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marsbutterfly · 10 months ago

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Too Sweet

Summary: For the past few weeks, Hanji has locked themselves away in their office, away from prying eyes, including your own. But your heart can clearly tell when something is wrong with your beloved.

a/n: hey everyone <3 this story is entirely based on the cover art by my amazing artist friend @kylekoraki ! please show them some love and everyone say "thank you" to kyle for drawing this! <3 here's their twitter as well <3

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: canon setting, fem!reader, non-binary!hanji zoe, no warnings really, just some heavy kissing. not really beta read, we die like men <3

ao3 | wattpad | cover by: @kylekoraki | wc: 4.2k

You knock on the door. Once, twice, thrice. No answer. A grunt escapes your lips and you roll your eyes, repeating the action. Once, twice, thrice. Nothing again. Now a frown takes the place of the smile that used to rest on your face, you know they are in there, you can hear the papers being shuffled around, the tapping of their pen, the shadow of their body as they pass by the door, even faintly the sound of the ice that clinks around their whiskey glass.

You raise your hand to knock again, but before you even have the chance, the door opens. Barely enough for any light to make it through but you see the faint silhouette of Hanji's lips pouting. "You know that when someone doesn't answer, it means they want to be left alone, right?" Their voice is low, almost as if they are making sure to remain quiet to not attract any more unnecessary attention.

"But... it's me.." you respond just as softly, a pout of your own forming, "I'm not like other people."

“y/n…” They begin, moving their glasses from the spot on their face towards the top of their head, pushing their bangs backward in the meantime. Their brown eyes stare at you for what feels like forever, their mind hiding behind an ocean of thoughts and an expression you can’t quite decipher this time around.

They want you to stay, to hold you in their arms as they sit here in the comforting silence of your presence, but instead, they shake their head, trying their best to remove any thoughts of what your warmth would do to them. A heavy sigh makes its way past their lips, the eyebags under their eyes more present than ever as they begin to talk again.

“Please, I’m fine,” they respond. What Hanji fails to realize is that their voice did a slight tremble, not noticeable to anyone else but you know them better than the palm of your own hand. They are the pure representation of your heart beating outside of your chest, so seeing them in such distress is enough to make you act against direct orders, consequences be damned.

“You are not,” you respond. Their office is a mess, their research papers scattered around with drawings and models of flying boats, new weapons, and ways to improve the Survey Corps all around. A thousand and one ideas, some connecting and some just scattered around the wind.

The whiskey bottle that until a few weeks ago rested full to the brim on their bookshelf now finds itself on its last few sips, the curtains are drawn so no amount of light other than the small candles at the edge of their table can exist in the room and you even notice a few shards of broken glass, probably meaning that they have dropped a cup or two, either from exhaustion or from not being able to see in the dark.

“When was the last time you ate anything?” You ask, gently taking the whiskey glass out of their hand. You notice a small blush creeping its way onto their cheeks as their eyes pointedly avoid yours and, by these simple reactions, you can tell it has been a while, “You’re losing weight.”

They try to reach for the glass once more but you shake your head, pulling it further away. Even though they are stronger than you and could easily take it back if they wanted to, they don't. Instead, Hanji leans against their desk, crossing their arms in front of their chest as they let out a heavy sigh. They want to lie, to tell you they are fine, and pretend like nothing is wrong, but before a single false promise about their well-being can make its way past their lips, you speak up again.

“I can tell you haven’t been sleeping,” your voice is soothing, not an ounce of frustration or anger behind it, just plain worry. You take a step closer, fully prepared for another rejection but it doesn’t come this time around, though you still don’t dare take a deep breath until the moment your fingertips brush against their left cheek, just slightly beneath their eyepatch, “you look exhausted.”

“Now that’s just rude!” An exhausted chuckle escapes their lips as they nuzzle their face into your hand, their expression contorting from anguish to a somewhat relaxed one and it causes your heart to nearly stop for a second before between at three times the usual speed, you are convinced they can hear it from where they stand. “I’ll have you know that I look awesome.”

It’s your turn to chuckle, your worries melting away for simply a second before coming back at full force, knowing way too well that redirecting attention and humor have always been Hanji’s favorite ways of avoiding a serious conversation.

“Hanji…” You start, your tone of voice sounding just as exhausted and defeated as theirs. It drags a loud sigh out of their chest, but as their mouth opens to complain, you continue, a begging tone in your voice as your eyes fill with unwashed tears, “Please, just talk to me.”

That look is enough to cause a painful bang to shoot throughout their body, their heart dropping to their stomach with the knowledge that it is their fault that you look this way. So, without even realizing it, they are already taking a couple of steps forward, hands tightly grasping at your hips as they lean their forehead against yours.

“I’ve just been so busy,” they whisper, the broken tone in their voice creates a tight knot in your throat and the sensation only grows stronger as they continue to speak, “Paperwork, meetings, and any free time I have I go to the lab, trying to complete some old experiments I’ve had from years ago. Even if I try to sleep, I just… Lay there, staring at the ceiling, maybe getting two or three hours here and there.”

You sigh, your arms immediately wrapping around their neck as you pull them close. Their eyelashes bat against the skin of your neck as they close their eyes, a shaky breath escaping them as they inhale your scent, focusing on the way your body feels and smells.

At that moment, an idea hits you. Without disturbing the hug, you look around the messy room, quickly taking in the setting before noticing that, for once, their couch rests next to the window, uncluttered and undisturbed.

Reluctantly, you pull away from them and the first thing you can hear is a grunt of disapproval. Once your eyes meet again, their pupils are so big, they could only be compared to a puppy dog that has just discovered steak for the first time, pleading, begging even, “Why’d you do that?”

Without an answer, your hand slides with theirs, fingers lacing and fitting together like pieces of a puzzle. Their palm is slightly wet, though you can’t quite place if it is from the condensation from the whiskey glass they held earlier or if it is from nervous sweats. Regardless, all you can focus on is how warm their presence feels close to you.

You don’t speak, instead, you just guide their body towards the couch, their feet dragging behind you, “what are we doing?” They ask, their eyes already fighting to remain open in a combination of the exhaustion and the fuzzy feeling from being drunk, the comfort you bring them doesn’t help either. They are clearly forcing themselves to stay awake, wanting to spend all of this time with you instead of stubbornly trying to push you away.

“We are not doing anything,” you respond, taking a seat on the couch. Your free hand brushes against the spot next to you and they quickly catch onto what you are hinting, your words finally clicking in their head as they flash you a confused look, “You, on the other hand, are going to sleep for a while.”

Their eyes widen for a second as your words take them by surprise, a small groan of protest making its way past their chapped lips, “mmmmm, noo, I can’t… I have so much work that I need to get done… I don’t... Have time to sleep.”

Carefully, you bring your hand towards the back of their head, pulling the ponytail holder out of their hair to make sure they are more comfortable for the next step, which includes guiding their head down towards your thighs. It doesn’t take much effort nor does Hanji put up much of a fight, their body is completely exhausted after all.

“Mmmm,” they whine, their voice filled with a mixture of exhaustion and stubbornness, almost like a child who refuses to lay down for nap time, but once again, they don’t put up a fight, “damn it, how could I ever say no to you?”

“You can’t,” you chuckle, your fingers beginning to comb through the knots in their hair, detangling the strands, your nails gently scratching their scalp while you are at it, “I promise I will be here when you wake up. I’m not going anywhere.”

Your words are soft, carrying so much love that it is almost impossible for Hanji not to melt on the spot. The warmth of your legs combined with the feeling of your fingers going through their hair is finally enough to relax their overly exhausted body, their eyes finally closing and you use your free hand to remove their glasses, hanging it up on the neckline of your shirt.

“Finnneeeee,” Hanji whines once more, turning their body over so their face is buried in your stomach, their slim body now curled into a small ball on the couch and you can’t help but smile at the sight, “but do not let me sleep for more than thirty minutes. An hour, tops.”

You lift your eyes slightly to take a look at the clock on the wall, a gift from Kiyomi to celebrate your relationship. Silently, you take note of the time and look back down at your beloved, a soft, whispered “okay” leaving your lips.

“I’m serious,” Their voice starts sounding more sluggish by the second, their mind already starting to drift off but they fight back sleep for a few extra minutes, just enough to finish the conversation between the two of you, their voice extremely drowsy, “I’ll be mad if you don’t wake me up.”

“I would not dream of doing such a thing,” you respond, unsure if they recognize the mischievous tone in your words or not, but truly hoping that, if they do, they are simply choosing to ignore it. Even so, the way you speak brings them so much comfort, a sense of peace they haven’t felt since becoming commander, “just sleep, my love. I’ll be here.”

The moment Hanji hears you whisper that promise, the certainty that you will be here when they wake up, it’s like a switch flips inside of their mind and they finally allow their body to relax against your touch. Much like a cat, they purr as you continue to run your fingers through their hair, unable to avoid the smile that is now stamped on their lips.

“Thank you, love you,” they whisper, their voice is barely audible and you almost miss it. You don’t even have time to respond before they are completely asleep, the weight of the countless sleepless days finally catching up with their body.

When the first hour passes, you look up from your book, your eyes landing on the clock before making their way down towards Hanji’s face. They look so peaceful, their breathing is so calm and even that it soothes your own worries away and it takes every ounce of your strength not to lay down and nap with them.

The decision to let them continue their slumber is an easy one. Eventually, you notice a small smile that tugs the corner of their lips in their sleep and you can’t help but wonder and hope that they are dreaming of you. Nevertheless, your fingers continue to go through the strands of their hair, even if it makes flipping the pages of your book a bit difficult, you manage to find a solution by placing it down on the armrest of the couch before using your pinky and ring fingers to hold the object down while the remaining digits flip towards the next page.

Another hour goes by and you start to ponder if you should wake them up. Maybe letting them sleep for this long wasn’t such a good idea, especially since you know they have to return to their duties as commander of the Survey Corps, such as continuing their research and sketching plans for the flying boat. But you can see it in their expression, the small specs of the bubbly person they used to be finally showing back up on their features as they sleep, small reminders of the bright light that has saved you from darkness more times than you can count.

You gasp softly when Hanji stirs slightly in your lap, your heart clenching in your chest as you continue to look down at them, scared that you moved too much and it caused them to wake up. Their expression is still undisturbed, almost like a cat that has just found the warmest spot on the window sill and you catch yourself smiling at them. A silly, love-sick smile that only they can bring out of you.

As the third-hour rolls by and you are trying to convince yourself that it is time to wake them up, you hear a knock on the door and your entire body freezes. You find yourself torn by the two options:

1) Do you say something loudly enough for the person on the other side to hear and risk waking Hanji up in a stressful way before throwing them directly into a situation in which they need to be the Commander, and not the bubbly Hanji Zoe you once loved so dearly.

2) You silently hope that the soldier on the other side will either go away soon or open the door quietly. The couch, though it is by the window, still has a perfect view of the front door to their office, so the person would quickly notice the situation and you would be able to calmly wake Hanji at your own pace, without any negative or stressful interactions.

A second, more forceful knock comes and you notice Hanji slowly starting to shift on your lap. The annoyed expression on your face morphs into one of anger and, as the shadow on the door side moves to knock for a third time, you decide to throw a pillow at the surface.

The person stops midway with their movements before their hand slowly comes to rest on the knob, twisting it slightly as the door quietly swings open. In front of you stands a very nervous scout, one of the new recruits, who hasn’t even been able to choose a specialty yet. His hands are trembling and he nearly drops the stack of papers he holds in his grasp, eyes bugging out of his skull as he looks at you and the sleeping figure on your legs.

“P-paperwork… F-for the C-Commander…” His voice is quiet and trembling, almost as if he is stepping directly into a monster’s lair. You realize in this moment just how intimidating Hanji is in everyone else’s perspective but your own and you can’t help but smile. You nod and gesture your head towards their desk, placing your index finger in front of your lips.

“I-it’s from… Instructor S-Shadis,” he says in the quietest of whispers, but you could already tell. Keith Shadis’ ugly handwriting was something you could identify from a mile away if you had to, “r-reports about… T-the ranking c-ceremony.”

“Thank you,” you mouth the words softly, your fingers moving on Hanji’s hair. They look so small and calm, almost like a harmless kitten, a direct contrast to the authoritative figure that can command an entire room with just a single look in their eye.

The boy nods, his trembling legs making their way towards the wooden table and carefully placing the new stack of paper next to the old ones, trying his best to make sure it is neatly organized while desperately avoiding eye contact with you. He does a quick salute towards you before eagerly exiting the room and you can nearly hear his breath of relief once he is out of sight, outside the closed doors.

You shake your head before looking down at Hanji once more to see a smile on their face. You roll your eyes, “how long have you been awake for?”

The smile on their face grows bigger, their eyes opening slowly to look at you, still a blurry image from the lack of their glasses but still enough for their heart to beat slightly faster, “since the first knock.” Of course, you think to yourself, “How long was I asleep for?”

You look at the clock, and a part of you wants to lie, say it’s only been thirty minutes or so but when you look out the window, you realize the sun has already started to set, making it impossible for such a thing to be even remotely believable. You sigh again.

“Around three hours…” You respond in a sheepish voice, avoiding their gaze. Immediately, Hanji sits up, placing their glasses above the bridge of their nose and looking at the clock on the wall. Once they look back at you, you can see the slightly irritated expression on their face and you feel like you could just shrink and disappear under such a harsh gaze.

“y/n, you promised!” They blur out and you can tell it isn’t anger or irritation… It’s an intense pile of anxiety, hidden behind the harsh facade they attempt to put up. They’re scared that something went wrong in the period they have been sleeping, like the Survey Corps might have fallen apart and they were doing something so useless such as taking a nap. A single thought is going through their mind, those words they have been chanting like a mantra since the fateful day in Shiganshina.

Erwin Would Never.

You stand up a mere second after them, watching closely as their hands grip the edges of the desk and their head hangs low, hips tilted forward in a desperate attempt to hold themselves upright. It breaks your heart to see them like this and, no matter how much you agree with Erwin that Hanji should be the next Commander, you can’t forgive him for leaving such a massive responsibility on their shoulders.

So your arms wrap around their waist, your cheek finding a perfect spot in the area between their shoulder blades. You nuzzle your face against their vest, nearly purring as you do. The smell of Hanji’s skin, mixed with a little bit of sweat as a result of their nap awakens the butterflies in your stomach and the only thing able to bring you out of your thoughts is the broken sound of their voice.

“How long were you going to let me sleep for?” They whisper, a hint of desperation behind their tone and you notice they are shaking. You tighten your grip around them.

“For as long as you needed,” you respond and, at the sound of their quiet sob, your heart shatters. “You haven’t been eating or sleeping, you are drinking in the middle of the day and, well, you are pulling away from me.”

With a long sigh, they turn around, a defeated expression on their face, “Y/n, I’m a mess. I’ve always been a mess. I’m always overthinking things, I’m mean, I’m stubborn, please. I need to catch up on my work, it’s so much paperwork and it just keeps piling up…”

“Hanji, you’re spiraling,” you whisper, fingertips almost featherlike as they brush against their arm. You hope and pray and nearly fall to your knees begging that they will listen to your voice, that they will give you time to make your case and prove that they are so much more than anything they are thinking, but they continue.

“Erwin’s one mistake was making someone like me the commander,” they whisper in the most defeated tone you have ever heard. It’s like something in your mind snaps and you immediately grab a hold of their wrist, flipping them around before pressing your body against theirs on the table.

“Now you listen to me and you listen good,” your voice is stern in a way Hanji had never heard before, it’s filled with pain, heartache, and still so much love, “Erwin wouldn’t have made you Commander if he didn’t think you would be a perfect choice. And I agree.”

Hanji wants to protest, they want to contradict you but the desperate look in your eyes convinces them to remain silent. Instead, they focus all of their attention on your words, into the amount of effort it takes you not to break into tears as you listen to their self-deprecating words, the doubt in their mind. They focus on the way your lips move and how desperately they want to kiss you.

“You are the reason why we were able to eradicate titans outside the wall, you created the thunder spears that were enough to scare off the armored titan,” you continue, the trembling in your hands is so intense you can barely contain your grip on them but you don’t let go nevertheless, “Moblit sacrificed himself for you because he believed you could guide us towards the world outside the walls. Erwin entrusted the Survey Corps to you because you are the most brilliant person any of us has ever seen. Please, just… Tell me you at least believe me.”

They don’t respond, not because they don’t want to, but because their voice won’t come out. It’s as if their brain has lost connection with their vocal chords and all they can focus on is the tears that threaten to fall from your eyes.

So in one swift move, Hanji grabs a hold of your wrist and immediately switches places with you. You can’t help but yelp quietly, especially when you feel their hands grasping at the back of your thighs as they lift you. Your hands reach behind you, carefully assessing the area while trying not to mix any of their paperwork, but Hanji doesn’t have a single care in the world that isn’t you at this moment.

Their eyes hungrily stare at your lips and, with a silent nod of their head, you push away all the papers that were once so neatly organized on their desk. Once you are sitting down and your legs wrap around their waist, Hanji wastes no time in sealing their lips with yours, a delighted hum escaping your body once they do.

You wrap your arms around their neck, allowing your fingers to venture through the messy strands of their hair. Their fingers dig into your hips, strong enough to nearly leave a few bruises but neither of you care, the need you have for each other overwhelms any and every other one of your senses.

Their tongue slowly glides on your lower lip before they gently take it in between their teeth, pulling the skin towards them. After a few seconds, they let go and immediately begin to silently beg for entrance, using the tip of their tongue to nudge your lips apart and it doesn’t take you long to indulge.

They pull you closer to themselves, your bodies pressed together without a single inch of free space as they hold you, nearly afraid that you might disappear the second they loosen their grip. It’s the first time you have kissed in what feels like forever, even if it has been just a few weeks.

You can’t help but focus on the taste of whiskey in their mouth, it’s completely different from anything ever made inside the Walls. It nearly tastes “expensive”, for the lack of a better word. It’s been hours since they have last taken a sip and the flavor is still so vivid on their tongue. So much so that it nearly burns once your saliva begins mixing.

It’s only when the need for air becomes unbearable that the two of you pull away, a small string of saliva connecting your bodies. You run your tongue over your lip, breaking that connection and still getting one last taste of them. The sight causes a shiver to run down Hanji’s spine and they smile, gently placing their forehead against yours.

“I needed that,” they whisper, a smile stamped across their face and you nod, “I’m sorry for pushing you away, I’m just… Having a lot of big feelings that I couldn’t express but I have you now.”

“It’s okay, just don’t forget that I am here for and with you, okay?” You whisper back in a love-filled voice and they smile once more, nodding their head as their grip around you tightens ever so slightly, “You still taste like home.”

“Yeah? And what does that taste like?” They chuckle, nuzzling their nose against yours, enough that you can feel their glasses against your face.

“Like expensive whiskey,” you respond and Hanji laughs, the sound you’ve missed most these past few weeks and you are reminded yet again that home is whatever, wherever and whenever you are with them. No matter what.

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ckret2 · 3 months ago

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due to stuff involving a goat, the only thing that can save the pines family is sticking bill cipher in a cute dress, doing weird 70's things to his hair, slapping makeup on him, and sending him to flirt with a government agent

and if that ain't a setup for a chapter i don't know what is

anyway here's chapter 86 of this thing.

####

"Something about this is just wrong," Stan said. "It isn't natural."

"Oh, I don't know," Ford said, grinning. "I think it's funny."

Without looking over, trying not to move his lips, Bill said, "I'd like to see you do better."

It was still a few minutes until the Mystery Shack opened for the day, and he and Mabel were sitting in the kitchen, with Bill miserably wearing a mis-buttoned Hawaiian shirt so he wouldn't mess up his makeup when he changed into his flirting uniform. The makeup supplies Pacifica had sent them home with yesterday were spread out on the kitchen table, and they were collaboratively trying to remember how to recreate the look Pacifica had given Bill yesterday. Thus far, they'd managed moisturizer and foundation and were debating the finer points of concealer color theory.

"I didn't say it's bad," said Ford, whose opinions on makeup only fell into three categories: obviously hideous; fine, I guess; and potentially magical sigils for ritual purposes. "It's just bizarre watching you care about it."

Bill mumbled, "I'm blending in with the Nacirema." Ford barked a laugh. (About time somebody got it.)

Stan elbowed Ford. "What's a Nacirema?"

"It's— There's this phenomenon in anthropology— I'll explain it later."

Stan grumbled to himself about the nerds enabling each other, then said, "Hey. When you do the lipstick, don't make it look too good. If it looks too good, he'll assume you're out of his league and get suspicious when you start hitting on him. I never trust attention from a lady whose lipstick isn't at least a little cakey."

Offended, Mabel said, "Grunkle Stan, I'm an artiste! I can't do a bad job on purpose!"

Bill said, "It doesn't matter! Once I get my seduction hat on, he won't even glance at my face." He poked the top hat sitting on the kitchen table.

"Oh, no you don't," Stan said. "Hat's gotta go, it's too tall. Guys hate it when their dates are taller than them."

"What?!" Bill stared at Stan, aghast. "You've gotta be insane! The hat's essential—"

"Hold still!" Mabel poked his neck with the butt of a makeup brush.

He reluctantly gave up and turned to face her again, but not without muttering to himself, "Can't wear a seduction hat, can't stick my hand in a goat's stomach acid, god forbid women do anything."

Last night's hunt for Gompers had been an abysmal failure—Dipper and Mabel had never even glimpsed him. This morning, beneath the banter, there was a somber air in the room; the household was trying not to think about the fact that their collective safety was resting on Bill's ability to seem appealing to a normal man in spite of the fact that they were having a conversation, and he wasn't even able to convincingly pretend he had a plan.

Dipper was trying to get breakfast around Bill and Mabel. Once Mabel had puffed on a layer of setting powder, Bill twisted around to give Dipper an unnecessarily wide smile. "Hey! How do I look?"

He glanced up from pouring a bowl of cereal and grimaced. "Somehow even less like a real human than usual."

Bill laughed. "Yep, it's the lack of pores." He turned away to check his mirror as he applied his mascara.

Mabel said, "He'll look better once we get the lipstick on."

Soos ducked in from the living room. "Hey, uh, guys?" It was clear he'd been as distracted that morning as the rest of them; he'd misbuttoned his suit jacket. "I just saw the government dudes' car again. Like, in the parking lot this time, not lurking down the street."

The energy in the air changed, like a subtle electric current shooting through the room. "Okay, enough gawking at the freak show," Stan said. "Ford?"

"Right!" He grabbed up his coffee mug, re-thought it, and poured the mug back in the coffee pot and picked up the pot instead, then bolted from the kitchen. He returned a moment later with his arms loaded with his journal, several books, and a couple of guns that would definitely be illegal on Earth if Earth had ever heard they existed. "Basement."

Bill turned toward the doorway so fast Mabel almost smeared lipstick across his cheek. Basement? He hoped Ford meant his study. If they went all the way to the basement, and noticed that somebody had been moving around the rubble of the portal...

"Bill!" Mabel said.

"I know, I know." He turned back to her again.

A final line, and Mabel sighed in relief. "Okay, you're good."

Stan rummaged through the fridge for the first thing he could find to sustain himself and Ford for the day. "Hey, demon. Remember everything I taught you."

"Yeah, yeah," Bill sighed. "Don't claim I have a job he can fact-check, don't pretend I make more money than him unless I want him to invite me to a fancy restaurant and pretend he forgot his wallet, if he asks my age I'm fifteen years younger than him, my human family lives across the country, I don't have any sisters that might be prettier, and there's nothing I wanna hear about more than World War 2 battle tactics or vintage car repair or whatever hobby he's picked up to make himself feel more masculine."

"And?" Mabel prompted.

"And my favorite animal is cats, my favorite color is pink, my favorite flavor is chocolate, my favorite film genre is not slapstick snuff, my favorite time to get married is next week, and my favorite body part on a partner is their eyes still inside their sockets, but if I specify the socket part it'll worry him."

"Right! Gold star!" She smacked a sticker onto his shirt.

Stan clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Knock 'im dead," he said. "Not literally. Unless you're sure the other two won't catch you."

"I'll see what I can do," Bill said.

####

The three agents eyed the sign that had been set up outside the Mystery Shack's main door. It said, "Self-guided tour today! $15" and there was a cardboard box taped beneath with a slit cut in the lid.

Agent Dale said, "Do you think that's for us?"

"Probably not," Trigger said uncertainly. "We have a warrant."

"Huh." Dale reread the sign, then tentatively rummaged through his pocket for his wallet and pulled out three fives. Trigger pushed his hand back down.

Soos ran around the side of the shack, breathing heavily. "Oh, wow! What a... totally random coincidence... running into you guys again..." He put his hands on his knees, huffing. "Gimme a sec. I was... running pretty fast... for no reason."

"Mr. Ramirez," Powers said. He held out a search warrant. "We're here to search this building for missing government property."

"Oh, dude, that's crazy," Soos said. "Do you like, have evidence that this property is in the building? Like, I don't know, any kind of... signal that it's giving off, maybe? That confirms it's here?"

Powers turned to Dale. He pulled his tablet out to check. "Uhhh... negative, sir. We're nnnot detecting the signal we picked up yesterday."

Powers frowned. "Hmm."

Trigger said, "Maybe the signal's... on the fritz?"

"Good point," Powers said. "We'd better search anyway. Dale, you start in the museum; Trigger, come with me to the back. I'll interview Mr. Ramirez." He gave Soos a sharp look. "And I hope you'll have more to say today than that you don't know anything."

Soos swallowed hard.

####

From the living room couch, Soos called to Trigger, "Be careful with the stuff in here, okay? This old shack's full of priceless antiques and authentic exotic curios. I glued half of them together myself!"

"So." Powers took a seat in one of the armchairs, opened an unlabeled manila folder and propped it on his knee, and clicked out a retractable pen. "Jesús Ramirez, correct? You prefer 'Soos'?"

"Yep, that's right," Soos said. "When I started school, my cousin Reggie, he'd yell at me across the cafeteria to sit with him, like, 'Jesús!' But some of the kids in my grade thought he was saying, 'hey, Soos!' And it stuck."

Powers nodded slowly. "I... see. And, you're the head of the household."

"Yup! That's me!"

"Property records say that the house is owned by 'Stanford Pines'?"

"Uhhh, yeah," Soos said. "He kinda, stepped down as head of the house, unofficially, and I'm running the house now. Also the business."

"And where is Stanford Pines right now?"

"Oh, he's out." (They had agreed that under no circumstances could the agents talk to Stan, lest something from last summer come up; and they definitely couldn't talk to the real Stanford Pines, whom they already knew as a mysterious superior officer from Washington.)

"When will he be back?"

Soos hesitated. "Ooout of the country. World traveling. Yeah, haha, he's been doing that for the past year with his brother."

Powers flipped a couple pages forward in his file. "His brother Sherman? Who lives in New Jersey?"

"No no, his other brother."

His other brother who died thirty years ago?"

Soos paused. "Uhhh..."

Dale ducked into the living room. "Sirs—I've found something interesting. You have to come see this."

Powers got to his feet, closing his folder and tucking it under his arm. "Excuse me." He followed his agents.

Soos heaved a sigh of relief.

"Wow, Questiony,—you were this close to collapsing like a house of cards."

Bill sauntered down the stairs. He was in a dress covered in yellowy-orangey triangles that managed, for the first time all summer, to reveal that he did in fact have curves, and he'd grabbed a set of green triangular clip-on earrings from Mabel's jewelry. A gold star sticker had been stuck on one of the earrings. Soos thought it was kinda weird to look at him all dressed up, with hair and everything. Bill looked like if Bill had a sister.

"Man," Soos said, slumping back into the couch. "I don't know if I can take another round of that. They're using some kind of government interrogation mind tricks."

"Relax," Bill said. "I'll take it from here."

He shut one eye and shot Soos a pair of finger guns as he backed into the gift shop, and twirled around to go pursue his prey.

####

Dale jogged through the gift shop, nodding to a couple of tourists as he passed—"Morning, ladies"—and ducked through the "employees only" door. A moment later, all three agents jogged into the museum. An older woman asked, "Why are so many handsome men in suits running around?"

As Bill let himself into the gift shop, he said, "Secret government agents! They're here investigating a conspiracy."

"Oh my," the woman gushed. "Isn't that exciting!"

"They'll only be here today! See if you can get their autographs!" Bill leaned on the front counter. "Hey, nice to see you back. You were missed yesterday."

Melody gave him an irritated look from behind the register.

"Surprised you came in, after how you felt yesterday!" In part because Soos was attempting to get as many people away from the shack and out of the danger zone as possible. He'd told Wendy she could take the day off, he'd persuaded Abuelita to go visit Reggie and his wife, and he'd tried to talk the kids into hanging out somewhere else for the day and only relented when they argued that their plucky 13-year-old adventuring expertise could be useful if things took a turn for the worse. Surely, he'd asked his fiancée to stay home too; strange that she hadn't. "Word is you're having trouble sleeping. Bad dreams? If it is, I could help you out. I happen to be an expert on—"

"I don't want your help." Her voice was a lot more venomous than Bill had expected.

He blinked in surprise. He knew she wasn't his biggest fan, but that seemed unnecessarily hostile. "Whoa, just offering! Don't bite my head off. Those don't grow back."

Melody sighed. "Sorry," she said insincerely, looking away from him. "I just... This whole plan bothers me. Flirting with some poor guy just to distract him."

Don't lie to a liar, girl. Something else was bothering her. Still, Bill only said, "Do you have a better plan?"

"Yeah? Just don't do anything suspicious and make sure Gompers stays away from the shack until the agents get bored and leave."

Bill scoffed. "And if they don't get bored?"

"Why wouldn't they?"

"Why would they? This town's got gnomes, fairies, and a crashed spaceship."

"Well—yeah, but, that's not a reason to focus on the shack."

"Never underestimate what the government will chuck tax dollars at without a good reason!"

Melody huffed, "Okay, fine. I still don't like it."

Yeah, Bill bet she didn't. Especially with the Bureau of Covert Investigations here looking for someone dangerous.

Okay—he'd given the eagles enough of a head start for it to look natural when he casually bumped into them. He straightened up, stretched, and sauntered toward the museum's curtain. "I won't ask you to wish me luck—" he lifted one wrist toward Melody and shook the bracelet covered in evil eye beads that Mabel had given him, "—just don't wish me ill." And then he followed the agents into the museum.

####

"Here it is," Dale said, stopping. "What do you make of this?"

He was standing in front of the museum's taxidermy Sascrotch display.

Trigger covered his mouth, trying to hold back a snort of laughter.

Dale grinned. "It's pretty great, right?"

Powers looked the Sascrotch up and down. "I don't get it."

"Heeey, secret agent man!" Bill swept into the museum and leaned against the wall, head propped against his hand, other hand on his cocked hip. "Imagine meeting you three days in a row, what a coincidence! I'm starting to feel like you're following me around."

Powers looked at Bill—and then started a little. (Not used to seeing him with his eyes emphasized properly, no doubt.) His cheeks immediately turned pink. Flustered, he stammered awkwardly for a moment before getting out, "I—I—Pardon me, I can assure you, you're not under investigation—" Dale and Trigger exchanged a glance and tried not to grin.

"Hey, whoa! I didn't mean it in a bad way." He flashed Powers his best smile. (He'd practiced in the mirror. Mabel had given him tips on not making it too wide.) "Say, since I was lucky enough to see you again, I've got a question for you, secret agent man."

"Yes?"

Bill batted his long, gorgeous lashes at Powers. "Do you believe in love at first sight, or am I gonna have to arrange a fourth meeting?"

"Uhh." Powers's already stellar posture somehow found a way to straighten a little bit more. "The first three times were more than sufficient, ma'am."

"Haha, you charmer!" All right, maybe Mabel had had a point about not opening up with a line about eyeballs. Still, this would be a cinch. Bill had been manipulating humans for millennia, and flirting was no different. Slipping into this role felt natural. He was in his element. He was good at this. He'd have this guy eating out of his hand in an hour.

Dale and Trigger looked at each other again, and Dale said, "Sir, maybe Trigger and I should search the house. You can take the museum."

"Maybe you could interview the locals," Trigger threw in, before they beat a hasty retreat.

"Ho—hold on!" Powers said; but his agents had already abandoned him. What terrific wingmen. Not the best agents, maybe.

"Sooo," Bill said, "if you aren't here to see me, what brings you by this old dump of a tourist trap again? It can't be the displays." He tugged out the waistband of Sascrotch's briefs with a finger and let go, letting it snap back against its waist; a small cloud of dust puffed out of the fur. "Still looking for some dangerous character?"

"No, not at the moment. Nothing you need to worry about," Powers said. "We're here looking for some... sensitive objects?"

"Oh? What kind of sensitive objects?" Bill asked. "I've been to this little tourist trap a few times, maybe I can help find 'em?"

"I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to say."

"What, you don't think you can trust me?" Bill batted his lashes. That had been working pretty well for him so far. (The mascara had to be helping. Man, was he glad to have mascara again.)

Powers avoided making eye contact. "I"m sure you're very trustworthy. But—it would be an embarrassment to the bureau, you understand."

"Sure! Sure." Billl's smile wilted slightly. "Well—I'm sure you wouldn't mind if I just watch, would you? I've never seen a real federal investigation in action—seems exciting."

Powers hesitated, his professionalism warring with his very obvious crush. "I... suppose I wouldn't mind." Sure, like he wasn't utterly flattered.

As Powers's inspection took him around the museum and back into the gift shop, he said, "You said your name was Goldie? I don't think I ever got your last name."

Oh he'd better not be planning on a background check. "It's Locke—and yes, I've already heard every comment about it you can imagine."

Powers gave him a quizzical look. "I believe you told us to inform Mr. Gleeful that a 'Mr. Locke' had recommended we purchase a car from him?"

He had said that, hadn't he. If he'd known two days ago he'd have to femme up for this guy... "Sure! I happen to be related to a lot of Mr. Lockes!" Before Powers could pry into this family Bill had just invented, he hurried on: "Say, I never got your name, did I!" Did he? Since he already knew it, he couldn't remember if he'd bothered to ask.

"Of course—I'm Agent Powers."

"Is 'Agent' your first name, handsome?"

Powers flushed a little more, and he mumbled, "Manny."

"Manny Powers?" Bill casually slid between Powers and the vending machine to keep him from looking too close at it. "Like, 'manpower'?"

"Precisely," Powers said. "Obviously, that's... not my real name, just my assigned codename for field assignments."

Bill laughed, "Hey, not bad! 'Manpower,' that's pretty funny."

"Is it?" Powers asked. "Hm. It isn't supposed to be. I'll have to speak with HQ about that."

Bill pressed his lips together. Tell him he's funny, Bill! Guys love it when you tell them how funny they are! Last time hetook advice from a human on anything. He shot an exasperated look toward Melody, who winced in what he hoped was sympathy.

Trigger ducked into the gift shop. "Sir? I think we've found something. Really, this time."

Powers's attention snapped to him. "Show me."

Bill maintained his position until the agents were gone; and then he let out a long, frustrated sigh. He glanced at Melody. "How are we doing?"

She grimaced. "I'd give it... three out of five stars?"

"You're generous, I appreciate that." He nearly rubbed his eyelids in irritation, and only the sight of his red fingernails reminded him of his makeup in time to stop.

In his heart of hearts, Bill felt like he should have already won by now—but then, he'd always hated waiting for things. Usually he could force patience on himself by finding a peephole that would let him see further into the future so he could tell exactly when his latest plan would succeed. In this body, he couldn't see any farther than a few minutes, and he didn't have any eyes he could look through but his own. Like this, he didn't even know whether he'd succeed.

Except of course he would. Of course. He always did. He didn't need to check. He had until the agents left to make some real progress, and that was plenty of time. He'd figure this out.

He almost backed into the living room, remembered at the last second that he didn't want Melody to know about his door ignoring trick, and said flatly, "Door." Melody reluctantly left her station to help open it.

In the living room, Dale was standing on top of the table, which he'd dragged over in front of the TV, and attempting to pry a board out of the ceiling with a crowbar. He asked Soos, "You're sure you don't have a stepladder somewhere?"

"Uh-uh," Soos said. He was hovering in the doorway, wringing his hands together. "It's against the house rules."

"We picked up a faint radio signal," Trigger explained to Powers. "Like from a walkie-talkie with a dying battery, or..."

"Ah-ha!" Dale pulled a gray blocky object out of a space over the ceiling. It appeared to be a radio: it had an antenna, a speaker, a couple of glowing lights flickering on the brink of going out... and a large Bureau of Covert Investigations seal stamped on the front. The eagle peering through the magnifying glass seemed as surprised to see them as they were to see it. "Is... is this one of our transmitters?"

Powers blinked at it in amazement. "What in the Sam Hill is one of our transmitters doing in this building!" He directed the question toward Soos.

Soos flinched. "How should I know, I didn't know this place was bugged! I would've unbugged it if I knew." He paused. "Unless that's a federal crime or something. In which case forget I said that."

"We're the guys that oughta know about it," Dale said, shrugging cluelessly. "Since it's one of ours. Weird."

Powers held his hand out for the transmitter, examined it, and turned it over. On the back a strip of black label-maker tape read, "GOVERNMENT PROPERTY! IF LOST, PLEASE RETURN TO AGENT TRIGGER."

Powers and Dale turned to Trigger.

He looked between them, baffled. "Wh— Well, I didn't put it there! I would've remembered putting it there." He frowned. "I mean... I should remember putting it there."

Powers's lips were pressed so flat together they were almost invisible beneath his mustache. "Well. Obviously, we ought to take it back."

Tentatively, Dale asked, "And... place a new one with a fresh battery, sir?"

Powers's brows drew together in anger. Between gritted teeth, he said, "Not with the civilians listening to you say so..."

Soos was still standing in the doorway, and Dipper and Mabel were peering around him from the staircase. Melody had peeked in nervously from the gift shop. At the callout, the kids and Melody had the grace to withdraw again. But Powers wasn't looking at them. He was glancing sideways toward Bill, standing right by his side—and Bill's wide-eyed gaze never wavered from Powers's face.

This wasn't good—they did not need the agents trying to figure out why they might have left a bug in the shack. Damage control time. "Hey," Bill said. "if you forgot about it completely, must not have picked up anything interesting, right? Otherwise you'da remembered it!"

All three agents' faces immediately darkened and they exchanged meaningful looks. Bill didn't like it when people exchanged meaningful looks he didn't know the meaning of. "Apparently so," Powers muttered.

"I'll just... take this to the car," Trigger said.

Soos backed out of the way to give him room to leave, then trailed after him: "So, are there any other bugs in here we should probably know about...?"

Bill waited until Trigger was already out of the house before he said to Dale, "Hey, does he have the car keys?"

"Oh!" Dale patted his pockets, then hurried out. "Trigger, wait!"

Once his agents were gone, Powers grumbled to himself, "'Place a new one.' What happened to professionalism." He rubbed his forehead. "Find one bug that you mysteriously don't know about, and everyone forgets how to act like government agents..."

He trailed off, giving Bill an uneasy sideways glance. Bill was still staring full force at him. He cleared his throat. "You... have an incredibly penetrating gaze, ma'am."

"Thanks! Keep talking like that and maybe it'll penetrate you," Bill really wanted to say, but didn't; "flirtatious euphemisms that could be about stabbing" and "comments that put the fear of the cruel ever-watching All-Seeing Eye of God in you" were both on Bill's list of banned topics. Instead, he tried, "Thanks! You're incredibly easy to look at!"

"O-oh." Powers adjusted his tie self-consciously. Getting a little hot under the collar, huh. "Am I?"

"You bet! In fact, I was just thinking you really look like dad material."

"That's... kind of you to say," Powers said. "However, I've never liked children."

"Oh." Bill shut his eyes until the urge to turn somebody's bones into thumbtacks subsided. "Sure, that's fine. I can take 'em or leave 'em."

"Sir?" Trigger called from the doorway. "What's our next move?"

"Excuse me." Powers left Bill, heading out to join his agents on the porch.

Bill drifted out to the entryway. Mabel and Dipper were huddled on the stairs. Bill shot Mabel a pained look and hissed, "How could you have steered me so wrong?"

"Sorryyy," she whispered back. "I thought the dad one was a winner!"

"I trusted you, star girl." He slid outside behind Powers just before the door swung shut.

And just before Soos came back in, looking stricken. Dipper asked, "What happened?"

"The agent with the movie star face asked what days the museum's closed," Soos said. "I think they're thinking about searching it more? And, he told me not to leave town? I can't take this, dude." A wild look had entered his eyes. "I'm not cut out for prison. I'm too gentle-hearted!"

"Shhh." Melody took his arm and gently led him away from the door, rubbing his back. "It's gonna be all right, Soos. It sounds like the agents are distracted. Why don't we close the museum early for lunch and try looking for Gompers again, okay? Maybe he's ready to come home. And we can get some fresh air, yeah?"

"Yeah." Soos took a deep breath. "Okay. You're right." He turned toward Dipper and Mabel. "Can you dudes handle the gift shop while we're out?"

"Sure thing, Soos, no problem," Dipper said. "You go ahead."

The twins waited until they heard the sound of the gift shop exit door closing, then Dipper said, "Not it."

"Me neither," Mabel said.

"The gift shop customers can take care of themselves for a few minutes." Dipper opened the back door a crack, and they both crowded against it. Bill—leaning on the wall next to the door with his arms crossed—glanced at the kids through the crack, raised a couple fingers in acknowledgement, and then all three listened to the agents on the porch:

"Well, obviously the flash drive signal wasn't a fluke. They must have hidden it since yesterday."

"We can't leave until we find it and figure out what's happening here." (Bill made a mental note to lord that over Melody later.) "What are our next steps?"

"Should we request more sensitive equipment to scan for electronics? There might be other transmitters in the building with completely dead batteries we're not picking up." (That seemed like a fast way to discover the door hidden behind the vending machine.)

"Maybe we ought to run some more background checks on the rest of the people here. How many of them have we checked out?"

A jolt of fear shot up Bill's spine. And that seemed like a fast way to discover that "Goldie Locke" didn't legally exist. "All right," he muttered through the crack. "I tried this the human way. Now I'm doing it my way."

"Wait," Dipper hissed, "Bill, no! What are you planning?!"

Bill ignored him as he sidled up to Powers. "Not heading out already, are you?"

Powers said, "As soon as Trigger finishes updating HQ." Trigger had walked off the porch and was now making a phone call. Dale surreptitiously scooted to the other end of the porch to give Powers and Bill room to talk.

"Aww, too bad. I was enjoying watching a real investigation at work!"

"Hm. I'm afraid you didn't see us at our most competent," Powers muttered.

"Hey, everyone has an off day or two." Bill leaned closer, just near enough for his bare arm to brush Powers's suit sleeve, and murmured, "And, anyway—not to bad-mouth these rookies, but even on a bad day it's already pretty clear you're the smartest guy in the room. I can only imagine how fascinating it'd be to watch you at work when you're bringing your A game."

Powers cleared his throat, obviously trying not to look flustered. "Well. Yes. We'll no doubt be around a few more days. Perhaps we'll... cross paths again...?"

Not good. Too passive. By now, this sucker was supposed to be falling all over himself to ask out the mysterious blonde. Bill could probably ask him out and it'd go fine—but he wasn't sure how attached this guy was to traditional gender roles, there was a chance it could turn him off.

(That was the excuse he told himself. In truth, part of him was getting mad. He wanted to be the one who was asked out. He should be asked out. He was more than good enough to be asked out, and this over-evolved eukaryote had no right to deny him that.)

He pressed, "Still, I hate to see you go. Three times I've run into you, and I hardly know any more about you than I did on the beach! I get that being mysterious comes with the whole secret agent territory—but I've been going crazy, wondering all night about this handsome stranger in town." He put just the slightest emphasis on all night—and threw in a wink for good measure.

"H... have you?" Powers turned to face Bill fully. "Well... some of my personal information is classified, given the nature of my work, but—what do you want to know?"

"For starters, I think I'm overdue to ask you whether you're single!"

"I—Yes, I am."

"Whaddaya know—something we have in common!" Bill pretended he had to think a moment before saying, "Hmm... Hey, here's another fun little get-to-know-you question: what conspiracy would you most hate to be true?"

(Through the ajar crack in the door, he could hear Mabel loudly whisper, "Bill nooo...")

"That's a fascinating question. I've often wondered it myself." Powers stared off into the distance, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "I suppose... I think I'd most hate to find out the government has tried to brainwash its own citizens. Not just propaganda, mind—that's fine—I mean actual brainwashing."

No way. Bill had to pin his lips between his teeth to keep from bursting out laughing. Somebody had forgotten to tell this guy about MKUltra. Wow. Wow. He worked for the Bureau of Covert Investigations. How did he miss MKUltra. Bill had to grope behind himself for the porch sofa and sit before he lost his balance from fighting not to laugh. When he was sure he could manage a few words without a giggle escaping, he squeaked, "Yeah, that—sounds... pretty bad."

"What about yours?" Powers turned toward Bill.

He had to quickly prop his elbow on the armrest and prop his chin in his hand to hide his mouth, pretending to think. He hoped his amusement wasn't showing elsewhere on his face—human faces had too many muscles to keep track of. "Mm! Hmm." While he was trying to get his laughter under control, Bill tried to pick out one of the countless conspiracies in his repertoire that was obscure enough to be impressive but not obscure enough to be suspicious. (Or "obscure" enough Powers didn't know about it—hello, MKUltra.) "Wow, there's—there's a lot that'd be terrible. But hey, as long as we're talking politics—" (Mabel hissed "Bill NO!") "—I've heard a rumor in the area that there's a secret crazy president that was kicked out and covered up in the history books, ever heard about that one?" That oughta grab his attention.

But to Bill's surprise, Powers frowned thoughtfully and slowly shook his head. "No, it's unfamiliar. It must be a local theory," he said. "If the government were to cover up an entire presidency, I'm sure they would have a pressing reason for it—but I do see how the concept would be alarming."

Bill stared at him. Did this guy not know anything the government was up to?! He should have been going out of his mind trying to figure out how Bill knew about Trembley. Powers wasn't the kind of agent who could tell decent lies. If he did know something, he wouldn't play dumb like that; he'd just tell Bill it was "classified." Did he really not know? But the eagles' search for Trembley's remains should have nothing to do with the memories Ford wiped from the agents' minds.

The Bureau of Covert Investigations was so covert, agents usually weren't even told about other bureau investigations they weren't personally part of. So...

Was the bureau running two investigations in Gravity Falls?

Had Powers not been looped into the Trembley case?

"Uh..." Bill scrambled to think of another conspiracy that might catch Powers's interest. (He and Trigger had mentioned Hangar 618; no wonder they had time to work on cases across the country if they were only handling half the active investigations in Gravity Falls—no, focus, focus.) "How about Big Fashion, have you heard of that one? The theory that the fashion industry's teaming up to take down ways for people to get clothes other than buying new. Thrift shops, fabric stores, sewing pattern companies..."

Powers nodded. "I'm familiar with the theory." (Oh good—Bill would've been embarrassed for him if he hadn't known that one.) "I'm afraid I haven't paid close attention to the evidence for it. I already buy all my clothes new—I don't like the thought of another man's skin cells lingering on the inside of my shirts, it feels unsanitary."

It was no wonder this guy had been assigned to Gravity Falls. Bill doubted he was weird enough to really fit in here—but he was just odd enough to feel the town's pull. "For starters, there's the assassination of the president of Valhalla Sewing Machines a few years ago. Sewing machines are one of Big Fashion's top targets."

"Something definitely happened there," Powers agreed, "but all evidence points to the hit being ordered by Crooner Company over their rival line of sewing machines. They did acquire Valhalla just a few months later."

"And Crooner's been battling the bad PR ever since," Bill said dismissively. "Neither company came out of that mess looking good. It was an obvious false flag operation!"

Powers frowned, and for a moment Bill worried that he'd said too much—that Powers either thought Bill sounded like a crackpot, or thought Bill knew too much for some small town civilian... but he said, approvingly, "You know your stuff."

Jackpot. Time to go in for the kill. "I try to! I'm interested in how the gears of the universe turn. Reality, society, politics, business—what greases those wheels? Who winds the clock? There's a lot going on underneath the surface. And I like to keep my eye on all of it." He lowered his voice. "Actually, I'm glad to see you in town. I've also felt like something's going on under the surface of this town, but..." He left the sentence dangling.

Slowly, Power said, "Something... paranormal, perhaps?"

"Ha! Between the Mystery Shack here and that 'child psychic' in town, that's the reputation Gravity Falls has now," Bill said. "I'm not the kind of gullible dope to get spooked by ghost stories without proof. But—whatever's going on here... it does feel spooky."

Powers nodded slowly. "Whenever I'm in this town, I have the exact same thoughts."

Bill fought to keep the triumph off his face.

####

Dipper whispered, "I can't believe this is working."

He and Mabel were crammed against the door, one on top of each other, listening to Bill say, "This has been a fascinating conversation. I'd love to hear more about your work... wink."

Dipper said, "I can't believe this is working even though he says 'wink' out loud."

Mabels shushed him. "Bill's doing great!"

Powers said, "Unfortunately, I do have to go submit my own report to headquarters. But, I'm free this evening. If you'd like to see a movie, or...?"

Mabel gasped. "Idea!" She tapped on the door's window to catch Bill's attention, and, when he glanced her way, she pointed out toward the clearing beyond the porch.

Bill looked at the clearing and twitched in surprise. Through the crack in the door, Dipper tried to see what Bill was looking at. He couldn't see anything in the clearing.

Bill turned to Powers. "Howsabout dinner? There's a diner in town called Greasy's. I've heard good things about it! For starters, that the food is better than the name."

Dipper hissed between his teeth. "Wait, hold on—he's not allowed to go out, is he?" But Mabel didn't answer; she was sprinting full speed up the stairs.

From the far end of the porch, Dale said, "Oh, Greasy's is terrific, I went there yesterday for lunch. Makes a damn fine cup of coffee. And try the cherry pie."

"Very well," Power said. "When should I...?"

"I'll meet you at the diner. Let's say seven."

When the agents had left, Dipper yanked open the door. "What was that?! Nobody said you could actually leave to go on a date!"

Bill shrugged. "It wasn't my idea, it was your sister's."

"What?" Dipper frowned. "When did she say that?"

"She didn't. She's going to."

Mabel pounded down the stairs, counting the steps under her breath—"twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty eight"—carrying a neon yellow posterboard folded loosely in half. She ran out the door to the clearing behind the shack, held up the posterboard—she'd written "♡ INVITE HIM TO GREASY'S ��" in thick black marker—and announced, "Ta-da!"

"You're too late," Dipper said. "Bill already asked Powers and he already left."

Bill said, "I asked him because I saw her telling me to."

Dipper looked between Bill and the poster. "Ohhh. Hang on. This is a future sight thing?"

"Bingo."

"How long should I hold it up?" Mabel called.

"Just give it another ten seconds," Bill said. "That thing's fluorescent, I could probably see it from an hour away."

She bounced on the balls of her feet for a few more seconds, then said, "Okay!" and jogged back to the porch, beaming from ear to ear. "That was so cool."

"Hey, smart girl!" Bill caught Mabel's sleeve before she could run past him. "You know, I've been talking to humans for thousands of years, and you're the first who's ever sent a message backwards in time to me?"

"Really?" Her face lit up. "Shut up! There's no way I'm the first-first!"

"Hand on heart, Shooting Star, no other human's ever tried it," Bill said. "You can't even see the fourth dimension, but you still understand it well enough to send messages through it. I'm genuinely impressed!"

Mabel's delight reached a boiling over point. She cackled in glee, gave Bill a quick hug, and bounded into the living room, crowing, "I'M THE GREATEST!"

Bill watched Mabel zoom into the gift shop, grinning proudly; and then his eyes slid sideways to meet Dipper's. "What's that look for."

Dipper was leveling his best suspicious glare at Bill. "Oh, nothing," he said. "Just thinking about how, the last time I heard you say you were impressed, you were just manipulating me into letting you puppet my body."

"Hmm! Yeah! I did do that!" Bill said. "Did I say I was genuinely impressed?"

Dipper's scowl deepened.

Bill's smirk widened. "C'mon, kid, don't be jealous just because you're not the alpha twin. It'd make your sister feel terrible."

####

"You actually got a date?" Ford asked.

"Sure! As if it's hard!"

Stan smugly held out a hand, palm up. Ford shot him an exasperated look, but sighed, fished around in his pocket, pulled out five large one-dollar coins, and dropped them in Stan's hand.

Bill stared at Ford, brows raised. "I don't know what's more insulting: that you bet against me, or that you've stopped using paper currency." Ford didn't deign to respond.

When they had been absolutely sure the agents were gone—for now—Soos had gone downstairs to let the Stans know the coast was clear; and now the adults were gathered in the living room again to discuss their next moves. Or, rather, Bill's.

Stan said, "So there's still been no sign of Gompers?"

"Nope," Soos said. "He's really run off. Plus, me and Melo—" (at Ford's look, he corrected himself) "—Melody and I drove around earlier looking for him? You know, in case he came out of the woods somewhere? But one of the government guys started following me in a black car? Sooo we had to stop looking, and I guess we're still being watched."

"Which'll make it harder to sneak me out for my date without them noticing I live here," Bill said. Maybe they could sneak him out with the crystal flashlight trick he and Mabel had pulled before, but he'd rather not tell the other Pines how they'd pulled that off in case they ever had to do it again. "We might be able to split 'em up while we outnumber them, but if this goes on for long, they'll bring in reinforcements."

"Ford and I can't help distract them," Stan pointed out. "We've gotta stay inside. And Soos is the only one that can drive Bill to this date. With the kids' help, we've only just got enough people to split the agents up."

Ford muttered, "Meaning there's no one to keep a watch over Bill." He crossed his arms. "Letting Bill flirt with a government agent under our roof is one thing—but I don't like a plan that involves letting Bill out in public and trusting him not to throw us under the bus." (Bill had considered it, but decided it would just cause the government to seize his portal and Mabel to never speak to him again.)

"He wouldn't do that," Soos said hotly—to Bill's surprise. "He already had a chance to run away and he didn't! And if he wanted us to get in trouble, he could have just not helped at all!"

"I..." Ford looked for a moment like he wanted to protest—Bill expected him to protest—but then he grimaced, shut his mouth, and said nothing. There was an even bigger surprise. Bill wasn't actually making progress with Ford, was he? Bill stared at the side of his face, willing him to explain himself; but Ford avoided his gaze.

Stan said, "Listen, I don't like letting him out either, but I don't think we have a choice."

"All right, all right," Ford sighed. "Fine. I don't like it—but unless Gompers shows up in the next few hours, you're still our best hope of getting out of this mess." (Bill decided to pretend that was praise and spent a second basking in it.) "Which means you have to find out everything the agents currently know and suspect, keep them away from anything that could restore their memories, convince them to turn their attention away from our household without the flash drive, andmake sure no one gets arrested. And you've got one date to do it all in."

It was a tall order—but the way Ford said it like a challenge, like he thought maybe Bill couldn't do it, made Bill's blood boil. "Piece of cake! Don't forget it's taken me less time than that to convince you to do a lllot more than that." At Ford's scowl, Bill grinned viciously. "One date's all I need. By the end of the night, I'll have this whole thing figured out." If he said it like he believed it, it was basically true.

####

(The only bits of this that were changed in the wake of TBOB were adding in the discussion about the Seduction Hat; and adding a short section establishing that Powers's team is not involved with the Trembley investigation and briefly mentioning Hangar 618. In the original draft of this chapter, I'd said that a different government department was handling the Trembley case, until TBOB established otherwise. Establishing that Powers's team wasn't on the Trembley case is something that'll be important in future chapters.

From here on out the plot arc speeds up and turns increasingly into some kinda fusion between a spy drama and a reverse heist movie. Looking forward to hearing your thoughts so far and your thoughts on where it's gonna go!)

#bill cipher #human bill cipher #agent powers #gravity falls #gravity falls fic #gravity falls fanart #fanart #my art #my writing #bill goldilocks cipher #(this entire plot arc is Bill looking less and less like Bill with each chapter art lmfao)#(he's gonna be so thrilled to crawl back into his triangle hoodie.)

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minhosimthings · 8 months ago

Text

Silk and Pearls || SJY

Synopsis: He was the artist, and you were his muse. But what happens when his muse doesn't see herself like the way he sees her?

Pairings: fashiondesigner!Jake * Model!fem!reader

Warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI, fingering, mirror sex, anal sex, unprotected p in v (not for you), bondage, use of handcuffs, edging, degradation, praise, sorta angsty in the beginning, insecure reader, overall good ol bf Jake, lots of kissing cause these two are FREAKS

A/N: hello my babies 😚 So here is the promised fashion designer Jake fic this was kinda fun to write because I was extremely horny lol. Anywho ENJOY

"Did I really make a dress that pretty or is it just you, my love?"

You felt your cheeks warm up drastically at the sound of your boyfriend's voice, along with his face appearing behind you. You saw his eyes light up as you stared at him in the mirror in front of you, his wandering pupils admiring how snug you looked in the dress you were wearing. With its brilliant outlay of white chiffon along with its minute details of chartreuse pearls highlighting everything Jake wanted to, it was by far the most beautiful thing he had ever breathed life into.

Or perhaps it was only because of the person who was wearing it.

"Don't go putting your hard work all over my shoulders again, babe." You laughed, turning your body to face him, "I'm just the model."

"The model is the muse, might I remind you." Jake corrected you, leaning in to place his forehead on yours, his love-struck eyes gazing longingly into yours, "How did I manage to capture the bouts of your affection hm, mon amour?"

"You spend one week in Paris for Fashion Week and suddenly you're a romance novelist." You laugh, raising your arms and placing them on either of his shoulders, "As for your question—" you pretended to think, all while ghosting your glossy lips over his plump ones, "—I don't think you'll ever get the answer to that."

"Shame, I was hoping you'd say something overly sweet about me." Jake laughed, before smudging his lips against yours. His ever so slender tongue moved in your mouth, as his hold on your waist tightened. Pulling away (after what had seemed like a very short amount of time to him) from the kiss, Jake took pride in the fact that you were quite breathless.

"Jaeyun.” you spoke in a scolding voice, lowering your voice to a comedic level, “We are at work.”

“Your point is?”

“My point is-” you looked into his beautiful eyes with nothing but love and admiration, “-there are about five people who know about our relationship, and you know you can't get into a scandal, it will positively ruin your reputation, the reputation you-” you poked his chest with your finger, “-worked so hard to achieve.”

“Let them write what they want.” Jake spoke to you in a honey coated voice, as if you were the very oxygen his lunds consumed in order to keep themselves alive, “You, my love, are practically impossible to resist.”

“You better give me your Paris lessons when we get home,” you smirked, eyes wandering down to his lush lips again, “lover boy.” The space between the both of you was practically non-existent now, and Jake could feel the pearls of your dress slightly pierce him through his thin button-up shirt. Perhaps he regretted making such a beautiful dress, especially to dress you up in it, because the way the touch of your thigh on his and felt, he could rip it off right there and then, wasting his months of hard work, and devour you against the mirror. He wished he could see your divine eyes roll to the back of your head, while he ravished your pussy with his tongue, all whilst leaving his personal signature on your thighs. After all, that was what he added the thigh-high slit in the dress for.

“Yeun,” you warned him, as his hand trailed higher up your thigh, only stopping at the sound of your voice and giving a tight squeeze to the flesh, “You can have me all you want when we get home.” The sight of the pout on his face, a stark contrast to the siren eyes he held five seconds ago, made your mouth twist into a gentle smile.

“Don’t blame me if you can’t walk tomorrow morning, love.” He smirked and went in for a kiss, as beautiful as the wavering skyline of the city, all the building lights flickering along with the stars to remind the earth of how alive it was. In the deepest parts of the kiss, where your lips danced to a tune which you had memorised, love reigned its gentle rule.

____________________________________

The sound of makeup palettes being tossed on tables and brushes full of powder and eyeshadow being dabbed against porcelain skin overwhelmed you. The world will always see the perfect last outcome, of straight eyeliner that could cut stone, legs that could send Gods to their knees begging for mercy, lips that anyone would want to press infinite kisses to, and bodies wrapped in artworks. But they would never see the background of it all, the painful ordeal of sitting in a chair for hours to manipulate the face of a doll. Your ass had already gone numb ten minutes ago.

“Alright, spill it to me. You have transfiguration powers right?” you joked, looking at your hair-and-makeup artist, Sunoo, who was running his slender fingers through your hair, making sure every strand fell into its correct place.

“I went through painful cosmetology courses, just for you to call me a witch?” Sunoo scoffed, surveying you with a satisfied look on his face, ”Gee thanks for the compliment Y/N.”

“I’m joking you asshole.” you rolled your eyes, taking his outstretched hand and helping yourself out of the chair. Your butt silently thanked you, as you stretched your limbs, “Well don't I look pretty today?”

“Yes hon, the show-stopper obviously has to look pretty.” Sunoo sassed, putting his hands on his hips, “Jake really outdid himself with this one though, I am loving the pearls.”

You tried to keep your smile to yourself at the sound of your boyfriend’s name. Jake had made some ‘structural’ changes to the dress a night before the show so that it would fit more alluringly on your body. That is to say, he made the changes after getting inspiration from an hour’s session in your bedroom.

“I just hope everyone will like it!” you said with an air of happiness.

“Of course they will.” Sunoo reassured you, “because number 1, it's on you and number two, it is on you.” He spoke every word with force, giving you his foxy smile before disappearing, telling you to wait in the room until someone called you.

Sighing to yourself for no particular reason, you went back to admiring yourself. You truly looked regal, like some badass assassin who was going to murder someone at her wedding, a gunshot wedding, would be the perfect theme for Jake's next show, you thought, taking a mental note to tell him. After all, he did love experimenting with his reds and his whites. The door to the room was slightly ajar, which allowed the sounds from outside to enter. You moved towards it to close it. Stopping at the handle, at the sound of your name.

“...not like she even has much talent. She’s literally getting in because of her boyfriend.” one of the girls, dressed in mauve silk told the one next to her.

‘Wait, her boyfriend?” You heard the other one say, now shielding yourself from view with the door whilst eavesdropping. “Yeah, I’ve heard rumours you know?” The mauve girl said, “that her boyfriend is Mr.Sim, the designer. It makes sense wouldn't it?” she let out a crude laugh, “She’s not even that pretty and suddenly she gets to be showstopper. Yep, she’s definitely whoring herself out.” She laughed again, along with the other girl.

You felt your stomach sink as you quietly closed the door, not wanting to hear anything else. Is that really what the other models thought of you? That you were only here because of Jake? That you were only using him for your own benefit?

You stared at yourself in the mirror again, brushing back the slit to reveal your leg. Your eyes wandered down the length of your entire body. What you had once so happily admitted, now looked like an ugly piece of flesh to you. Each imperfection caught your eye and you could feel the tears brimming at your eyeline.

“Y/N!” you heard Sunoo cry out. Quickly swallowing the lump in your throat, you called back out, feeling relieved to see his face appear in the doorway. “Come on hon, you’re on in two.” Sunoo smiled, “Ahh you look so pretty!” he smiled, extending his hand to help you walk outside in your heels, “They’re gonna love you.”

“Thanks Sun.” You managed a smile, stepping out onto the boundary of the runway, where the show manager would give you the cue to walk. Taking a deep breath, you took on an expression of calm, to represent the serene and elegant atmosphere of the dress. And with a wave of the manager’s hand, you walked.

One foot in front of the other, you stared at the imaginary dot in front of you, just like you had been taught, with your heels clacking perfectly to the beat of the background music. The walk to the end of the runway had always felt so long, and this time was no exception. But as you reached there, and struck your pose, smiling for the cameras to take their pictures, you couldn't help but think about what the girls were saying earlier.

Not now Y/n, you thought to yourself, pushing that thought to the back of your head, and concentrating on your current position. Giving your signature grin to the cameras, you spun on your heel and walked back, stopping in the middle to reveal your leg from the slit. You could hear the excited murmur from the crowd, smiling to yourself at the satisfaction you got. You struck your final pose with all the other models assembled on the stage, and then the pandemonium of roses and applause broke out. The people clapped like never before, and you could hear someone calling out Jake's name. You remained in your position until you felt a warm presence next to you, skipping your hand into his and guiding you along with him down the runway again.

Jake had never looked so beautiful, you thought, with two spikes of his hair framing his face perfectly, like a lion’s mane. You tried to not let your eyes linger down to his chest, which remained open against his suit. God damn did he look handsome. You couldn't remember much of anything that followed. All that you thought about was the warm feeling of Jake's hand against your skin, and the way he bragged to everyone about his showstopper.

Yet, there was something at the back of your mind that kept biting you.

____________________________________

“You’re quiet today, love.” Jake commented, as you silently put your washed plate back on the shelf. He had noticed how low you had been ever since coming back from the show. At first he brushed it off as you being tired, after all, modelling is no piece of cake. But the fact that you had spoken less than five words to him even after taking a nap was concerning.

"Just...tired." You mumbled, giving him an unconvincing smile. Jake tilted his head to one side and motioned for you to sit down next to him on the couch.

"And do tired people usually cook dinner for their boyfriends instead of ordering pizza?" He asked, making you chuckle, "What's wrong sweetheart?" Jake placed his hand gently on your thigh, leaning in closer to you. You took a shaky breath in.

"Yeun, you love me right?" Jake's entire world seemed to pause at your question.

Whatever did he do to make you ask that ridiculous question?

"Baby what are you saying?" He asked, sending you a soft smile, "Of course I love you and if this is about me taking the last cookie, I swear I'll ask Jay to bake you more."

"No, it's not that." You laughed, bringing your head down, "It's stupid really, I shouldn't even be worried." You took another deep breath, "I just heard some of the girls talking to each other today, you know saying some crap about how I'm only the showstopper because I'm your girlfriend and everything." Before you knew it, you were rambling, "And I really do love you, you know. I'm not only in this relationship because I want to use you or something and i know I'm not really that pretty for you to love me but—"

"Y/N."

The sound of your name dropping from his lips silenced you. You stared down at your legs, fiddling with the edge of your (Jake's) shirt, until his fingers intertwined into yours. His touch was warm as always, comforting like the sea breeze on a beach day.

"Baby, look at me." Jake said, prompting you to lift your head, "Properly, Y/N." He said again, when you avoided his eyes. Jake smiled when you finally looked him in the eye.

"I don't want you to ever think even for a second that you're not the most beautiful human being I've ever met." Your eyes widened at his soft words, "Baby, you were the showstopper today, because you worked hard for it, not because you're my girlfriend and the love of my life." A smile twitched at the corner of your lips, "And I'm going to need the names of those girls right now, for extremely unrelated reasons."

You burst out laughing, wiping away a stray tear that had fallen from your right eye. "Are you going to murder them for me?" You asked, to which Jake put his finger to his temple and pretended to think, "I'm not going to bail you out Yeun." You said, slapping his chest playfully.

"But seriously though—" Jake's eyes softened, as he took your hands in his, bringing your knuckles to his lips to kiss them, "—I love you so much, I'd go to the ends of the Earth if you asked me to." He brushed a stray strand of hair behind your ear, "And if anyone ever thinks that you didn't work your fine ass off to get where you are, they'll be very close to the 'Jake firing list'."

A moment of silence followed before the both of you burst out laughing at his statement. Jake took the opportunity to pull you by your waist closer to you.

"Well then—" Your eyes wandered from his eyes to his lips, "—can I perhaps see that list?" Your body was practically merged with Jake's, with his hands slapped on your waist, and your arms around his neck.

"Well then we would have to go to my studio wouldn't we?" Jake said in a lower tone, biting his lip. His eyes stayed on yours, as he swiftly lifted you up, making you wrap your legs around his hips for support. Your breasts were extremely close to his face, a fact which Jake was relishing. A giggle erupted out of your mouth as his hands gave a squeeze to your buttcheek, his feet slowly leading the both of you into the bedroom.

“I assume your studio is your bedroom then?” You laughed, as Jake entered the darkly lit bedroom, the only source of light being the faded night lamp that he kept for ‘the aesthetic’. Jake chuckled before going in for a kiss.

It started as a small kiss. A peck. A brush of the lips so gentle you barely felt it until he pressed his mouth to yours fully. There was no tongue, nor any breathlessness when he pulled away and looked at you again. But you could feel the shift in the air. The drop in your stomach and sudden stillness in the room while a white noise clouded your head.

“The bed is right there, Yeun.” You said, eyeing him suspiciously as he carried you across the bed and towards the huge dressing mirror. Jake said nothing, choosing to set you down very close to the mirror, while his hands gripped your waist. He knew he had gotten you trapped in between his arms, just the way you liked it. You’re a little light-headed, blistered beneath the skin, needy and fidgeting. Maybe you want him to hold you still, to fit you tight against him, to fight against your struggle—something carnal deep down that gets off on his strength, the power you know he can wield over you.

“How about I show my beautiful princess how pretty she really is hm?” He whispered in your ear, his hot breath fanning your neck ever so slightly.

He manoeuvred you so you were facing the mirror. He was right behind you, his eyes hard. “The woman you're looking at right now is the prettiest one I've ever seen. How can you say she's ugly?” You opened your mouth to say something, but a moan escaped instead as he bit into your shoulder.

He began to press you flat against the mirror. The cool touch of glass on your cheeks combined with his hands reaching underneath your shirt to squeeze your breasts made you let out an unholy noise. Jake smirked as he heard you moan, his ego was filled to the brim as he realised how wet he made you just from his touch.

“Ah fuck Yeun,” you moan to him as his palms knead your breasts through the bra. You barely had time to notice his hands leave your chest, as he grabbed the edges of your shirt and pulled it off of you in one swift motion, leaving you almost naked in your bra and panties. You felt his erection press through his pants to your ass, as his lips started trailing down your body, pressing heavenly kisses until your hips. You whined as his hands gripped your thighs, squeezing them as if they were stress toys.

"You look away from the mirror even once…,” he said, his hands squeezing your thighs roughly, his legs now carrying him back up to place his chin on your shoulder, his face set in a smirk, “and you won't get to cum.”

His hands squeeze your thighs harder, bordering on pain. “Shh princess,” he said, slowly yet firmly as if talking to a child. His hands move downwards, one moves to your hip, and for the other, his fingers slip inside your panties. You whimper when his fingertip touches your clit.

At any other time, he would have been slow, and gentle when he was rubbing the bud but now? His touch was fast and unconcerned, his sole goal was to inflict punishment with pleasure.

Jake's finger flicked out against your clit again, making you yelp and squeeze your thighs against his hand. Your hand pressed hard against the mirror, as you looked at Jake's smug face behind you, while yours was contorted into one of absolute pleasure. This time he ran his finger up to your clit and then back down and into you. You moaned, practically riding his fingers at this point. Jake laughed, digging his hands into your hips, uncaring if he broke skin.

"Yeun—Yeun ah fuck!" A string of broken moans escaped your lips, as you felt the knot in your stomach tightening. Your mind has forgotten all about the incident of the morning, your attention now only on the way his fingers fit inside your pussy, like a glove. The pace of his fingers fastened, as his middle finger drove across your clit, repeatedly assaulting the place Jake knew drove you crazy.

"Yeun!" You screamed, your tears staining the mirror, as you felt your pussy clench around nothing when Jake's fingers pulled out, “Wh-”

“Told you princess.” His mutter in that seductive australian accent of his drove you crazy, “Eyes away from the mirror means no cumming.” You silently seethed at him smirking behind your shoulder, as his lips latched onto your skin once more, pressing marks all over as if it were his personal signature. His fingers hooked underneath the waistband of your panties, as you easily moved them off of you, with you lifting your legs to give him better access. Jake chuckled silently with how obedient you were being. Soon, he was quickly unbuckling his pants to unveil his already hard twitching cock eager to pound into you.

“gonna let me fuck you princess? gonna be a good girl for me?” he says, stroking his dick as he swipes his thumb over his slit wiping away his precum yet it still spews out, covering thumbs in the substance.

Your eyes widened and hurried, almost rushing gasps left your mouth in quick succession which, combined with the low guttural groans coming out of Jake’s throat created an almost perfect melody. His thick length was taking its sweet time in spilling your ass apart, completely tearing you open, until you were panting from just the entrance. Jake’s low, mocking chuckles left your mind empty, as his hands pulled your waist flush against him, trying to bury his cock in even deeper.

“Yeun-I can’t!” you cried out in desperation, although all you wanted was for the entirety of his length to be bruised deep inside you, “Slow down!”

Your whines resonated against the walls of the room, as light particles of fog started appearing on the surface of the mirror, gathering at the place where your mouth was repeatedly moaning both profanities and Jake’s name, turn by turn. The tip of his cock was practically hitting your cervix at this point, and you were on the verge of fainting, with your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

“Eyes on the mirror, princess.” Jake reminded you, smirking at your fucked out expression. He always did love making you feel like putty in his hands, and this was no exception. Your eyes snapped back to your reflection and they trailed over Jaeyun behind you. His handsome face was set like a painting, with two strands of his hair framing it in a delightfully sexy way.

His hips hit you harder, giving you every inch of him. “Fuckkk.. princess, you’re doing such a good job -- taking me so goddamn well,” he says, punctuating his words with another hard thrust.

His expression grows almost enamoured at how you're squeezing him-tense, as he thrusts into you, balls slapping against your ass at his relentless pace. Hot, searing pleasure makes its way up your spine-emitting a low, almost inaudible, squeal from you as he pinches your clit.

He fucks you in earnest, feeding you his cock like you haven’t had a meal in years. All you can do is watch, admire the look of his face, the perspiration that gathers on the edge of his hairline as his fingers grip your legs harder.

You’re a babbling mess — crying out with every thrust. It’s mostly wordless, except for when his name leaves your lips like a prayer. The room is filled with the sound of his balls slapping your ass, that wanton sound of skin-on-skin.

“Fuck-gonna cum.” You hear him mutter in that same sultry voice that could get you cumming without him even touching you.

“Yeun, ah—ah,” you moan, but he cuts you off, the sound of skin-on-skin fills the air.

Jake groans as his balls draw up and begin to tighten. Now deep inside you, as the pressure finally breaks and he lets himself go, spilling every ounce of him into you. Heaven and hell collide in that moment, blurring into a world where only you exist—like nothing else matters but the two of you tangled together, lost in the alchemy of it all. You feel the hot liquid drip down your thighs as you lay your forehead against the mirror, your chest riding and falling periodically as you attempt to calm down. You were so caught up in your cock-drunk high that you didn't even notice Jake pulling out slowly, releasing more of his cum onto your skin.

"Good girl....took me so well." Jake praised you in muttered words from behind, making his own breathing steady, "Bed, baby?"

"Thank you." You sighed, feeling sleepy as ever, completely oblivious of the fact that Jake was not about to put you to sleep.

You couldn't comprehend what happened in the next few moments, just the fact that in what seemed like mere seconds, your back was pressed against the soft mattress, with Jake's face inches from yours as he loomed above you. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

"Think you can take my cock again, pretty?" He asked you, with a lopsided smirk on his face, "Or is my baby too tired?"

"N-No." You stuttered, the feeling of his breath on your skin made you shiver, no matter how warm it was. You must have been in this position at least a hundred times, but it always got you feeling like it was your first time when you were all nervous and shaking beneath him.

Jake chuckled, pressing another one of the thousand kisses he had given you, and reached over (with some difficulty) to the bedside drawer. Pulling it open, he drew something out.

"How about these for tonight hm?" He asked, dangling the handcuffs above your face, "Will you be a good girl for me?"

You said nothing, dumbly nodding to his every word. Jake took your wrists in his hand and pinned them above your head. Your arms stretched properly, before he latched them up to the bed frame, you winced at the cold touch of the metal. You always had wondered why the frame was made up of twisting coils of iron, before you got your answer in the form of handcuffs.

Jake leaned in once more, this time, pressing a chaste kiss to your jaw, effectively silencing you. You tilted your head back, giving him better access to the crook of your neck. You sucked in a shaky breath as you felt the points of his teeth grazing feather light across the sensitive skin, goosebumps erupting on your skin and heat settling in your lower stomach. You could practically feel him smile against you at your reaction, ever so cocky to see you melting into his touch

Jake settles between your legs, sliding his hands under your thighs to gently manipulate you upwards. His bare cock slides through your slick folds, the head catching on your clit and making you groan in unrestrained want. You reach out to grab his body, dizzy with desire, but you can't. Your hands are bound with the cuffs so tightly, that you couldn't even reach the lock.

You can only cry into the dark night, feeling his throbbing cock stretching out your walls as he pounded you in so hard there was sure to be a dent in the mattress. Your walls would remember the stretch and think only of him.

“Yeun—S-slow down…” You mewled, juices spraying out and coating your clit as it drips down, teardrop shapes sure to stain your face.

The back of your head presses as tight as it can against the pillow, you were stifling the guttural moan that rips from your throat. You could die like this suffocated and blissfully impaled on Jake’s cock and be happy. Your hands, bound tightly above you, itched to reach out and take his hair into your hands.

With a tight grip on your waist Jake fucks into you at his own pace, watching how easily you accept him, covering him with your essence. It feels fucking fantastic.

His skin slaps against yours rhythmically. You swear you can cum at that moment but he knows all your tells and he slows his pace, pushing into you only when the tip remains. Long, slow strokes keep you from cumming.

“Yeun–Jaeyun~” You whine, already so close to cumming, “Please–let me cum,”

Jake responds with a harsh chuckle, almost a scoff, as if to ask how you even dared to say those words. His already slow movements slow down even more, practically stopping at the point, which only made you titchy and uncomfy. That boundary that was present at the pit of your stomach was ready to break, but Jake wasn't about to let it.

“Not until you say you’re my pretty girl.” He smirks, his cock still buried deep inside you, unmoving. You scoff at his words.

“I'm your pretty girl.” you say, in an almost bored voice, wanting nothing more than for him to get moving, “Now can you please–”

Your sentence faded into a deep groan, as Jake's cock swiftly pulled out from your pussy. It was painful, agonising even, to feel nothing but cool air at the tip of our labia.

“Nicer, baby.” Jake whispered, but just as you opened your mouth, you were stopped by the intrusion of his long finger into your gasping hole.He chuckles quietly, snaking a hand up over your stomach. the rough pad of his hand finds your breast, kneading it in his palm whilst his other hand holds you firm against him. His gaze is still trained on you, dragging over the lush sight of your flushed face, your lips parted in small pants, the dark look in your eyes. He loves watching you fall apart at his smallest ministrations. more than half of his pleasure comes just from working you up like this, pushing you to the brink without even trying.

“Alright, I'll give you a little help.” Jake says, his free hand reaching cover to your hands. With a click sound, the handcuffs trottled off of you, leaving your hands free to finally reach out to him. But he wouldn't let you, not until you've done what he wanted you to do.

“Did I cover your mouth?” his words echo as he pins your wrist over your head once more. “Answer me, princess.”

“Yes!” You screamed out, unable to take his teasing anymore,”Yes–fuck I’m your pretty girl!” And that’s all he wants because he’s dropping you down, shoving his entire dick inside until your eyes burst with tears feeling his thick trimmed hair tickling your clit, completely bottoming out.

“Yeun…I-I need you more please.” your eyes were filled with tears as you held his hair, fingers rubbing against his scalp, the other digging into his shoulders as you drooled. Such a mess in such a small time. Jake shuts his eyes and throws his head back..

“Oh—ohhhh—fuckin’—,” a string of pleasured sounds is leaving his open mouth and you follow him, reveling in the sensation of him pushing your walls apart, filling you nicely like no one has ever had.

You both are moaning, chasing your climaxes with increasing intensity. You tilt your hips a little to press your pulsating clit against the fluff of his pubic hair and grind your pussy over his lower belly. Jake’s cock moving deep inside you, your clit twitching in his coarse hair, all the sensations combined light up your body.

"I love you," you whimpered when his hips began to grind into you, giving your clit that extra stimulation you needed to feel your orgasm swell low in your belly, your jaw dropping and your breath quickening with each forceful thrust, “God–I love you so much!” Your last words faded out in a scream.

“Yeun, i’m close,” you sob, your voice shaking. You feel his hips snap against yours, skin slapping in the quiet night as he drills you into the mattress. The room smells of him, like cologne and something woody, and it drives you even closer to the edge. He’s taking over your senses; the sight of him hovering over you, muscles in his abdomen clenching and rippling as he fucks into you is enough to make you scream on its own.

The bed sheets are fisted in your hands as you hold on. Your nipples brushing against the bed with each thrust. It doesn’t take long at all for you to titter over the edge. Your pussy squeezing tightly around him, milking him for all he’s worth.

He’s not far behind, hips meeting yours with a force that is almost painful, though you’re far too distracted by the fireworks blooming behind your eyelids. You feel him spill into you, hot seed pouring into your soaked cunt and making your thighs shake. His groans are hoarse, a couple grunted curses and growls of your name joining your chorus of moans in the room. He sits up once you’ve both ridden out your high, heads swimming as he watches his cum spill from between your legs when he pulls out.

"fucking hell..." You hear him swear under his breath, wincing at the absence of your hole wrapped around him. Nevertheless, he swiftly moves towards the bathroom, to fetch you a towel. You didn't have even an ounce of energy in your body to lift your head, so you resorted to letting it stay on the pillow, whilst your legs stopped shaking from the wondrous orgasms that your body had experienced.

"Baby do you wanna take a b-" Jake froze, at the foot of the bed, towel clutched in hand, and eyes set on you. You looked so calm and serene, taking shallow breaths as you snuggled into the mattress and slept. Jake chuckled at the sight.

Not wanting to wake you up, he gently wiped your legs with the towel, and—after cleaning himself off, slipped into the bed next to you. You automatically adjusted to his warm body next to you, practically throwing yourself onto him and using him like a mattress, but he didn't mind. Jake pressed a kiss to the side of your head, and only squeezed you closer, as if you'd float away if he let go.

"I love you." He muttered with a lovesick smile on his face, before he eventually drifted off to sleep, "My pretty baby."

Fin.

Taglist: @onlyhyunjin @yvnempire @j-jinxee @kpopaussieline @candewlsy @heesingshoon @biancaness

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always-just-red · 6 months ago

Text

@lunariadew asked: 'Can you write a poly fic maby like a feel good fic or date night or something with all the boys! I’m greedy and I think there’s not enough poly fics as there should be'

I've wanted to do a fic with all the boys for SO long! (Infold, hire me to write a sitcom-style show for the guys, PLEASE) Have kept it platonic since it's early stages; it's open to interpretation about how many sparks are flying and between whom exactly..... 👀 But if ppl want more of this, I'm all over it. Platonic or romantic? I'll play it by ear!

Game Night

L&DS Boys X Reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Summary: The most important men in your life can manage one evening together, right? For you? Please? Pretty please?

Genre: Fluff + humour

Warnings/Additional Tags: f!reader, some swearing, a lil conflict, non-canon (I know some of the guys probably know each-other but we're pretending they don't 😇)

| Word count: 4k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

“Rafayel… what do you think this is?”

The artist stands at your open door, wearing a self-assured smile and one of the flashier outfits you’ve seen him in, and that’s really saying something. Between you is a bouquet of lilies, petals curled like frozen licks of fire that compliment— deliberately, if you had to guess— the warmer fires within his eyes. Those eyes narrow at your question.

“What do you think it is?” he says suspiciously, lowering the flowers.

“…Game night?”

You’re not sure why you phrase it so tentatively. You know what it is; you’re the host. You open your door wider, stepping aside to give Rafayel a better view of the apartment behind you, and the remainder of his smile sinks.

“Hi,” Xavier calls out, and you don’t have to see him to know he’s giving a wholesome sort of wave.

“Hi…” Rafayel answers, barely more than a whisper as his eyes flit between everyone else in the room, because he’s the last to arrive. “Game night, yeah,” he nods assertively, “I knew that.” Then a deep breath: “Can I, like, put these somewhere—”

“Kitchen counter,” you gesture.

“Got it.” He doesn’t have to be told twice.

Closing the door behind him, you watch as he skirts past the lounge and makes for your kitchen, where another bouquet already lies waiting. He zeroes in on it. “Looks like mine’s not the only heart you’re breaking tonight, huh, cutie? What are these—” he pokes at a petal— “daturas?”

“They’re her favourite,” speaks a distinctly low voice.

Rafayel doesn’t look up. He plonks his bouquet on top of the other and winces: “They’re really not, though.”

“He’s right,” you chip in, giving Sylus a sheepish smile, and now Rafayel looks up, beaming.

“She likes roses,” Zayne says, with the calm confidence he’d quote a medical journal. On the sofa beside him, Xavier nods, and you grin at them both.

“Noted,” Sylus chuckles.

Rafayel’s less convinced. “Since when?!”

“Since forever, Raf. I like lilies too, so I didn’t say anything, ‘kay?” You beckon him back to the lounge, ignoring his splutters of disbelief. “C’mere, let me introduce you to everyone.”

The man slinks to your side like a reluctant shadow, and your hands find your hips. “This is Zayne. Xavier,” you point out, putting faces to names; Rafayel’s heard stories about each. Then you nod towards Sylus. “Over there’s Skye.”

From his place by the window, Sylus lifts a hand in greeting.

“So… yeah,” you finish. Oh, wait! “Guys, this is—”

“They know who I am,” Rafayel shrugs, his fame apparently heavy on his shoulders. He glances around the room for validation, but he gets none, so he tries again. “You do know who I am, right?”

“Sorry,” Xavier admits with an awkward smile, glancing back at Sylus: you?

The man has to think about it. You know for a fact he’s traded more than one of Rafayel’s paintings for a profit, but he smirks and gives an even more exaggerated shrug than the artist himself.

Really?

“You’re Rafayel,” Zayne states plainly.

“Yeah! See, I told you, cutie—”

“You slipped on a paintbrush and checked yourself into Akso, right? The nurses still talk about it.”

Rafayel’s enthusiasm drains. He looks conflicted as he mulls over the additional information. “In, like, a good way?” he hazards.

Zayne stares back at him, wielding silence like a scalpel before cutting deeper with a: “…sure.”

You bite back a smile. Leaving the two to discuss the finer details of Rafayel’s notoriety at the hospital, you wander over to the kitchen, where you fish out a vase from the back of a cupboard. You fill it, set it down on the counter, then reach for Sylus’s bouquet. There’s a black satin ribbon; you untie it.

“Are you sure this is a good idea, sweetie?” asks the man himself, joining you discreetly.

The others can’t really hear you— they’re still talking. “What,” you smirk, retrieving your scissors from a drawer, “you worried Xavier’s gonna arrest you?”

Sylus laughs lowly, quietly. “That’s adorable.”

“Good.” You pick up a flower and trim a leaf from the stem. “Because even if he wanted to—” you wave it, just short of his face— “I’d protect you, ok?”

He regards the flower beneath his nose. Smiles smugly. “These can be toxic, sweetie.”

“Really? Whoops.” You put it down, then snatch up a lily from Rafayel’s bouquet. “En Garde!”

“These too.”

“What the hell?”

The flame-red flower drops from your fingers, and Sylus laughs more sincerely. “Stick to roses, kitten. Or…” He moves his hand over his deconstructed bouquet, his Evol pruning the rest of the leaves from the stems. A tendril of it gathers the flowers, delivering them to him so he can hold them out to you with a flourish. “Live dangerously. Who am I to judge?”

You take them, then plop them into the vase. “Cute.”

“I’m here all week,” he grins. “You’d better wash your hands, hmm?”

With a hmph of agreement, you turn to the sink. You spend half a minute, rubbing soap and warm water over your hands, and when you turn back around— still drying them— something is different. The lilies are gone. Sylus is looking at you, innocuous.

“Real mature, Skye.”

He makes no effort to defend himself. You’re about to tell him that his magic better extend to making flowers reappear when your attention is whipped back to the lounge. The voices from that side have raised, so you lean forward on your kitchen island, watching their owners in a sort of stakeout.

“I take it you have a plan,” Sylus whispers, leaning with you.

You look at him. He looks back. “The plan is for hosts,” you scold, “not guests.” He’s much too close so you step away, reaching for the vase of daturas and holding them threateningly out, like you’re not afraid to use them. “Go back to the guests, deserter.”

Sylus lifts his hands in surrender, smirking in a way that says he knows he’s met his match. You shoo him further, back into enemy lines, then resume your stakeout. Xavier is sharing his own “embarrassing” medical story— talking about a time where he once passed out from exhaustion while fighting at your side, and you think it’s supposed to make Rafayel feel better.

It doesn’t, of course, and even Zayne is gazing down at the floor, self-conscious.

Sylus meets your eyes across the room, signals with a tip of his head: now's a good time for that master plan, sweetie.

Right. Your plan. Your master plan, yeah.

…

“You should have picked the doctor.”

Sylus’s words are near-silent: for you, not anyone else, and you pretend you don’t hear them. “But no,” he carries on, because he knows you can, “you just had to have the artist.”

“It’s Pictionary!” you snap, drawing all eyes in the room.

Lounging beside you, Sylus feigns an amused surprise, as though he hasn’t just been trying to elicit that exact reaction. On the other sofa, Zayne and Xavier stare, taken more genuinely aback. You give a smile of apology.

“Guys, concentrate!” Rafayel clicks his fingers at you. He’s stood in the centre of the space by a large drawing pad, and he goes back to frantically sketching on it. The drawing is… interesting. Abstract. Maybe even beautiful? But you don’t have a clue what it is.

“Thirty seconds,” warns Zayne, studying the little egg-timer he’s guarding.

You tilt your head at the drawing. There’s maybe a— wait, where did those extra colours come from? Where did he even get those pens? Anyway… there’s a circle. “A globe?” you guess. “Earth! No? Umm… oh! The sun! The moon!”

Rafayel shakes his head with every suggestion, adding even more intricate, unhelpful scribbles. Is that a fifth pen?! You nudge your other teammate, calling for back-up.

Sylus regards the drawing listlessly. “A unicorn.”

“What?!” Rafayel’s tone has reached a pitch that almost makes you wince. “No! C’mon, are you even trying?”

“No,” Sylus lilts with a pleasant smile, lifting the drink he’s been nursing to his lips.

You kick his foot. “A bowl of fruit!” you exclaim, determined to make up for the lack of enthusiasm. “A plate? A plate with food? Breakfast! Lunch! Dinner!”

“Time’s up,” Zayne interrupts, and it’s a mercy, really; you deflate with a sigh.

Rafayel puts his hands on his hips as he takes a step back to observe his work. He tucks four fine-liners back into his pocket— purses his lips as though he really can’t see a problem— and he’s keeping you all in suspense.

Sylus is up in an instant, stealing a card from where it’s been discarded on the coffee table. He reads the answer, then rolls his eyes. The original pen was also abandoned, so he plucks it up, then strides to the drawing pad.

He draws an oval. Then a triangle.

“A fish! A fish!” you cry out.

“You’re good at this, sweetie,” Sylus grins. He puts the lid on the pen with a click before dropping it into Rafayel’s hand.

“Is it my turn?” Xavier asks, trying to relieve the tension of the room. He gets up and smiles as Rafayel passes him the pen. “Your drawing is pretty. The composition is really—”

“Don’t,” Rafayel says. “Like, thanks? But don’t.”

“Fair enough,” Xavier chuckles.

You all prepare for the next round: Zayne handing you the egg-timer, Xavier re-organising the stack of prompt cards. Sylus takes a photo of the drawing pad before ambling back over— a moping Rafayel in tow— and they both sink down either side of you. You glance at the latter, giggling. “A fish, Raf? Really?”

“So I didn’t just wanna draw you some basic fish, ok?” The artist crosses his arms with a pout. “But fine, enjoy mediocrity, I guess.”

To your left, Sylus raises his glass in toast to the notion. There’s a noise: Xavier tearing the used page from the pad. You look up. “Xavier, can I have that?”

“Sure.” He brings it over to you.

You look at the drawing again, holding it at arm’s length and rotating it experimentally. You’re seeing a lot, but nothing that screams ‘fish’. There’s a circle, still. Oh! “It’s a fish bowl! Wait, wait, wait— is that Reddie?”

“Yeah!” Rafayel beams.

“Aww!”

The renewed team spirit drops off with Sylus; he’s on his phone, not paying attention. He seems to sense your scrutiny because he peers up, gives a ghost of a smile, then returns to whatever he’s doing. Meanwhile, Xavier is ready for his turn, so he signals for you to start the timer. You give him a thumbs up as you turn it over. “Go!”

He starts drawing.

“A car,” Zayne guesses after all of five seconds. Correct. Next. “A river? No. Oh. A snake.” Yes. “A cupcake?” Also yes. (In fairness, he was never going to struggle with that one.) “A person? Ok. Oh, a scientist, no? Ah, a doctor.” Yes again, and really— what?

Zayne continues to list correct answers, though thankfully, that’s the last of the coincidences. You watch on, vaguely in awe, until you feel your phone buzz in your pocket. You check it casually, aware that Sylus is next to you, looking down at it too.

It’s a text from him: The drawing… Can I have it?

You glance up at him subtly, meeting his eyes and giving a discreet yet firm shake of your head. He frowns. You’re not having this debate here, now, so you let your gaze return to the drawing pad while idly retrieving your drink.

A few seconds later, there’s another text: Found buyer

Then another: Quarter of a mil

You almost choke on that drink.

“Umm… cutie?” Rafayel asks, poking you. He points at the timer you’ve left on the coffee table, and the top half is empty.

“Shit, yeah. That’s time!” you call.

Xavier stops drawing. The small, crude sketches behind him have reached double digits. He looks really proud. “Great! How many was that?”

His eyes find you. Zayne and Rafayel’s, too. Were you supposed to be counting? Uh—

“Eleven,” says Sylus, and it’s way too smug to be a lie.

“Awesome!” Xavier flips the drawing pad over to where you’ve been tallying point totals. He adds eleven marks to one side. “That’s—” he counts both— “ah, thirty-three to nine.”

A silence falls over the room. Unsure of what else to do, you give a half-hearted round of applause and Xavier laughs awkwardly, still humble, despite it all. “I think we’re kinda done with Pictionary, yeah?” you suggest, rising from your seat. “I should probably get started on food, anyway.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that.”

The insistence came from Xavier, and you freeze suspiciously; he’s never turned down free food.

“You’ve already done so much,” he explains, “setting this all up for us. You should relax, really! Leave it to me.”

The word ‘relax’ is not synonymous with the image of Xavier anywhere near your kitchen, but he’s looking at you so earnestly, blue eyes brimming with warmth, and what are you supposed to say? No thanks, Xavier— I value my life? Everyone’s watching you. Gods help you. “That’s really sweet, Xavier. Thanks.”

Your fellow Hunter’s smile widens even more. He heads off to the kitchen, a spring to his step that makes your heart sink with dread. “Actually—” you glance at your ex-teammates— “could you two go help him? Zayne and I’ll tidy up over here.”

Rafayel and Sylus do as they’re asked, even though their expressions remind you that cooking is not, typically, a three-man job. It’s tactical, though. You wanted a moment alone with Zayne. “Are you ok?” you ask, once the others are out of earshot. “I know this must all be a lot. The guys can be, well… yeah.”

He knows what you mean, right?

Zayne has slipped away from the couch; he’s crouched on the floor, collecting a few prompt cards that have wandered astray. He glances up at you, pushing his glasses back on his nose. “I’m ok,” he assures with a fond smile. “Thank you, though.”

“You’re welcome.” He hands you the cards and you slot them back into their deck. Then you turn to the drawing pad. “You and Xavier make a good team, huh?”

The doctor straightens to his full height. “Mmm. It helped that we didn’t spend the entire game comparing the size of our… drawing abilities.”

You laugh unashamedly. The pen’s still at-hand, so you pick it up— reward another point.

Zayne chuckles.

“Food’s gonna be a while.”

You both turn, following the voice back to Sylus, who has apparently decided he’s had his fill of kitchen duty. What was that— a minute? He seems to have anticipated your dissatisfaction, because he’s brought a bribe with him: the box of chocolates that had come with his bouquet. It’s already open and he holds it out, tempting you.

He’s right— you don’t know when you’ll next be eating— so you select a heart-shaped chocolate, popping it into your mouth with a smile and a muffled: “thanks.”

Sylus smiles back. Then he holds the box out to Zayne. “Doctor?”

It takes a nod of encouragement from you to prompt Zayne into taking something. He chooses a white chocolate truffle, mumbles his own thanks, but Sylus doesn’t relent— not yet. He shakes the box slightly, incitingly, and he doesn’t move it away until Zayne takes two more.

Your physician shoots you a surreptitious smile as Sylus falls back onto the couch, content he’s won your hearts, and that he won’t be sent back to the kitchen anytime soon. His long fingers lift another chocolate from the box, and he meets your eyes as he slips it slowly past his lips, humming like he’s enjoying himself.

You cross your arms, unimpressed. He gives you the least convincing look of innocence you’ve ever seen.

There’s an exclamation from the kitchen: “Hey, where did my flowers go!?”

Shit. You hastily push the drawing pad aside then scurry over to assist Rafayel. You don’t have a plan, exactly; it’s not like you can help him look for them. “Umm… they’re around, Raf. I moved them somewhere safer, that’s all.”

“Where?”

“Uh—”

“Does it matter?” Sylus speaks from behind you, because he and Zayne are close at your heels. “She said they’re somewhere safe.” He leans on the kitchen island. “Don’t you trust her?”

Rafayel scoffs. “I trust her plenty.”

“So prove it. Drop it.”

“Skye,” you caution, “stop.”

Sylus does stop, but not because you asked. He’s done enough already, hasn’t he? Rafayel is bristling with indignance— a lit fuse— and behind him, Xavier sneakily checks the trash can, looking relieved at what he doesn’t find. He gives you a subtle glance: Where actually are the flowers?

You lift a shoulder an inch: Beats me!

There’s a soft, almost imperceptible crackle, and it draws your eyes to the vase of daturas between you all. They’ve caught light— their petals twisting, darkening, within larger flowers of fire.

“Rafayel!” you gasp. “No, no, no, the fire alarm!”

The torched flowers are encased, all of a sudden, in a fine layer of shimmering frost. Sylus blinks down at them, unmoved by their destruction. Zayne’s hand is still outstretched, snowflakes etched over his palm. Then something… odd happens. The ice doesn’t stop. It spreads over the rest of the kitchen island, to all of your bewilderment.

“Zayne?” Your voice is fraught with worry, but you don’t give a damn about your kitchen.

The man winces, and you so rarely see him out of control. The silver-white patterns have crawled up his wrist, and the ice continues to spread; even Sylus steps back. Sharp, jagged crystals start to form— inching out towards everyone.

“Zayne!” you try again.

His chest rises as he drags air through his teeth; it looks like it hurts, but the ice does stop. The others are still, suspended by momentary uncertainty, and you rush to Zayne’s side, taking his hand.

“What the hell was that?” Rafayel remarks, shaking away his surprise and thawing an icicle that’s way too close for comfort.

“He wouldn’t have needed to use his Evol if you hadn’t used yours.”

It’s Xavier, strangely— you would have expected Sylus. The Hunter’s tone is gentle as always, but there’s something behind it, this time: a frustration that lends an edge.

Rafayel hears it too. “Hey, I’m not the one who started this!” He points to Sylus. “He—”

“Has been lighting fires all evening,” Xavier finishes. “But at least his were only figurative.”

Sylus laughs, and it’s the kind of laugh where you just know he’s vying to make things worse. “Look at that,” he says, “the boy next door can bite.”

Xavier’s eyes sharpen. Beside you, Zayne slips his hand from yours. It’s an instinct you know well. This moment is volatile, and you have to be ready. It could go a dozen different ways; it’s just waiting for a spark.

“Guys,” you manage to get out, “please, just… everyone, take a breath, ok? Everything’s fine, we just have to—”

A spark.

There’s smoke. Actual smoke. “Xavier, behind you!” Zayne alerts.

It’s creeping out of the oven and Xavier turns— eyes wide— to open its door before any of you can stop him. Thicker smoke billows out, filling the air, and you all scramble away from it. The fire alarm triggers. You think Rafayel’s shouting something, but you can’t really hear him. Then Sylus is shouting. Maybe even Zayne. The alarm is piercing your ears and making you dizzy— or is it the smoke?

You feel a hand on your shoulder and suddenly everything changes.

There’s cool air, brushing over your skin, and it’s dark; you’re outside the building. You can still hear the alarm, shrill but further away, and your window is easy to spot: there’s a red light flashing behind it. Sylus leans into your vision, saying your name.

“Stay here,” he tells you, “alright?”

He’s gone in another moment, lost to a flicker of crimson-black darkness.

Gods, you’re so stupid.

…

You sit on a short wall outside of your building, and the street is full of people. You recognise most of them: neighbours. Every single one is mad at you. You’re all waiting for the alarm to cut out— for the all-clear to be given. The fire wasn’t that serious in the end, but there’s still a procedure. You would know; this isn’t exactly your first evacuation.

The guys are safe, which is good, because it means you can kill them later. They’ve all gotten lost in the throng, and your neighbours can keep them. Maybe they’ll kill them for you.

“Hey, cutie.”

You were staring down at your feet, but you look up at Rafayel’s voice. He’s coming towards you, evoking a sense of déjà vu, because he’s clutching a bouquet of flame lilies. That’s… the bouquet of flame lilies. How?

“Skye gave ‘em back to me,” he explains, chuckling at your expression, and he’s close enough now to hold the flowers out to you. “I don’t know where he was keeping them. His Evol’s weird, huh?”

“Yeah,” you say timidly, taking the bouquet and gazing down into the petals; they still smell sweet.

Rafayel sits next to you, shuffling close, and he leans his head on your shoulder with a tired sigh. You want to be mad at him. You really, really do— but you’re suddenly not.

“I’m sorry, Rafayel.” The admission barely makes it out of your throat.

You feel his head lift. “You’re sorry?”

“I know it was just a misunderstanding,” you speak into the flowers, “but tonight… wasn’t what you were expecting, I get it. I mean, I kinda threw you into the deep end with all this. You didn’t know you were gonna be around other people, and I—”

“Whoa— cut that out, yeah? You’re killing me, cutie. I spend the whole evening causing trouble, and you’re gonna take all the blame? Nope. Not happening. It was a collaborative effort at least, ok?”

You giggle. “Ok.”

“Good.” His head slumps back down on your shoulder, and yours tilts to rest against it. “Thanks, though. Really,” he whispers, so quiet you almost don’t notice.

Footsteps and familiar voices draw you from the intimacy of the moment. The others are wandering back to you, having finally escaped the veritable mob of your neighbours. They all look tired.

Xavier settles down on the other side of you, and Zayne sits beside him. Sylus takes a seat next to Rafayel with a huff, but he’s not half as unhappy as he’s pretending to be.

All of you sit in silence, gazes flitting between your window— where there are still glimpses of moving figures— and everyone else who’s been evacuated. For the first time all evening, the quiet isn’t tense. It’s peaceful. Easy.

“We’ll do better next time,” Zayne speaks softly.

Next time? You scoff. “Do any of you actually want there to be a next time?”

“I had fun,” Sylus chuckles. He’s taken his coin from his pocket, and he flips it, amusing himself.

“I had fun too,” Xavier grins.

“Cooking again, Xavier?” quips one of your neighbours, as they happen to pass by.

The man beside you laughs, but you can tell it’s forced. Your hand finds his; you give it a little squeeze, letting him know that it wasn’t his fault. His heart was in the right place. It’s always in the right place.

You nudge Rafayel away from you so you can sit up straighter, your free hand rubbing your arm, caressing prickled skin. You’re about to ask for a jacket when something heavy drapes over your shoulders. It’s a coat— still warm— and its owner is stood behind you; you didn’t even notice him get up.

“Thanks, Sylus,” you smile.

All eyes turn to you. What are they—?

Oh.

#🖋rach is actually writing #xavier x reader #zayne x reader #rafayel x reader #sylus x reader #love and deepspace #lads x reader #lads x mc #shen xinghui #li shen #qi yu #qin che #lads #lnds #l&ds

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crescenthistory · 4 months ago

Note

carina!!! congratulations on 2k followers 🥳🥳

could i ask for a drabble with rockstar au and barty?

thank you my love<33

✶・•・✦・•・✶・✶・•・✦・•・✶

i will ARGUE for prompt 33 "rockstar au" with barty crouch jr.

carina's 2k celebration

✶・•・✦・•・✶・✶・•・✦・•・✶

cw: gn!reader, slightly suggestive, you're wearing lipstick, doing barty's makeup

wc: 666

"Sit still."

Your left hand was holding Barty's jaw tightly to keep his face immobile, knowing that this boy did not have it in him to remain in the same position for long. Your right hand was leaning against his temple as you gently applied eyeshadow beneath his eyes in a thin streak to match what you had already applied on his eyelids.

He was grinning up at you, eyes wide and concentrated on your movements.

"'S hard when I've got such a pretty thing in my lap."

"I'm sure it is hard."

Your voice was quiet and so was the smile that you simply could not wipe off of your lips. Barty must have noticed because his hands on your thighs squeezed momentarily, appreciatively.

This had become your new routine – you fixing his hair and makeup moments before the show while straddling him for better access. At a gig a few months back, you had teasingly suggested you do his make-up properly before he heads on stage instead of him just wiping some black eyeshadow messily over his eyelids in two back-and forth motions. To be truthful, you more than enjoyed the messy look as well, but you thought it would be fun to glam him up properly for once.

Barty insisted that he simply loved it so much that you just had to become his own personal makeup artist.

You still think it’s just because he enjoyed how you sat in his lap. Perhaps it gave him the rush he needed before going on stage for a few hours. He kept proving your point by murmuring sweet nothings as you worked on his face, hands roaming to his heart’s content – but there was no part of you that truly wanted to complain, so you let him be.

“Wish everyone could see you like this.” His smile turned cheeky as he looked past your shoulder into the mirror he was supposed to get ready in front of himself.

You squeezed his jaw a bit tighter, jerking his head back in place where it was supposed to be. “Do you now?”

His pupils were blown and he tried to do a so-so movement with his head, but you held him still yet again. “Well, not really. Just wish everyone could see how bloody lucky I am.”

You pretended his words didn’t get to you as you bit your lip to keep a smile back. “Sing about it, then.”

In between brush strokes – you’ll give him as much – Barty threw his head back laughing as he squeezed at yet another handful of your flesh. “You know I do, baby.”

You hummed in agreement, narrowing your eyes at him, deducing that you were almost done. Before he could say anything else, you leaned down and pressed a pursed kiss to his mouth, purposefully missing it just slightly. When you pulled back, he had a light lipstick stain covering half his lips and the corner of his mouth.

The way his lips pulled into a wide grin told you he knew what you were doing. “Cheeky minx. Making me all pretty?”

You let your hands drag up his arms to settle happily in a cross behind his shoulders, allowing your smile to be just as lovestruck as need be. “Isn’t that my job?”

“Nah,” he drawled. Kissing you one more time, not caring about the lipstick – or perhaps chasing it . “Your job is to be pretty. Everything else is just a bonus.”

The laugh that escaped you was more of a huff and he pinched your nose endearingly before grabbing a tight hold of your underside as he got up out of his seat, effortlessly hoisting you with him.

He carried you all the way to the door before looking up at you, white teeth sharp and blinding. “Where’d you wanna watch tonight, dragă? Backstage? Crowd? Lights?”

You nudged your nose against his, careful not to smudge any of your work before it’s supposed to be naturally smudged by the gig. “I’ll sit just behind the curtain like last time, so I can be alone but see you.”

He spun you around with a gleeful laughter, taking to carrying you out and over to the curtains where Evan and Dorcas were already waiting. “Your wish is my command, my love.”

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the-case-book-of-fanfiction · 2 months ago

Text

Kiss and Tell 'Em, Cutie

Ship: Rafayel x MC/reader

Summary: Jealousy is a vicious whip—especially when you're dating an artist. Yet you have some ideas to make sure his admirers get the message. He...is...yours.

Word Count: 6,879 words

Warnings: sexual content (18+, mdni), Rafayel calls reader "cutie", jealous reader, Thomas appearance, Talia appearance, Tara mention, Rafayel is once again obsessed with reader's perfume, Rafayel calls reader "sweet girl", Thomas is a nosy fucker but also a proud dad, can also be found on AO3

18+ Warnings: semi-public sex, fingering, handjob, vaginal sex, sex against a wall, bathroom sex, mirror sex, unprotected sex (please do not do this), Rafayel is a bit of a sub but also a switch, implied that reader jerks Rafayel off while he drives (please do not do this either)

Notes: For his birthday, here is a Rafayel fic! (Fitting that this is my first L&DS fic to get posted; I'm a Raf & Sylus girlie at heart.) I've seen a few other concepts similar to this that inspired me to make a fic out of it. Not actually birthday themed, though!

☟ Continue below the fold ☟

Clothes were strewn about the bedroom, the man throwing them invisible in his closet. You perched on the edge of the bed, dismissing every option he suggested with barely a second thought.

Rafayel emerged from the depths of his walk-in closet, a frown on his face. As much as he hated these exhibitions, whining and begging you not to make him go, he couldn't recall a time you'd been this reluctant to give him a yes about his suit options—especially not when tonight's exhibition was "massively important."

"Cutie? You alright?"

You looked up from the outfit you'd been staring at on the floor, a suit in a lovely blue shade that he'd worn to the opera with you what felt like ages ago. "Hmm? Oh—yeah, I'm fine," you lied, trying to sit up straighter and bring a smile to your face. It felt more like a grimace.

Rafayel's face fell into a concerned pout. "I know you better than that," he chastised gently. He sat next to you on the bed, clothing forgotten. "What's wrong?"

You shrugged. You rubbed your arm awkwardly, unwilling to spit out the reason for your glum mood.

"Talk to me," Rafayel said, taking your hand. He brought your wrist to his mouth and kissed it.

He had a way of breaking down your walls, staring at you with those big, loving eyes. You sighed. "It's stupid," you mumbled.

Rafayel grinned at you. "Stupider then my antics?" he asked. You were reminded of him sitting in a hospital bed for an injury he didn't have, griping at you.

You shrugged again. "I...guess not," you said. "It's— Well, it's more embarrassing than..."

Rafayel flopped into your lap. "More embarrassing than me?" he gasped, a delicate hand to his chest.

You laughed. "No, that's not what I was going to say," you said, pulling his hand into yours. He smiled softly at you when you laced your fingers together.

You took a second to get your thoughts together, trying to come up with a way to make yourself sound less, well, jealous. But when the problem is jealousy...

Rafayel remained content in your lap, happily nuzzling your joined hands. The soft kiss he pressed to the back of your hand dragged you out of your contemplation and you blurted out: "I don't like the women that come to your exhibitions."

He raised his eyebrows at you and you flushed. You backtracked, trying to explain it better.

"Well, it's not that— What I mean is that I don't like the way they...fawn over you," you said, the words coming out bitter. You didn't notice the smile twitching on Rafayel's lips, even as he tried to fight it. "They act like they're coming to see your art, but they're just there to giggle over you! And I'm not being jealous, I just think they shouldn't be pretending they like your work when they clearly don't give a shit and they don't know a single thing about art!" You paused briefly, then huffed and threw yourself backward on the bed. Rafayel made a sound of displeasure at being displaced from your lap. "Alright, fine, I am jealous. They don't even know you, they don't really care about you or your work, but they prance around trying to get your attention because you're cute and famous and taken but they don't care about that part!"

You sat back up in a ridiculously over-exaggerated "prim and proper" pose, pretending to hold a glass of champagne. Your threw your voice up an octave and mimicked, "Oh, Mr. Rafayel! Mr. Rafayel! Please tell us so much about the kind of paint you used, Mr. Rafayel, we definitely want to know more and aren't just trying to get in your pants! And with your girlfriend right next to you, too!"

Rafayel laughed, unable to hide his chuckle behind his hand. You glared at him. "What?! That's what they all sound like!" You crossed your arms over your chest as you fell back onto the bed. Rafayel got comfortable next to you, propping his head up on his hand. "And they don't ever stop, even after you introduce me. Or, worse, when Thomas steps in and introduces me because some—some—some hussy is taking things too far!"

When it had become clear you had run out of words (for the moment), Rafayel draped his free arm over your middle and tugged you closer to him. "I never thought I'd see you get this worked up over something like this," he noted.

You sighed. "I normally wouldn't, I mean...I trust you, Raf, this isn't about you. It's about these girls treating our relationship like it's nothing when you... When you mean the world to me."

"Cutie," Rafayel murmured, voice tender. He kissed your cheek once, then twice. He nuzzled into you and, for a moment, the two of you basked in each other's warmth, eyes closed, oblivious to the rest of the world.

Eventually, Rafayel began poking your cheek until you opened your eyes. You glared lightly at him, only to receive a pout that made you fix your face.

"We could always not go tonight," he said, in the same husky tone he usually started this debate with. He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye and you knew he was ready to pull out all the stops to convince you.

You were tempted to just let him win. But the last time you'd caved so easily, Thomas had chewed your ears out as well as Rafayel's—for over two hours.

"Nuh uh," you said, shaking your head. "I promised Thomas we'd be there, and I'm not getting yelled at again for 'letting my personal feelings get in the way of a great artist's work!'"

Rafayel giggled—a true giggle that made your heart warm. "He would have been even angrier if he knew what we were really doing that night," he teased, his fingers toying surreptitiously with the waist of your pants.

Heat coiled in your belly. Your eyes met Rafayel's; his gaze was darker, alluring like the sea before a hurricane hit. "All the more reason for us to go tonight," you forced yourself to say. He groaned, his arm flopping dramatically back onto the bed. You rolled your eyes, "He'll call and call and call until we answer, and if we don't answer, he's gonna show up at the door to drag you to the exhibition himself." You rolled over and cupped his cheek; he leaned into the touch. "Raf, tonight's important. You have critics coming and an interview set up. You have to be there, it's not one of the nights you can get away with skiving off."

After a moment, you felt the bed dip as Rafayel rolled off of it. He went back to his closet and started digging through it again. "Fine, fine," he sighed. "But if we're going, we have to match tonight." He pulled a large box off of a shelf and brought it over to you. You could see the name of an expensive dress brand he liked to spoil you with printed on the box's side.

"Raf, what...?"

He held it out to you. "I was waiting for a special occasion to give this to you," he said, a tad shy, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. "But I have a suit that matches it, so..."

You pulled the box into your lap and tugged at the ribbon binding it together until it fell away. You shimmied the lid off and unfolded the paper hiding the dress from your view. You lifted it out of the box and gasped.

The dress was a deep claret red, embroidered with flame lilies. The short bell sleeves were made from claret chiffon, delicate and flowy. You slipped the fabric of the dress between your fingers; it moved like water and shimmered under the light.

"Rafayel," you breathed. "Oh, Raf, it's beautiful, thank you!" You dropped the dress onto the bed, carefully, and threw your arms around Rafayel's neck. He laughed, holding you tightly around the waist.

"We can match tonight," he said softly, "and I'll keep you on my arm. Tonight, everyone will know I am yours."

I am yours. Something about the way he said it had butterflies flapping around in your heart. You pulled back to stare at him, wanting to ask...but you weren't even sure what you wanted to ask him.

You didn't protest as Rafayel turned back to the closet. He pulled. out a shirt that matched your new dress. "What do you think, cutie?"

You thumbed over the shirt. It was made from the same material as your dress. "I like it," you said. You nudged him toward his mirror. "Put it on!"

The two of you helped each other dress. Rafayel laced up the back of your dress and adjusted your sleeves so they lay nicely on your shoulders; you helped him button up the shirt and looped the fancy tie around his throat.

You sat side by side at his vanity, adding your final touches. You matched your jewelry and your makeup; Rafayel was happy to help you clip your necklace on. Once it was secure, he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss on the side of your neck, just below your ear. For several long moments, you admired each other in the mirror. Then you got back to applying your makeup, using a darker shade for your lip that would complement the dress.

Looking at the pale expanse of Rafayel's neck, you suddenly had an idea.

You applied a fresh layer of the lipstick. "Come here, love," you murmured, beckoning him closer. He obeyed, letting you tug him down. He smiled when he realized what you were doing and did not stop you as you adjusted his collar and moved his shirt to the side.

Your lips touched Rafayel's skin. You kissed his neck a little harder than necessary, ensuring it would leave a lipstick stain.

The mark left behind when you pulled away was perfect, complete with a movie-style sound of a kiss. It was a dark, easily noticed imprint of your lips, only partially covered when his collar was flipped up.

A soft, almost shocked gasp left Rafayel's lips—you wouldn't have even heard it if his mouth hadn't been right next to your ear. A louder sound, closer to a moan, slipped out of his mouth when you pressed a second, softer kiss closer to his collarbone, leaving a mark for only your eyes to see when you pulled his shirt off later.

"There," you murmured. You covered it with a light tapping of setting powder. "Now they'll know just how mine you are."

"Silly girl," Rafayel whispered. "They'd know just from how I look at you."

He leaned in and stole a kiss, his hand sliding down your body. He slipped it between your knees, trying to part your legs, when you pulled away. You reapplied your lipstick and slipped the tube into your clutch, along with your perfume and your mascara.

Rafayel stared at you with a dazed, almost lost expression. You smiled at him. "Come on, Raf, we'll be late if we don't leave now," you said, feigning ignorance to how turned on he was.

You took his hand as the two of you left the bedroom, headed for his car and the exhibition, a perfect kiss on your boyfriend's neck.

~❊~

People milled about the art gallery, a low hum of conversation in the air. They pointed out small details, leaned as close as they could to paintings before a guard told them to back away, marveled at the cost of each piece.

You and Rafayel stood next to Thomas in a well-lit corner of the room, your hand resting in Rafayel's crooked elbow. A steady flow of conversation between yourselves and admirers of Rafayel's art kept you alert and awake, some part of you always keen to be his bodyguard. But when there was a lull between conversationalists, you rested your head briefly on Rafayel's shoulder; every time, he bent down to kiss the crown of your head.

The difference between this exhibition and the others was astounding. You took gleeful pride in the number of times peoples' eyes dipped to Rafayel's neck, then to you, made the connection, and blushed, averting their eyes quickly.

"Mr. Rafayel!" A woman's voice cut over the din. Rafayel perked up, searching for the voice. You caught a glimpse of his Auntie Talia standing by one of his pieces—one he'd made about Lemuria.

Rafayel quickly excused himself from the conversation with his current guests and extricated his arm from yours. You nodded as he whispered, "I'll be back soon." He kissed your cheek, lingering a moment, and a woman who had been blatantly ignoring your mark on his neck to keep flirting with him turned a very deep shade of red.

For a few more minutes, she and her companion—her sister, you guessed—spoke stiltedly to Thomas about Rafayel's art, Thomas doing most of the talking to fill in their silences. Eventually, the two women shuffled away awkwardly.

Peaceful silence fell over you and Thomas. After a moment, he cleared his throat and gestured toward Rafayel with his chin. "So."

You barely kept back a sigh. "Yes, Thomas?"

"You left your mark on him, I see," he said, barely able to restrain the mirth in his tone. "For the whole world to see?"

Your eyes picked Rafayel out in the crowd as he spoke animatedly to his aunt. You smiled; even at a distance, your mark was visible on his throat.

"Yes," you said, a tad smug. "Yes, I did. Problem?"

He shook his head after a moment. "No," he said, though his tone was a tad too light.

You rolled your eyes, pulling your perfume out from your clutch. "Spit it out, Thomas. 'It's unprofessional!' 'You're risking his reputation and yours!' 'The media will have a field day!' Did I get it right?" You reapplied your perfume to your wrists and your neck, dabbing at it to spread it more. You slipped it back into your clutch, turning your attention back to Thomas.

He laughed. "No, although I suppose that's all true. We're just...going to have to work a lot harder to sell his paintings without a bunch of smitten women to sell them to."

You scoffed. "There will still be smitten women—except now they know they haven't got a chance. Who knows, maybe more women will be buying his paintings, desperate to have a piece of the great Rafayel."

Thomas fixed you with a teasing look. "You have the piece they all want."

It took a moment for it to register. You gasped softly and lightly thwacked Thomas' arm. "You had better be talking about his heart, Thomas."

He chuckled. "I am not."

You slapped Thomas' arm again, your cheeks burning.

"What are you two playing at?" Rafayel's voice interrupted. I turned to face him, pleased that he was back and mortified that he had chosen now to return. It increased when you saw Talia at Rafayel's side.

Though a laugh, Thomas started, "Your—"

"Nothing," you said, quickly cutting him off. "Auntie Talia!"

"Hello, my dear!" she said, smiling as she hugged you. "How have you been?"

As you caught up with Talia, filling her in on the most recent trip you and Rafayel had taken, showing her pictures of Tara's new cat, and listening to her tell you vaguely embarrassing stories about Rafayel, the man himself practically clung to you. He returned your hand to his arm and leaned into you.

Rafayel's breath hitched all of a sudden. He took a deep breath and exhaled shakily; you realized he'd caught scent of your perfume. Your stomach flipped at the memory of the last time he'd taken special interest in your perfume...

But he remained relatively calm. He slipped his arm around your waist and kept you tucked against his side, his eyes fixed on you. He ignored the people trying to engage him in conversation.

Thomas, upon noticing this, caught their attention and explained quietly that Mr. Rafayel was taking care of important business. Anyone with eyes, however, would know his attention was solely on you.

And you couldn't deny that it made you absolutely giddy.

A young woman—the girl who'd thrown herself at Rafayel at the last exhibition, and who'd been the breaking point in your jealousy, you realized with a start—pushed her way into the conversation. Thomas' attempts to steer the conversation away from Rafayel's personal life and back to art failed repeatedly. This time, she had no qualms about revealing she knew nothing about art, choosing instead to pry.

"Mr. Rafayel," the woman crooned, "I'd love to know more about your artistic process."

Rafayel's eyes narrowed quickly. "My artistic process? What about it?" His voice was flat. Talia raised a brow.

"Well," she said, wrapping her hand suggestively around her champagne flute, "where do you get your ideas from? What in your life inspires you?" She took a sip, subtly licking the rim of the glass. You felt your eye twitch.

"Each individual painting's inspiration is explained on its plaque," Rafayel drawled dismissively. She continued to stare at him, lips fixed in a pout. His fingers tightened on your hip and he brought you even closer to him. "But if you must know, much of my work is inspired by this lovely girl right here." He pressed a soft but lingering kiss to your jaw, one that caught yourself, Talia, and Thomas off guard. "I owe so much to my love."

Laying it on thick, you thought, but all thoughts were wiped from your brain when Rafayel turned your face to him with his fingers on your chin. He kissed you softly, shifting his position to make the lipstick on his neck visible. Possessive, yet obedient. You tried not to make it obvious you were pressing your thighs together at the thought.

The woman's expression dropped for a half a second. She brought her smile back quickly and all but sneered, "Well, isn't that cute." Now it was her eye that twitched as she looked at you, her voice shrill.

You smiled up at Rafayel, barely containing a giggle. You put your hand on his chest. "Oh, he's being modest," you purred. "Rafayel's the genius."

"I am not," he said, and you got the sense it was meant for you as much as it was the young woman. "Half of the paintings hanging in this room wouldn't be here if it weren't for you."

You cast her a quick glance, feeling your cheeks flush at the warmth in his eyes. "You know how men are when they're in love," you said, playing the part of an awkward girlfriend in public. Secretly, however, a thrill had gone up your spine. The things I'll do to you when we get home...

Rafayel squeezed your hip. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Talia smile.

Thomas cleared his throat. "Is there a particular painting you'd like to ask Mr. Rafayel about?" he asked, his gaze flicking between the woman and the pair of you. It appeared he'd figured out what was going on. "I'm sure it's all too easy to generalize when asked such a broad question." He chuckled awkwardly.

She cast Thomas a withering glance. "I'm fine, thank you." She turned on her heel and stalked off.

A moment of silence fell. You leaned into Rafayel, practically melting into his arms.

"Well," Thomas said after a moment, "she seemed lovely." He glanced at the kiss on Rafayel's throat. "I'm beginning to understand your possessive streak."

Talia laughed. She rested a gentle hand on your arm. "Don't you worry, dear. He only has eyes for you."

"Oh, I know," you assured her, your gaze on Rafayel. You were sure you looked like you wanted to eat him alive—and he knew it, judging from the redness of his ears.

Quiet swept over the whole room as two people entered: a man and a woman, both dressed for business, both with notepads. A cameraman followed. You recognized them as renowned art critics. They'd given Rafayel trouble in the past, praising his art but denouncing him for a lackadaisical attitude.

You felt him nip at the junction of your shoulder and your neck while you were distracted. Now what would they think about this...? You didn't want to find out in the morning paper.

Thomas' intake of breath was audible. He adjusted his suit jacket nervously. "They're here," he said quietly to Rafayel, who was barely paying attention. Even so, the tension in your little group heightened.

"Hmm?" he asked, slowly dragging his mouth and eyes away from you.

Talia glanced toward the reporters. Her eyes darkened and you trusted she knew their reputation with her nephew. "I'll let you take care of your official business," she said to Rafayel. "I've kept you for too long as it is." She extracted a promise out of the two of you to attend her next performance, then disappeared into the crowd.

Thomas turned on his heel, facing Rafayel immediately. As if on instinct, he started adjusting his lapels. "Alright. This is incredibly important, Rafayel, you know that as well as I do. It's a miracle they agreed to do another review for you, and we can't give them anything negative at all to report on— Rafayel, are you even listening?"

You glanced up at your boyfriend. His eyes were a little glazed and were once again locked on you. You recognized that look.

You cupped his cheek. "Raf, sweetie, the critics—"

He leaned into your touch, nose pressed to your wrist. There was a pleading look in his eyes when he looked up at you through his lashes.

"Rafayel?" Thomas questioned.

You glanced back at him. Over his shoulder, the critics were approaching.

Rafayel tugged on your arm. A mischievous glint had entered his eye. You gaped at him. "Now?" you whispered. He nodded. You stared at him for a second.

"When was the last time we had a little fun?" he whispered to you. He glanced at the approaching critics. "They can wait a few seconds for their star artist to...freshen up, can't they?"

Some part of you knew this was a bad idea. The rest of you was too easily swayed by that sweet, tempting tone in Rafayel's voice. You caved far quicker than you would have liked to admit.

"Thomas," you said over your shoulder, "tell them Rafayel will be right with them. I'm just... I'm gonna go give him a pep talk, okay? Freshen him up a little."

He glanced at Rafayel, uncertain. "Is that why he's like this? Nerves?"

"Something like that," you muttered under your breath. You grabbed Rafayel's hand and dragged him into the hallway. Rafayel was more than happy to follow you, a spark in his eye. You found a bathroom, shoved the door open, checked that the stalls were empty, and locked it behind you.

You turned to Rafayel. "Are you sure this is a good idea?" You squealed a second later as he gathered you in his arms and pushed up against the wall. He nuzzled into your neck, groaning at the smell of the perfume there.

Rafayel nipped again at the spot he'd been sucking on when the critics arrived. You let out a soft moan. Good idea or not, he had you hook, line, and sinker.

He came up for air, stared at you a second, and then crashed his lips into yours. "Need you," he moaned into your mouth. His tongue prodded at the seam of your lips. "Please."

You wrapped your arms around his neck. "You have me," you promised him. "But the critics..."

Rafayel pulled away long enough to make eye contact. "I'll be quick," he promised. Then a lopsided smirk appeared on his face and he added, "Ish."

You laughed. "Come on," you breathed, already pulling your dress up to your waist. "Take me how you want."

He groaned at the sight of you, slipping his fingers into your panties, pushing them to the side. He found your clit and pressed down on it. He locked eyes on you as he began rubbing it the way you liked best. You moaned, throwing your head back. Rafayel moved quickly to cushion your head with his other hand, protecting it from the tile wall.

"Careful," he breathed. "Don't hurt yourself, cutie."

You bucked your hips. "C'mon, please," you whimpered. "Need your fingers, Raf."

He laughed. "You don't even want me to warm you up?"

You gripped his wrist and moved his hand lower. The two of you gasped in unison as his fingers came into contact with the wetness pooled in your entrance.

"Fuck, sweet girl," Rafayel cooed. "Is this from earlier? Did showing off to that girl that I'm yours get you excited?"

Your hand slipped down his body. You rubbed over the bulge in his black pants. "Got you excited, too, baby."

Rafayel whined, leaning into your touch. He moaned softly as you squeezed him. "Cutie," he whispered, nuzzling against you. He looked down, watching as he pushed his fingers into you.

You took them easily, blushing at the wet squelch you made. He quirked his fingers inside you, searching for the spongey place that made you moan. When he found it, your legs tried to clamp shut.

Rafayel sandwiched himself between them. "Ah, ah, ah," he chastised. He brought his thumb to your clit, rubbing circles over it while he plunged his fingers in and out of you. "Don't push me away, cutie."

He's remarkably controlled for a man whose face is as red as a tomato... you thought.

Whining, you leaned into his arm, his hand still between your head and the wall. You kissed his wrist. "Can I touch you? Please?"

He nodded frantically.

You fumbled with the zipper of his pants, then his buttons. You shoved his pants down low enough on his hips that you could pull his cock out of his boxers. He whimpered; gone was the control you had just been admiring.

He was already leaking, milky pre-cum dribbling down his length. His tip was flushed a deep, needy shade of pink. He twitched under your admiring gaze.

"Pretty," you murmured, admiring him for a moment. You trailed a finger up the underside of his cock, eliciting a full-body shiver. His fingers faltered for only a second inside you before he resumed stroking your walls. "So damn pretty, Raf, you always are."

You spit into your hand. He gasped aloud as you wrapped your hand around him. Slowly, you moved in your hand in time with his fingers. The schlick sound of your hand on his cock, moving easily with spit and pre-cum, filled the bathroom, joining the squelching of your pussy.

Rafayel's little gasps spurred you on, encouraging to move your hand faster against his length. He whined, biting his bottom lip. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, his chest hitching, his cock jumping in your hand.

"Sweet girl," he groaned. "Sl-slow down, or I'm gonna cum already." He looked up at you, his eyes dark. "And I really wanna fuck you."

Trembling slightly as your own pleasure built up, you hooked one of your legs around his waist. "So fuck me, then," you whispered. "We can take our time later."

"That's my girl," he murmured. He pulled his fingers out of your pussy and lifted them to his mouth, sucking off your wetness, moaning at the taste of you. He pulled your panties off and let them dangle from the ankle already hooked behind his lower back. He slipped his arm underneath you, helping you jump up onto him. You wrapped your other leg around him as well.

Hand still wrapped around his cock, you lined him up with your entrance. He paused and pressed a soft, asking kiss to your forehead. You nodded and he gently pushed in.

You were whining as his tip slipped into you, the barest resistance from your walls. He paused.

"You okay?" he breathed.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," you promised. "Keep going, sweetie." You let out a breath, looking down as he pushed further in, moving slowly. You pulled your hand away from his cock just as he reached down to rub your clit, helping you take him.

You let out a loud moan. "Baby," you whispered. "Oh, Raf, fuck." Your voice echoed in the empty bathroom.

Rafayel bottomed out and let out a soft breath. He held you, one arm supporting your ass and the other wrapped around your back. You draped your arms over his shoulders, one hand playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

"Can I move?" he whispered.

You nodded. "Yes, baby," you murmured. You kissed him hard, then softly again. "Want it."

Rafayel's hips started slowly, carefully. He moaned, head falling against your shoulder. "Sweet girl," he whimpered. "You're so tight today..." You whined and clung to him, gasping as his head hit the right spot. He grinned against your skin. "Is that the spot, cutie?"

You whimpered. "Y-yes," you gasped out, head falling back again.

Rafayel stumbled forward until your back met the wall, bracing you there and adjusting to thrust harder and faster into you. "Feel good?"

You answered him with a messy kiss. His next thrust hit just right and you gasped against his mouth. Rafayel's tongue swiped against yours in the next second.

You relaxed all but your legs, keeping him close to you. His rapid thrusts had you trembling harder, legs shaking around him. You buried your head in his neck, opposite the kiss mark to keep it intact, and muffled your moans with his collar.

"Mark me," he begged. "Please, cutie, mark me as yours."

Some part of you was still aware that he had a professional engagement once you were done. So you pushed his shirt down and sucked a hickey into his collarbone, where you could hide it, that matched the other you'd left earlier.

Rafayel moaned embarrassingly loudly. He was panting now, even as his hips kept up a steady pace, your walls fluttering around him.

"Are you close, sweet girl?" he purred. "Gonna cum for me?"

"Yes," you whined. "Fuck, Raf, I'm so—"

The door handle jiggled.

You and Rafayel froze, heads whipping toward the sound. Panic filled you until you remembered you'd locked the door. Even so, the two of you stayed absolutely still, eyes locked on each other, until the person on the other side of the door gave up.

Several moments passed before Rafayel started to move again, returning to the slow pace he'd begun with. You tapped his arm quickly. When he looked at you, eyes wide, you whispered, "Faster."

Rafayel giggled. "Then you gotta keep quiet, okay?" You nodded. "Good girl," he breathed. A second later, he giggled as you tightened up around his cock, growing wetter at the praise.

The two of you continued, panting and whimpering quietly, muffling each other's noises with kisses. Rafayel's thrusts grew sloppier as he grew closer. The knot in your stomach tightened.

"Close again," you murmured against his lips.

"Forgive me," he whispered in response, leaving you frowning—until he pulled out of you, effectively squashing your orgasm. You spluttered in confusion, even as your interest grew at the sight of him shoving his pants and boxers further down, his cock in his hand.

Quickly, Rafayel pulled you away from the wall and bent you over the sink. You were faced with the appetizing view of Rafayel behind you, lust in his gaze—and in his hands. He flipped your dress up over your back, exposing your ass. You grinned at him in the mirror; he wiped it off your face as he spread your legs and pushed back into your pussy.

Moaning softly, Rafayel folded himself over you, holding onto your waist as he began thrusting into you.

"Oh, fuck, cutie," he whimpered. God, you loved when he sounded wrecked like that—and you hadn't even needed to do anything to get him there. "Feels so damn good like this."

You found yourself mesmerized with the view of your bodies moving together in the mirror, your hips moving to meet his every thrust. As for Rafayel, he had buried his face in your back, jaw clenched to hide his whines.

"That's it, baby," you cooed. "Oh, holy shit... Rafayel, baby, you're gonna make me cum!"

His arms tightened around you. "Go ahead, sweet girl, please. Please, let me have it. Cum on my cock, please, please."

"Needy boy," you teased, though you were hardly in a position to judge. You shuddered, legs shaking, knees weakening as pleasure crested through you.

Rafayel's hand slipped further down, slapping away the fabric of your dress. His trembling fingers found your clit and began to rub in sensual circles. Your pussy clenched around him and you whined.

"Cum for me," he begged. "Fuck, please, please—cum for me!"

It crested like a wave through you, pleasure building to a peak but not quite going over the edge just yet. You moaned, trying in vain to quiet yourself.

Rafayel gasped in your ear. "Oh, fuck, cutie! Cutie, I'm— I'm cumming, oh shit, I'm—" He devolved into a moan, nearly sobbing as he came. Sticky warmth filled your pussy.

"Raf!" you cried out, his cum filling you, triggering your own release. You gasped, legs shaking violently. Your ears were ringing. "Fuck, fuck, fuck! Oh, shit, baby... Oh..."

Panting, Rafayel slumped against you, his hips pumping into you a few more times. Had you been anywhere else, you were certain he would have just kept going.

Your hand found his. You laced your fingers together as you breathed, trying to recover your senses. You looked over your shoulder. "You..." Words caught in your dry throat. "You okay?"

Rafayel lifted his head and locked eyes with you in the mirror. "I'm great," he breathed. He gave you a lopsided green. "How do you feel?"

"Fantastic," you replied, matching his smile. After a moment, during which you cleared your throat and caught your breath, you added, "We should...get back."

He nodded, sighing heavily. He pulled out slowly. Both of you groaned as his cum dripped out of you and onto the floor.

"Let me clean you up," he said softly. He pulled up his boxers and pants before he grabbed a paper towel. He wet it and squeezed the excess water from it. He dabbed it gently between your legs, cleaning the slick and cum and sweat off you.

Rafayel tossed the towel and pulled your panties back up your legs. He helped you fix your dress, straightening it out. In return, you readjusted his shirt, careful to cover the hickeys you'd left on him, wiping up the lipstick marks on his neck and face. You did, however, leave the stain you'd given him for the evening.

The two of you were quiet as you cleaned up and washed your hands, basking in the bliss of each other. You could already tell you were going to be pleasantly sore for the rest of the evening.

In the mirror, the two of you tidied your hair and faces. Rafayel crouched to wipe the mess from the floor. You reapplied lipstick and mascara and, by the end of it, you had to peer closely to realize anything had happened at all.

Rafayel offered you his hand. "Ready, cutie?"

You took his head. "Are you?"

He sighed. "You and Thomas," he teased, "thinking I can't handle the press."

You raised your eyebrow. "Should I quote their last article to you?" He huffed. You squeezed his hand. "Just...pay attention. Answer their questions. Be humorous but not rude, alright?"

"I," he said, affronted, a hand to his chest, "have been reliably told that I am not rude—I am sassy!"

You giggled. "Oh, hush," you said, kissing his cheek. "I trust you with this, Raf, I do. It's going to be just fine."

His face softened. "Thank you," he said, voice fond. He gave you one last kiss on the cheek as you rounded the corner, stepping back into the exhibition.

Eyes turned toward the two of you immediately and you tried your best not to look like you'd had a quickie in the bathroom. You smiled serenely at people who made eye contact with you, giving Rafayel's hand a squeeze.

Thomas was still entertaining the critics. Thankfully, the three of them were laughing as you joined them, Rafayel dropping seamlessly into the conversation with a clever comment about his art, bouncing off of what Thomas was saying, that appeared to make them forget that they should ask where he'd been.

As chivalrous as you'd ever seen him, Rafayel guided the two critics away from you and Thomas, starting them through the exhibition's planned loop to view his art.

For several moments, you and Thomas were silent as you watched Rafayel. You had the sudden feeling that you must look like proud parents.

"I don't know how you do it," Thomas said at last.

"Do what?"

"Get him to cooperate, to put it bluntly," he said. "I've worked him for years, and I've never seen him so willing to...mingle."

You hummed in agreement, then realized that Thomas was watching you out of the corner of his eye, waiting. It dawned on you that he was hoping for an actual answer.

You hoped you weren't blushing.

When it became clear you weren't answering, Thomas cleared his throat and went back to watching Rafayel, now at a different painting, laughing with the critics. Then he cleared his throat again.

"That was, ah...quite a long pep talk you two had."

Oh, you were certainly blushing now.

Catching sight of Thomas' sly side smile did you no favors for your burning cheeks. You looked the opposite direction of him, biting your lip.

Thomas laughed behind his hand. "Oh, really? Forget the kiss mark, fucking in a public bathroom is the real risk to his reputation!" Yet he didn't seem all that surprised by it. "At least I hope you went to a bathroom and not a hallway..."

"It was a bathroom!" you said quickly, no longer caring that you were incriminating yourself, just mortified at the idea at being caught with your dress around your hips in the gallery's halls. Then you shrugged. "I locked the door, don't worry. We might be stupid but we're not that stupid."

He tilted his head, debating. "You know, stupid isn't the word I would go for."

"Oh, no? Dumb? Reckless? Idiotic?" you offered.

He rolled his eyes. "Horny," he corrected, voice low.

You glanced over at your Lemurian, several other instances flickering through you mind: water sloshing in a bathtub, rolling around in paint together, your surprise visit to his hotel room for a previous exhibition, the first time he'd shown you his tail, and the night in the desert. And that was just the beginning.

Looking back at Thomas, you said, "I don't think you know your artist that well. You'd...be surprised."

Thomas coughed. He clenched his jaw so hard you thought you heard a tooth crack. His eyes drifted over the art on display. "So when he said you were his inspiration..."

You were nodding before he could finish his thought. As his voice trailed off, you took in his suddenly bloodless cheeks with a laugh. "Don't look so shocked, Thomas. He's not lying about the other inspirations for his paintings—those are just...secondary."

"Oh, God."

~❊~

"So!" Rafayel was incredibly cheery as the pair of you left the gallery, headed toward his car. Your joined hands swung between you. "Is Thomas going to kill us?"

You laughed. "Well, I don't think so. Are your critics going to turn you into a public scandal?"

He beamed. "Not this time! They were enchanted by me. Besides, it wasn't really a scandal last time, Thomas is dramatic." You fought the urge to roll your eyes. "They caught me in a bad mood last time. But this time, I had you." He squeezed your hand, then brought it up to his lips, kissing it softly.

You leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder. "I love you," you said quietly, adjusting so you could see his face.

Rafayel's eyes glittered in the darkness. "I love you, too, beloved."

He held your door open for you before getting in himself. The radio was playing a soft, quiet love song you would have liked to dance with him to, if you had been anywhere but the car.

The roads were quiet and empty, illuminated by streetlamps. You reached over and placed your hand on Rafayel's thigh. He smiled, glancing at you.

"Does somebody want something?" he asked, only half-teasing.

"Drive faster," you purred, looking him up and down. When he raised a brow, you elaborated, "I have a laundry list of things I'd like to do to you."

Rafayel's cheeks flared pink, but his foot pressed down on the gas and your hand slowly creeped higher up his leg.

You made it home ten minutes earlier than you should have.

☞ ❊ ☜

[Image Caption: I do not give permission to repost, translate, or publish my work on any other site or app by anyone except myself. I do not give permission for my work to be fed into AI (for audio, art, or writing).]

Love and Deepspace // Rafayel

Taglist: {comment and let me know if you'd like to be added to the L&DS/Rafayel taglist!}

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phamapple · 4 months ago

Text

H.S.K.T

Minjeong could rant about her de taste for the song “H.S.K.T” but that song soon became her most played song when she overheard her crush gushing about it

Warnings; fluff, fem!reader, kissing, quiet x outgoing, music freak reader, lmk if I missed anything cuz I think there’s a lot that I missed :P 5.5k WC

The hallways of Seoul High School were always filled with the sound of laughter and chatter, but for Y/N, the only sound that truly mattered was music. She lived and breathed it, spending every spare moment listening to her favorite artists, discovering new genres, and even composing her own songs.

Y/N's love for music was infectious, and it wasn't uncommon to see her walking down the hallway with her earbuds in, a look of pure joy on her face. Her friends and classmates had grown accustomed to her musical obsession, and they often joked that she had a soundtrack playing in her head at all times.

But amidst all the chaos and noise of high school life, there was one person who watched Y/N with a quieter, more introspective gaze. Minjeong, a tall and soft-spoken senior, had harbored a secret crush on Y/N for what felt like an eternity.

Minjeong loved the way Y/N's eyes lit up when she talked about music, the way her entire face seemed to come alive with passion and excitement. She loved the way Y/N's hair curled slightly at the edges when she wore her earbuds, and the way her smile could light up an entire room.

For Minjeong, it was more than just a passing infatuation. She had fallen deeply, irrevocably in love with Y/N, and she didn't know how to process her emotions, or how to navigate the complex, terrifying landscape of her own heart.

As the new school year began, Minjeong found herself drawn to Y/N more and more, her feelings growing stronger with each passing day. And Y/N, oblivious to the quiet, devoted gaze that followed her everywhere, simply continued to live her life, surrounded by the music that brought her so much joy.

—

Minjeong rolled her eyes good-naturedly as she sat down at the lunch table with her friend Karina. "I swear, have you heard that trending song by Lee Hi and wonstein ?" she asked, wrinkling her nose in distaste.

Karina looked up from her phone, a curious expression on her face. "You mean 'H.S.K.T.'?" she asked, a hint of amusement in her voice.

Minjeong nodded vigorously. "Yes, that's the one! I mean, I get it, the melody is catchy and all, but the lyrics are so repetitive. It's just the same phrase over and over again. I mean, can't they come up with something more original?"

Karina chuckled. "You're just not a fan of rnb, Minjeong," she teased.

Minjeong shook her head. "I'm just saying, there's better music out there. Music that actually means something, you know?"

Just then, Y/N walked by their table, earbuds firmly in place. Minjeong's eyes followed her, a soft smile spreading across her face. She didn't notice Karina watching her, a knowing glint in her eye.

"Minjeong, you're so oblivious," Karina whispered, a grin spreading across her face.

Minjeong turned back to Karina, a questioning look on her face. "What do you mean?" she asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

Karina just chuckled and shook her head. "Never mind, Minjeong. Just never mind."

As Y/N and her friends sat down at the table next to Minjeong and Karina, Minjeong's breath hitched in her throat. She felt a sudden rush of heat to her cheeks, and she knew she was blushing.

She tried to play it cool, focusing on her lunch and pretending she wasn't aware of Y/N's presence. But it was no use. She could feel Y/N's energy, her infectious enthusiasm, and it was drawing Minjeong in like a magnet.

As she listened, Minjeong heard Y/N start talking to her friend Ryujin about music. Specifically, about the song "H.S.K.T.".

"Oh my gosh, Ryujin, have you heard the new remix of 'H.S.K.T.'?" Y/N asked, her eyes shining with excitement.

Ryujin nodded, a smile spreading across her face. "Yeah, I heard it yesterday! It's so good!"

Y/N squealed, bouncing up and down in her seat. "I know, right? I've been listening to it nonstop. I'm totally obsessed!"

Minjeong's eyes widened as she listened to Y/N's enthusiastic rant. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. Y/N, the girl she had a crush on, was actually a huge fan of the song Minjeong had just been trashing.

As Y/N continued to gush about the song, Minjeong found herself feeling more and more intrigued. What was it about "H.S.K.T." that Y/N loved so much? Was it really as bad as Minjeong thought, or was there something she was missing?

Minjeong's curiosity got the better of her, and she found herself leaning in, listening more closely to Y/N's conversation. She didn't even realize she was doing it, but Karina noticed, and raised an eyebrow.

"Minjeong, you okay?" Karina whispered, nudging her friend with her elbow.

Minjeong nodded, still listening to Y/N's enthusiastic monologue. "Yeah, I'm fine," she whispered back. "I just...I want to hear more about this song."

Karina grinned, a knowing glint in her eye. "Ooooooooooo," she whispered, teasing Minjeong mercilessly.

Minjeong's face went bright red as she realized she'd been caught. But she couldn't help it. She was intrigued by Y/N's passion, and she wanted to know more.

As soon as Minjeong got home from school, she found herself wandering over to her computer, her fingers hovering over the keyboard. She had promised herself she wouldn't give in to her curiosity, but she just couldn't help it.

She typed in the name of the song, "H.S.K.T.", and hesitated for a moment before pressing play. The opening notes filled her room, and Minjeong felt a slight wince at the repetitive lyrics.

But as she listened more closely, something strange happened. The first thing that came to her mind was Y/N - her bright smile, her infectious enthusiasm, her passion for music.

Minjeong couldn't help but smile as she thought about Y/N, and before she knew it, she was tapping her foot along with the beat. The repetitive lyrics didn't seem so annoying anymore, and she found herself singing along to the chorus.

As the song came to an end, Minjeong felt a pang of disappointment. She didn't want it to be over. So she did the only thing she could think of - she pressed play again.

And again.

Before she knew it, Minjeong had listened to "H.S.K.T." eight times in a row. She was surprised by how much she had grown to love the song, and she knew exactly why.

It was because of Y/N.

As she drifted off to sleep, Minjeong couldn't help but wonder what other songs Y/N loved, and whether she would ever get the chance to share her own musical passions with her crush.

Minjeong sat on her bed, her laptop open in front of her. She was determined to create the perfect playlist for Y/N - a collection of songs that would speak directly to Y/N's heart.

As she scrolled through her music library, Minjeong's mind wandered back to Y/N. She thought about the way Y/N's eyes sparkled when she talked about music, the way her smile could light up an entire room.

Minjeong's heart skipped a beat as she imagined Y/N listening to the playlist, her face lighting up with delight. She pictured Y/N seeking her out, thanking her for the playlist, and maybe even asking her to hang out.

With renewed enthusiasm, Minjeong started adding songs to the playlist. She chose tracks that reminded her of Y/N, songs that captured the essence of Y/N's bubbly personality.

As the playlist grew, Minjeong found herself pouring her heart and soul into it. She added songs that spoke to her own feelings, tracks that conveyed the emotions she couldn't quite express.

Before she knew it, Minjeong had created a playlist that was as much about Y/N as it was about herself. It was a collection of songs that told a story, a story of crushes and music and the power of connection.

Minjeong saved the playlist, a sense of pride and accomplishment washing over her. She knew that she had created something special, something that might just help her connect with Y/N on a deeper level.

Now, all she had to do was work up the courage to give it to Y/N.

—

Y/N's eyes widened as she scrolled through the playlist Minjeong had given her. She couldn't believe the effort Minjeong had put into creating it - the songs were all perfectly curated, each one speaking to Y/N's musical tastes in a way that felt almost uncanny.

As she listened to the playlist, Y/N felt a warmth spread through her chest. It was clear that Minjeong had put her heart and soul into this playlist, and Y/N was touched by the thoughtfulness.

She looked up to see Minjeong watching her, a nervous expression on her face. Y/N's heart skipped a beat as their eyes met, and for a moment, they just stared at each other.

"Minjeong, this is...wow," Y/N said finally, breaking the silence. "You have no idea how much this means to me."

Minjeong's face lit up with a smile, and Y/N's heart skipped another beat. She felt a flutter in her chest, and suddenly, she was seeing Minjeong in a whole new light.

Y/N's eyes scanned the playlist, and her face lit up with a bright smile. "You even put 'H.S.K.T.'!" she exclaimed, her voice trembling with emotion.

Minjeong's heart skipped a beat as Y/N's face scrunched up, and she pouted, clearly touched by the gesture. Before Minjeong could react, Y/N had thrown her arms around her, pulling her into a tight hug.

Minjeong's eyes widened in shock, and she froze, unsure of how to respond. She had dreamed of moments like this, but she never thought they would actually happen. She was about to hug Y/N back, but before she could, Y/N pulled away, her face flushing with embarrassment.

"I'm so sorry I did that," Y/N said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I don't know what came over me."

Minjeong's heart was still racing from the sudden hug, and she felt a pang of disappointment that it had ended so abruptly. But she tried to play it cool, not wanting to make Y/N feel any more awkward than she already did.

"It's okay," Minjeong said, trying to sound casual. "I'm just glad you liked the playlist."

Y/N smiled, looking relieved, and Minjeong's heart skipped another beat. She couldn't help but wonder what had just happened, and whether Y/N's hug had meant something more.

Karina watched the exchange between Minjeong and Y/N with interest, her eyes narrowing as she sensed the tension between them. She had known Minjeong for years, and she could tell when her friend was crushing hard.

As soon as Y/N walked away, Karina pounced, plopping down beside Minjeong on the bench. "Spill," she said, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

Minjeong sighed, running a hand through her hair. "I don't know, Karina. I think I might have misread the situation entirely."

Karina raised an eyebrow. "Misread the situation? You mean, like, you thought Y/N was into you?"

Minjeong nodded, feeling a flush rise to her cheeks. "Yeah. I mean, she hugged me, Karina. Out of nowhere."

Karina's grin grew wider. "That's not out of nowhere, Minjeong. That's a sign. And I'm not just talking about the hug."

Minjeong's eyes locked onto Karina's. "What do you mean?"

Karina leaned in, her voice dropping to a whisper. "I mean, Y/N's been watching you, Minjeong. I've seen the way she looks at you. She's interested."

Minjeong's heart skipped a beat as she processed Karina's words. Could it be true? Was Y/N really interested in her?

Karina's advice echoed in Minjeong's mind as she watched Y/N walk down the hallway. She had been waiting for the perfect moment to confess her feelings, and she couldn't let this opportunity slip away.

Minjeong took a deep breath, her heart pounding in her chest. She quickened her pace, catching up to Y/N just as she was about to turn a corner.

"Y/N, wait!" Minjeong called out, her voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N turned around, a smile on her face. "Hey, Minjeong! What's up?"

Minjeong's heart skipped a beat as she gazed into Y/N's eyes. She could feel her pulse racing, her palms growing sweaty. This was it – the moment of truth.

But just as Minjeong was about to confess her feelings, Ryujin appeared out of nowhere, a concerned expression on her face.

"Y/N, baby, I'm not sure I'll be able to follow you to that W2E concert," Ryujin said, her voice hesitant. "Maybe you'll find someone else? I'm quite busy with my family on that day."

Y/N's face fell, and Minjeong could see the disappointment in her eyes. She nodded understandingly, but Minjeong could tell she was trying to hide her true feelings.

Ryujin nodded sympathetically before turning to leave. "Sorry again, Y/N! I feel terrible for bailing on you."

As Ryujin walked away, Y/N let out a sigh, her shoulders slumping in defeat. Minjeong's heart went out to her – she could see how much Y/N had been looking forward to the concert.

Without thinking, Minjeong spoke up, her words tumbling out in a rush. "Hey, Y/N, I'll go with you to the concert! I've heard great things about W2E, and I'd love to see them live."

Y/N's face lit up, and she let out a squeal of delight. "Really, Minjeong? You'd do that for me?"

Minjeong nodded, feeling a warmth spread through her chest. "Of course, Y/N! I'd love to spend time with you."

Y/N's eyes sparkled with gratitude, and she threw her arms around Minjeong in a tight hug. "Thank you so much, Minjeong! You're the best!"

As Y/N bounced up and down, Minjeong couldn't help but laugh. She felt a sense of joy wash over her, and for a moment, she forgot all about her confession.

Y/N pulled back, still grinning from ear to ear. "I'll make sure to get us the best seats! Thanks again, Minjeong – you're a lifesaver!"

With that, Y/N skipped off down the hallway, leaving Minjeong to watch her go with a dreamy sigh. Minjeong's heart was still racing, but it wasn't just from the excitement of confessing her feelings – it was from the sheer joy of making Y/N happy.

As she stood there, a goofy grin spreading across her face, Minjeong realized that she had forgotten all about her confession. She had been so caught up in the moment, so happy to see Y/N smile, that she had let her chance slip away.

But as she turned to walk away, Minjeong couldn't help but feel a sense of hope. Maybe, just maybe, she would get another chance to confess her feelings to Y/N. And maybe, just maybe, Y/N would feel the same way.

The weekend finally arrived, and Y/N's excitement was palpable. She had been looking forward to the W2E concert all week, and she couldn't wait to share the experience with Minjeong.

As she waited for Minjeong to arrive, Y/N found herself pacing back and forth in her room. She had spent hours getting ready, trying on different outfits and doing her hair and makeup just right.

Just as she was starting to get anxious, Y/N's phone buzzed with a text from Minjeong. "Hey, I'm ready! Maybe we should meet up somewhere?"

Y/N's heart skipped a beat as she read the text. She quickly typed out a response, but before she could hit send, Minjeong sent another text. "Wait, don't worry about meeting up. I'll come pick you up."

Y/N's face lit up with a smile as she read the text. She felt a flutter in her chest at the thought of Minjeong coming to pick her up.

As she waited for Minjeong to arrive, Y/N found herself walking around her room, checking her reflection in the mirror for what felt like the hundredth time.

Just as she was starting to get impatient, Y/N heard the sound of a horn outside. She rushed to the window and pulled back the curtain, her heart skipping a beat as she saw Minjeong's car parked outside.

Y/N grabbed her bag and rushed downstairs, flinging open the front door and sliding into the passenger seat of Minjeong's car.

As she settled into her seat, Minjeong turned to her with a bright smile. "OMG, your outfit is so cute!" she exclaimed, her eyes scanning Y/N's outfit.

Y/N's face flushed with pleasure as she thanked Minjeong, feeling a little self-conscious about her outfit. "Nah, yours is better," she said, taking note of Minjeong's outfit. "Mine is just casual wear."

Minjeong laughed, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Casual wear? You look amazing, Y/N! I love the baggy clothes on you."

Y/N's blush deepened as she smiled, feeling a little more at ease. "Thanks, Minjeong. You always know how to make me feel better."

As they pulled away from the curb, Minjeong glanced over at Y/N, her eyes shining with excitement. "I'm so glad we're doing this, Y/N. I've been looking forward to it all week."

Y/N grinned, feeling a sense of excitement wash over her. "Me too, Minjeong. Me too."

As they drove to the concert venue, the two girls chatted excitedly, discussing everything from their favorite W2E songs to their plans for the summer.

The atmosphere in the car was electric, and Y/N couldn't help but feel a sense of joy and excitement. She was so glad she had agreed to go to the concert with Minjeong.

As they pulled up to the venue, Y/N's heart skipped a beat. The line of fans waiting to get in stretched around the block, and the air was electric with excitement.

Minjeong grinned, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Ready, Y/N?"

Y/N nodded, feeling a sense of anticipation wash over her. "Born ready, Minjeong."

As the concert got underway, Y/N found herself getting more and more into the music. She was singing along to every song, dancing with abandon, and having the time of her life.

But as the crowd around her grew more intense, Y/N started to feel overwhelmed. The noise, the lights, the sheer number of people pressing in on her from all sides – it was all starting to feel a bit too much.

Minjeong noticed that Y/N was starting to look a bit frazzled, and she quickly grabbed her hand, pulling her through the crowd to a safer spot near the back.

"Hey, are you okay?" Minjeong asked, her voice loud enough to be heard over the music. "You looked like you were starting to feel a bit overwhelmed."

Y/N nodded gratefully, feeling a bit better now that she was out of the crush of the crowd. "Yeah, I'm fine," she said. "Just got a bit too much for me."

Minjeong smiled and put a reassuring arm around Y/N's shoulders. "Don't worry, I've got you," she said. "We can stay back here and enjoy the concert from a distance."

Y/N smiled, feeling a warmth spread through her chest at Minjeong's thoughtful gesture. She leaned into Minjeong's side, feeling grateful for her friend's support.

As they stood there, watching the concert from a safe distance, Y/N felt a sense of contentment wash over her. She was happy to be here with Minjeong, enjoying the music and each other's company.

And as she glanced over at Minjeong, she couldn't help but notice the way the lights from the stage illuminated her friend's face, making her look even more beautiful than usual.

As the concert went on, Y/N found herself feeling more and more drawn to Minjeong. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but there was something about Minjeong's bright smile and infectious enthusiasm that made Y/N feel happy and alive.

At first, Y/N tried to brush off the feeling, telling herself she was just being silly. But as the night wore on, she couldn't shake the sense that her feelings for Minjeong went beyond friendship.

It wasn't until they were walking out of the venue, the cool night air a welcome relief after the hot and crowded concert hall, that Y/N realized the true extent of her feelings. Minjeong was laughing and chatting with her, her eyes sparkling with amusement, and Y/N felt her heart skip a beat.

She was in love with Minjeong.

The realization hit Y/N like a ton of bricks, leaving her feeling stunned and disoriented. She didn't know what to do or say, so she just stood there, frozen in place, as Minjeong continued to chat and laugh beside her.

Meanwhile, Minjeong was oblivious to the turmoil going on inside Y/N's head. She was too busy basking in the glow of their wonderful night together, feeling grateful and happy that she had gotten to share this experience with her dear friend.

But as they walked to the car, Minjeong couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. Y/N seemed a bit quieter than usual, a bit more subdued, and Minjeong wondered if everything was okay.

"Hey, Y/N, are you doing all right?" Minjeong asked, her voice soft with concern. "You seem a bit quiet tonight."

Y/N hesitated, unsure of how to respond. She didn't want to lie to Minjeong, but she wasn't ready to reveal her true feelings either.

"I'm fine, Minjeong," Y/N said finally, forcing a smile onto her face. "Just a bit tired, that's all."

Minjeong looked at her skeptically, but she didn't push the issue. Instead, she just smiled and nodded, her eyes shining with warmth and understanding.

As they drove home, the silence between them was comfortable and companionable. Minjeong chatted occasionally, pointing out landmarks and talking about the concert, but for the most part, they just enjoyed each other's company, the quiet darkness of the night wrapping around them like a warm blanket.

It wasn't until they pulled up in front of Y/N's house, the porch light casting a warm glow over the scene, that Minjeong finally worked up the courage to confess her feelings.

"Y/N, can I talk to you for a minute?" Minjeong asked, her voice soft and hesitant.

Y/N looked at her curiously, wondering what Minjeong wanted to say. "Of course, Minjeong," she replied, her heart pounding in her chest.

Minjeong took a deep breath, her eyes locked on Y/N's face. "I just wanted to say thank you," she said, her voice trembling with emotion. "Thank you for being such an amazing friend, for always being there for me."

Y/N's heart swelled with affection, and she felt a lump form in her throat. "Minjeong, you're an amazing friend too," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Minjeong smiled, her eyes shining with tears. "I'm glad we're friends, Y/N," she said. "But I have to be honest with you – my feelings for you go beyond friendship."

Y/N's heart skipped a beat as she processed Minjeong's words. She had been hoping and dreaming of this moment for so long, and now that it was finally here, she didn't know what to say.

"Minjeong, I –" Y/N started, but Minjeong cut her off, her voice pouring out in a rush.

"I know it may seem sudden, Y/N, but I've been feeling this way for a while now. I was too scared to say anything, but I couldn't keep it inside anymore. I had to tell you, no matter how scared I was."

Y/N's heart went out to Minjeong, and she felt a wave of love and affection wash over her. She knew exactly what Minjeong was feeling – the fear, the uncertainty, the hope.

"Minjeong, I –" Y/N started again, but this time, she was interrupted by her own heart, which was pounding in her chest like a drum.

She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself down, but it was no use. Her feelings for Minjeong were too strong, too overwhelming.

"Minjeong, I feel the same way," Y/N said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

Minjeong's face lit up with joy, and she leaned in, her lips brushing against Y/N's in a soft, gentle kiss. Y/N's heart soared as she felt Minjeong's lips on hers, and she knew in that moment that she was exactly where she was meant to be.

As they pulled back from the kiss, Minjeong's eyes shone with happiness, and Y/N couldn't help but smile back at her. They sat there for a moment, just looking at each other, the tension between them palpable.

"I'm so glad I told you," Minjeong said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. "I was so scared, but it feels like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders."

Y/N nodded, feeling a sense of understanding and connection with Minjeong. "I'm glad you told me too," she said. "I've been feeling the same way, but I was too scared to say anything."

Minjeong's face lit up with a smile, and she reached out, taking Y/N's hand in hers. "I'm so glad we're on the same page," she said, her voice filled with emotion.

As they sat there, holding hands and looking into each other's eyes, Y/N felt a sense of happiness and contentment wash over her. She knew that this was just the beginning of their journey together, and she couldn't wait to see what the future held.

The night air was filled with the sound of crickets and the occasional passing car, but Y/N and Minjeong didn't notice. They were too lost in their own little world, a world of love, happiness, and possibility.

As the night wore on, they talked and laughed, sharing their hopes and dreams with each other. They were no longer just friends; they were something more, something special.

And as they sat there, under the stars, Y/N knew that she had found her soulmate in Minjeong. She was excited to see what the future held for them, and she knew that as long as they were together, everything would be okay.

—

Sunday morning dawned bright and early, and Y/N woke up feeling refreshed and rejuvenated. She stretched out in bed, yawning widely, and reached for her phone to check her messages.

As she scrolled through her social media feeds, Y/N stumbled upon a video of the H.S.K.T challenge that had been making the rounds online. She had seen it before, but this time, something about it caught her eye.

Maybe it was the memory of Minjeong's bright smile and infectious laughter from the night before, but Y/N suddenly felt a strong urge to share the video with her girlfriend. She sent the video to Minjeong, along with a message that read: "Min, would you please do this challenge with me :("

Y/N couldn't help but add a few pleading emojis to the end of the message, hoping to guilt trip Minjeong into agreeing. She knew it was a bit silly, but she couldn't help herself – she was just too excited about the prospect of doing the challenge with her girlfriend.

Minjeong, on the other hand, was not surprised by Y/N's message. She had been expecting something like this, given Y/N's love of challenges and silly videos. And besides, she couldn't say no to Y/N's adorable pleading face, even if it was just a emoji.

"Of course, I'll do it with you!" Minjeong texted back, trying to sound casual despite her growing excitement. "When were you thinking of doing it?"

Y/N's response came almost immediately. "Thanks, Min! We'll do it when we meet up at the park :)"

Minjeong grinned, feeling a thrill of anticipation. She had been looking forward to meeting up with Y/N all day, and now she had something extra to look forward to. She quickly got dressed and ready, her mind racing with thoughts of the challenge and what they would do.

As she headed out the door, Minjeong couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement and nervousness. She had no idea what the challenge would entail, but she was ready to face it head-on with Y/N by her side.

Meanwhile, Y/N was getting ready on her end, her heart racing with excitement. She had always loved doing silly challenges and videos with her friends, and this one promised to be extra special. She was looking forward to spending time with Minjeong, and she knew that this challenge would be a great way to bond and create some unforgettable memories.

As she headed out the door, Y/N felt a sense of anticipation building up inside her. She knew that this day was going to be special, and she couldn't wait to see what the future held for her and Minjeong.

The park was just a short walk away, and Y/N arrived there a few minutes early, her eyes scanning the area for any sign of Minjeong. She spotted her girlfriend walking towards her, a bright smile on her face, and Y/N's heart skipped a beat.

"Hey!" Minjeong called out, waving enthusiastically. "I'm so excited to do this challenge with you!"

Y/N grinned, feeling a sense of excitement and nervousness. "Me too!" she replied, holding up her phone. "I've got the video all cued up and ready to go. Let's do this!"

Y/N held up her phone, the video of the H.S.K.T challenge playing on the screen. "Okay, Minjeong, watch closely," she said, demonstrating the dance moves. "It's not too hard, I promise."

Minjeong watched intently, her eyes fixed on the screen. She nodded along, trying to commit the steps to memory.

When Y/N finished demonstrating the dance, Minjeong set her own phone down and stood up, a determined look on her face. "Okay, let's do this!" she exclaimed.

Y/N grinned, feeling a surge of excitement. "That's the spirit!" she said, holding out her hand to Minjeong.

Together, the two girls launched into the dance, laughing and spinning to the music. They stumbled over a few of the steps, but they didn't let that stop them. They kept going, their laughter and joy infectious.

As they finished the final step of the dance, Minjeong let out a whoop of excitement and threw her arms around Y/N. The two girls tumbled to the soft grass floor, holding onto each other tightly.

Their laughter erupted into the air, a joyful sound that echoed through the park. They lay there for a moment, holding onto each other, their hearts full of happiness.

Finally, Y/N managed to catch her breath and pause the video. She turned to Minjeong, a smile still plastered on her face. "You're an amazing dancer," she said, her eyes shining with amusement.

Minjeong grinned, her face flushed with excitement. "Thanks to you," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N's heart skipped a beat as she gazed into Minjeong's eyes. She felt a surge of affection and love, and without thinking, she leaned in and gave Minjeong a light kiss on the cheek.

Minjeong's eyes fluttered closed, and she held onto Y/N's waist tightly, her face still flushed with excitement. The two girls lay there for a moment, the only sound their happy sighs and the distant music still playing from Y/N's phone.

It was a moment of pure joy and happiness, a moment that neither of them would ever forget. And as they lay there, wrapped in each other's arms, they both knew that their friendship had blossomed into something more – something special, something true, and something that would last a lifetime.

#aespa #aespa x fem reader #aespa x reader #aespa fluff #aespa fanfic #aespa winter #winter x reader #aespa winter x reader #aespa imagines

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jinxs-gf · 1 year ago

Text

beauty is in the eye of the beholder

pairings: jinx x reader

summary: You’re an artist, giddy at the thought of creating a portrait of Jinx, your lover. Except she can’t understand why you’d want a portrait of her.

content, warnings: jinx has cute aggression & insecurities, fluff! reader calls jinx ‘angel’ and jinx calls r her toots, too much description and it’s all barely edited D: pretty cringe but it’s okay

w.c. 2.2k

a.n. based off this request <3 again tysm anon ILY :)

You walk into the little corner of Jinx's room (the abandoned, giant space full of nothingness—that goes down...who knows how far) exclusively reserved for you. There's easels with and without canvases. Some covered in abandoned art, some finished, and some blank. The corner screamed you all over it. Especially the mess of unnecessary amounts of paint brushes, buckets, pencils, tore up paper...

Paint splotches and spills were scattered across your little desk and the floor (the work of you and Jinx).

There's particular squabbles of paint that you don’t mind. A happy face with a squiggly smile that's been there long enough to start chipping away. An uneven mess of hearts scattered in attempt to make the perfect one. Big words that read "I love you" in blue and smaller words next to it, "jinx waz here" in pink. The newest stain is on one of the many cans of your desk, a mark of her kiss. She'd quite literally painted her lips with bright purple and kissed the can, insisting it was there so her toots would never miss her.

Even though there's no time to miss her. Even though she resorts to bringing her work over to your tiny desk instead of keeping it to her very spacious one. You don't mind, the closer to your girlfriend the better. You pretend to be bothered though, only so she'd persist and annoy and squish into your space further.

You tie the apron, generously gifted by Silco, around yourself, excited to (hopefully) start a new, special project. It was gifted reluctantly of course. He tried to make it seem like it wasn't a big deal, but it was a very big deal. The eye of Zaun gift giving? Unheard of. You must be special. And you were, according to your blue haired menace that reminded you everyday. The very menace you affectionately named Angel.

"Toots!"

Jinx's gloved hands wrap around your body and suddenly, your back is crunched to her front. Her hands squeeze your tummy while nuzzling her face into you. Clearly she had missed you...for the whole minute you were separated.

It's like she can tell you were thinking it, "What? You didn't miss me while you were gone? You don't seem so excited I'm here." She's teasing like she always does. The edge and rasp in her voice so close to your neck doing wonders to the butterflies in your stomach.

But of course Jinx missed you. Could you really blame her? She hates every second you're apart, and she loves that you do too. So she's open about it, maybe more dramatic and a bit of a show off, but only to make you laugh and see you turn bashful. She loves getting you shy with her affections and teasing, unable to fathom the way you're wrapped around her finger the way she's wrapped around yours.

Your hands delicately grab her small, rough ones, turning yourself around to face her. "Don't even start with me, I'll tickle you to death if you keep up the accusations."

"Is that supposed the be a threat?" And oh, the pout is more real than sarcastic than she wants it to be. Like she genuinely doesn't like the idea of being threatened...by tickles (you know the idea is scary to Jinx, it's the truest form of torture she said once).

"Kind of." Your hands swing in the gap between the two of you. "Hey I actually had an idea. Care to hear?" It's something you've been wanting to do for a while now, giddy at the thought of it. Yet suddenly you find yourself a bit reluctant, still undoubtedly shy around your lover. You hope she'll say yes and that her teasing from this won't be too harsh.

"Hit me with it!"

"Will you let me draw you? Like a full portrait? I promise I'll do you justice!"

Jinx is sorry for it, but she stopped listening immediately, too enraptured by your connected hands, heart beating a little faster at the contact. You'll never know the effect you have on her (or so she thinks), she refuses to get teased even though she loves to tease you. She adores how flustered you get. Teasing is her love language, Jinx's way of showing her love for her toots. And when you decide it's unbearable enough, you'll shut her up with a kiss. Jinx will drag it out and annoy you for that reason alone. She counts on a messy kiss every time.

Unknowing of what to do with the sudden adoration creeping up on her, she pinches your hands hard.

Unfazed, you call her "Angel?"

"Hm?" She looks up and at you with so much affection. So much it stops you for a moment. Your giddiness to do this increases tenfold, her expression killing you in the best way possible. You can be extremely honest about this to soften her up, make her want to say yes.

"I'd like to draw you. Like really, really badly. I have for the longest time. You're just...stupidly pretty and it makes me feel so stupid and I want to scribble your face all over my canvases all the time. So...can I? You'll have to sit for me as reference." You say it as if you don’t have every bit of her memorized, which you completely do.

And for whatever reason, your menace (angel) is stunned. You notice it’s a bad kind of stunned, you realize quickly.

“…Me?”

“Yes?”

“But why?” Jinx asks quiet and unsure of herself. Her eyes look everywhere but you, she tries pulling back but you squeeze her hands. There’s a hint of anxiety around her, something she hasn’t experienced since she met you.

The mood switch and uncharacteristic behavior causes worry to stir in your chest. “Uhh, why wouldn’t I? You’re my girlfriend, you’re the prettiest girl in the Undercity and in Piltover! Trust me, none of those snotty ladies are as pretty-”

“You haven’t even been to Piltover.”

“I don’t need to go over there to know they don’t compare to you.”

She heaves a big sigh, your worry growing.

“I just- I'm not pretty or beautiful or any of the things you say I am. You call me angel when I'm far from that! You love art, it’s your thing, toots. Your passion and escape. How can you let someone like me ruin something you love so much? I don’t want to…I don’t know.”

When you don’t answer, she continues.

“I’m not worthy of so much time being spent on something so precious you know?” She says it like she hopes you’ll agree. You won’t.

“Angel,” you let go of her hands to cup her face, needing her to hear you. “Of course you’re worth spending time on. I love you. Do I not say it enough? I know I can be-”

“No, you say it lots and lots!”

“I’ll say it more. I need to make sure you believe it. And guess what? I meant what I said Angel. You’re the prettiest girl. The prettiest to exist. And you’re mine, do you know how lucky I am? You clearly don’t understand how much I feel for you. You’re worth every second I’m gonna spend on your portrait, you understand?”

And finally, her smile is back, gone is the unsure frown.

Jinx nods and you nod while smiling with her, going in for a kiss…multiple kisses. Kisses all over her precious face, because she deserves to feel loved. To know that she’s loved.

You can be put your timidness to the side for the hour. She needs your confidence in your feelings right now. Your confidence in her.

"Now get in my lap, I need a better look at your pretty face." Your teasing demand flusters her. She immediately settles in your lap so your chests touch. It wasn't everyday (really ever) that you spoke to her like that, always too shy to do so. But Jinx finds that she kind of likes it, she wants you to demand contact with her, especially in a position like this. It makes her feel gooey inside. Butterflies uncontainable.

It's not exactly ideal, you're not used to having your girlfriend in your lap while sketching. But you wanted this, and it's not making it impossible. All you have to do is wrap your arms around her pretty waist and rest your chin on her shoulder. It's perfect.

"For science huh? To 'get a better look' at me was it? Toots, if you wanted me in your lap you coulda just said that!" She teases, assuming you just wanted her there to have a more accurate picture.

You quietly confess, "jus' wanted you in my lap." Giving her waist a squeeze while you sketch her jaw.

You can tell you've stumped her (but this time in a good way). She's gone impossibly quiet and still. Warm too, just like she always does when you attempt to flirt. The two of you were truly unable to get over and deal with the timidness of being affectionate. Of being together.

And just like always, she melts. Like how ice cream does in the sun (a sugary delight you've been able to share with Jinx once). Her stiff back let's loose and she squeezes in return. She holds on like you'll disappear. You wouldn't. Not ever, because how could you? When you love her and when she loves you to death?

It’s quiet for the rest of the time you’re drawing, Jinx resorting to drawing patterns on your back, seemingly drifting off at some point. She internally scolded herself for it, not wanting you to think she was bored but it was taking a while. She wanted to have this moment with you though, it was so delicate, something that’s not occurred before. Especially with the earlier conversation. It was special.

You dot the last bit of her freckles on the white sheet. "All done," a kiss to the side of her head that makes her impossibly warm and dig her face deeper. "Needa color it in now." Color it with the paint the two of you always make a mess out of, there's no doubt in your mind it'll happen again.

She turns to finally look at it, her eyes wider than you've ever seen. "Holy shit toots, there's no way you did that!"

"Are you accusing me of cheating?"

"Maybe." She always knew you were the best artist of the Undercity (definitely not biased), you were just that good. But this was different. Was it because it was a drawing of her? Well...it was also the fact that it was so accurate. From her eyes, nose, mouth, jaw...even the way her hair curled in front of her face. And the scars, scars even she herself had forgotten about. But you remembered, you hadn't looked at Jinx once the whole time. You really did have her memorized huh? You didn’t have to say it, the way you insisted she sat in your lap instead of on a different chair for reference and the drawing in front of her is enough proof.

Jinx needed to go look in whatever was left of her shattered mirror to see this. She couldn't believe how pretty she looked on a piece of paper. She couldn't believe you took the time to do this. That you even wanted to in the first place. Jinx has been flustered and felt her heart beating awfully fast just from your gaze alone. But she thinks her heart might be about ready to explode, much like her countless monkey bombs or firelights.

She's unsure how to contain or show this rush of deep, deep affection, so she pushes your face from where it's searching her reaction and jumps out your lap, rushing for your paint cans.

You're kind of confused, but also accepting of her reaction. You're used to it, not that she always runs away due to avoiding feelings. Definitely not. Jinx was one to have so much affection for something or someone that you just...want to pinch, squeeze or...bite it. Luckily she hasn't got you (yet). It was a little shove, probably to prevent herself from sinking her teeth into your cheek. (You truly wouldn't have minded) (you kind of would have, it hurts).

She's back in front of you holding up a bucket half full of bright blue paint. At her feet she's set down small cans of various blues, pinks, and purples. Her favorite colors, obviously.

"Here ya go toots!” There’s no doubt in your mind you’ll be making a mess with the paint when you’re done.

Except, you haven’t even picked out a paint brush before you feel her hands grab your waist from behind, the familiar feeling of paint transferring from her touch to your body.

You look back at her, squinting. “Excuse me?”

“What? Can’t grab my toots’ love handles?”

You turn around, grabbing her hands and pulling her closer to you. You take a peak at her handy work, the blue on your waist making you feel things. You won’t let her know that though.

“Two can play at that game.”

“Try me then toots.”

You release your hands from hers and cup her face with them, leaving blue prints of your palms on her cheeks.

#oh my GOD guess who finally posted #kind of not how I wanted it to come out but it’ll do!#been working on it on and off for a bit #jinx x reader #jinx x you #arcane jinx x reader #jinx x y/n #jinx x female reader #jinx x gender neutral reader #jinx x male reader

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tttt06 · 2 months ago

Note

Hiii again , may I please request an angst to smut with Mr. Bangchan . Where y/n is a physical therapist in South Korea for mainly kpop idols. And she basically best friends with Bangchan and many other artist too. Y/n basically is in love with Chan but she pushes those feeling away because she feel like she doesn’t deserve or isn’t good enough for them. Plus she in experience with love. Bang Chan also loves her but feels like he doesn’t deserve her love either and think being with him is bad. Basically they both would do anything for enough other except be with each other. But one day y/n can no longer take it and decide to move away from South Korea and is threatened to confess to Bangchan. After she confess she leaves and he does everything to find her. And once he does mega hot lovemaking smut 🥹

Oh It would be an honor!

Chase Me

IdolBangChan x PhysicalTherapist

Black Reader

Request are open! I reply quickly. Masterlist here

Synopsis~ Y/N's dream was to be a physical therapist. She enjoyed helping people. When she got the opportunity to work in Korea, she took it as a way to explore the world. She worked primarily with Idols. Getting close to Chan specifically.

Warnings~ Angst, slow burn, smut, rough, praise kink. Body image problems. Use of 'nigga' WE BLACK SO WE SAY IT!

Word Count~ 11.7K

I dug into Vernon's leg to relieve the strain. "You tell me the next time you feel pain here. We might need to do more physical therapy in the future."

He nodded as he scrolled through his phone. He was lying on his stomach while scrolling through Twitter.

I threw him a piece of candy, and he ate it. "Thanks. I told Seungcheol about you. His ACL recently got torn, and he could need a physical therapist when he gets out of the hospital."

"Ouch, that sounds painful. How is Seungcheol doing?" He sighed, "He's been in and out of surgeries."

I smiled, "He'll be okay though. I can help him with ease."

I walked him to the front desk so he could set up his next appointment.

I walked to my office to type in my chart findings and looked at my schedule for my next patient.

Chan was next on the list.

Chan was the first client I got. I've gotten close to him over the years. I love to pretend to be professional, but he knows I'm just as silly as him.

Chan reported problems with his neck. He injured his neck a long time ago and was almost paralyzed. I've worked with him to make sure he is staying healthy.

I finished up my paperwork and walked to the patient's room. Chan was sitting on the chair as I smiled. "Hey! How have you been?!"

Chan's smile lit up when he saw me. His dimples popped out as he said, "I would say good, but I am here."

I laughed, "Right. Now, can you go over the problem again?" He nodded and then winced. "My neck. I've been getting worse cramps there than usual."

I asked as I walked closer to touch his neck. "Hm, have you been sleeping?" He laughed, "I've been working on our album and practice."

I nodded, "riiighhtt..." I purposely elongated to mock him.

I continued, "Chan, it won't get better if you don't rest up. I can help for quick relief, but if you keep going at this, I'll call your company and tell them to make you take time off."

I crossed my arms as I watched the fear bubble in his eyes. I asked, "You want me to be the bad guy?" He shook his head and then whinced again.

I sighed and walked over, quickly massaging into the muscles. Chan always had big muscles, but I felt Chan was getting bigger.

Exercising without enough sleep can cause more problems. Causing you to feel restless instead of better.

"Have you been working out with Changbin?" He smiled, "Eh, well... No. He's crazy in the gym."

I quirked an eyebrow as I hit the spot that hurt. Chan groaned under my touch, and my face heated up. I bit my lip and closed my eyes.

It was unprofessional and wrong as a friend. It turned me on when Chan groaned.

"He knows how to work out without hurting himself." I pulled away and smiled at him. "When you're working on, let's say, your shoulders, don't put so much strain on your neck. It causes more problems. Rest, eat well, and please don't come in here with easily fixable problems."

I tossed him a piece of candy, and he groaned, "Can I take you out to a meal. For a thank you?"

I paused as my face got hot. "That wouldn't be professional of me."

He laughed, "It's just a thank you for keeping me healthy. The boys don't boss me around as much since I moved to your therapy."

I smiled and turned to pack up. "It's my job, Chan." He laughed reluctantly. "Yeah. Just let me buy you lunch sometime."

I turned back to him, "Why not." He smiled, "Yay! Thank you!" He hugged me tightly.

I laughed, "See you at your next appointment." He smiled and walked out.

I sighed, checking to see the rest of my schedule. I had Yunjin and an older woman.

The rest of the day would be easy. I walked to the lunch room to see my co-worker and best friend, Hwan.

We both moved to this clinic around the same time. We took each other out for meals and grew closer.

"You have fun today?" I quirked an eyebrow, "What are you saying?" He smiled, "Your crush on Bang Chan? Did you have fun touching him? Remember what you said? You liked it when he groaned and-"

I covered his mouth, "You close your freaking mouth!"

He smiled, "Ooh, I made her mad! Y/N, you never get mad."

I squinted at him, "I don't like to get upset over idiots."

Hwan laughed, "Geez, and you're getting mean. What happened to the shy Y/N?" I rolled my eyes, "Be quiet, Hwan."

I threw my keys on the counter and answered my ringing phone. "Hey, Mom." She smiled, "Hey! How's my favorite daughter?" I said, "I'm your only daughter, Mom."

I could hear the smile in her voice, "Well, your troublemaker brother isn't anything like you." I smiled, "Don't compare us, Mom. Miles is his own person."

She sighed, "I guess. Miles is getting into more trouble at school these days." I smiled, "Well, he's a teen. Expect him to drink and smoke, fight, and go crazy. He's young."

My Mom laughed, "How did I raise such an easy-going daughter and intense son? You two are opposites."

I let my shoulder hold my phone to my ear as I threw off my shoes. "I don't know, Mom. How are you doing, though?"

She laughed, "I'm okay. I'm your Mom. I'm always okay."

My Dad died recently. My little brother Miles had been acting out because of it. My Mom suffers from back problems that make it hard for her to work for long periods of hours.

So, when I got my job, I started giving them money to take care of them. It's hard for me too. It feels lonely and empty here, so I can only imagine how it feels on the other end.

I focus on work and only work for my family. I can't lie. It hurts to think about my Dad. My Mom said I got his personality running through my blood.

He was a Doctor. He died from a disease that spread in the hospital. We couldn't even see him. The entire hospital was contaminated.

I got myself out of those thoughts, "You make sure you take care of yourself. I love you, Mom, I have to finish some work stuff, and I'm heading to bed." She sighed, "My little busy bee. I love you, too. Be safe, okay?"

I smiled, "It's okay, Mom. I work in physical therapy." "I know. I just... I worry." Tears pricked inside my eyes. "I'm okay, Mom." She sniffled, "Okay, bye, baby." "Bye, Mom." I hung up and wiped the tears from my eyes.

I can't call my Mom like before. She reminds me of my Dad, and it hurts.

I need a distraction.

I showered and sat at my computer with a glass of wine. I looked through my schedule for tomorrow and took notes for the next day.

One less thing to worry about.

I sighed as I leaned back in my chair. I got a text.

Hwan Sauce

We going out tonight?🗣

Hwan Sauce

FUCK ANSWER! I'M BORED AND WANT TO GET FOOD AND A DRINK!🗣🗣😫😫

Hwan Sauce

I have to gossip in person😍😍

You

How are you a straight male

Hwan Sauce

Stfu, meet me at the regular.😁

You

It's literally 9:30 meaning bedtime😅

Hwan Sauce

I'll get you home by 10🧑🏼‍🦲

You

okay fine.

I'm too nice.

Hwan was drunk, and it was 11:46pm. I snuck him water, and he drank. "Shit, I can't even taste alcohol anymore."

I blinked, "I don't feel like letting you sleep on my couch."

I waved to our waiter, "Can you help me carry him to my car?"

He nodded and helped me to the car. "Does your boyfriend get drunk like this often?" I looked at the tall waiter, "He's not my boyfriend. Just a close friend."

He nodded, "Ah, so do you have a boyfriend?" I shook my head, "I'm just a lonely girl."

He laughed, "Could I have your number then?" My eyes widened, "Oh... well, no. I'm not looking for anything with anyone."

He smiled, "It could be casual."

Hwan started to gag and threw up right on the waiter. "Oh my god. I'm sorry. I think he has a spare shirt in his car-"

He looked at the puke, disgusted. There was a tinge of anger, "No, It's fine. This is fucking disgusting! C'mon, dude!" I looked at Hwan, "Don't yell at my friend." I climbed into the truck and slammed the door.

As I began to drive off, Hwan confessed, "I totally puked on him on purpose." I laughed, "I know you did. I don't like aggressive men anyway."

Hwan said with slurs, "Yeah, he was pushy as hell!" I looked at Hwan and gave him my half-filled water bottle.

He drank it with no problem. "Thanks for letting me rant about my sad relationship."

I looked at Hwan before paying attention to the road again. "Yeah... it was a good distraction."

He glanced at me, "What do you mean? You okay?" I nodded with assurance all over my face. "Perfectly okay. Just thought this was entertaining."

He whined, "You don't care about me!" I laughed, "Hwan, shush." He shut up as we drove to my place.

The alarm blared in my ear as I woke up. Hwan was already up and walking in and out of my bathroom. "Hey! Where are my clothes when I need them?" I groaned and threw the covers over my head.

"Be quiet, Hwan." He smiled, "We have work!" I groaned. Hwan pulled the covers from my body, and I looked at him with anger burning in my eyes.

"Are you serious?!"

Hwan laughed, "Good morning. Now, where are my clothes?" I got up and stomped to the closet. I opened the drawer, and he pulled out his slacks and shirt.

"Okay, thanks!"

I sighed as I walked to my bathroom to get ready.

I got in the shower and did my makeup. Hwan was relaxing in my living room. "How are you okay after drinking your water weight last night?"

Hwan shrugged, "I took your meds." I pulled on my pants and walked to the door. "Put your shoes on, and let's go. You are not operating any machines until I give you an IV drip."

His lips turned into a thin line as he followed me. I called my little brother, and he answered on the second ring. "Hey, big sis. Heavy on the big."

I climbed in the car, "Mom told me you're getting in trouble at school."

He laughed, "Yeah. What do you want me to say? Dad's death devastated me."

I went silent. I held in the bubbling anger that was rising in me.

Bringing up Dad like that is really messed up.

"You're the man of the house now. Stop hurting Mom more than she already is. She's hurting, too, idiot. I'll be visiting in a month. Please don't destroy anything before then."

I hung up on him and drove off. Hwan was silent for a while.

"So... what's been going on with you and your brother? He usually listens to you."

I sighed deeply, "Our Dad died a couple months ago. He's been hurting."

Hwan furrowed his eyebrows and said, "Wh-what? You didn't tell me." I smiled, "I know. I don't want to talk about him."

Hwan said, "We don't have to."

I nodded, "That would be preferred."

When we arrived at the office, a present was on my desk. It was a little lunch and an envelope.

I read it over.

I know this is kind of short notice, but our Fanmeeting is in two days. Could you make it?

-Bang Chan.

I looked at the food. It was homemade. I smiled, "Jesus, this guy is desperate."

I sat in my chair and texted Chan.

You

My answer is maybe

Chansome

Just MAYBE?! 🙁

You

It's hard to call off work.

Chansome

C'MONNN Y/N! WE'RE LITERALLY FRIENDS!!!!!!!!🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹

You

I'll ask Hwan if he can cover my shift

Chansome

yeah ask whoever that guy is.

You

'Whoever that guy is' Is the deciding factor of whether or not I'm coming to your fan meeting

Chansome

Right right. Thank 'whoever that guy is' 🧎🏻‍♂️🧎🏻‍♂️

You

LOL

I scooted from my desk and walked to Hwan's office. "Hwannie!" He looked at me, shocked. "What the hell. Why are you acting cute?"

I smiled, "Can you do me a big favor? I'll take your Saturday night shift if you take my Friday shift."

He quirked an eyebrow, "A full weekend off? Hmm... why?" I looked to the left and then right.

"What are you hiding?" I laughed, "Chan invited me to a fan meeting!"

His eyes widened, "He's literally in love with you. Please tell me this is like his version of a date."

I sighed, "No. This is just Chan asking for support from his physical therapist. There's no way he likes me."

The crowd of people walked to their seats. I didn't realize it, but Chan gave me a VIP pass. I sat in my seat as I watched the eight of them run up to the stage.

They performed so well. I was proud of them, they always worked so hard, and nobody knows just how much.

Being in physical health, I see how much they all decline.

But, I'm always there to pick them back up.

When the Skzoo's came out, I smiled. Wolf Chan looked identical to the shorter man next to him.

I let out a long sigh as I looked at Seungmin attempting to fight the Skzoo's.

Quokka was in the background on all fours throwing it back. I covered my mouth in shock as I laughed. I looked at all the smiling faces.

These boys don't make just me happy. They make everyone happy.

I watched til the very end. There was never a dull moment as they performed. It was fun to watch, but it came to an end as good things always do.

I got a text message from Chan.

Bang Chan

Hey, wait up for me? We should talk! I wanna see you!"

You

I can't... I have an early shift tomorrow. I took it for Hwan

Bang Chan

When's the next time we can see each other. I have a free Sunday night.

You

Yeah, let's do that.

Bang Chan's POV

"Han! I NEED HER IN MY LIFE!"

Han rolled his eyes, "Man, I really don't care. I'm trying to add the baseline to the song. If you don't mind, talk to Changbin."

I fell on Binnie's shoulder. "Please!" Changbin asked bluntly, "Weren't you complaining about how you can't date her because of your career. Why are you doing this to yourself?"

I sighed, "I know. I think I'll ruin Y/N... but I really want her. She's so sweet."

Changbin nudged Han, "Is she?"

Han nodded, "I've been to the office. She's as sweet as can be."

I mentioned, "When I talked to her, she didn't even curse. She doesn't swear! We were talking on a personal level, too. She's like the perfect angel. Have you seen how poofy her hair gets, too? She's a beautiful woman who always has a smile on her face."

Changbin wiggled his eyebrows, "Oh really."

I rolled my eyes, "Are we teasing me now?"

Han laughed, "Hyung, you have a crush on someone but don't want to date them? That makes no sense."

Changbin added, "It's the beginning of a situationship."

I sighed, "I like it the way it is. I don't want to go farther with her because I'll ruin her smile. But, I'm selfish."

Han started humming, and it caught my attention. "Guys, I have a plot for the song."

Han quirked an eyebrow, "Really, we're making songs about your love life now?"

"Ooh, I like it. Ooh, ooh, I like it, like it!" Changbin got serious, "Write that shit down."

It sped to Sunday quickly. I was getting ready for the dinner Chan set up. It was at this new restaurant that everyone was raving about.

Yunjin -my client- talked about it the last time I saw her.

Hwan wanted to go with me. He's gonna be upset when he finds out I was here with Chan first.

A line was outside, but a guard asked, "Do you have a reservation?" I nodded, "It should be under Channie." He brought me over to the very stressed Hostess upfront.

I smiled, "You're doing great! I used to Host and wait tables. This looks stressful." I looked at all the people waiting in the lobby.

She smiled, "Your table is ready, ma'am. I appreciate the reassurance." I gave her a thumbs-up as she grabbed the menu for me.

She said, "I didn't expect it to be so busy on a Sunday night. We have over 200 reservations tonight."

I furrowed my eyebrows, "Wow, that's crazy. Are you the lead Host here?"

She nodded, "I worked here since I was 16, I'm turning 19 this year. So, I know this place, in and out."

I smiled, "Wow, that's dedication. Hoping you got a raise." She smiled as she stopped at the table. Chan was sitting there, both his big hands in his lap.

I smiled, "Oh! We're here! Well, good luck with the door!" She smiled and bowed, "Thank you! Good luck with dinner." She winked and walked away.

I looked at Chan, "You know her? Patient?" I looked at the ghost of her and furrowed my eyebrows. "Why would you think that?"

Chan laughed, "You were talking like best buds. You're so sweet." I laughed nervously.

I'm too nice. I didn't want to make Chan beg. But I don't want to be here, honestly. It takes up my time, which is good. I love a good distraction. But this is obviously a date of some sort.

"Did Changbin finally visit your office like I've told him to?" I shook my head, "It's okay. I just got a new patient. He's in pretty bad shape."

Chan nodded, "Vernon told me. Cheol and his torn ACL. It's pretty bad, huh? He can't even walk."

I smiled, "Can't say." He closed his mouth, "Right, HIPPA." I laughed, "How's work?" He smiled, "We're about to start the tour, and we're already working on the new album."

I smiled, "Really? That's interesting." I said, "If I distinctly remember, I told you to rest."

I blinked in annoyance as Chan stopped in his tracks. "I'm relaxing right now... your aura is very relaxing."

I smiled, "That's why I'm a Physical Therapist."

He laughed, "Okay, now. Have you seen Solo Leveling? I've been recommending it to you for a while now."

I laughed, "I've been trying to fit it in, but I've had a hectic week."

Chan smiled as the waiter came over. We ordered our food and went back to the conversation. "But you're going to watch it, right? Do you have Crunchyroll? I can give you my account." I smiled, "As much as I'd love that, I can provide for myself."

My phone started to buzz, and I checked it. "One sec, I'm getting paged."

I got up and walked to the bathroom to answer the call. "Hi, this is Y/N speaking?"

The deep voice played through the phone, "This is Director Hong. I'm calling because we've considered you for a promotion. It's for the Regional Director in the US clinic." I paused, "What..."

Director Hong said, "I'll give you time to think. Just call us back and let us know. Thank you."

I started to shake. I was on the brink of screaming. I got the dream job! It would give me an excuse to move back to America with my family and make more money.

Hwan is going to be so excited for me.

I ran back to my seat and confessed right away, "CHAN! I got a promotion!" His smile rose, "Really?! That's great news! What's the position?!"

I opened my mouth and then closed it again.

If I accept the offer, I won't be able to treat Chan anymore. He'd have to switch to Hwan.

"Regional director for the clinic in the US." My voice suddenly lost excitement. The smile was still bright on my face.

"Oh? The States. That's where you're originally from, yeah?" I nodded, "I got a job offer there."

Chan nodded along, "Does this job pay more?" I nodded, "Yeah, it does." I could see the struggle in his eyes. Chan told me, "You should take the job offer."

The smile stayed on my face. Unlike Chan, I knew how to poker face my way out of feelings.

Fake it til you make it, right?

"I'll hold off. At least until I can get my new patient up and running again." Chan asked, "Why?"

I'd like to know myself. I like Chan. He makes me feel seen and horny. Really, really horny. Chan was the gentle type.

I liked how pretty his lips were, how big he was, how smiley he was, those dimples, his kiddishness. I liked everything down to his flaws.

If he had any.

I didn't want to leave him. It's crazy, and as much as I like to play cat and mouse with Chan. I'm afraid to catch feelings any more intense than 'like'.

I'm already in pain. I don't want this to ruin our small friendship. Even though he's trying to incorporate me more into his life, I can tell it's because of his interest in me.

I want him to want me back.

Chan's voice broke my inner thoughts, "Earth to Y/N. Woah... you were in your thoughts."

Bang Chan's POV

I allowed her to be in her thoughts.

The waiter came back with the food. I waited for her to eat first since she was younger. It's a personal tradition I spread to my teammates. She didn't even take notice of it.

She was thinking so deeply to herself, and as the frown on her face sunk deeper, I figured out what she was thinking about.

She doesn't want to leave her job.

"Earth to Y/N. Woah... you were in your thoughts."

She wouldn't want me to see her frown like that.

But she shocked me, "I'm upset now. We should call it a night."

Honesty. I didn't expect Y/N to be honest about her being upset.

I thought she was the kind of girl to hide it all away, but she was honest.

"Oh, okay. Yeah, I'll ask for the check and some boxes."

She shook her head, "Wait, no dessert?" I smiled, "That's my girl." Her eyes widened, "Oh."

I quirked an eyebrow and looked at her. She was such a cutie. She was sweet, adorable, and honest. She was starting to check all the boxes.

I waved down the waiter, and we put an order in to-go.

The dinner wasn't silent. Y/N still took the initiative to talk, but she was stale.

Once we made our way out, I offered, "How are you getting home? I know you don't usually drive."

Her bright smile flashed in my eyes. "Uber." I shook my head, "I'll drive."

She furrowed her eyebrows, and her face went into a cute pout, "You already paid for my meal!"

I said, "Y/N, let's be real here. I'm rich."

She sighed, exhausted. "Fine." She lugged behind me and sat in the passenger seat.

I asked, "Why don't you drive?"

She was silent as she pulled on her seatbelt. "Son of chicken strip!"

She mumbled under her breath. I leaned over and put her seatbelt on with ease. When I looked up, her eyes were so much bigger up close. She looked so pretty like this. I felt her let out a heavy breath, and I pulled away.

Y/N said, "I-i'm sorry. What did you say?" I again asked, "Why don't you drive?" She sighed, "I don't drive unless I have to. My mom put me in place of picking up my brother, and a car crashed into us. He was in the hospital for a day or two. I feel guilty. I don't trust myself to drive. On top of that, I can't afford a car right now."

I glanced at her. It was terrifying that she could tell that story with an even tone and smile.

"Wait, where do you live? I've just been driving."

She grabbed my phone and guessed the password on the first try. She put in her address, and I looked up Y/N, shocked.

"How the hell did you guess my password?" She shrugged, "You're predictable."

I sighed and drove to the destination.

When we arrived at the front of the apartments, she was already grabbing her things. No conversation, no look in my eyes, nothing.

I called out, "Wait."

I watched her leave the car. Y/N turned around and said, "Thank you for driving me here! I appreciate it."

I asked in desperation, "When can I see you again?"

She smiled sweetly, "You're starting your tour next week. You tell me."

Right, I forgot about that.

I blinked, "I'm free in three weeks."

Her smile didn't fade, "I'm on vacation next month."

I raised an eyebrow, "Really? Where are you going?"

She was about to speak, but she decided to not answer with the truth.

"Just to see family."

I didn't want to push, but I really wanted to know. I'm nosy.

I bit my lip and fell back into my seat, "Alright, see you when you get back."

Y/N's POV

I pulled in my luggage as I was welcomed into my childhood home. I've been working hard to make sure this house stays together.

My Mom walked with careful steps to the couch. "Mom, I told you I could've taken an Uber."

She shook her head, "Nonsense! My baby needs valet!" I laughed as I lifted my heavy bag up to my room. I peeked at Miles's room to see it empty.

I shouted, "Mom! Where's Miles?!"

She yelled back, "Basketball practice!"

I nodded. I'm proud that Miles's been disciplined enough to keep up with his passions.

When I walked into my childhood room, memories came rushing back. It was so upsetting to think about everything I used to do.

I had so many passions. But they all were lost after my Dad died.

The picture of him and I was still on my nightstand, but the photo was cracked and facing down.

I know I didn't do that.

Miles likes to hide how he's feeling. He secretly cares so much, but he feels awkward showing it. I wouldn't be surprised if Miles barged inside my room. I wouldn't be surprised if he saw that photo and lashed out. I know he misses me and Dad.

Just like he can read me like an open book, I can read him too.

I was quick to take a shower and run back downstairs.

My Mom said, "Okay, I know you came here to help me with your brother, but I have a present for you."

I smiled, "Mom, I came here to aid you."

She smiled, "That's sweet." I sighed calmly. "I heard surprise."

She excitedly got up, and it hurt to see the scars peeking from under her shirt from the countless surgeries.

My Mom couldn't even walk the same.

I didn't tell Chan the full story of what happened that night.

I was the car that got crashed into, but my Mom crashed into my car because I was backing up too fast. My Mom messed up her back and caused her to have to get countless surgeries.

I said, defeated, "Mom, please. Next time you need something, tell me to get it like you used to."

She laughed as she waddled back over. "Nah. I'll just do it myself, honey. Now look."

I grabbed the locket from her hand. "It's hand-crafted jewelry. It's made from your Dad's ashes. Open it."

I opened the locket. Inside the locket lay two pictures. One was from my 1st birthday, and the other was a picture of me at college graduation. It was my favorite memory of my Dad.

He was more excited about graduating than me. He wouldn't stop saying how proud he was, how happy he was. He was so excited for me.

The tears started streaming down my face, and I held my Mom close.

"Y/N! Oh my god! I've never seen you cry like this."

All the emotions I was holding in came out.

She smelled like my Mom, but she still had that faint smell of Dad on her. I let my neck go deeper into the crook of her neck, and I said, "I really miss Dad. I really miss him a lot."

I bit my lip and pulled away. My Mom's eyes looked so big as she wiped my tears.

I smiled, "Thank you, Mom."

She smiled, but the worry in her eyes wasn't missed.

Just then, the door opened, and I wiped my tears and put on my poker face.

Miles came in, bouncing his basketball in the house. My Mom yelled, "What did I tell you about bouncing that damn ball in my house?!"

I held in my laugh as my brother saw me. Miles stopped in his tracks as he scanned me.

He took a quick first step, letting me know he was about to run. But then, he stopped. He walked over to me calmly and dapped me up. "Why were you crying, sis?"

I looked at his eyes. My eyes widened from the realization.

Smart kid.

I shook my head, "Don't worry about it."

He glanced at the necklace in the box on the couch. He turned back to me and sighed. "What are you even doing here?" I crossed my arms, "To keep you in check. No going out tonight. Stay your behind in this house until tomorrow morning. We're having brunch together."

He rolled his eyes, " 'Behind.'" He mocked.

Miles continued, "You have no weight in your words because you don't curse, Y/N."

I rolled my eyes, "Say whatever. I don't curse because of my morale."

My Mom smiled, "Quit bickering and go to sleep. I know you're jetlagged, Y/N."

I made my way to my room.

I sat in my bed, and there was no way I was sleeping. I just slept 14 hours on the plane.

I lifted the photo of me and my Dad and wiped the dust from the cracked glass.

I heard rustling in the hallways, and I looked at the door. Miles was standing there in sweats and a white tee.

"And where the heck do you think you're going?" Miles blinked at me. "To mind my fucking business."

I grabbed his arm and threw him in my room. I closed the door and locked it. "You aren't going anywhere. And, before you ask. Yes. I will stay up and watch you. I have jetlag. I won't be falling asleep until 3pm tomorrow."

He sighed, "Rebecca Miller is throwing a party tonight... hot chicks will be there!"

I quirked an eyebrow, "And what do you plan on doing with these 'hot chicks?'" "More than anything you've ever experienced."

I rolled my eyes, "I am not talking about my sex life with my little brother." He said, "I won't talk about mine with you either! Let me go." I laughed, "No. I can officially say... I pay the bills! Therefore, my house, my rules. Go to bed." I tucked him in, and I smelled his cologne.

"Why are you wearing cologne- you know what?... never mind."

I sat on my chair and watched him.

His eyes traveled to the picture on my nightstand, and he rolled over. It was silent for about thirty minutes before his voice cracked, "I'm sorry for breaking your picture with Dad."

The smile crept on my face as I crossed my arms in satisfaction. "It's fine, Miles. Just go to bed."

He stopped talking for another five minutes before saying, "I really miss Dad." That made me frown as the solemn air crept into my room. "I miss him too, Miles."

Miles fell asleep quickly. He started complaining about how hard it is to sleep when someone is watching him.

When I woke him up, he moved like a mummy. He walked to his room, and I started getting up myself. I showered and put on some better clothes for the morning. I exited my room to see my Mom in a cute yellow sundress.

"Period, Mom! You look gorgeous!" She smiled and reached for the necklace. "You're wearing it." I smiled back, "I want to keep him close to my heart."

After waking Miles up again and arguing over brunch, we went home. I was exhausted from the day. I went straight to sleep in my mom's bed.

I hadn't woken up until 7 pm. When I finally woke back up, I walked to the kitchen. My mom was looking in the fridge for something to cook.

I smiled, "I can help you cook. What are you making?"

She sighed, "Just some hot wings with yellow rice. I'm trying to find some greens, though."

I mentioned, "I got it. I know how to cook that. I remember all your recipes."

She looked shocked. "Sit, and you can boss me around like you want to." She sat at the island chairs and watched. I grabbed the hot sauce and bowl. I eyeballed the measurements as she made conversation.

"I think Miles has a girlfriend." I looked up at her through my reading glasses. "Yeah? If he does, he's a cheater. He was trying to sneak out last night and go to a party with 'hot chicks.'"

She scoffed, "I can't believe my kid." I laughed as I turned on the stove. I measured the water with rice and put it in the pot. Next was the broccoli. I went into the freezer, opened the corner of the bag, and shoved a stick of butter in it. I put it in the microwave for 2 minutes.

"What about you, baby? You have a boyfriend?" I smiled, "There is someone. He's one of my clients, though. He's too famous for me. I'm pretty sure he goes out and talks to real women all the time."

My mom smiled, "What makes you think you're not a real woman?"

My mouth went to a thin line. "I am... I've never had any dating experience, Mom. Like, at all."

She sighed, "Bless your heart."

I furrowed my eyebrows as I slowly put the wings into the oil.

I said, "Mom, should I ask him out?" She smiled, "You know my answer will be yes."

I sighed, "He just makes me feel so important! And he's sweet and gentle. He makes me feel like I'm about to burst!"

She laughed, "Sounds like me and your Dad."

I looked at her eyes. There was this bittersweet feeling in her tone. "You only live once. That's what Dad used to say." She nodded, "One of my kids is taking those words too literally. I'm glad you're using them right."

I laughed, "Yeah. I think you're right. I'm gonna ask Chan out."

She smiled. The timer for the microwave went off. I opened the bag and let it cool before opening it. I checked on the rice to see it wasn't ready.

I was back on the plane. As soon as the plane landed, I had an appointment to be at. One was Seungcheol's, and the other was Changbin's first appointment.

I was excited to see Hwan, too. As I exited the plane, Hwan was waving his banner at me. "No way. You're embarrassing."

He smiled, "C'mon! Let's go to work!" I got in his car. The drive there was long, but we made it in time.

I smiled as I looked at the foggy sky.

I miss the clear sky, but I've gotten used to the foggy one I called home.

I looked at Hwan, "So how was it?" I smiled, "My brother cried when I left. I knew he missed me."

He laughed, "I missed you too!" I looked at my best friend, Hwan. I can't believe I've known since I was 19. I'm 24 now and working my dream job.

We got to the office, and Seungcheol sat in the waiting room. "You're really early!" Cheol smiled, "Just wanted to get out of here fast."

I smiled, "Okay, well, today is just showing me what I'm working with."

I wheeled him to my room. "Can I see?" He lifted his pants, and I saw the surgical scabs. "Jesus." He laughed, "I know. It's bad."

I sighed, "Stop being so reckless." He pouted like a puppy. Wow, hey, so he's adorable.

Not as cute as Chan, though.

I moved that thought down.

"I'm gonna start with something that might hurt a lot, but can you move your leg 20 degrees."

He looked down at his legs. I carefully touched his leg. "Your hands are warm." I laughed, "Yeah?" "Usually, the nurse's hands are always cold."

I smiled, "We're not in the hospital, Cheol. Also, I'm a physical therapist. You get better results with warm hands." I helped him lift his leg a teeny bit. "Talk through the pain, okay?"

Cheol spoke with obvious strain, "Vernon was right to recommend you. You are a good therapist."

I smiled, "Thank you. Could you please lift a little more higher?"

He shook his head, "I think I might die."

I nodded, "That's okay. For now, we'll keep the leg elevated. But it's your job to make sure to switch positions every hour. Your knee needs to get used to bending against the metal."

He said worriedly, "I'll be able to walk and stuff?" I looked up at Cheol, "Yes. However, I wouldn't recommend performing until you can sit on your knees."

His eyebrows furrowed, "Agh. Okay." I laughed at his disappointment, "Be happy you'll walk. Not many people can say they could walk the same after tearing an ACL."

He sighed, "Yeah, I know." He sounded so disappointed. I chucked him a piece of candy, and he caught it. "Ooh, candy!" I sighed, "This is my business card. You call me if you're in ANY pain. Even if it's minor."

He nodded, "Same thing the doctor told me." I laughed, "Doctor Riggins? That piece of poop. He tells all his clients to only call me because he hates answering the phone. Lazy man."

He laughed, "You know him?" I nodded, "I worked at that hospital for a study." He smiled, and I wheeled him to the front desk. "Is someone coming to get you?" He nodded, "My teammate Dino."

I nodded, "I'll wait with you. How'd tear the ACL, though?" He said, "Playing a game with my buds. I fell, bad." I nodded, "Yep, that's how it happens. What kind of meds do they give you?"

He thought, "I don't know. There's so many 'phols' and z's and x's."

I laughed, "Next time you come, just show me a picture of the pill bottles, okay? I'll see you next week."

I watched as his teammate walked in. Dino bowed with me. "Thank you!" He smiled, "BYE!"

Dino started making car noises as he wheeled him out of the office. I turned to Maya, my front desk. "Men are so silly."

Maya laughed, "Yeah, making a car noise while you wheel out your injured friend is a little too crazy." I looked around, "Where's Hwan?" She smiled, "I know, right? Usually, he slacks off by now. But, he's with a patient."

I nodded.

I made my way to my office and checked for the next patient.

Seo Changbin just wanted a check-up.

It's his first time here. Maybe I'll find something wrong.

When Chan described Changbin, I don't know why I expected a petite guy. Yeah, he was short, but he was still way taller than me. Also, HE WAS HUGE!

I wouldn't be surprised if he was having problems with his muscles.

I crossed my arms as I inspected him, "Okay. Let me see those guns."

He flexed proudly, "Wow! That's a lot of effort. Wanna see mine?"

I lifted my shirt sleeve and showed the saddest Spongebob muscle known to man.

Changbin tried not to laugh, but it wasn't working.

"Ms. L/N. You should come with me to the gym."

I smiled, "Y/N is fine. Also, the way Chan talks about your gym visits, I don't think I'd survive."

He laughed, "You're a physical therapist. You should know all the ways to relax your muscles."

I shook my head no. "Medicine has a lot of stuff I don't know about."

He quirked an eyebrow, "You're a bad doctor then."

I laughed, "I'm a physical therapist, not a doctor. Now Changbin, please spread your arms and let me work my magic."

Chan was waiting for Changbin in the office. I smiled at Chan as he walked over to hug me. I hugged him back and said, "I'm back!" Changbin walked out of the lobby and to the car.

Chan said, "We should catch up after work? I'm free tonight."

I smiled, "Nah, I'm good, Chan."

I looked at Maya, "Shh, the people here like to gossip."

He nodded, "Just accept my love for once?" He winked at me, and my smile widened, "Just forget it."

I mouthed, "Text me." I walked to my office and waited in the lunch area for Hwan.

When Hwan finished with his client, he was back in his office. He sighed, and I asked, "Long day?" He looked up at me with those tired eyes. "My schedule is so empty these days. I'm bored!" I laughed and ate an apple slice from his lunch box.

"Hwan, I have to tell you something." He looked up at me with a little glint of fear flashing in his eyes. "What's up?"

I said, "I think I'm gonna ask Chan out." My smile felt easy on my face.

There was no way this could go wrong!

Hwan dropped his grape from his mouth, "You're kidding."

I shook my head, "Dead butt cheeks!"

I raised my hand over my heart.

Hwna grabbed my hands with excitement, "WHEN?!"

I smiled, "Today, I think. It might be what I need."

Hwan was searching my eyes for a lie. I breathed, "I'm nervous but also excited?" Hwan didn't lower his eyes, "What gave you the courage?" I smiled, "My mom!"

Hwan let go of my hand and prayed, "Thank you to Y/N's mom for giving her two balls instead of one! I just wanna thank the lawd for the patience he gave me, and the devil for the smut I'm about to hear about!"

I laughed, "My goodness! You're so dramatic! I've gotta go now. I have a date to get ready for!"

Hwan's mouth dropped again as I sashayed away. I was giggling nonstop.

My walk home was peaceful. I unlocked my door to an empty house. The stale feeling was something I'd never grown used to. Hopefully, Chan can fill that void.

I put on my best outfit. This was the repeat outfit to wear. I was sitting in my sink while doing my makeup when I got a call.

"It's Channie! I'm gonna be there to pick you up! Be ready bestie-westie!"

I laughed, "Since when are we bestie-westie's?" His voice was smooth and easy when he spoke, "Since forever."

That felt a little bittersweet.

It was round two of an awkward dinner. This time, dinner was less inopportune. I was opening up to Chan.

That was our friendship dynamic. I'd play hard to get, and Chan chased me. He'd always run after me, and I loved it.

"So, you ever take that job offer?" I bit the cheesecake off my fork and swallowed. My eyes lit up as I stared at the cake. "It's good hm? I knew you'd like the cheesecake."

I smiled and continued to answer the question, "No, actually. I ended up telling Director Hong I'd stay here for now."

He nodded, "Ahh, really? I'd expect you to follow your dreams." I smiled, "I am. It's just that Seungcheol is gonna need a couple months of physical training before I can abandon him."

Chan gave me puppy dog eyes, "And what about me?" I laughed, "You too. But you have Jeongin to pester you about your health."

He nodded as he watched me devour my cake. He looked so happy watching me eat.

I took a deep breath as I prepared myself.

My heartbeat was so fast I could hear it.

I'm gonna tell him.

I kept hyping myself up. I made myself look extra beautiful for Chan today. I don't know how relationship stuff works, but I wanted to try with Chan.

"Chan..." He looked up from my fork in my mouth and into my eyes. "I have something I want to tell you."

Chan nodded for me to continue. There was no judgment in his eyes, just peace.

"You've been my client for so long, you know? You were my first celebrity client, and I was your first physical therapist. We learned together... I'm grateful for that. We got closer as time passed. I'd consider you a close friend... but lately, I've been thinking of you more than a friend."

His stare was intense with fear and sadness. Disappointment bubbled in my chest, and I choked, "I think... I like you more than a friend."

I said it.

I've been holding onto these feelings for years, knowing I've been more than liking him. It was probably love, but I didn't want to tell him that.

Not yet.

Chan's silence made me progressively more nervous as I realized he wasn't about to say anything.

My voice cracked, "Speak." It was like I was giving a dog a command. He listened, "I just don't think this could happen. I mean, we're not in the same world, you know? I don't want to burden you..."

At first, there was sadness, but then there was this rage.

All those times he chased me, and for what? What was it for...? Does he hate me or something?

I stood up, "Okay. That's fine."

Chan reached for my hand and I pulled away, "Don't fucking touch me."

My face frowned as I looked at his shocked eyes. I don't curse often, but I can't control my mouth when I'm upset.

"Y-you're mad." The tears pricked the corner of my eyes. I hissed, "Of course, I'm fucking mad, Chan! You lead me the fuck on, and you think I'm not angry. You're a piece of shit and a bitch ass nigga!"

I ran off. I wondered if Chan would chase me this time, but he didn't.

I think that broke me more.

Next thing you know, I was on the street calling Hwan. "Plan failed. Can you please pick me up before I get kidnapped?" Hwan let out a long sigh, "Of course I can. I'll look at your location."

Bang Chan's POV

I fucked up. I fucked up biiig time. I've never EVER seen Y/n get upset. I've never seen Y/N's eyes filled with anger like that. I've never heard her curse before, or yell before. She was always so sweet and happy.

Seeing those tears falling down her eyes was like daggers falling on my heart. And when she ran, I didn't know what to do.

Does she want me to chase her? Would I make it worse?

When I got the courage to run after her, she was nowhere to be found. Plus, I still had to pay for the food.

I waited until the next day to call and text her because I figured she'd want space. But my messages didn't go through.

Did she block me?

I've never seen Y/N's bad side. I didn't know she was the kind of person to block someone.

I had to go to practice, and the kids knew I wasn't feeling it. Lee Know wouldn't stop scolding me for my mistakes, but I could only think about how Y/N was doing.

I had so much bullshit in my schedule that I couldn't check on her until three days later.

But when I went to her office, she was gone. I asked Maya, "Hey Maya. Do you know where Y/N is?"

Maya smiled, "Oh, she didn't tell you? Wow! She got a better job in the States. She moved there like two days ago."

My heart dropped. I felt like throwing up. My head spun as I tried to think about what to do. "Sh-she did, huh? Well... Do you know what clinic?"

Maya smiled, "I couldn't tell you. Ask Hwan. Y/N also requested I give all her old patients to Hwan. Hwan is your new physical therapist for now."

I smiled, "Well, I'd like to talk to Hwan."

She directed me to a room, and Hwan came in after fifteen minutes. His smile dropped a little, "Oh. Hello." My eye twitched, "Where is she?" Hwna shook his head in disappointment, "You know she told me not to tell you."

My jaw tightened, "I fucked up and I want to apologize."

Hwan sighed, "You had her crying at my house for three days straight, and NOW you want to apologize? Chan, let's be real here. You weren't the only one who lost Y/N. So did I. And so did all of her other patients. Your actions drove her away, and YOU didn't apologize when you should've. Now, sit the hell down, and let me do my fucking job, man."

I've never talked to Hwan, but I didn't understand how Y/N could be friends with someone like him.

He has no filter, a filthy mouth, A MAN, and he's rude.

Not too far off from me, though, huh?

Y/N's POV

I think it's been about three months since I moved to this clinic. I only had clients once a week.

Every other day, I told the others what to do.

I hated it. Sure, it pays exponentially more, but I wanted to help people. I only like to boss my clients around, not my subordinates.

Chan had texted me from his members ' phones, office phones, and Text Now numbers. He wouldn't leave me alone.

It sucked, but I had to change my number. I saved Hwan's contact, but I lost contact with everyone else. I wasn't sure if he'd use others to text me. I also don't know how loyal my clients are.

I barely thought about Chan throughout the day now. I would sit in my dry office for seven hours and travel my family home. I was working on getting an apartment, but my intuition told me to wait.

Not only that, but when I moved here, my mom's back pain got worse, and she ended up in the hospital. If I leave now, my brother will have nobody.

I sighed as I typed on my computer. Going through restocking and reports is not fun! JESUS I NEED A DISTRACTION-

My assistant came in with more paperwork. Her phone was going off with this pretty melody. Something I've never heard before.

"Sorry about the phone, boss. But, here's some more paperwork for you."

I grabbed the folder and asked, "What song is it?" She smiled, "Some K-pop song. You used to do therapy on them. It's a Stray Kids song called 'Twilight.'"

I smiled as that name rang through my ears. Jesus, I haven't heard 'StrayKids' in a long time.

I wonder how the kids are doing. I didn't want to lose their number like that.

My mouth went into a thin line as I silently thought to myself. My assistant spoke, "Well, that's all for the day. It looks like you'll have an early day." She waved and before she left I said, "You can go home now if you want. You worked hard today!"

Her body relaxed, "Thank you, boss. I really appreciate it."

She walked out of my office, closing the door behind her. My fingers went straight to my keyboard to google the song.

The video loaded, and the same tune played through my phone. I knew a Han song when I heard one. The lyrics sounded like they were about me and Chan.

My eyes watered as I thought about our past. I missed the times he'd rip me out of my office to go eat, or we'd take detours to hang with the members.

That time, Chan and I got snowed in at a bowling alley and lived off cheese and crackers for 3 hours.

I never showed it, but Chan really was important to me. I shouldn't have left like that. I should've given him a chance... but I didn't want to.

A part of me is scared that we end up together, and I fuck it up.

I'm not good enough for Chan. I'll never be those girls. Pale skin, skinny, dark hair, sharp chin. I was round-faced with a curvy body.

Chan would talk about how much he hated his curls, so why would he like mine?

The sobs escaped my mouth. I covered it to silence myself. I took a deep breath and turned off the song.

I don't need to listen to this right now.

Bang Chan's POV

I was in Hwan's office for the last time before starting promotions.

I had a long day ahead of me. I would be flying out to America for interviews with the kids.

I sat in the office for 30 minutes waiting. Y/N was never this late.

I respected how time-efficient she was with me. Always early.

Hwan walked in, "Hello, pretty boy. Ready for the session?"

He walked behind me to feel my neck and shoulder. "You've been sleeping?" I lied to him, "Yeah, all I do is sleep nowadays." I'm used to lying to Hwan.

I want to leave. The only reason why I still come to this office is because it reminds me so much of Y/N.

Y/N would've caught my lie, and she would've politely told me off. Those soft words, with that soft smile, with a strong hint of disappointment in her voice.

I loved it when she bossed me around. It was so hot.

Hwan was also a man, so stuff done here that made any two straight men uncomfortable.

I can't deliberately moan in this room.

I did that because sometimes, Y/N would shake a little. I didn't know what it meant when she did that, but I guessed it was joy.

"Make sure you're using a neck pillow on the plane." I nodded, feeling the strain in my neck.

Hwan massaged into that spot, "Look up." I looked up, and he chopped me in the neck. The shock of pain shot up my spine. Tears pricked from my eyes before the feeling of relief rushed over me.

"You should be good now. Have a good day." I walked out candyless.

Y/N would always chuck candy at her patients like they were animals. It was the only not-so-nice thing she'd do.

I figured she likes to throw stuff. Y/N threw her phone on my couch, her shoes on my floor, and her macaroni noodle at me.

I wish she'd throw her clothes off, though.

I shook myself out of my thoughts.

In the past, when I walked out of the PT office, I'd always feel refreshed. Now when I do, I just feel depressed.

I went into my car and saw a text. It was a screenshot from Hwan. An article with Y/N's face on it.

Doc Hwan

Don't tell her I told you where she was just don't fuck up this time. She's been going through a lot and she needs someone.

Bang Chan

I will thank you

Holy shit! I found her! I can go to her, see her, smell her, hold her, hear her perfect soft voice. I wanna kiss her like I never got the chance to.

Y/N's POV

Twilight was on repeat in my office. I think I was trying to desensitize. When listening to the song made me feel this raw emotion. I'd want to cry.

It was an addicting feeling. I'd listen to it non-stop throughout the day.

I was sitting in my office typing emails to my team leaders. I blinked as my eyes started to feel dry. I put on my glasses. They helped me read, but also blue light.

I was so focused on this work until I heard screaming.

"C'MON! JUST LET ME IN PLEASE?" I jumped from my seat. I recognized that voice. That accent.

Please tell me it's not real. God, please tell me I did some kind of cocaine before entering this office.

"I need to see her!"

I got up to see the security holding onto someone I'd never thought I'd see again.

He did it. He chased me.

I scanned his big body, held by two grown men. His face was in a frown. Chan confessed to my assistant countless times.

I smiled, putting on my mask immediately. "Chan?" He looked up to see my face. His eyes softened. I could see tears starting to well in his eyes.

He's such a big baby.

"I need to talk to you. Please."

I crossed my arms. My eyebrows furrowed with guilt. "You guys can let him go. He's with me."

My security guards dropped him. Chan was running after me quickly as I walked back into my office.

I crossed my arms and sat in my chair. This automatically sets the social standard. "Yes?"

Chan's eyes lowered as he twiddled with his fingers, "Y/N. You don't know how long I searched for you. You don't know how sorry I feel. It's nothing words can say. I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have hurt you like that."

My eyes lingered on his shoulder. It looked so tense. But it was just that shoulder, not the other one.

That side was the same as where he hurt his neck. I carefully asked, "Have you been taking care of yourself?"

He scoffed, "That's not really important, is it?" I sighed, "Chan. I'm fine. I really don't need you to apologize anymore about it. I get that you don't like me the same way as I did. The only reason I left was because I couldn't be friends with someone I liked."

Chan said, "Did? Liked? Y/N... I still want you. I always wanted you."

My heart skipped a beat, and I looked up at him. He was being deadly serious. His eyes locked on mine. They were filled with sincerity.

"Please. Take me back." He stepped closer to my office desk. I scooted out of my chair. His eyes followed me as I walked toward him. He looked ready for anything I was about to throw at him.

He wasn't prepared for the hug I drowned him in. I fully jumped on his body and wrapped myself around his waist. I cried in his neck and said, "I needed you so bad!" His hug got tighter against me.

I confessed, "My mom got sick, and she's in the hospital. My Dad died 6 months ago. All the pressure is on me. My brother has locked himself in his room, and this job can't pay for all the medical bills. I just needed someone to be here with me for once. I always have to take the lead, and I'm tired. I'm so tired, Chan."

His grip only tightened. That was his way of saying he wasn't going anywhere. I pulled away and wiped my tears, "Thank you."

I stared into his eyes for a moment. There was silence. His stare was so intense. I leaned in and quickly kissed his lips.

"Ah, c'mon. You gotta give me more than that." I looked away, "I never..." I didn't finish the sentence out of embarrassment.

Chan tilted his head, and an easy smile spread on his face. "It's okay. I'll show you everything. What time do you get off work?"

I smiled, "We can leave right now."

He laughed, "Deal. Let's go."

We were in his hotel room. It was so big and expensive. I didn't know they had hotels like this in New York.

Chan was leading me to the bed carefully. "You can tell me when to stop whenever you want. I will."

I smiled, "Okay." Chan said, "You can drop the act with me. I got you now."

My smile faded as I looked at him with my typical aloofness. Chan carefully caressed my cheek. He put my braid behind my ear and said, "I'm gonna kiss you for real this time, okay?"

I nodded as I stared into his eyes. Chan leaned in and kissed my lips. His lips tasted like candy.

The candy I'd give out to my clients. He must've found them here and started eating them non-stop.

I was right when he pulled away, and I saw the candy wrapper on his bedside table.

He grabbed my cheeks with one hand to turn my head to look at him. "Look at me. Did you like that?"

I smiled, "Sorry. I got distracted. You taste like candy." He laughed through his nose. "Yeah? You were looking at the candy wrappers?"

I nodded in his grip.

"Stop distracting yourself, and focus on me." I nodded, and he leaned back in to kiss me. This time, I let myself get absorbed in the moment.

I always detached myself from people, put on a happy mask, and tried my best to distract from my problems. This is a good distraction, but one I want to last for an eternity.

The way his soft lips pressed against my own. His other hand had traveled to my thigh, massaging it gently. I loved the way his tongue swiped on my bottom lip.

My lips parted, and his tongue was in my mouth. Heat pooled in my middle as I felt him grab my thigh harder. He pulled me onto his lap. I felt his hard dick.

I gasped and pulled away. "Chan." His eyes were half-lidded, "I know, baby." I bit my lip. He grabbed both my arms and put them on his shoulders. I tightly wrapped my arms around his neck, knowing what spot to apply pressure to relieve the pain from his neck.

He dove us back, and our kiss reconnected. His hands traveled to my ass, and he squeezed tightly. I moaned. My pussy fluttered in need as I rubbed myself against his hard dick. Chan bit my bottom lip and groaned.

I opened my eyes to see his were open. He observed me. I pulled away from his kiss and said, "I'm really horny."

He couldn't help but laugh at my blunt honesty. He flipped us over, and now he was over me. "I can help. You want me to touch you?" He rubbed my stomach as his way of telling me.

I let out a smooth breath as my eyes closed. "Please." My throbbing cunt was distracting me from any thoughts I could have about candy, work, and anything.

My legs parted for his traveling hands. He rubbed his thumb over my clothed vagina. His other hand held mine. "Don't forget to tell me if you don't like this."

I nodded as I squeezed my lips to a thin line. I couldn't stop squirming under Chan's touch. He was making me feel so good.

Just then, I felt him unbutton my dress pants. "Are you okay with my body? I'm a little fat-" He kissed the doubt on my lips. "I couldn't care less about what you look like."

I blinked as he pulled my pants down. He hooked his point finger under my panties and pulled it down to my knees.

The cold air made me realize I was dripping. I took a stuttered breath, and Chan laced his fingers back with mine. "Please, Chan."

He kissed my neck carefully. I twitched, and he sucked. His wet tongue swirled circles against my skin as his fingers seeped into my hole.

I couldn't wrap my legs around him. I think that's why he trapped me in my own underwear. His hand left mine and carefully lifted my shirt. I felt him pull away to focus on unbuttoning my shirt with one hand.

His fingers went on hold for a moment, earning him a tiny whine in protest from me. He looked at me and laughed, "I'll rip this fucking shirt off you. I'm trying to be respectful."

I reached for my buttons and popped them off. Chan watched with a smile. "That's my girl."

I closed my eyes when his fingers dug into a deep spot I'd never reached. Chan kissed down my chest and stomach as he observed me.

I moaned when his tongue touched my clit. I bit my lip as my back arched in pleasure.

His fingers pumped in and out in a scissoring motion as he licked my clit. I cried out as the knot in my stomach tightened. "Please, Chan... fast..er."

He quickly obliged as his big fingers stretched my hole out. I cried as I fluttered around his fingers. I felt myself starting to ball the sheets in my fist. I was cumming, and Chan hadn't stopped licking.

I grabbed his pretty hair and smooshed him closer as I ground against his face.

I had finally ridden out my orgasm, and I sighed.

"Y/N. You ready for something bigger."

I opened my eyes to peek at Chan, throwing off his shirt. His abs were so sculpted. I reached for him, but he stepped back. I opened both my eyes to see him rolling off his sweats. Through his boxers, I could see his hard dick.

I let out a deep breath. Chan looked at me, "Disappointed?" I shook my head rapidly, "Nono... I don't know how big it's supposed to be."

Chan crossed his big arms over his chest. "Yeah? You want me to show you?" I nodded, and he pulled his boxers unreservedly off. He stuck his finger in my hole, and a smile crept on his face.

He was already hard, but he was getting stiff. He was staring at me. I closed my legs in instinct, and Chan spread them back open.

"C'mon. You know better." I shuddered. Chan got on top of me and stared at me with intensity. "You tell me when to stop, go, slow down, speed up. You communicate, okay, pretty girl?" I nodded, and he kissed my lips with more affection.

He moved away to angle himself into my hole. He pressed himself inside. My legs started shaking from the pain. He was so much bigger than his fingers.

I whimpered in pain, and he leaned in to kiss my cheeks. "I'm sorry. I know." He gently pushed himself in me until he bottomed out. His dick was pressed against my gummy spot.

It felt so tight. I felt full. My body relaxed as Chan leaned in for another kiss. I said between kisses, "Go." He carefully thrust into me as he kissed me.

His tongue played with mine as he maintained a slow and steady pace. I moaned in his mouth as he hit my spot over and over.

Chan moved a little faster. The sound of our skin slapping echoed through the room. I let out a girlish scream as he quickened his pace. He leaned back down to kiss me again. He smiled, "It feels that good?"

I nodded as I felt that butterfly feeling in my stomach. I whispered, "Faster!" I moaned louder as his pace hardened. My body bounced to his rhythm, and so did my moans. I cried, "Oh~ I'm gonna~ mm~"

He kept going. His hard dick hitting into my g-spot, His quick pace thrusting into my tight wet hole. I felt myself release as my back arched, and I came.

Chan's muscle tightened with mine. "Fuck Y/N." He pulled out quickly and came on my stomach. I looked down at the mess he created. Chan said, "You're so good at this."

I blinked and looked up at his fucked up face. "I am?"

He laughed, "I didn't expect you to be so loud." I asked weakly, "Is that a bad thing?"

"No, baby. Let me clean you up."

We went two more rounds, but then I passed out in his arms. Chan was holding me close as he kissed my head.

His laying position looked uncomfortable. I got on his lap and massaged his tissue. Chan groaned, "That feels good."

I smiled and asked, "Chan. Han wrote Twilight, right?" His eye peeked open, "Y-yeah. Why?" His hand slid to my thigh. I was wearing his T-shirt.

Chan's eyes softened as he realized. "He said he used me as inspiration. Why?" I tilted my head, "I hurt you that much?" He rubbed small circles on my thigh with a smile, "I hurt you more."

I laughed, "True. But, you love me?" Chan's eyes widened, "Yes. I love you." I smiled, "I love you too." My hands traveled to his boxers, and he grabbed my wrist quickly. "Give me thirty more minutes, baby."

I smiled, "Okay. I'll be patient."

I cuddled into his chest, but we ended up falling asleep together.

A lot happened. Chan ended up paying for my mom's hospital bills. My mom was out of the hospital sooner than expected. Miles was getting better, too.

I moved back to Korea to continue my job. Chan and I got engaged. Our relationship had ups and downs, but we worked through it like adults.

I didn't run anymore, and Chan didn't have to chase me anymore.

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