, he immediately held your wrist and gathered the plastic carriers in the other. He started dragging you away from the counter.

“Mr Byun, you forgot your change,” You reminded him, and just after you said it you heard the lady shouted from a distance.

“Sir, your change!”

“She can keep it,” he muttered gruffly without giving you a glance.

You started to calculate the balance in your head. He just gave away eighty four dollar for free. You gasped. “But that’s a lot of money,” you told him.

He whipped his head around and gave you a stern look that shut you up completely.

You remained quiet as you walked down the travelator that led you to the basement where the parking lot was. He let go of your hand to hold the door open, nodding in cue for you to walk out first. You dropped your gaze to his fully occupied hand and noted the veins bulging on his skin.

“Let me help you.” you reached a hand down but he retracted before you could grasp anything.

“I can handle it, sweetie, go on,” he bobbed his head towards the opened door. You wordlessly followed the order and walked out into the dark basement.

You were a few steps ahead of him when you turned around to see if he was behind, “Where are we going after–” You next word turn to gasp when your leg stumbled upon something on the floor. His hand flew out to grip your arm and he tugged you towards him. You sighed in relief and steadied your stance. “Thank you,” you whispered, staring up at him.

Baekhyun slid his hand down your arm to thread his fingers through yours, holding it tight. “Watch your steps, will you?” he reprimanded. You bobbed your head with a hum.

You stood close to him as he led you towards his car. “Are we heading home now?” You asked, glancing up at him.

He kept his gaze ahead. “Not before we finish what you started.”

Instant nervousness washed over you. “Wha-what did I do?”

Mr Byun didn’t answer to that. Another silence fell, except it wasn’t quiet because you could hear the million thoughts running through your head as you wondered what he was going to do next. You’ve never been so hyper aware of your bodily reactions toward someone. Your skin was thrumming, your heart was racing and your stomach was twisting with nervous butterflies. When his sleek Audi came into sight, instead of unlocking the door, he dragged you toward the trunk at the back. He released your hand, and you stood by his side, waiting for him obediently. Everything happened so fast as he unlocked the trunk, threw the carriers inside, and slammed it close.

The sound made your shoulders jumped. Your heart was hammering so hard it was actually painful. “Baekhyun?” you called softly, feeling confused but something about this situation thrilled you at the same time.

Mr Byun sucked in a sharp breath at the soft sound of your word. He turned to give you a stare, only two seconds, and then he was pulling you to him. His hands slid up to cup your face. You squeezed your eyes close as soon as he lowered his head. You could feel his warm breath on your lips, and you were expecting him to kiss you right now but he didn’t.

Only a second passed but it felt like forever. Very slowly, you peeled your eyes opened and found his dark eyes gazing down at you. You swallowed thickly, and that’s when he slammed his mouth against yours. You immediately made a fist around his shirt to hold on. Having kissed by him a few times, you knew how knee-weakening it was. You also knew how drugging his kisses were, that they managed to leave you high and breathless every single time.

Mr Byun has always been rough, but today he wasn’t just rough, he was a savage. You whimpered at the sting of his bite on your lower lip. He swept his tongue over the red flesh first, then shove it into your wet cavern. He groaned, and the sound resonated all through you body. For a while, he let his skillful tongue wrestled with yours before he pulled away completely.

You had a glimpse of his face only second before he turned your body around. A soft yelp tumbled out of your mouth when he pushed you forward and bend you over the trunk of his Audi. With this position, you could only think of one thing he might do. Spanked you.

You tilted your head slightly, feeling the cold metal on your cheek. “A-are you going to punish me here?”

“I’m not punishing you, sweetheart,” he shoved your skirt up so it bunched around your waist. “I’m just going to fuck you.”

His words made your insides clenched. You parted your mouth to speak, only to gasp when he yanked your underwear down in one rough move. The cold air hits your cheeks, and there wasn’t any time to feel embarrassed about it because his fingers were already entering your cunt. You bring your hand to cover your lips when a moan slipped.

Mr Byun didn’t wait to start thrusting his fingers in and out of you. “So fucking wet,” he rasped.

Blood rushed to your cheek when you heard the sound of your wetness. “I–I don’t know why–“

“Oh, I think you do, baby,” he sneered, his thrusts becoming faster and harder. “you acted all innocent and shy in front of daddy.” he scoffed. “but inside you’re just a dirty little princess waiting to be fucked.”

You’d never had anyone talked to you like that before, God, was it sick of you to be turned on by it?

You had to bite your thumb through a moan when Baekhyun curled his fingers inside you, the tip hitting you on your prime spot. Your walls immediately clenched and unclenched around his digits.

You mewled when Mr Byun withdrew his fingers completely. His hand was no longer on you. Just as you were about to protest, you heard him unbuckling his belt behind you. Following that was the sound of his zipper tearing through the silence. You brought your head back. Your pulse spiked up in an instant at the sight of his slender fingers wrapping around his hard, veiny cock. You lifted your gaze. Mr Byun had his lips caught in between his teeth as he gave his manhood a few pumps.

The fierce look on his face thrilled you, but your heart dropped when you heard the echoes of footsteps from a distance. You knew it wasn’t easy to spot you here since Mr Byun’s Audi was blocking the sight. But what if the owner of the car next to you returned. “Mr Byun, what if someone caught us?” you whispered frantically.

“Isn’t it too late to be asking that question, princess?” He taunted. “This is what you get for teasing daddy in public.”

He was talking about the kiss at the grocery store earlier. You had no words to argue with him. Scrape that. You didn’t want to argue at all. You wanted this too, as much as he did.

“You’re lucky public sex is an offence,” Mr Byun said hoarsely as he insinuated himself in between your legs. “I was so close to fucking you in front of everyone in that shop.”

Your breathing hitched when you felt the tip of his cock grazing over your wet folds. He gripped the curve of your waist to hold you down. The next thing you felt was a sharp stretching pain as he shoved his length all the way into you.

“B-baekhyun…” your back arched as you let out the lewdest sound you’ve ever made, your pussy was fully stretched and filled with Mr Byun’s cock.

“Princess, you’re so–” Mr Byun dragged his length out of your hole, then he pushed it in again with a rough grunt. “Argh! so tight.”

“...Yeah, I got everything on the lists. I’m heading home now. Is there anything else you want? Okay. See you.”

Your body froze at the sound of a man’s voice. You knew this person had to be somewhere nearby because his voice sounded clear in your ears. Impulsively, you pushed yourself up, only to hiss when Mr Byun pressed his palm on the small of your back, holding you down so you couldn’t move.

He leaned over to place his mouth next to your ear, his cock still buried inside you. “Don’t make a sound,” he whispered, his breathing tickled your ears.

You tried to regulate your heavy breathing over your racing heart. Through the windshield, you saw a man walking towards the car on the opposite side of the parking space. When he shifted his stance so he was facing Mr Byun’s car, you swore your heart dropped all the way to the pit of your stomach. You were unconsciously holding your breath, praying he wouldn’t see you. To your relief, the stranger turned away and climbed into his vehicle. The engine started and soon the car was out of your sight.

A relieved sigh fell from your mouth, but before you could fully relax, Mr Byun has started ramming his cock into your pussy, causing you to cry out in shock and pleasure. You slapped your hand over your lips to muffle your voice as he continued pounding into you at an insane speed.

Mr Byun let out a deep growl when your walls clamped tightly around his length. You could barely kept your eyes open. He was getting more and more rough that you could feel the Audi shaking underneath you. Your muffled moan sounded so loud even through your concealed mouth. Your breathing grew heavier the closer he drove you to your release. He was close too. His cock was already swelling inside you.

He reached down to slip his hand in between your legs. You purred when he brushed his thumb over your clit, and cried out in bliss when he started rubbing your but rapidly. “Baekhyun, I–I’m close.”

“Come for me, princess,” he ordered gruffly.

At his cue, your release came washing over you like a tidal wave. You had a black out for a second. Your pussy was spasming so intensely around Mr Byun’s cock, but that didn’t stop him from pistoning his thick length into you. You whined, almost crying from overstimulation everytime the tip of his cock hits your g-spot.

Two to three thrusts later, Mr Byun finally came with a long throaty moan. His body shook as he unloaded his cum inside you. You felt his warm liquid leaking from your pussy, trickling down your inner thigh. He was breathing heavily behind you and so were you.

Once you regained your composure, you tried to straighten your stance but winced when your legs gave out on you. You knew he was going to leave you sore for days. A tired breath left your body. Mr Byun had just fucked you against his Audi in a parking lot and made you come harder than you’d ever came. He was a savage, indeed.

#baekhyun smut #baekhyun fluff #baekhyun x you #baekhyun fanfic #exo smut #baekhyun x reader #baekhyun #baekhyun fanfiction #baekhyun daddy #baekhyun x oc #exo fanfic #exo fanfiction #baekhyun imagine

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junhaoshua · 4 years ago

Text

say my name like it’s something sacred

summary: everyone is born with black words written on their wrist, the first words their soulmate would say to them, and the words turn red when you hear them. you’ve heard your words a dozen times, but they only turn red after you knock into a boy then run away. how are you going to find him again?

genre: fluff, soulmate au

word count: 2,506

A/N: happy birthday to the lovely chey of @soonhoonsol!!!! she gave me two prompts: Soonyoung and World Toilet Day for her birthday fic. Chey, you’re wonderful and I’m so happy we’re friends, and I hope you like my take on your ideas ~

Everyone was born with black words written on their wrist, the first words their soulmate would say to them.

For some people, their words were delightfully straightforward. “Hi, my name’s so-and-so,” their soulmate’s name disclosed right there.

Some people had phrases that were so out there or so easy to misunderstand. One of your friends had the words “You actually like the devils?” on her wrist. She’d spent her teenage years hanging around screenings of soccer matches, only to hear those words from the older brother of kids she was babysitting.

And then there were phrases like yours. “Hey, it’s fine - are you okay?” Generic words, the type that you might hear a thousand times in your lifetime.

When you were younger, you’d checked your wrist every time you heard those words, hoping that this was your soulmate. The one who would make the black letters turn as red as the string of fate that tied you together. The one whose mark would appear below the words immediately after.

But it never came. The black writing still adorned your otherwise bare wrist.

---

“Alright, let’s have a ten-minute break before you start your groupwork,” your Visual Communications professor announces, and you breathe a sigh of relief.

Your two friends in the class, Mingyu and Minghao, roll their tables over to join you in the corner. “Finally, I feel like my brain’s going to short-circuit,” Gyu groans, tipping his chair to stretch out his long, long body and nearly overbalancing.

Hao grabs his hand before he can fall, glancing at you with a dramatic roll of his eyes. “Mingyu,” he says, and even though there’s exasperation in his voice, he still says his name like it’s something sacred. It’s utterly romantic.

“Sorry, Haohao,” the older boy says with a grin.

You laugh at their couple-ness. “I’m going to stretch my legs, watch my stuff?”

“See you!”

You grab your water bottle and head out of the freezing room, appreciating the warmth of the outdoors. The water cooler’s at the end of the corridor, which will give you some time to bask in the sun.

As you approach the water cooler, bright yellow tape catches your eye. OUT OF ORDER, a handwritten sign says. Ugh. This is going to take a while.

Second floor cooler broken, you text your best friend Hansol as you head towards the stairs. His class is just a few doors away from yours, and you don’t want him to make a wasted trip.

He replies instantly. They said water supply in this wing has been cut for now? Burst pipe downstairs. Prof just announced.

You send him a frowning emoji and a sigh, before pocketing your phone and picking up the pace.

It’s quite a walk from the east wing to the central block, and you let out a sigh of relief as a working water cooler finally comes into sight, taking a long drink of cold water before filling up your bottle.

If you hurry, maybe you can make it back in time. So you turn to go, trying to screw the lid back on as you go -

- forgetting that the water cooler is right outside the toilet, which means that you only see the boy exiting the washroom when you run right into him.

Your open water bottle splashes on him, drenching his white t-shirt, and you fall on your butt. Hard. “Sorry! I’m so sorry!” you exclaim in mortification.

“Hey, it’s fine - are you okay?” he asks, reaching down to help you up, and for a moment his soaked t-shirt is in front of your eyes. Partially hidden by his black-and-orange jacket, but still, that’s a fine chest.

Heat rushes to your cheeks as you grab your water bottle, averting your eyes. “I’m fine - I’m sorry!” you squeak, not daring to look the dark-haired boy in the eye.

Before he can say anything else, you turn tail and run back to your class.

You’re panting by the time you slip into your seat across Gyu and Hao. “Sorry for keeping you guys waiting.”

“It’s okay,” Minghao murmurs distractedly, tapping away at his phone. Gyu hums, and you notice he’s frantically texting too.

You turn your laptop on and pull up the files while waiting for them to finish. This isn’t really like them. Something must have happened.

Finally Gyu puts down his phone. “Sorry about that, one of our friends - oh my god you’ve met your soulmate!” he screeches, making most of the class turn to look in your direction.

“Keep your voice down,” Minghao chides him with a smack to the back of the head.

You slowly look down at where the long sleeve of your sweater has slipped down. The words are red. Red. And there’s a cartoony little sketch of an animal head on your wrist - the stripes suggest tiger, but the chubby cheeks and little ears look like a hamster.

“Where did you go? When did you meet him? Why didn’t you say anything?” Mingyu peppers you with questions in an excited whisper.

“I didn’t realise it,” you hiss back, as what just happened slowly hits you. “God - I ran into him, right outside the toilet - my soulmate’s gonna think I’m a huge klutz -”

“Outside the toilet?” Gyu parrots, his eyes wide. “That sounds like -”

Minghao slaps a hand over Gyu’s mouth. “Like you were really fated to meet, even at such an - interesting location. And he’s your soulmate. I’m sure he’s overjoyed to meet you at last.”

“But I didn’t even get a good look at his face,” you groan, covering your face with your hands. “He was kinda lean - black hair, striped jacket - but that could be anyone, how on earth am I going to find him - go to the Soulmate Registry saying oh hey can you ask if anyone bumped into a girl outside a toilet and got water splashed on them? Yeah, that’s my soulmate -”

Gyu looks like he wants to screech again, but Hao shoots him a glare. “If fate brought you to meet each other the first time, fate’ll make sure you meet again,” the boy says, giving you a gentle pat on the hand. “I met Gyu on his last day working at the bubble tea shop, and I thought I’d never find him once school started, but we ended up being introduced by our friends.”

You bury your face in your hands. “Can we get to work now?”

Thankfully, they drop the subject, and the rest of the time is spent working on your project.

“Gyu, you were supposed to ask her something,” Hao reminds him, as class ends and you all start packing up to go.

Mingyu snaps his fingers. “Right, I nearly forgot. You know the showcase that’s coming up?”

You nod. It’s part of being a college specialising in the arts. Every semester, they hold a huge event for the students to showcase their talent - art, fashion, photography, music, dance, et cetera. “You’re going for it?”

“A group of us are, actually. The rap crew, Hao’s dance crew, and Woozi’s vocal group - you know him, right?”

Minghao facepalms at the question, and you let out a giggle. “You mean Hansol’s soulmate?” As if it was possible to forget the person your best friend was destined to spend his life with. The short, fiery older boy was a perfect counter to Hansol’s easygoing attitude.

Gyu lets out a bark of laughter as you head out the door together. “God, my brain isn’t working today. We’re going to audition for the showcase together, as one big group. And we were thinking that our application would look a lot cooler if we had a nice video - kinda like a trailer, something to show us off, three talented groups -” Hao coughs at the casual boast “-coming together.”

You nod slowly. “It’ll be a lot more interesting than taping your performance.”

“Great!” Gyu claps his hands. “So Hansol recommended you to the group as the best person for the job, and we’d love if you could help us make it!”

“What?” you yelp in shock. “I’m not that fantastic - Why can’t you or Hao do it?”

Minghao shrugs. “I’ve seen your work, you’re pretty good. And we can’t exactly film ourselves while performing, not if we want nice angles and closeups. You’d be a great help.”

Warmth blossoms in your chest at the compliment, but you still have reservations. “But - I don’t know your theme, your concept -”

Gyu waves a hand. “That’s no issue, you can come down and watch us practice and help to think of a concept. Please?”

It’s impossible to refuse those huge puppy eyes. You let out a sigh. “I’ll come watch, and think it over, and decide whether or not I feel up to the job after that, alright?”

“Yes!” Gyu shrieks, making everyone look over at you again. “I mean - yes, that’s fantastic, we’re going to have a practice later and you can meet -”

“The rest of the group,” Minghao cuts in. “We’ll let them know you’re coming, it’s right after your last class with Hansol.”

---

After class, you pull Hansol aside. “Okay, spill.”

Your best friend blinks at you with wide eyes. “About what?”

“Gyu was practically bouncing when I agreed to watch you guys practice, and you’ve been shooting me looks throughout class. You’re up to something.”

He flushes. “It’s just… we haven’t let anyone else in to see us perform before.”

You eye Hansol. Part of growing up together is knowing exactly when the other person is hiding something. And everything about his too-wide smile is screaming I have a secret. He’s always been an atrocious liar. “Are all the others okay with it?”

“Yeah! Yeah, they are.”

You hum. “Is there anything else I should know?”

“It’s - no, not right now.”

You eye him for a moment longer, but he looks at you with the same fixed smile. Never mind.

“So… I hear you met your soulmate,” he says after a few moments of silence.

“I should’ve known those two wouldn’t keep it a secret.”

He grins. “It’s going to make a great story to tell people, you know. How many people can say they literally fell for their soulmate?”

“Outside a toilet,” you say, flushing at the memory. “And aren’t you getting a little ahead when I don’t even know his name?”

“Yeah, so all you need is to know his name,” Hansol says, shrugging. “You’re soulmates, the rest will sort itself out.”

“What if I’m not what he wants from a soulmate? What if he’s not what I want?”

Hansol glances over at you. “What do you want?”

You sigh, thinking back to your childhood imaginings, to what you’ve always imagined your perfect other half would be like. “Funny. Bright - I don’t mean like smart, though that’s nice, I mean his energy? Loud and enthusiastic, but someone who’s okay with just sitting back and being chill too, or it would be tiring trying to keep up with him. And he’s got to be kind, and wholesome, and gentle - someone comforting, someone good...”

Hansol’s grin has been slowly growing as you talk. “I’m sure he’s going to be all of that. He’s your soulmate, he’s going to be perfect for you. And you’ll be perfect for him.”

“But -”

“No buts, I know my soulmate, you don’t, I’m the expert here.”

...he’s got a point there, not that you want to admit it. So you change the subject to something useful. “Tell me more about the performance?”

By now, you’ve reached the door of the studio, and he pushes it open with a grin. “Why don’t you see it for yourself?”

“Hansol got you to come along!” Seokmin cheers as you come in, leaping up.

You laugh and give him a hug. “Just to watch. I haven’t promised anything yet.”

“You will,” Jeonghan says knowingly as you settle down on the floor, offering you a bag of snacks. “You won’t be able to trust anyone else to make a video that captures our magnificence adequately.”

You burst out laughing, but it’s true. You know all the people in this room, and you can already imagine how to show them off. Seokmin had been your friend since middle school, and you’d been there when he met his soulmate in the new transfer student, Seungkwan. The four of you had been inseparable since. And you’d known everyone in the rap crew since high school. The leader, Seungcheol, was one of the lucky few blessed with two soulmates, who just so happened to be the last two members of Jihoon’s vocal group - Jeonghan and Jisoo.

And that’s when it hits you. “What about the dance crew?” Minghao and Jun are conspicuously absent, and you’re fairly sure there are a couple of others you’ve never met before.

“On their way, Hoshi wanted to run the choreo by them one last time before meeting us,” Seungkwan tells you, taking a sip of his iced Americano.

“Hoshi?” you echo. “I don’t think I know him?”

Jeonghan smirks. “Oh, you’ll recognise him when you see him, I’m sure -”

“He’s their leader and choreographer, you must have seen him at last year’s showcase,” Jisoo chimes in.

“I was sick, remember? So I wasn’t there to support you guys.”

Wonwoo gives a little oh. “Well, that explains - but there’s him, and Hao and Jun, and their other choreographer Dino, he’s your age.” His gaze softens when he mentions his soulmate’s name, and you can’t help but hope your soulmate will look like that when he talks about you.

“Hoshi and Dino,” you repeat, the names echoing oddly in your mind.

“Their real names are Soonyoung and Chan,” Jihoon clarifies. “Those two, one wants to rock the stage like a dinosaur, the other one thinks he’s a tiger -” he stops when Hansol nudges him.

Just at that moment, the door opens.

“Are you sure you can do it?” the one in front asks as he comes in, waving his hands around. “It’s going to look flashy, but if you get injured -” He’s walking backwards, slim and black-haired, wearing a jacket with black and orange stripes.

Your breath catches in your throat.

“I can do it,” Minghao says, exasperation in his tone. “It’ll make a great ending.”

“And you need to watch where you’re going,” Jun says, gently taking the boy by the arms and turning him around, giving you a broad wink over his head as he does so.

The boy stops short the moment he sees you, and when you lay eyes on his face, you know.

“Soonyoung?” you ask, caught between hope and yearning.

“That’s me,” he whispers. “Hi, soulmate.”

You tell him your name and he repeats it, the word falling from his lips like it’s something sacred. “I’ve been searching for you my whole life,” he murmurs, and at that moment, you feel something missing in your heart click into place.

Because you’ve finally found the person who’s perfect for you, and you’re perfect for him, too.

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onyourzeus · 4 years ago

Text

• beat of my heart | ydw

ykcyj ➝ arskyh

title: beat of my heart pairing: yoon dowoon (of day6) & you genre: fluff, non-idol!au, college!au words: 4.3k

author’s note: finally, a dowoon fic that i thoroughly enjoyed writing (hence how long it is) it went on a different track than planned, but isn’t that how most of my fics are turning out to be? lol. please do enjoy!

this dot fic is part of the falling asleep on the bus scenario i intend to write for each day6 member. check out the others: wonpil (currently only have 2/5 completed)

any requests? check my pinned post if i’m accepting any at the moment, thanks!

there isn’t a lot that occupies dowoon’s mind. he gets classified as an introvert by people who have known him for years but this doesn’t mean too much for him

sure, he likes to keep to himself and only open up to people he’s trusted for a while which… is the kind of life he wants to lead

with that being said, other things that goes under Dowoon’s Approved Interests would be: playing the drums, playing a ton of games, and… animals

upon entering college, he wondered if he’d have the free time to care for animals just like when he was younger, volunteering at the nearest animal shelter in which everyone who worked there knew who he was

and always regarded him as the shy little boy but also borderline an animal whisperer. it gave dowoon lots of fun memories to look back on his childhood, and for a moment he considered studying veterinary science to continue his passion for loving dogs cats and everything in between

but another love of his life was introduced in first year high school, and that is the drums. as his social circle expanded (as much as he permitted it to, so not by a lot), so did his club activities in music and even playing as a filler in different bands became his priority (next to academics)

he still visited the shelter from time to time, it wasn’t something he could just drop so easily; bonding with stray-turned-angelic pets waiting for their forever family was his form of therapy, in a way, when music got too complicated at times or when he’s struggling with a class

and then there’s playing league or overwatch or pubg to release stress in a more high-energy fashion

so when the time came that he needed to choose a major, the first thing that came into mind was music theory. he wanted to get better at playing drums, understanding notes, and improving his performance skills overall

he’s experienced frustration over figuring out the rhythm for certain songs he liked to play before, so this is what made him decide that music is the type of interest he’d want to pursue as a career

and bonding with animals… well, would be just that. this way, he doesn’t get burnt out with the one hobby he feels much peace with. his happy place, if you will

so imagine dowoon’s surprise when he learnt of a volunteering organization on campus that caters to helping out local animal shelters on the weekends. literally what he has been doing since he was a wee lad

it was perfect timing to have passed by the club booth during intro week, he already planned on auditioning for the established bands on campus (day6 sounds like a perfect fit for him, tbh) but he hadn’t reached that level of confidence with his drumming skills yet

distracting himself with going to the shelter every so often would help him leave the dorm for a bit (his roommate ha subtly asked many a times for him to ease off of the mouse clicking during the late hours of the night and shouting, “gg” over and over)

the first few times he went to the org’s events at the shelter, it was… a little awkward

one, he didn’t know anybody and two, he isn’t exactly the cute little shy 10 year old he once was that knew every auntie and uncle in his small town.

and everyone else in the event… already seems to know each other. dowoon recognizes the guy who handed him a flyer talking to the animal shelter coordinators up in the front. he had been lost in the crowd of his peers that he has no idea what’s going on

he just wants to pet sum dogs and play laser pointers with cats, is that too much to ask for?

suddenly, everyone had dispersed into groups and apparently you choose where you want to be included in

great, dowoon is just smiling awkwardly to himself as he feels the tips of his ears blush bright red

“hi! dowoon, right? do you have a group to join?” he whips his head to the sound of your voice, just a few feet ahead of him. he’s confused as to why you knows his name, so he points to himself and feels the flimsy paper nametag attached by double-sided tape on his shirt

oh, duh. they had the new prospective members do it a while ago

he sees your name too, and remembers it in the back of his head like a prayer

dowoon shakes his head, perpetually shy and blushing hard now. you feel a sense of guilt singling him out like that in the crowd, so you approach him more closely and signal to follow you

“i’m part of the board members, and we don’t have enough people in our group so you can come join us!” as publicity chair, it is your duty to make others feel comfortable and welcomed in the org. and this is your time to shine

“we’re looking at some bigger doggos today, do you have any pets, dowoon?” you try to make polite introductions as you lead the group to where you’re assigned. like a lost puppy on his own, dowoon follows suit. he’s grateful for some guidance, and actually seeing the animals calm him down for a moment

and it doesn’t feel like everyone’s staring at him anymore as he hears chit-chatting surrounding the place

so he focuses his attention on you instead, and he somewhat regrets it

he’s not those guys who don’t have girl friends, but most of the friendships he’s formed with them are due to the fact that he was introduced by a mutual friend

so dowoon is, how do you say it, entranced by the way you talk about your first big dog in the house

and the two that followed after, and how you stopped playing with your friends from the neighborhood

because all you needed in life were your golden retrievers and newfoundland

dowoon finds himself sharing his own childhood experiences of spending time at a shelter, but never having a dog of his own

“family allergies,” he shrugs and you pout for him in frustration

wow, he’s never seen someone so invested by the fact that he never got to own a pet for himself

“well, dowoon,” you tell him as you’re approaching the section of big dogs, “i hope you enjoy your time here. this is one of the biggest shelters near campus, and fortunately a lot of dogs and cats get adopted every month!”

your enthusiasm for #adoptdontshop makes dowoon feel excited again, he’s just itching to be back doing what calms him down in a therapeutic sense

you instruct the other members to join in a pair or a trio to assist the shelter coordinators with grooming some of the dogs and going for their scheduled walks

this makes dowoon suddenly panic inwardly again, why does everything have to be done in groups?

“want to come with me?” you ask him in the middle of his inner monologue. you’re met with a look of surprise similar to how he reacted when you called out his name just a few minutes prior

“me? you’re not partnering with anyone else?” you shake your head, “as you can tell, they’ve already made up their minds. you’re one of the only new people i saw come to our event today, so i’ll be glad to show you around!” and you genuinely are. it’s rare to see a newbie look so obviously excited to be here, let alone by themselves

usually the people you’ve come to know who join your events are just there for the instagram stories or a pseudo-date of some sorts. you’re happy they’re helping out the shelter with taking care of the pets even for a few hours in the day, but their intentions lie far and beyond with what you have in mind joining the org

however, having approached dowoon and giving him your usual spiel on your love for dogs— he was actually listening and nodding along to the right moments!!! it was so refreshing, especially with the way he’s just excitedly tapping his feet right now awaiting where you’ll lead him next

“oh, let’s hang out with lady! she’s actually going to be adopted soon, but i want you to meet her,” you lead dowoon to one of the bigger stalls on the right where lady was. you call out to her, and immediately you see a tail of a fawn colored pitbull sway back and forth

she comes near you first, sniffing and licking at your petting hands. lady senses dowoon standing idly by your side, and you’re about to tell him how to approach the dog when dowoon does it for himself

he bends down to her level, lifts up a loosely closed fist and lets lady smell her first. “hi lady, nice to meet you. my name is dowoon,” he coos at her, finally lady lets him in her space as her tail wags even faster

“that’s amazing,” you point out, “we had a really hard time teaching her to trust new people”

dowoon shrugs, grinning while he’s at it and you can tell how modest he’s trying to be. but the way he’s rubbing lady’s belly and chuckling at her snorts make you believe that dowoon knows what he’s doing. and he’s enjoying it to the fullest

“thank you for trusting me, miss lady,” dowoon tells the dog who has completely fallen in love with him too. you just watch him, in awe of the scene before you until dowoon looks your way

he catches you having a weird, goofy smile and so you fake cough your way as an excuse and tuck a hair beneath your ear. “does she need to go for a walk?” he asks you, tone inquisitive and hands busy petting lady much to her delight

“we can, y-yeah,” you find yourself a little out of breath, so out of the ordinary for you. but you comply to his wish and ask the coordinator for lady’s leash and the record book.

and that’s kinda how you and dowoon started hanging out a lot on the weekends. after that first event you met him, you’re quick to tell him about the incoming ones the org has for the following weeks (albeit some were supposed to be a secret, you couldn’t resist) and that you’ll be really happy if he came

for the pets, of course

dowoon had informed you that he’s trying to join a band on campus, so he might not be at every event you described. although he’ll do his best, for all the other dogs and cats he hasn’t met yet. you become curious about the guy, but not enough confidence to ask about this band or anything other than his love for animals

so for the next few weeks of the semester, whenever you get to lead an event you’re always looking for a shy boy in the crowd. and 80% of the time, dowoon comes through

there are instances when the other board members ask you to proceed with a diff group or a diff task, and before they can sweep dowoon away from your group…

“ah, actually he’s interested in becoming my intern, so i think it’s best to keep him under my wing!”

“we’re doing interns??? now?? i thought we canceled that—”

“he’s just interested, nothing too serious or finalized but yep— ah, dowoon, over here!”

what a save, and gladly dowoon didn’t hear

he’s actually formed a few acquaintances within the returning members, and it makes you proud to see him come out of his shell a lil

even if you don’t know much about him yet, just his major and the band he’s trying out for (which is looking very good, in his terms) as long as dowoon voluntarily wants to attend the events, it’s a success to you

“who are we meeting today chief?” dowoon would tease you once the event has started, and it’s becoming a running theme in your guys’ greetings

hmm, you decide, major,” is what you’d call him (as you squeal and squirm involuntarily inside) “bathing ole’ mister winston or trying to teach tiny toffee how to sit and stay for more than two seconds?”

dowoon visibly shudders, remembering the time the english mastiff mister winston slobbered him so much as a form of thanks for keeping him squeaky clean, and you basically laughed at his face for 15 seconds straight

“let’s teach toffee some tricks today,” he relents as you already knew the answer but wanted to see reactions of his flashbacks

you’re not sure if any one of the board members have noticed your particular liking to dowoon. if they did no one said a word because the whole point of the organization is

to have fun with animals and prepare them well for their furr-ever home, which is what you and dowoon love doing together. there’s a kind of synergy that you feel being with dowoon and working with one dog

dowoon knows more techniques on how to calm down anxious dogs than you’ve ever learned being in the org

you have to admit sometimes you’re still skittish, jumping from loud sounds or yelping in response to mister winston pawing at you (and his paws are bigger than your face)

or maybe it’s the fact that dowoon is there teasing you instead, intentionally hiding from you when you need a helping hand only to return with a handful of kittens in his embrace. “sorry, they were calling out to me and i couldn’t resist.”

you’d roll your eyes and attempt to get upset, but the way his own shines and his shy giggle coming out of him when the kittens fight their way to nuzzle against his cheek— it’s harder than you thought

anyway, you tell yourself that you’re keeping dowoon by your side because the two of you learn a lot together, and the back and forth coordination you have with tougher to care for dogs makes the job easier, it’s really that. it really is

or maybe it’s more… because as the weeks go by and dowoon couldn’t come round the shelter on the weekends, he asks if you want to see him practice with the band he’s joined

unfortunately, a lot of the times clash with your events or other school related activities, so dowoon insists on sending you videos of him playing the drums

it was a wild ride of messages, to be honest, because at first the camera would just be showing the ceiling, and then it would be recording his shoes, then just the surface of a drum until the vibrations shake it off of wherever dowoon was putting his phone against

nevertheless, you’d listen to how he plays the instrument he truly loves, and it was another side of him that got you feeling enamored

the day has come that there was no event at the shelter, and dowoon alongside other day6 members were having a busking session on campus grounds

“i’ll record you this time, dowoon, you don’t have to rely on faulty angles and physics anymore,” you tell him minutes before the gig started. you’ve seen dowoon give off a positive, excited aura in the shelter, but being with his bandmates and sitting in front of his drums— you’re observing a different side of him

and it’s addicting. to watch

“oh, guys by the way, she’s the one i was telling you all about,” you hear dowoon tell his members while you stand on the side. a question mark pops in your head, what does he mean by that???

soon after, everyone introduces themselves to you and shakes your hand. and you’re stunned, having known their names before (courtesy of dowoon) but not really associating a face with it

“you didn’t tell me your friends are good looking,” you tease dowoon, “you’re hanging out with the right crowd,” you add, poking him on the side to watch his reaction

and you get what you wanted, ears blushing and hands shoving you away playfully

around you, a crowd has started forming and you notice people from the org watching on the sidelines too

posters fill up the air with names of the members— and even dowoon

huh, why does that hurt a little inside (maybe you should have made a poster too? you glance at dowoon to see him gazing upon the cheers of the crowd and perhaps his name in sharpie, enclosed in hearts by his supporters)

that hurt a little more too

you shake away the weird feeling, and remind yourself that you’re here to record him for the first time, and to listen to him play live

when they finally begun their performance, you became more speechless than you thought. you’ve gone to indie music gatherings before and have watched a couple of up and coming bands do their thing

but day6 is something else— and most especially, you know the drummer

the ones those girls behind you are screaming your ear off for

he’s a god with the drums, eyes closed in parts that require careful and soft beats but you see the fiery look in them once the song comes up to its peak

it was thrilling, it was a sight to behold. dowoon in his other element, another side of dowoon you’d love to get to know more of

you resist from screaming his name so that your recording doesn’t sound ugly (you’re sending it to him after all), but that doesn’t mean your heart isn’t beating as loud as the rhythm of his drums

a few times during the performance, you catch him looking at your direction, but you’re not sure so you just raise a thumbs up with one hand while the other holding your phone feels strained as they go on

it’s ok, it’s all for dowoon

an hour later, their set ended with a bang and girls and guys alike flock to the members to get a poster signed or something else of theirs (dowoon had already given you a pre-signed poster. friendship benefits?)

you didn’t want to leave without congratulating him for a very successful first gig, so you sit by the benches. a little farther away from the platform where they performed to give yourself fresh air, and understand why your heart continues to pound so hard and so fast

and the cheers for dowoon’s name playing back in your mind

it’s the after show adrenaline, you tell yourself, rewinding the footage you recorded to pass the time

your mistake since it was all just dowoon

there were times when you “accidentally” zoomed it in his face, and kept it there. for minutes on end

god why does he smile like that, stop you’re hurting my HEART

“someone’s a fan,” a low, litling voice creeps up behind you

and your first instinct is to punch the invader of your personal space

which you did (albeit not as strongly as you wanted) but when realizing who received said punch…

“dowoon holy shit WHY WOULD YOU GO BEHIND ME LIKE THAT”

“I DIDN’T KNOW YOUR REACTION WOULD BE SO VIOLENT”

so uh, there you suddenly are

in the college’s nurse office

with the drummer of what seems to be a rising band on campus, dowoon

getting his bloody nose (literally) checked out, and asking him serious questions without you in the room

“did she really think i’d punch you like that???”

“i think it was really nice of her to look out for me, you know,” dowoon smirked, and the two of you had already come out of the office and you were ready to actually punch him for real this time

but you decline your desires because you still feel a bit guilty

a part of you knew it was dowoon, the voice was a dead giveaway, but you’re “logical reasoning” says you didn’t want him, nor anyone, to see you admiring his face on video. playing it on loop

“i’m sorry,” you finally say, cringing at the turn of events tonight “can you still make it to the band’s after dinner party? can you still eat with your nose like that?”

“you’re so weird,” dowoon replies, pinching the bridge of his nose as he elicits a short “ow” of pain, and you can’t help but feel so terrible

“ughhhhhh dowoon pls say i didn’t break your nose or else your fangirls will hate me”

“what”

“you heard me don’t make me say it again”

“say what again :)” at this point he’s just messing with you, his nose doesn’t look crooked anyway and he definitely knows there were girls fawning over him!!

“c’mon, i’ll pay for the uber to take you to the restaurant,” you urge, it’s the least you can do for physically hurting the person who seems to be confusing you what draws the line between being a friend and… potentially liking them more than that

dowoon doesn’t respond, just shakes his head no and walks alongside you

“what do you mean no???” you’re baffled, why would he decline such a good offer??

“no i’m not going to the dinner, it’s fine i get to see them every day,” he reasons out. he stretches his arms and evokes a yawn. “besides i’m pretty beat from the gig, so i’m just gonna crash back at the dorm”

you’re not convinced, what if he’s just pretending to be sleepy so he doesn’t bother you anymore? biting your lip, you contemplate on persuading him to go but buying his dinner (you’re not sure how that will work) until he stops in his tracks and

pinches your cheeks

to stop you from thinking as your eyes land on his

dowoon huffs, eyebrows creased with concern as he says, “you look like one of the dogs we fed last week who wanted more food in his bowl, but he doesn’t know he’s on a diet.”

he.. really compared u… to a dog????

“what do you mean by that,” you counter, cheeks heating up from the sensation of his fingers pinching at them. not too painful, but enough to consciously feel the pressure of his touch on your face

not to mention his focus is all on you

“you’re upset because i won’t give in to your apology gift,” he explains further. “but really, i’m fine. you didn’t break any bones, and you aimed for my nose. if it were my hands that got hurt then it’ll be a different story”

you groan outwardly, not knowing how to best him out of his logic

“c’mon the bus is coming soon, let’s call it a night,” he says, releasing your cheeks from his grasp and instead, tugging at your hand to follow his lead this time

you don’t let it go

once you enter the bus, dowoon finds an empty two seater and slides right in by the window seat, patting the one next to him. you reluctantly take the spot, still reeling from the way he held your hand so effortlessly, still confused about how you feel about him, still wanting to make it up to him

“is there an event tomorrow?” dowoon asks, escaping you out of your reverie. you churn your brain to think as this is a good opportunity to divert your attention somewhere else

“i believe so. i’m not leading the event, but it’s basically adoption day at the shelter. did you want to come?”

“of course, if you are”

“oh,” that caught you off guard… he can always come to events even if you aren’t, he’s a member now and he’s good friends with the other board members…

“if you’re not, then are you busy doing something?” he yawns again, eyes becoming droopier by the minute as the bus takes it leave

“not really… we can go… together,” you attempt to string coherent sentences together, but the sight of dowoon dozing off at the electric hum while the bus moves entrances you

his pale soft skin contrasts the tiredness in his voice, trying to keep himself away by answering you

“mm. yeah, i’d like to go with you...anywhere… with you,” he starts mumbling, head dangerously close to colliding against the window

silently, you chuckle. and admire the hardworking effort you’ve seen dowoon achieve so far, it makes you momentarily forget about figuring out your feelings

cause it’s kinda obvious with the way you’re seeing him right now, usually you’d tease him, take a picture for blackmail or even feel slightly awkward sitting in the bus next to each other

but right now, you admire him. and wish you can talk to him more about the band, about his dreams, about going to events “as long as it’s with you”

you hear him continuously mumble string of phrases that are incomprehensible at this point, and instead of making fun of the guy (you’ve done enough damage to his nose), you gently tell him, “sleep, dowoon. i’ll wake you up when your stop is here.”

“mmkay,” he gives in, breathes out heavily and

leans against you

resting his head on your shoulder, even making himself more comfy by nuzzling his cheek by the junction of your neck

in a way it sets your heart aflame

but on the outside, you feel at ease. that he can easily take the hit with his nose just mere moments ago and willingly let his head, and his mind rest for a little right by your side

you don’t have to wonder about your feelings anymore

you’d want this to happen more in the future, and hopefully

you’re just wishing upon a star here, that dowoon feels the same

#day6 imagines #day6 scenarios #day6 au #day6 x reader #yoon dowoon imagines #yoon dowoon scenarios #yoon dowoon au #dot series #by:jiae

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bangtanstorytimetheater · 4 years ago

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Virtuoso - A MYG Story

CHAPTER ONE

ONE

"We've decided to transfer you to the Chattanooga store."

My manager's words felt like a bad breakup. I felt my heart sink in my chest. This transfer, though unexpected and utterly terrifying, was going to be a huge leap in my career.

The music company I worked for was a small, but very well-respected chain in the tri-state area. I was proud to hold a position there, hosting field trips for elementary-aged children, and helping students demo instruments to find the perfect one. It was a rewarding job that I looked forward to every day, and I was eternally grateful for the opportunity. This transfer would have me leading the new field trip program that the company was getting ready to roll out at the other store.

I had worked at Bangtan Band Box, or BB's as the locals called it, for nearly four years. It was a great place to work, and I had watched business really take off over the time I'd been there. Thanks to a recent year-long renovation project at the store, all of the studios were now equipped with gorgeous new digital pianos and state-of-the-art soundproof walls. Everyone was thrilled with the way it turned out. We even had a grand re-opening block party. Of course, without fail, there was always at least one person who still had a complaint about something.

"The sound on these things just isn't the same. The keys don't feel right. It's not a piano..."

Ninety-two year old Jane Young was the sweetest little lady I had ever met. She was probably the only person at this store whose complaints didn't annoy me. We had grown incredibly close over the past few years I'd worked there. She was a sort of relic, being the very first ever piano teacher to teach lessons at BB's original location. Mrs. Young was the childhood piano teacher of the company CEO, and he had insisted on bringing her onboard when he opened up shop over thirty years ago.

"Jane, I completely understand where you're coming from," I said, reaching out to place my hand over hers on the counter, "They really don't feel the same as acoustic pianos, but admittedly they are pretty nice. At least we'll save a few thousand dollars a year on tuning. And I suppose all we can do at this point is just make the best of it, right?" I smiled, hoping to pull her out of her funk. Jane had been through so much over the years, spending nearly every day of the past three decades in this place, and she was not keen on all the sudden changes.

"You really are wise beyond your years, Faye. I suppose I could at least appreciate the new carpet. That iced tea stain from three years ago will certainly not be missed." she chuckled.

There's the Jane I was hoping to see today, especially today. Should I tell her? No, not yet.

The Following Monday

"Faye! How've you been?" Jin flashed his familiar warm smile and casually held up a hand in a lazy wave. He was always so soft spoken, but still cracking quiet jokes that had you in stitches. He'd worked at the Chattanooga BB's for a few years and we'd known each other from district meetings. He was still fairly new to being an assistant manager, but seemed to be pretty comfortable in his position.

"A bit nervous about the sudden change, but I'm looking forward to working with you. Glad that you're here on my first day. Makes it a lot easier, that's for sure." I sighed. Despite years of auditions and stressful interviews in my music career, meeting new people was still sometimes a bit stressful for me.

DING!

This store had a very loud door chime, entirely different from the one at my previous store. It was jarring, making me jump. Jin let out a louder laugh than I had ever heard come from him. I suppose being in his own store, he probably felt more at-ease than when he was attending the stuffy district meetings. It was nice to hear him laugh so genuinely.

"Didn't you guys have a bell like that at your store?" he asked, setting down his keys next to the register and taking off his coat.

"Nope. And I startle easily, so this will take some getting used to I bet."

"Hey man!" I heard a booming, but cheerful-sounding voice from somewhere over my shoulder. I turned to see a beautiful man with warm, honey skin walking towards me, his dusty blue sweater and light blue jeans accentuating his perfect tan. He had just walked in through the front door and was sweeping his wind-blown golden brown hair out of his eyes. He had a guitar case slung over his shoulder, covered in happy stickers - rainbow flowers, smiley faces, Korean hearts, and the words HOPE WORLD in big, bubbled letters across the center of the case lid.

He must be a teacher here.

"Hope! Hey, this is our new transfer, Faye Jansen. She just moved here from the Woodland Hills store. Faye, this is Hope." Jin said as he motioned towards the statuesque man in blue who was now standing face to face with me at the counter. Hope flashed me a huge, toothy smile as he carefully dropped his guitar case to the floor next to him and extended his hand to shake mine.

"Pleasure to meet you, Faye. What a nice surprise!" he smiled and squeezed my hand gently, "You can call me Hobi."

Why do I feel a little flustered? Is it warm in here or...?

Nevermind.

"Y-yes. Thank you. The pleasure is all mine. It is wonderful to meet you, Hobi. What instrument do you teach?" I asked, trying to turn the attention away from myself. I had seen the guitar case, so he was obviously a guitar instructor, but I was too flustered to think straight. I wasn't normally shy around anyone, but he was strikingly handsome, in a way I had not seen in real life before, so I almost needed a moment to catch my breath.

He seemed to notice that I was feeling a little flustered, glanced down at the guitar case then back up at me and smiled, seeming a little amused.

"Guitar. I assume you play something as well?" he asked, his fingers fidgeting with the strap of the clear plastic messenger bag slung over his shoulder.

"I studied classical voice in college, but I also play oboe and piano. I did all the demos for the field trips at the Woodland Hills BB's." I was proud of what I did, but I wasn't trying to sound too proud. Musicians can take perceived cockiness to be a huge turn-off.

"Ah, wind instruments. I envy that. I could never get past my initial few trumpet lessons as a kid. I thought I was going to pop a blood vessel in my face!" he laughed, "So instead I break old peoples' hips."

"Oh yeah?" I laughed, "That sounds terrible. Care to elaborate on that?"

"A group of us here have a jazz ensemble. We play shows every Thursday and Saturday. The older folks love to get up and dance. Let's just say that sometimes they dance themselves right into needing a wheelchair the next day. Anyway, we get pretty decent paying gigs at The Yeontan Lounge, playing all the old jazz standards. You should join us sometime. We love having other artists step in. Speaking of, Jin will you be at practice tonight?" Hobi said, suddenly turning towards Jin.

"You're in the ensemble too, Jin? That's amazing. What do you play?" I asked, excited to hear more about the group, and especially excited to hear them play.

"Upright bass. You should sing with us tonight, Faye. I heard you sing karaoke at the company party a few years ago. You sounded great. Are you still performing these days?" Jin asked.

"I haven't performed in quite a few months, but I'm sure I can manage a casual jam session tonight. What song should I prepare for you?" I asked, my disciplined mind already scrambling to come up with the perfect piece for my vocal range.

"Why don't you sing At Last by Etta James? That's a classic. Can't go wrong there." Jin suggested, glancing over at Hope for approval.

Hobi stuck out his lower lip and nodded, raising his eyebrows. He seemed pleased at the song suggestion.

"Hearing a classical singer take on At Last is going to be something special, I bet. Looking forward to it," he said. "See you tonight."

"Likewise," I said, watching him walk towards the hall of studios.

DING!

There's that goddamn door chime again.

Startled at the sound, I clumsily dropped the pen I had been holding against my notebook, and it loudly clinked on the glass countertop.

As I reached to pick it up, embarrassed at my unintended slapstick routine, out of the corner of my eye, I could see someone walking in my direction from the front door.

I looked up, and it was as if time slowed to a crawl. My eyes met the gaze of a tall, slender man with shaggy black hair and smooth, porcelain skin, wearing a button-up denim jacket, skinny jeans, and converse - all black. He didn't stop walking, but our eyes locked until he was out of view.

Instantly, I felt this surge of electricity throughout my body, as if he physically touched me when he walked past me. It was strange... and exhilarating. His deep chocolate eyes had so much fire behind them, they burned straight into my soul.

I had to know his name.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Thank you for reading the first chapter of my book! I'll be updating every Sunday at the very least, but hopefully more frequently than that.

Looking forward to your feedback and suggestions!

This first chapter is dedicated to the lovely 0o_pervy_noona_oO who started me on my Bangtan ff addiction, and inspired me to write my own.

#bts fanfic #bts smut #yoongi smut #jhope smut #sope smut #bangtan #au

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artificialqueens · 4 years ago

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Pulling Leaves Off Trees, Chapter 1: Been Through the Wringer a Couple Times (Multi) - Sportkuras

Summary:

c’est bon: damnnn

c’est bon: wait. jan isnt your apartment near shea’s

human girl: @jansport spill

Jan could feel her stomach drop as she looked at the message.

“Oh, goddamn it.”

—

Or: The girls try to survive college, and everything else that comes with almost being an adult.

A/N: my first fic here on artificialqueens! i noticed that arent many college au’s and group chat fics of the s12 cast so i let myself be self-indulgent for once!! its unbeta’d so apologies lmao but you can talk to me here and you can find the ao3 link here! comment if you’d like!

***

Jan started her morning like almost every college student in their third year would: to be woken up by their alarm after a night of heavy drinking. She woke up with a start and groaned as Chromatica II started blaring from her phone, blindly reaching for it on her nightstand and peering at the time.

Damn. One in the afternoon, huh?

“Thank god I don’t have class today.” The blonde muttered as she checked her notifications: 7 from Twitter, 3 from Insta, and 1 from their group chat. She sat up from her bed and scrolled through the chat, trying to quell her pounding headache.

Bon Voy

Members: jaidaessencehall, heidininacloset, jansport, jackiecox, gigigoode, crystalmethyd, britafilter, dahliasin, nickydoll, aidenzhane, and widowvondu

lebron essence ball: okay so

lebron essence ball: me and shea are at the library rn and she’s complaining to me abt how she couldnt sleep right

lebron essence ball: and chile….it was bc someone was getting RAILED last night lmaooo

lebron essence ball: she said, and i quote, “the bitch had such a good time even I’M jealous”

c’est bon: damnnn

c’est bon:wait. jan isnt your apartment near shea’s

human girl: @jansport spill

human girl: also

human girl: feels weird that we didn’t start this day with a good morning announcement from jan

c’est bon: the vibes were off 😞

Jan could feel her stomach drop as she looked at the message, “Oh, goddamn it.” She’s now acutely aware of their apartment door opening and Rock’s footsteps padding from outside her room, most likely just coming home from her class. She suddenly remembered exactly what happened last night; most especially memories of what happened between her and her roommate . Memories of them being drunk as hell, coming back to their apartment from god knows how many bars, going to Jan’s room giggling like teenagers on a sleepover and well. You know.

Jan checked her phone again.

lebron essence ball: jannette….would you happen to know who was the lucky gal? 👀

backpack backpack: good morning to you too gigi 🙄

human girl: *Afternoon, actually

human girl: Now spill! I know you know almost everyone on that floor.

She pinched the bridge of her nose. How in the hell was she gonna say that her and Rock got drunk and hooked up as casually as possible? She could lie, but Jaida, Brita and Widow could smell bullshit coming from a mile away, and she’s a horrible liar. They’d know she was bluffing.

Might as well get it over it. She let out a sigh as she typed out a message, hoping that it was only Jaida, Nicky and Gigi who were online.

backpack backpack: haha yeah so um

backpack backpack: that was me & rock actually

Even though no one could see her, Jan hid her face behind her hands, bracing for the worst. Several dings! had come from her phone as soon as she sent the message. Of course it wasn’t only Jaida, Nicky and Gigi who were online.

cox destroyers: Oh my god.

Jan’s eyes widened when she saw Jackie reply, although she’s not quite sure why she was panicking about Jackie knowing about her hook up with Rock in the first place. All she knows is that she’s gonna have to face Jackie (and everyone else, for that matter,) later.

sin city: ohhh bitch—

c’est bon: you and ROCK???

dom top: !!!

dom top: idk who Rock is but get it sister

backpack backpack: Thank you! Thank you, Heidi. It’s like you’re the only one who’s not acting weird right now.

c’est bon: lmao heidi

c’est bon: she’s jans roommate

human girl: Janice Elizabeth Sport.

von du for two: not this shit again i swear to god

tap water: Jan.

tap water: You know that I love you

tap water: BUT WILL YOU PLEASE STOP SLEEPING WITH YOUR ROOMMATES

Jan rolled her eyes at the messages, wanting the ‘news’ to be over as soon as possible. “And they say I’m the dramatic one.” She huffed as she quickly typed on her phone again.

backpack backpack: okay can y’all chill 🙄

backpack backpack: we just got drunk and slept together, that’s all.

backpack backpack: tell shea im sorry though xxxx @jaidaessencehall

lebron essence ball: bitch you know it ain’t about having a drunk hookup with someone

lebron essence ball: its about the fact that you banged your roommate AGAIN

backpack backpack: oh COME ON

backpack backpack: this was just the second time!!

backpack backpack: and lemon’s with priyanka now!!!

von du for two: girl you & lemon were fucking almost every week i can’t with u

von du for two: going at it like rabbits while we were outside your apartment getting ready to watch glee :/

tap water: and, frankly, i don’t want to come up to your apartment to run lines with you if i have to hear y’all fooling around. my good, christian ears have heard enough.

She felt her face heat up in embarrassment.

backpack backpack: oh my god can you guys please shut up!!!!

backpack backpack: it’s not gonna happen again bc it was a one time thing

backpack backpack: i promise

human girl: [dwayne the rock johnson voice] are you sure about that?

backpack backpack: yes georgina goode i am 100% sure

Jan bit her lip as she looked up at the door to her room. Okay, she’s not 100% sure, but not because she regretted it or anything. As much as her brain was allowing her to remember, last night was good. Great, even. But between auditions, college, and working in the café, her love life (or lack thereof) is on pause for now. Besides, it’s not like anyone has been actively pursuing her, or vice versa.

But it wouldn’t hurt to ask Rock, right?

Sighing in defeat, Jan quickly got up from her bed with her phone still in her hand (as much as her hangover allowed her), left her room and knocked on her roommates door, hoping that she wasn’t busy. She heard a faint “come in!” from the other side and opened the door softly.

“Hey, roomie.” She joked.

Rock looked up from her drawing tablet and slipped off the headphones from her ears. “Glad to see you’re finally awake, and here I thought you were a morning person.” Rock’s room was a mess of color and paraphernalia; while Jan’s was strictly purple, pop culture, and musical theater, hers was an array of figurines and albums on the shelves, kpop & anime posters tacked on the wall behind her bed reaching up to the ceiling, and a somewhat decent gaming setup in the corner of her room. Crystal and Nicky would be proud.

Jan rolled her eyes, “Yeah, well, last night was something,” She slightly cleared her throat at the mention of last night. “Also, about last night…”

Rock raised her brow, “Go on?”

“It was a one time thing, right?” Jan furrowed her brows in question, “I mean, last night was amazing , as much my brain is allowing me to remember. And you’re hot, so, I’m not complaining. Really dig the anime e-girl vibe, and I’m sure anyone would tap that ass! I mean, I did, but I’m just—”

“—Not looking for anything right now?” Rock cut her off, saving Jan from turning into a hungover, rambling mess.

She let out a sigh of relief, sitting on her roommates bed and putting her phone down, “Yeah, doll. Just been really busy right now, y’know? 3rd year isn’t a joke.”

The pink-haired girl let out a snort, “Oh, I know the feeling. And don’t worry, I wasn’t looking for anything either, and while last night was fun,” She looked at her pointedly, and Jan was calm enough to actually smirk at the incident between the two, “I’d much rather have you as my friend than as my fuck buddy, because you are loud , girl!”

Jan shrieked at that, “Oh my god, shut up!” She threw a pillow at Rock’s head while the girl let out a cackle, “My friends were on my ass about that too, some friends they are.”

“Wait, you told your friends about that? Aren’t you friends with Nicky?”

Jan huffed, “Mama, more like I was forced to tell them. Jaida’s friend, Shea—whose apartment is next to ours, by the way—was complaining to her about how she couldn’t sleep last night because of, um, my tendency to be vocal.”

“You’re welcome, by the way.”

“Rotted bitch!” Jan threw another pillow at Rock, this time missing because the girl was doubled over in laughter, “I can’t believe you! The disrespect, really. I shouldn’t be taking this from you, I still have a shift to do at 3.”

“But you took it from me real good last night, so,” this time Rock shielded her face as Jan threw pillow after pillow at her, trying to speak through her laughter, “Okay, okay! I give, I give! I’m sorry, mom!”

“Bitch! I can be a top if I want to!” Jan exclaimed in mock offense. As their laughter subsided, the blonde suddenly had an idea, “Oh! What if I invite you over for dinner?”

Rock smirked, “One: we’re roommates. It’s not really inviting me to dinner if we eat in the same room. And two: I thought you said you weren’t looking for anything?”

“I mean dinner with my friends, gorg. All 11 of us eat together at least once a week, this time we’re gonna crash at Heidi, Jaida and Brita’s. Maybe you wanna come and meet them? I know you and Nicky know each other somehow, so it wouldn’t be too awkward, right?”

“Introducing me to the family already? Ain’t that a bit too early for you, Ms. Sport?”

“More like introducing you to a bunch of kindergartners,” Jan muttered as she checked her phone for any new notifications, “But yeah, I want them to know you as my roommate and friend , not as my roommate who I slept with.”

Bon Voy

dom top: okay so jans sex life aside

dom top: y’all are still coming over tonight?

sin city: yes girl!! college sucks ass sm i need to eat my feelings

c’est bon: wouldn’t miss it for the world mon ami xoxo

cox destroyer: I’m gonna be a little late! I just have to return and borrow some stuff in the library.

human girl: can we please order pizza hut <3

lebron essence hall: no <3

von du for two: we are going to order dominoes like civilized people

human girl: ugh fine, all of you have 0 taste

human girl: crys said yes btw she just has class right now

tap water: aiden said she’s gonna come too, she just can’t message the chat bc she’s still in her shift

Jan grinned at Brita’s message, finally getting the chance to steer the conversation away from her.

backpack backpack: So if she can’t message the chat because of her shift, why’s she messaging you, miss brittany filter?? 👀

Jan can feel Brita’s eye roll from miles away.

tap water: She speaks!

tap water: And don’t act like this conversation isn’t over, Miss Janice Sport. You have a lot of explaining to do.

“So, are ya gonna introduce me as your forbidden, but passionate lover? Whose romance was short-lived, yet wild, fiery and unforgettable?”

Now it was Jan’s turn to let out a cackle as she left Rock’s room, “More like my chaotic mess of a roommate who farted herself awake!”

This time it was Rock’s turn to gasp in offense, “That was one time and you fucking know it! And my answer is yes, by the way!”

Jan sent a message to the chat before grabbing her towel and putting her phone away to take a shower.

backpack backpack: oh btw i’m inviting rock to hang out with us!!! I promise she’s super fun and that we’re just roommates and see y’all soon please dont kill me or make it awkward with rock xxxx

tap water: are you

tap water: kidding me.

von du for two: oh for the love of GOD

***

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nightklok · 4 years ago

Note

28 Chickles?

76 Kiss Prompts [Open]

Is it cheating if I use an old prompt meme to complete today’s prompt? Probably but I had a majority of this written out so might as well finish it! Thank you for requesting this and sorry it’s a bit late! :O

Kloktober Prompt: Day 14-Preklok Whumptober Prompt: No 27-Power Outage

28. First kiss

It was the first band Pickles joined a few years after Snakes N’ Barrels disbanded. It was a band that would disband not long after being signed and before they could even produce their first album. The genre didn’t felt like it belonged to him compared to his previous band’s genre and it felt more like a job than anything else. However, it paid the bills and got him to at least work with music once again. Even if it felt like he was once again working from the bottom up, at least he wasn’t entirely lost and was knowledgeable on how the music industry was. He hadn’t really tried to get back into making music after Snakes N’ Barrels disbanded. Despite the offers from various groups, he had ignored them all without even giving a response. He ended up shifting from a music-related job to a non-music related job and dealing with the horrible addictions that never left his side. As if by fate, it took one DUI related charge to end up having Charles Foster Offdensen, a freshly graduated law student, to take his case. Somehow, he ended up winning that trial and Charles asked for no money but simply to be his manager and lawyer. It was honestly laughable. He hadn’t worked with bands or even gone solo so how could someone even want to risk their career by being associated with him? He was serious and spoke in a way that meant he looked at every outcome and wanted it regardless. It took a few days of convincing and Pickles agreed even though he was sure he was a lost cause (pun intended). His new manager proved his worth and got him band auditions fairly quickly as a lead singer. As quickly as they happened, they quickly ended successfully with tons of accepted phone calls. Pickles never really did felt like he fit in with any of them, however. There was no spark he felt playing with them like with his previous band and he was wondering if it was worth straggling in some newly licensed lawyer to his troubles. Charles never did judge him though unlike his previous managers. He listened to his complaints and how he felt with an open mind and tried to adjust the best he could. However, he had a feeling that most likely the ‘heavy’ sound Pickles was looking for wouldn’t be available or at least for the moment. At the advice given, he had accepted the offer from the next band he passed the audition for. It was a rock band that was a bit heavier sounding but it was better than the other bands, and he tried to make his peace with that. It didn’t take long for them to record a single, send it to record labels, and soon get signed. He thought he would be happy that a record label signed onto their band so quickly but he found himself not feeling that euphoria once felt when his first band was signed. The moment he signed his name on that contract, it felt like he was just signing up for a job above all else. The fear that perhaps he just simply overstayed his welcome and would never be able to make music again was running through his head. If not music, then what else was there for him? As the other band members began pestering the poor secretary for directions to the nearest bar, Charles trailed behind to keep up with Pickles. He wanted to say something; he could tell he didn’t seem happy but the only words that came out of his mouth were, “Well, ah, how about I buy you a drink? To celebrate?” That seemed to be enough for Pickles as he turned to look at him with a small smile, “A free drink and getting signed? Sounds like a good day to me.” ____ If Pickles had to be reminded further that the band most likely had the same behaviors as his previous one, it was their excessive drinking and somehow finding someone to buy coke off before the drinks even arrived. Within minutes, they were already high, and trying to out drink the other. Even for Pickles’ standards, they weren’t worth trying to keep up with. Pickles sat alongside him, taking advantage of the free nuts that were provided as he drank his beer. He was surprisingly quiet for once; he barely spoke a word since they arrived and mainly just asked the bartender for more drinks. Charles didn’t say anything either. Not that he didn’t want to but what could be said when he’s forced to watch his new clients already drink their first potential paycheck away? Like watching the same movie for the umpteenth time, unsurprisingly came the women and men. He found himself not even surprised when one by one his new bandmates began leaving with said people. They were either making out with them, taking them to one of the bathrooms, or leaving the bar altogether to some nearby hotel or something. That didn’t mean he wasn’t asked to go along. An occasional bandmate would remember he existed or one of the people drunkenly recognized him and asked him to join. He was reminded way too much of the nights spent in shitty hotels with people whose faces he’d barely even remember. It felt like as he aged those memories became less and less positively memorable and only left a bad taste in his mouth. He politely declined and watched his last bandmate leave the bar with some girl close by him. He was ready to leave to go home himself, “I guess we should call it a night,” He finished his beer quickly, ready to pull out his wallet. “I did say I would be paying,” Charles answered as he pulled out his own wallet, “And if you’d like, we can go to my place. It’s quieter and we can discuss a bit about the meeting with the record execs tomorrow.” “You did say it was for only my drink. Not the rest of the guys,” He grinned at him as if having won some game of thinking one step ahead, “But sure, could use some company.” There was a slight back and forth over who was paying the tab but eventually settled on a compromise that they would pay for half of it as they both knew the other bandmates would never pay them back. Hopefully, the revenue from the new album would be more than enough to cover that expensive tab. The two walked out of the bar and into the pouring rain that almost came out of nowhere. And unfortunately, Charles’ car was parked at least four blocks from the bar. Even though he had offered to make the run himself and drive back to get him, Pickles went with him. He hadn’t drunk himself to oblivion and at least didn’t slip on the mud or complain about getting wet. By the time they reached his car, they were soaked to the point where air-drying wasn’t much of an option. Charles had to turn on the AC to prevent the windows from fogging up. The cool air, even if it was as low and away from them as much as possible, did nothing to help relieve them from being soaking wet and cold. He didn’t have a blanket or anything with him, so he had to hope for the best that a near-half-hour drive wouldn’t result in them getting sick, “Sorry, I have to keep the AC on for a while.” “It’s fine. Do you have clothes I can borrow when we get to your place?” “Of course.” Between the sound of rain hitting against the car, the windshield wipers, and some Creedence Clearwater Revival song playing from the radio, it filled the silence when they didn’t talk. What they did talk about was trivial things or light jokes about getting sick. It had eventually died down when Pickles quietly dozed off. They reached the apartment a bit longer than usual because of the rain and sudden heavy traffic. Pickles had woken up just as Charles was beginning to park his car in the lot. He stretched as he got out of the car, adjusting his wet clothes that must’ve stuck to his skin like glue. To say he was cold was an understatement but the beers he drank thankfully didn’t keep him from freezing. The elevator was working this time and there was no one else there or when they reached his floor. It was as silent and eerie as walking into some unfamiliar hallway at night could be. The sound of wet shoes and socks against the floor was audibly heard, squeaking against the floor but was muffled by the bolt of lightning that came by. Even though it wouldn’t make much of a difference aside from mud, Charles told him to take off his shoes and leave it by the doorway when he unlocked the door to his apartment and let him in. As directed, he took off his shoes and left it to the side as the other did the same. His apartment was as ordinary as it looked for a lawyer just starting out. Nicely put together furniture and decorations that did make the place look a bit more put together. Maybe it was all Ikea furniture or something, Pickles wasn’t really one to keep track of furniture brands and shit. Either way, it looked nice and inviting to him compared to his own shitty studio apartment. He followed him to his bedroom where he had shown him a drawer that was full of warmer clothes. He found an old college sweatshirt and pants to go with. It’d probably be loose on him but anything was better than the wet clothing that was only reminding him further of how cold he was. Charles showed him where the bathroom was to change, “You can leave the clothes by the sink, I’ll throw them in the wash. Make yourself at home,” He told him before he went to his room to change. He put on whatever casual clothing he had and towel-dried his hair as much as he could. It was still damp to the touch, but he could live with that. He did see the bathroom was open when he stepped out, grabbing his clothes and putting them in the hamper. He’d take them to the washing machines downstairs when he got the chance. He went to the kitchen, grabbing two glasses, and poured brandy in both of them. Coffee or tea was his usual go-to when he had guests over but he knew Pickles enough on what he would prefer, and that was neither most of the time. He found Pickles in the living room, staring at the collection of law textbooks and framed awards that were either in the bookcase or framed near it. “You did fencing in college?” He asked as he looked at one of the plaques on the wall. He took the brandy Charles offered with a quick ‘thanks’. “Yes, actually. I was president there for the last, ah, two, or three years of college.” “Wow. You’re really full of surprises.” He laughed. “How so?” “Well, you’re some lawyer who wants to be a manager and for a has-been like me. That’s gotta be costing you more than if you just stayed as a lawyer. Recording that single must’ve not been cheap. And that bar tab either. ” “I’ll admit these expenses weren’t cheap but I have had money put aside for it. We’re signed now, so I’ll be getting that money back soon.” He answered. “You’re a little too optimistic about this, chief. You’ll be lucky if we even get a hit single.” “Well, it’s a risk, isn’t it? Working at an industry like this is a risk and I’m well aware of that. I might get that money back. I might not. We’ll see.” He answered, “but I suppose that’s where you come in if you want me to get my money back.” Maybe, it was the beer, brandy, and the eventual sickness looming over but it was hard to take him seriously, “You’re really putting so much confidence in me that it’s funny, really. Y’know there are people I know that do what you’re doing and before you know it, they’re stuck working at 9 to 5 jobs down at Santa Monica instead of retiring. At least you’re...like the same age as me? I won’t fuck your life up that much.” “You’re not gonna fuck up my life. I have a plan for this, Pickles. If the next band doesn’t work out, we can try another. You still have a name-” “A name?” He laughed bitterly, “What name, Charles? The one where the news talk about me with a DUI charge? Or a drug overdose? Or the one who sang for some stupid band with a stupid genre that’s clearly a joke now! Hair metal. that’s what they call it now! What kinda person would take someone who sang for hair metal seriously?” Charles knew he was right. His name in headlines was almost never for anything good. But all it took was one look in him to see that he still had...something. Something that not a lot of musicians had and something he’s probably yet to discover himself, “But you still have a chance, don’t you? You still have a voice to sing with and that should be more than enough to make a new name for yourself. The only person isn’t really believing this is you.” “What do I have to believe in myself for, Charles?” He shook his head as if he had mentally answered his own question, “God, I’m such a fucking idiot. I shouldn’t have let you get dragged with me. I should just go and quit or something. I’ll be saving you a lot more time and money if I just-” The lights flickered for just a moment but a clap of thunder quickly shut them off. Charles cursed under his breath as he went over to one of the switches to flick them on and off. It was completely off, “Guess we’re stuck like this for a while.” “Just fantastic,” Pickles muttered. He finished the rest of his brandy, “Look, I’ll just go. Save yourself the trouble-” “It’s literally pouring out and you’re drunk. I’m not letting you leave,” He answered. He watched his expression and sighed, “But clearly...there are things that you need to talk about, right? I mean...if you really did want to quit music altogether, why did you say yes when I asked to work for you?” He wanted to say it was just because he wanted to humor him. But even then, was it really the answer? He looked down as he shrugged, running his hand through his hair, "I dunno. I guess I thought I was getting a second chance. Some good job I’m doing at keeping that second chance, aren’t I?"

“I think you’re doing well with what you can do. It’s just hard to find a good band to blend with nowadays I suppose,” Charles said. He approached him closer. He wanted to help him but he was scared of having him run off when he was so close to having him open up to him, “But you still have the same potential as you did when you started in the band.” But you clearly need to work out whatever you’re going through just let me help you-

Pickles at least didn’t try to leave and instead agreed to coffee. He sat in the kitchen chair as Charles boiled water on the gas stove. There was a comfortable silence between them as they didn’t say anything and only listened to the relentless rain hitting against the window and the thunder that occasionally sounded. He poured the water and instant coffee to two mugs, letting him use the milk and sugar to his liking which was borderline sweet.

Charles used the rest of the milk for his coffee and threw the carton out. He sat in the chair opposite him, taking a sip of his coffee that quickly warmed him up. Pickles didn’t say anything and he didn’t want to pry so he didn’t say anything either.

“Can I ask you something?” Pickles asked as he stared at the mug. He couldn’t meet his gaze.

“Sure.”

“Why did you wanna work for me? Any other band or celebrity with a cleaner record could easily take you in.”

It was a question that Charles knew would come up inevitably and he had prepared for it in advanced. Prepared professional and cordial sentences that might not mean much but would at least mean something meaningful to Pickles. Though, that was with the implication that they would’ve been in some professional setting. Not in his apartment with Pickles wearing his old clothes and after he had probably poured out more of his feelings than he had intended to. It was only fair he did the same, “Well, to put it bluntly, your music saved my life and I only wanted to return the favor I suppose.”

Whatever Pickles had expected, definitely wasn’t that. He looked up to meet his eyes, green eyes somehow illuminated by whatever light the window gave. “What do you mean by that?”

“I was a teen too when you started with the band. Probably just as angry and misunderstood as you were. Didn’t have a family or really anybody to turn to or much hope for my future. I just never understood when people said that music saved their life. Until I came across that first album and I really understood the feeling. It was made me decide to go into music business though I honestly admit I didn’t expect to ever be working with you until I was assigned your case.”

“And I’m guessing you took it as a sign or something?”

“Something like that. I mean, I would’ve been working for someone who basically shaped my career. It would be ironic, wouldn’t it be?”

Pickles was silent afterwords for a good while. Most likely to take the words in and realize just how much Charles meant it when he promised him he would find him a band and get his career started again. Charles was legit. Charles wasn’t saying this to get something out of him. He was being genuine and it brought in a whole new swarm of thoughts he hadn’t thought of in a long time. He looked at him with a sad smile that told a thousand words even if he said only ten, “I wish we met earlier. We could’ve had fun together,”

He must’ve been lonely, Charles quickly realized. And it was for good reason too; his band members were nearly a decade or so older than him and he most likely never talked with people around his age. As fun as it must’ve been getting to feel like an adult talking with adults, it could get tiring too and sometimes makes one wish they spoke about bullshit to someone their age. He knew that all too well, “Me too. But, at least we know each other now and I promise that it’s only going to get better from here.”

“You really believe in me, don’t you?” Pickles asked.

If the months and money and time Charles did wasn’t enough, he didn’t know what would. He knew that sometimes words just confirmed the actions so he nodded, “Of course I do. I wouldn’t be taking such a risk if I didn’t.”

What he didn’t expect to happen though was for Pickles to being to cry. He had his hands on his face, elbows on the table, and tried not to show he was crying. But his sniffles and tears seeping through his hands easily gave it away. The tears weren’t of sadness and Charles knew that well enough. It was enough though for him to still go over to him and hold onto him tightly. He felt him wrap his arms tightly around him as the cries turned to sobs as he let however many years of pent up feelings and loneliness finally resurface and wash away like the rain.

Eventually, they pulled away. There were no other words that really needed to be said. It was just one look that said what they wanted to say but neither had the words to say it. It was Pickles that kissed Charles. It wasn’t those kisses that were meaningless and full of absolute desperation and hastily made to get on to the point. It was full of a tenderness and warmth that neither hadn’t felt before or for a long way. It was warm and against the coldness of the apartment from the rain and darkness, it was enough.

____

They lied down in Charles’ bed with a blanket covering them. Even if the room was a bit chilly, the warmth from the blanket and each other was more than enough.

“You could always go solo.” Charles said as he stared up at the ceiling.

“I guess...but I’m kinda tired of being in the spotlight. I mean, I like it and all but being at the center of it? Gets exhausting.” “Hm, there’s guitar auditions you can always do. You can always do that,” Charles pointed out.

They know it’s not gonna last. The band, that is. Most likely the band would fizzle out into obscurity and never be remembered within a month.

“True. Probably still have my Les Paul in my apartment somewhere.”

Charles honestly wished he could make him actually be happy. He did know that this was a problem he couldn’t exactly fix. As much as he wished he could be, there was a limit and he was sure he already was nearing it. He could only help as much as he could and be content with it; convincing Pickles to get back into music and letting him take direction in how he wanted to pursue music was one of the only things he could do. Being there for him, not as a manager/lawyer, but as someone who cared for him on a personal level also was something he could do. And he could do both; he was great at multitasking. “For the next band, I wanna play drums. I wanna be in the background this time,” Pickles murmured sleepily as he wrapped an arm around him.

“I’ll look into drum auditions tomorrow,” Charles answered. He would’ve protested at them breaking boundaries, it certainly wasn’t professional, but who conducted meetings in bed anyway? He held onto him, feeling the slight dampness of his dreads that were still not completely dry but didn’t care. Mentally, he reminded himself to find that newspaper he looked at the other day. He vaguely remembered an ad trying to find a drummer for some metal band. Hopefully, they wouldn’t be too late and that they would need a lawyer or manager as well.

The rain was still pouring and the power wouldn’t come back on until just a few hours later. But for at the moment, neither of those things really did matter. They held each other in silence, listening to the rain as eventually they fell asleep.

#kloktober #Caffeinated Insomniac Writings #chickles #metalocalypse fics #Thanks again for requesting this!!!#whumptober #fic #I will post this to AO3 later for now I write something else-#wumbo-calling #pickles the drummer #I had to rewrite some scenes because I completely forgot about the first kiss holy shit how stupid am i #I will refix this in AO3 but for now just enjoy the hastily added paragraph

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aliciameade · 5 years ago

Text

Have Your Cake

Title: Have Your Cake Author: aliciameade Rating: E for Extra Fun Pairing: Beca/Chloe...and Aubrey?! AKA the juggernaut that is: Triple Treble Summary: “I want you.” Beca grins and pulls her close, words spilling out without thinking. “I want you...and her.”

Fully inspired by/based on S1E4 of The L Word Generation Q and Alice, Nat, and Gigi.

Shout out to the peeps who waited 3 years for me to write this threesome in Finding Harmony only for me to never write it. (This isn’t part of FH, to be clear.)

Also on AO3

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“Are we busy Saturday night?”

Beca watches from the other side of the dinner table as Chloe thinks about it and then consults her phone’s calendar.

“Nope,” Chloe says with a smile before setting down her phone in favor of her fork and the Thai-inspired stir fry they’d made together that evening. “What’s going on?”

“I got invited to this thing.” She knows she’s being too vague. She should have been more specific to prevent further questioning.

“Ooh, what kind of thing?” Chloe asks with a curious waggle of her eyebrows before she takes a sip from her wine glass.

“A party. A birthday party,” she amends.

Chloe perks up. (Not that she was un-perky before.) “Ooh, fun! Do you want to ask Aubrey if she wants to trade weekends?”

Beca glances at their daughter, oblivious to the conversation thanks to the joy of rice noodles. Sophie had commented more than once during their cooking adventure that the noodles looked like her own blonde waves and Beca knows they’re still not clear of the possibility that one of them will be washing fish sauce out of her hair tonight.

“Uh, yeah, about that,” she chuckles and nervously rubs at the back of her neck. “It’s, uh...it’s actually Aubrey’s birthday party? So we’d need to find a sitter.”

She sees the perkiness fade from Chloe’s face. “You’re going to Aubrey’s birthday party?”

“You know we’re trying our best to make this work,” Beca says quickly and quietly, hoping to mend the tear before it frays out of control. “It’s just a party. Amy rented out a whole club for the entire night. There’s going to be a ton of people there. It could be fun. You know we have to try—” she glances at Sophie who smiles up at her just then with an enormous ball of noodles wrapped around her fork and chooses her words carefully. “It’s for the best if we can all have a nice time together.”

“Mommy’s having a birthday party?”

Beca winces; she could have chosen a better venue to bridge this topic with Chloe, such as any venue where the daughter she had with her ex-wife wasn’t in attendance. Her relationship with Aubrey had been sudden and a whirlwind, or more like a hurricane. She stormed into Beca’s life and somehow they married, had a child, and divorced within five short years.

And now she has Chloe with whom, Beca realized way, way late but apparently not too late, she was always meant to be. She was dumb to not realize it earlier. Then again if she had, she wouldn’t have married Aubrey, but then she wouldn’t have Sophie, and she can’t imagine life without her.

(The fact that Chloe and Aubrey had been best friends when they were all in college together had made for a lot of contentious conversations over the years.

Beca has always wondered if there was more to the contention than two best friends falling for the same person.)

“She is!” she answers. “But this one’s for her grown-up friends. You’re going to celebrate with her on her official birthday.”

“Okay,” Sophie says happily before refocusing on her noodles.

Beca’s own focus shifts back to Chloe. The tension that had appeared in her features when Beca had explained the event has faded.

“I was just surprised I wasn’t invited,” she says, seemingly explaining herself. “What time on Saturday? I’ll see if Abigail can stay with Soph.”

Beca relaxes and offers a gentle smile. “She said you should come, too. I should have clarified. I don’t think she intentionally didn’t invite you personally; it came up when we were texting the other day. And she told me 9:00.”

“So, 10:00?”

Beca can see the humor in Chloe’s eyes and finds relief. “Yeah, make it 10:00.” Chloe knows how Beca hates being first to any event whether a baby shower or a red carpet and something about that, as small as it is, makes her feel warm and fuzzy.

~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

Inevitably, there are photographers waiting at all entrances to Aubrey’s party venue when Beca and Chloe arrive; Beca even asks the driver to circle the block hoping to find a clear entrance to no avail.

Pushing through shouting photographers and blinding flashes, they walk hand-in-hand into the very upscale West Hollywood club Amy’s commandeered for the festivities. They both take it with a grain of salt; after all, there’s no such thing as bad press and Beca’s been in the studio working on an album with a number one pop star and the sequel to Chloe’s sleeper hit indie film is opening in a few months.

“Remember when we used to start our nights at midnight?” Beca asks over the music as they check out the lay of the land in the club. “It’s barely 10:00 and I’d like being in bed right now just as much as this. Maybe more.”

She means to be whining about how they’re getting older; after all, they’re at Aubrey’s 35th birthday party. However, in classic Chloe fashion that makes Beca roll her eyes just as much as it makes her smile, Chloe leans close to whisper hotly in her ear, “I promise, you’d like being in bed right now a lot more than this.”

“Keep it in your pants. We at least need to make an appearance before dragging me into a dark corner.”

“Like I’d really have to drag you,” Chloe says before pressing a kiss to Beca’s cheek, followed by her neck. “And I’m wearing a dress, not pants.”

Beca smirks to herself and slips her arm around Chloe’s waist. They’re still making up for a decade of lost time together and Beca is as wildly attracted to her now as she was when she was 18.

Dumb. Dumb, dumb, dumb.

Well, not that dumb. She was wildly attracted to Aubrey when she was 18, too. Aubrey was just the one that was brave enough to make a move. Beca can still remember the vitriol laced with sadness seeping from Chloe when she walked in on them kissing in Aubrey’s hotel room in New York while traveling for a competition.

When she spots a few members of the cast of her current favorite TV show, Beca muses to herself how absurd it is that the three of them found the success they did. The indie movie about dragons (with questionable special effects) Chloe had booked to help ends meet in grad school had blown up far past the core audience of the readers of the book it was adapted from. She now has three more films lined up—more adaptations of books in the series (with better special effects). It had almost been a joke when she auditioned and now she was one of the biggest movie stars in the world.

Aubrey started with Lighthouse Television as an intern on their legal team. Seven years later, she had a corner office on the top floor. Four more years and a massive corruption scandal that she blew the whistle on, and she was running the entire network.

Of the three, Beca’s the only one who planned to end up with the career she has today. But the fact that any of them have the careers they have at all is, she knows, more than a little unlikely. She remembers a journalist once asked Chloe what was in the water back at quaint Barden University.

When they finally find Aubrey, she’s talking to several people Beca doesn’t recognize but she can tell they all recognize her and/or Chloe by the looks on their faces as they approach.

“You guys came!” Aubrey says, interrupting her own conversation to leave the group and rush over to hug them, first Chloe, then Beca. She’s wearing a sparkly black dress, fitted at the bust with a free-flowing skirt that stops a few inches above her knees. Her hair is down, save for the bit that’s clipped back above her left ear, and for a moment, Beca remembers the things that made her fall for the woman all those years ago.

Beca feels her linger a second or two too long and eases out of their embrace. “Happy Birthday!” she says. “This party is amazing!”

“Oh, you know how Amy is,” Aubrey says with a wave of her hand. “The word ‘understated’ doesn’t exist in her vocabulary. Where are your drinks?” she continues, barely stopping to breathe. She’s already tipsy; Beca can see it in the color of her cheeks and the way her shoulders aren’t holding their perfect posture. “Let me get you a drink.” Her hand is up and snapping before either of them can politely offer to fetch one themselves. “These two are my best friends,” she says to the waitress who appears from seemingly nowhere. “Get them anything they want.”

She and Chloe exchange a look at Aubrey labeling them as her best friends. They’ve been little more than strained acquaintances since Beca and Chloe got married, keeping up the bare minimum of civility required when co-parenting a child of divorce.

“What can I get you?” they’re asked.

“Bourbon,” Beca answers. “On the rocks.”

Chloe eyes her and Beca knows what she’s thinking: that she hasn’t anything stronger than wine in a long time. They’ve both been so busy with work and family that nights out have been few and far between. “Vodka soda with a splash of cranberry,” Chloe orders for herself and Beca gives her the same look.

Maybe they’re both in dire need of a fun night.

Chloe shrugs in response and threads her fingers with Beca’s.

“I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m actually in the middle of a business conversation,” Aubrey says with a glance over her shoulder at the group she abandoned. “Go enjoy the party. I’ll find you guys later, okay?”

“Working at your own birthday party?” Chloe asks. Beca thinks there’s more than a hint of judgment laced with the comment but Aubrey just nods in response before returning to her presumed colleagues.

“Come on,” Beca says to distract Chloe from whatever weirdness is happening. “Dance with me.” She gives her hand a tug to lead them toward the dance floor.

“But our drinks,” Chloe says with a glance over her shoulder even though her feet are following Beca.

“She’ll find us.” Beca reels Chloe in close when they hit the polished black dance floor; she’s determined to have a good time tonight. “Dance with me,” she repeats and watches Chloe’s distraction disappear.

Chloe’s arms slip around Beca’s waist to hold her just as closely. “It’s been a while.”

“Exactly,” Beca says as she leans in to touch her lips to Chloe’s as they fall into an easy rhythm together.

~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

The waitress definitely found them.

Beca’s hanging on to Chloe to keep herself upright as they laugh. She doesn’t even know what they’re laughing about but it’s so hilarious she can barely catch her breath and Chloe’s laughter in her ear sounds prettier than any song Beca’s ever heard. Chloe runs a hand through her fiery curls and it stirs up her perfume. It draws Beca in like a magnet and her lips are on her neck while Chloe continues to laugh.

Not that Beca minds. A happy Chloe is the most attractive Chloe there is and Chloe’s hands are moving over Beca with possessive purpose. Parties like this, full of “industry people,” are the only places they’re safe to act like themselves. They can’t go to a regular bar on a normal night without causing an uproar, let alone feel each other up on the dance floor without angering their publicists with tabloid photos and trending on Twitter or becoming a meme.

She never got that freedom with Chloe; Beca was already walking red carpets when they finally found each other. Their entire relationship, they’ve had to do their best to be “appropriate” (whatever that means) in public.

Tonight, though, Beca’s teeth nip at Chloe’s neck playfully when she feels Chloe’s fingertips slipping under the waistband of her black pants to tease her.

“What are you doing?” Beca asks before lifting her head to kiss Chloe instead of letting her respond.

“What does it feel like?” Chloe mumbles against her lips before cutting off any follow-up questions by giving Beca’s tongue something better to do.

She loses track of time after that. She can feel the edge of the bar digging into her back as Chloe presses against her like she can’t get close enough. They haven’t stopped kissing except for the brief moments needed to breathe or down their very, very strong drinks that keep appearing on the bar behind Beca without anyone asking for another. Chloe’s managed to undo at least three buttons on Beca’s white blouse and Beca is grateful that she isn’t wearing a front-clasping bra because if she was, she knows Chloe would undo it and people would really get a show.

Even so, Chloe knows exactly what she’s doing and how to touch Beca to have her teetering on the sharp edge of climax without having to unbutton her pants and Beca’s having to fight off the orgasm Chloe’s managed to drive her to. Not because she doesn’t want to come, but because she doesn’t want to come in a room full of people. At least, not tonight.

Her eyes flutter open when Chloe shifts her attention back to Beca’s neck and in the strobing, flashing lights of the club, Beca notices Aubrey a few yards away. She’s not sure why she noticed her of all the people in the club in the two seconds her eyes were open. Maybe it was because Aubrey’s eyes were already on her. Or them? Watching.

Maybe it’s the bourbon, but something about that manages to turn Beca on further. The hint of jealousy she can read. The memories of the times she and Aubrey were all over each other in a club under the shield of anonymity. The way she was always able to crack Aubrey’s resistance to risky behavior and have a lot of fun together over the course of their hot, heavy, and tumultuous relationship.

And it’s not like the divorce magically made Beca’s attraction to her disappear overnight. Sure, it has waned over the years. It’s hard to notice anyone else when Chloe’s in the room.

She still notices Aubrey, though, and makes a point of guiding Chloe away from her neck to give hers the same treatment. Aubrey doesn’t look away; in fact, a hint of a smile touches her lips when Beca holds her gaze while her tongue glides along Chloe’s skin.

Beca’s too slow to react when Chloe pulls away, intent on kissing her again, when she notices Beca’s eyes aren’t closed. Or even trained on Chloe.

“Who are you looking at?” Chloe asks, slurring a little as she turns to follow Beca’s gaze.

“No one,” Beca says. She knows she maybe should panic when Chloe spots Aubrey, at least a little, but the bourbon and lust are sitting so warm in her belly and brain that she just kind of smiles as she says it.

When Chloe turns back to her, she looks a little sympathetic. “She’s really beautiful.”

“You’re beautifuller,” Beca says as she tries to lean in for another kiss.

“Wait, wait,” Chloe giggles, though her question is serious. “Is there a tiny part of you that still wants her? You can tell me, you know. I trust you.” Her hands are still moving, caressing Beca’s face and neck and the bare skin of her chest where her shirt is open.

“I want you.” Beca grins and pulls her close, words spilling out without thinking. “I want you...and her.”

It’s the bourbon. It’s definitely the bourbon. And the arousal throbbing between her legs. A flash of regret zips through her when she realizes what she said. It wasn’t something she’d ever thought about until 30 seconds ago.

“Right?” Chloe says after a surprised silence. Her smile looks devilish before it’s kissing Beca again. Then she’s turning to wave at Aubrey. “Hey! Come here! We need you!”

Beca doesn’t know if Aubrey can hear Chloe but she crosses the room anyway, tottering a little on her heels with a drink in her hand.

Beca can’t help it. She can’t help but stare at her ex-wife and remember how every inch of her skin tastes and feels and the way her voice sounds when she—

“Hi,” Aubrey says with an easy smile.

~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

Beca’s not sure who brought whom to the club manager’s office but Chloe’s closing and locking the door behind them when Beca feels Aubrey’s hand on her lower back.

She also doesn’t remember a discussion happening. She remembers replying to Aubrey’s, “Hi,” with a “Hey,” of her own and now she’s standing by while Chloe and Aubrey seem to size one another up with a level of heat and intensity that shouldn’t exist between two former best friends.

Chloe glances at Beca who just nods, because whatever this is, whatever is happening, she wants it to continue.

And then her current wife is leaning in to kiss her ex-wife.

It shouldn’t be hot; she ought to be angry or jealous but instead, she bites her lip to stop the moan that wants to escape just from watching Aubrey tilt Chloe’s head to slip her tongue into her mouth. If Beca’s underwear weren’t already ruined from Chloe’s advances earlier, witnessing that would have done it.

And Beca thinks Chloe would have every right to be angry or jealous when the kiss ends and Aubrey turns toward Beca, but instead, Chloe’s hand is on the back of Beca’s neck, guiding her right into Aubrey’s kiss with a look of excitement.

She’d almost forgotten what it felt like to kiss Aubrey. She was a precision kisser, calculated even in their wildest moments, always working to make Beca’s toes curl and this is no different. Her tongue teases over Beca’s with skill and familiarity that makes it easy for Beca to shake off the last vestiges of hesitation about what’s about to happen.

What is already happening.

She’s barely getting used to it when the hand at her neck guides her away from Aubrey and pulls her into Chloe.

Unlike Aubrey’s precision, Chloe’s kisses are wild and barely contained, always walking the line of passionate sloppiness without crossing it (well, sometimes she crosses it when they really get going). She feels a third hand on her back, and then just two again, as a third tongue slips its way somehow into their kiss.

It’s not like Beca’s never done this before. She and Chloe have what Beca feels is a very active, adventurous, healthy sex life. They’ve taken a woman on a date, intentions and possibilities known and agreed to by all, and brought her back to a luxury hotel room (because they would never bring a stranger into their home) for sex. Not because they were bored with each other, but to the contrary: they wanted to see how wild and daring they were comfortable getting.

She thinks, foggily as she bows out of the triple-kiss to re-introduce herself to the way Aubrey’s neck feels under her tongue to let Chloe and her get used to each other, that having a ménage à trois with her former and current wives is pretty damn wild and daring.

There are hands on her, out of synch in their missions but familiar in their confidence. There’s one on her ass and she knows it’s Aubrey’s. There’s another in her shirt, somehow fully unbuttoned now, holding her breast and she knows it’s Chloe’s.

Her own hands are roaming and long to touch Aubrey in places she hasn’t in so many years. It’s automatic to reach for and find the zipper at the back of her dress and, to her surprise, there’s already a hand there.

The fact that it’s Chloe, and that Chloe is on the same page, makes her dip her other hand right between Chloe’s legs, under her dress, to press against her.

She hears Chloe’s soft moan and feels Aubrey react to it (or to the fact that they’re both unzipping her dress), the hand on her ass gripping harder. Beca has to look because there’s no way this is happening (right?) and she eases back from sucking on Aubrey’s neck long enough to see that she’s found her wife’s chest and is quite actively toying with Chloe’s nipple, which is so hard Beca can see the details through her dress even in the dark of the room. It makes her mouth water.

She needs four hands and two mouths. That’s the only way this night isn’t going to be a constant battle of satisfaction versus frustration.

At the very least, they need to not be standing in the middle of the room. She’s about to push them toward the large sectional couch along the far wall when Aubrey starts to pull both of them in that very direction.

Aubrey lands first and she pulls Chloe down with her to resume a kiss that Beca knows, from first-hand experience, is surely melting both of them. Beca follows, everyone shifting further backward, and molds herself to Chloe’s back, chin hooked over her shoulder to watch them.

She lets her hands move over Chloe, over her chest to feel for herself how hard her nipples are, down to her waist and hips and thighs to notice that Chloe’s landed with her knee between Aubrey’s, straddling her thigh as she kneels.

It’s quite a show, Beca thinks, watching them kiss. They kiss like they’ve been waiting to kiss for years.

Beca would know. She’s been that person.

And she has a front-row seat to it as she clings to Chloe’s back, chin on her shoulder as her arms frame Chloe’s hips as her hands rest on Aubrey’s thighs. She can feel Chloe’s restlessness, shifting and twisting every few seconds that is a clear tell that she is starting to get desperate for touch. Chloe getting turned on by Aubrey turns Beca on even more. She can’t help but bite at Chloe’s shoulder, bare next to the strap of her dress.

Aubrey’s eyes flutter and their eyes meet before they’re closed again, Aubrey whimpering as Chloe’s entire body shifts forward to press closer. It makes Beca reach for Chloe to flatten her palm and run it under the hem of the top of her two-piece dress. She feels Aubrey’s hand skate over her own to run up Chloe’s body until it’s shifting to reach for Beca. Her hand finds Beca’s face and cradles it as Beca’s mouth shifts to Chloe’s neck.

She can feel Aubrey’s fingertips as they trace her hairline, the edge of her ear, the line of her jaw, the softness of Beca’s bottom lip until her finger is slipping into Beca’s mouth.

It makes Beca moan and she takes Aubrey into her mouth, lips traveling to her knuckle before she pulls back, sucking as she goes. Her hands move up over Chloe’s ribs until Beca’s hands are over her breasts. She squeezes and Chloe’s reaction is to kiss Aubrey more deeply, the two of them moaning.

But Aubrey retreats, pulling back from Chloe’s kiss enough to get her attention and turn it toward Beca with a tilt of her chin. Chloe turns to look just as Aubrey’s finger slips from Beca’s lips. Beca feels the tip of it under her chin, guiding her up to kiss Chloe—not that she needed guidance—who kisses her hungrily.

Aubrey’s hands are on Chloe and Beca knows it. Their hands are crossing paths as they both reach for her, grazing at her chest and bumping at her hips.

“Please,” Chloe whispers against Beca’s lips as they kiss. She doesn’t say what she wants, but she doesn’t need to. Beca pulls and pushes at her hips until she gets the hint and turns, falling back against Aubrey whose arms immediately encircle her. Beca takes a step back for a second, just to watch as Aubrey’s hands push Chloe’s top higher and higher until her bra is exposed, as Chloe tilts her head back so she can find Aubrey’s mouth, how Aubrey’s legs part so Chloe can sit between them.

Chloe’s hands reach out toward Beca and Beca makes her wait, just for a moment or two, until Chloe whines and drops her hands, one to Aubrey’s thigh and the other two her own. It quickly moves up Chloe’s thigh and Beca’s about to reach for it and stop her from getting too far when Aubrey does it for her.

She looks up to find Aubrey watching her, still kissing Chloe as she pulls Chloe’s hand away from herself with audible protest. It makes Beca reach for Chloe, hands skating up her thighs to hook her fingers into the waistband of her thong and pull it down her legs and past the heels Chloe is still wearing.

It takes the last ounce of self-control Beca has to not immediately reach between Chloe’s legs. Instead, she moves up, dropping kisses over Chloe’s bare stomach and the swells of her breasts where Aubrey’s hands are, to Chloe’s throat and chin until her mouth is on Beca’s instead of Aubrey’s.

Chloe’s entire body rolls with their reconnection, or maybe it’s because Aubrey’s hands are at her back unhooking her bra. She feels Chloe’s repeated plea against her lips more than she hears it, but Aubrey definitely hears it. Chloe’s suddenly being pushed toward Beca, guided until they’re both upright and on their knees. Beca blindly pulls Chloe’s loosened bra away and the top of her dress being removed interrupts their kiss for a second only to resume with even more fervor.

Beca can feel Aubrey moving and with a brief glance, sees her on her knees as well, behind Chloe so close as she kisses Chloe’s neck just inches from Beca. She can feel Aubrey’s hands moving between them; they’re on Chloe, on her stomach and on her breasts, but Beca’s so close that they’re touching her, too, and her impatience gets the best of her.

She stops drawing out the foreplay and skates her hand up Chloe’s thigh under her skirt until it’s between her legs.

Chloe’s mouth slips away from Beca’s with a startlingly loud moan and Beca can feel just why that is. Chloe’s so wet that it actually takes Beca a second to feel more than just slick wetness beneath her fingers.

“Fuck,” Beca exhales. She savors it, her own breath catching when she feels how swollen Chloe is. When she opens her eyes she’s expecting to see Chloe’s face but instead, it’s Aubrey’s. Her eyes are dark and fixated on Beca’s. Beca’s compelled to lean forward and kiss her and she knows Aubrey wants the same. They try, but with Chloe between them, they can’t quite reach one another. Instead, they stare until Aubrey’s eyes fall closed and there’s another, this time surprised, moan spilling from Chloe’s lips.

Chloe’s head lolls back to rest against Aubrey’s shoulder and she looks down her nose at Beca, nothing but wild lust in her eyes before her hips rock forward. It pushes Beca’s hand further between her legs and it’s Beca’s turn to moan. Her fingers bump into something she hasn’t felt between Chloe’s legs before: Aubrey’s hand.

Specifically, she can feel where Aubrey’s fingers disappear into Chloe as Aubrey reaches her from behind.

It’s an out-of-body experience, really. To be sharing her wife with the woman with whom she used to share so much. With whom she still shares so much.

She and Aubrey had never done something like this, not with a third person. They’d been young and wild but in a different way than she and Chloe are.

“Oh, my God,” Chloe says through another moan as Beca feels Aubrey’s fingers start to slip in and out. Her hips follow and the motion spurs Beca’s own fingers into proper action.

Her fingertips press against Chloe and move in the way she knows can drive Chloe over the edge in a few short minutes. It isn’t that she wants it to end quickly, but she’s overwhelmed by the need to make Chloe feel good, to help Aubrey blow Chloe’s mind.

Hands grab at and touch Beca all over; she can’t keep track of whose hands they are and she doesn’t care to try. She’s too busy fucking Chloe with Aubrey,

She loses herself in it, the cadence the three of them fall into, fingers and hips moving in a coordinated, if frantic, rhythm. Hands clutch at her hips and she knows Chloe’s close and fighting it. Beca opens her eyes to watch it happen and she meets Aubrey’s gaze first as Aubrey’s lips and tongue move across Chloe’s shoulder to her neck to her ear.

Beca sees the words Aubrey whispers in Chloe’s ear more than she hears them; it’s difficult to hear over Chloe’s voice and their empathetic answering moans.

Chloe comes with a wanton cry, one hand gripping Beca’s wrist between her legs, the other clutching the back of Aubrey’s neck.

It’s a beautiful sight and for a moment, Beca thinks she could come, too, right there, from watching Chloe’s experience and sharing in it with Aubrey.

Aubrey, who’s staring at Beca with a look she hasn’t born witness to in years. A look that Beca’s never forgotten and neither has her body if the way the ache between her legs spikes in intensity because she knows what it means.

Chloe’s still coming down from her high, half-collapsed against Aubrey when Chloe mumbles a breathless, “That was so hot,” followed by a whimper. A few seconds later, Beca notices Aubrey has her own fingers in her mouth and Beca knows they’re the same fingers she’s just withdrawn from Chloe.

Chloe, in her uber-relaxed state, slumps to the side and Beca and Aubrey help to slow her collapse. They’ve barely finished getting her situated when Aubrey’s surging forward to kiss Beca.

It makes Beca’s head spin. Aubrey tastes like Chloe and she moans into the kiss as Aubrey’s hands start to undress her. Her shirt, already unbuttoned, is pulled down her arms, followed by her bra.

She doesn’t remember when her pants had been unbuttoned but they’re already loose around her hips when Aubrey’s pushing them down. They don’t make it far, still on her knees as she is, but Aubrey’s solution to that is to grab Beca’s hips and turn her to trade places.

“Up,” Aubrey says against Beca’s lips and she doesn’t understand until her ass hits the back of the couch. It’s deep enough that Beca is able to slide onto it to sit and as soon as she’s seated, Aubrey’s working her pants past her knees.

At the same time, Beca feels her heels be slipped off though Aubrey’s hands are definitely on her pants and she glances down to see Chloe, though still dreamy-eyed, has come back to herself and is helping Aubrey undress Beca.

Two different hands pull at her underwear and Beca knows she’s about to find out just how hot it was for Chloe to have the two of them fucking her. She feels dizzy and digs her nails into the edge of the couch and leans back against the wall, almost fearful of passing out because her heart is beating so quickly.

She already knows what Aubrey is going to do; the look she’d given Beca was her warning and she watches as Aubrey guides her thighs apart and gets onto her own hands and knees to be able to put her tongue on Beca.

It feels like it’s in slow-motion as Aubrey’s pointed, purposeful tongue draws a line between her legs, moaning as she does so.

It makes Beca’s jaw drop and her hand fly to the back of Aubrey’s head, fingers twisting into soft blond hair she hasn’t held this way in so many years. She’s sure she makes some kind of sound, probably a sound she’d be ashamed of in any other scenario. It hasn’t even finished escaping her lips when Chloe’s mouth is on hers.

She moans again, senses quickly overwhelmed by the dormant memories of how Aubrey used to make love to her roaring back to real life and Chloe’s wild, passionate kisses that seem to be as reassuring as they are purely sexual.

There are hands at her breasts and they aren’t moving in sync. One caresses while the other squeezes. One pinches while the other pulls.

She has to tear her mouth from Chloe’s to try to catch her breath but it offers little reprieve; Chloe’s lips drop to Beca’s chest instead to suck hard. She glances down and regrets it instantly because Aubrey’s hand is tangled in Chloe’s hair, pushing her mouth to Beca’s breast just as Chloe’s hand covers Beca’s to push Aubrey closer.

It sends her over the edge without warning, gasping for breath as she shudders. She can hear Aubrey moaning; she’d always gotten off on making Beca come, and she wonders if she’s touching herself and coming. Or if Chloe’s touching her. Or if she’s coming just from the intensity of the moment like Beca nearly did.

It’s the last coherent thought she has before she can’t think any longer.

She’s still trying to recover when she feels Aubrey disappear from between her legs. She whines at the loss and starts to protest when she sees the reason for her absence: Chloe’s pulled Aubrey away by her hair and is pulling her—not gently—back up to her knees until she’s claiming her mouth.

All Beca can do is watch; she’s too spent to do anything but watch as Chloe kisses Aubrey deeply. As Chloe’s hand disappears between Aubrey’s legs. As Aubrey’s head tips back with a groan.

They quickly lose themselves in each other but they don’t forget about Beca. Aubrey’s hand, the one not holding on to Chloe, roams Beca’s body. Chloe’s hand is on her thigh, just holding on as though she’s keeping Chloe from floating away.

Maybe she is, Beca thinks as, mind still hazy, she notices her hand is between her own legs.

She notices it almost distractedly, like an afterthought, that she’s touching herself while her wife and her ex fuck right next to her.

There’s no room to care about modesty or feel ashamed. She’s still so turned on that she has to press hard to get any friction against herself. Soaked in the same way Chloe was—and probably still is.

Aubrey and Chloe’s voices sound so good together, she does manage to note, and she focuses on them. It’s too difficult to keep her eyes open to watch so she listens. She listens to Aubrey’s increasingly desperate moans, to Chloe’s sighs and words of encouragement, to the unmistakable sounds of wetness—her own and Aubrey’s. She feels Aubrey’s fingers tugging on her nipple and Chloe’s nails on her inner thigh. Feels her own fingers on her clit.

She hears how close Aubrey is and, unexpectedly, how close Chloe is as well.

Chloe had been the sole giver when Beca had closed her eyes and she has to open them to see what’s happening, to see the way Aubrey’s hand moves between Chloe’s legs and how their hips buck as they ride each other’s fingers.

It yanks Beca right to the edge just as they climax and her own rushes through her in tandem with theirs.

All she can register beside her ecstasy is how good they all sound together. Just like they used to.

~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

Beca is still drunk.

It’s the first thing she notices when she wakes up. She’s also thirsty and feels like she needs a shower.

It’s also far too early to be awake—it’s still dark—and she turns over to move in closer to Chloe, warm and soft next to her.

She’s just drifting off again when there’s movement behind her and an arm slipping around her waist followed by lips on the back of her shoulder.

Her mind is foggy and it takes a few seconds to register that it isn’t Chloe because Chloe is in front of her, not behind. Then she catches a whiff of familiar perfume.

The memories of last night surface and though Beca thinks she should probably be horrified or embarrassed, she’s instead filled with a kind of warmth and she moves her foot backward to slip between Aubrey’s.

~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

The next time she wakes up, the bedroom is alight with the orange glow of dawn. She’s no longer drunk and she’s awake and is alone with her thoughts and memories until she feels Chloe stir.

She’s awake, too, and wiggles until she’s turned over to face Beca. “Morning,” Chloe says with a sleepy smile. For a moment, Beca wonders if Chloe remembers what transpired the night before until Chloe asks, “How are you?”

“I’m good,” she replies. And she is, Beca thinks. She’s okay with what happened. It was a wild, drunken encounter between three consenting adults, all of whom trust and care for the others. “Are you?”

Chloe beams at her, even through her hangover, and nods.

“Oh, my God, my head is pounding.”

The voice startles Beca as it breaks their whispered conversation. She cranes her neck to look over her shoulder at Aubrey sitting up next to her, one hand holding the sheet to her chest, the other clutching her forehead.

“I can make coffee,” Chloe says helpfully and starts to move but Beca touches her hip to tell her to stay.

“It’s okay, I’ll do it.” She’s been awake long enough that the threat of physical movement causing instant nausea has lessened.

She detangles herself from the sheets to crawl off the foot of the bed; there’s a familiar graze of fingertips across her shoulder and it stirs bittersweet nostalgia within her. It’s only when she’s on her feet and turning back while she tugs a T-shirt over her head to face what’s in her bed that the gravity genuinely sets in. She’s out of bed, out of the bubble, and she feels it pop.

She slept with her ex-wife last night.

So did her wife.

Nausea rushes her and she thinks she might gag but her reaction to the stress is interrupted by the pounding of a tiny fist on the door.

“Mama!”

“Shit,” Aubrey hisses, suddenly coming back to life as she scrambles out of bed.

“Just a minute, sweetie!” Chloe sing-songs and Beca can hear the panic in her voice.

Beca feels stuck and her brain is struggling to process; she doesn’t know what will happen if Sophie walks in to find her Mom, Mama, and Mommy having a sleepover together.

“Can I lock the door?!” Aubrey whisper-shouts as she frantically searches for items of her clothing to get dressed.

“Yes, you can lock the door!” Beca manages to say, brain beginning to work and feet starting to move to find shorts to put on.

“It wasn’t already locked?” Chloe asks from the bed she’s making while she’s still in it.

Aubrey’s running around so quickly, Beca’s not sure she won’t set the floor on fire. “Aubrey, she can’t see you; slow down.”

“I’m supposed to pick her up for our trip to the aquarium in—” she looks at a phone she finds on the floor—“five minutes!”

“In your dress from the party?” Chloe asks as she crawls out from under the covers and to the end of the bed.

“Walk of shame, I guess,” Aubrey says she tries to shove her arms into the sleeves of her dress that’s on backward.

“Oh, my God, here,” Beca says as she finds and hands Aubrey another of her tees.

Aubrey looks at it and frowns. “Budweiser? Really?”

“Turn it inside out.”

“You know, there’s no shame in—” Beca starts but Aubrey cuts her off.

“I’m going to go around the back and ring the doorbell, okay?” she says, already heading for the sliding glass door. “Crush some aspirin and put it in my coffee? I’m dying.”

“Yeah, sure,” Chloe says from her spot on the bed. She’s eating a piece of cake and Beca does a double-take. She has no idea where she got cake from.

“Savior,” Aubrey says before she disappears, still holding her heels instead of wearing them.

“Mom!” Sophie shouts again.

“Just a sec, sweetheart!” Beca calls in response as she starts toward the door, only to stop and look at Chloe, naked in bed eating mystery cake with a smile. “Are we...fine?”

Chloe shrugs and sucks the frosting off the tines of her fork. “Why wouldn’t we be?”

Beca makes a mental note to circle back on this situation once they’re both clear-headed and pulls open the bedroom door just as the doorbell rings. “Good morning, my big girl!” she says as she reaches down to lift her daughter and hug her good morning. “Did you hear the doorbell? Mommy’s here! Let’s go say ‘hi’!”

Aubrey looks impossibly flustered when Beca opens the front door and, she realizes, the morning panic was unnecessary. It’s not as though Sophie is old enough to understand what a Walk of Shame looks like or what it even meant for Aubrey to spend the night with Beca and Chloe.

“Morning,” she says with a smirk as she hands her wiggling-with-excitement daughter to Aubrey who immediately showers her face with kisses.

Aubrey doesn’t quite make eye contact, instead choosing to stay focused on making Sophie giggle.

“I’m making coffee.” The words drift past them as Chloe makes her way to the kitchen. “You’re welcome to join us for a cup,” she adds.

Aubrey does meet Beca’s eyes then as if questioning the invitation, or maybe asking for permission.

“Come on in,” Beca says after a beat, stepping aside to let Aubrey [back] into their home.

She doesn’t understand what transpired between them. Maybe she isn’t supposed to. She doesn’t regret it, at least not yet. It was fun. It was hot. And Chloe actually inviting Aubrey [back] into their home this morning and not being upset is a relief. Their long-held and only-somewhat thinly veiled contempt for one another has been exhausting for Beca to navigate and, at least for the moment, seems to have evaporated.

Beca can’t say she minds as she closes the door to join them in the kitchen.

It would be kind of nice to have Aubrey around more without the tension.

And if there was tension...Beca thinks as she watches Chloe tease Aubrey by tickling at her lower back...they have a pretty good way to relieve it.

The End

#bechloe #mitchsen #chaubrey #triple treble #pitch perfect #YEP #i did it #i wrote it #i'm tired #bechloe fanfic #mitchsen fanfic #chaubrey fanfic #triple treble fanfic #don't like it don't read it idc

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