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atlasthegreatest · 2 months ago

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Sweet Beginings / Kim Minjeong x Female Reader

In the heart of winter, Kim Minjeong, discovers a charming bakery owned by Bae Y/n, an introverted pastry chef with a passion for creating delightful treats. As Minjeong visits the bakery more frequently, a warm and gentle connection begins to blossom between them.

Word count: 5239

It was early December, and the first snow had blanketed the city in a soft, glittering layer of white. The little bakery on the corner of the street stood warm and inviting against the cold, its windows fogged up from the heat of the ovens inside. Every morning, Minjeong made her way to this bakery, drawn by the promise of fresh pastries and the soft, quiet atmosphere that it provided. The introverted pastry chef, whose name she still didn’t know, always worked diligently in the back, rarely venturing out to the front except to restock the display case.

Today, Minjeong stepped inside, brushing snowflakes off her jacket and breathing in the comforting scent of vanilla, cinnamon, and freshly baked bread. The bell above the door chimed softly, and from the back, the chef glanced over. Her eyes, warm and dark, flicked over to her for a moment before she returned to her work. Minjeong had noticed her before, and though she was naturally reserved, something about the chef intrigued her.

As she approached the counter, she noticed a new pastry on display — a delicate-looking almond croissant with powdered sugar dusted on top. It looked like it had just come out of the oven, and she felt her heart skip a beat at the sight.

The chef must have noticed her lingering by the display because she appeared suddenly, wiping her flour-dusted hands on her apron.

“Would you like to try it?” she asked, her voice soft but steady.

Startled, Minjeong looked up, meeting her eyes for the first time. Up close, she was even more attractive than she’d realized, with soft brown hair falling over her shoulders and a gentle expression that made her feel unexpectedly shy.

“Oh…yes,” she replied, a little taken aback. “It looks delicious.”

A faint smile tugged at the corner of the chef’s lips as she placed the croissant on a small plate and handed it to her. “It’s one of my new recipes. I hope you like it.”

Minjeong took a small bite, and her eyes lit up immediately. The croissant was buttery and flaky, with a subtle almond flavor that was perfectly balanced. She couldn’t help but smile, the sweetness lingering on her tongue.

“This is amazing,” she murmured, feeling the warmth spread through her despite the cold weather outside.

The chef’s cheeks flushed slightly, and she seemed genuinely pleased. “Thank you. I’m glad you like it.”

————————

Over the next few days, Minjeong found herself visiting the bakery more frequently. She discovered her name was Y/n, and she was as introverted as she was. Their interactions were brief but comforting; they shared the same quiet appreciation for the little things — the warmth of freshly baked bread, the beauty of the snow falling outside, and the joy of creating something with their hands.

One afternoon, as the snow piled higher outside, a storm hit the city of Seol, forcing most shops to close early. Minjeong, who had lingered a bit longer in the bakery, looked out the window with a sigh. She hadn’t brought her umbrella, and it was clear that walking home in the storm would be miserable.

“Would you like some tea while you wait?” Y/n’s voice was soft, almost hesitant, as she gestured to the small table by the window.

Minjeong blinked in surprise but nodded, feeling a flutter of excitement. “That would be lovely. Thank you.”

As she sipped the warm tea, Y/n sat across from her, her expression as calm as ever but with a hint of nervousness in her eyes. They talked about little things — favorite pastries, winter memories, how she’d learned to bake from her grandmother. Y/n’s voice was soothing, and Minjeong found herself relaxing, laughing softly at her stories, even sharing a few of her own.

For the first time in a long while, she felt seen and understood. They stayed there until the snow finally began to slow, their words filling the quiet space between them. And when she finally rose to leave, Y/n walked her to the door, hesitating for a moment.

“Come by again soon,” she said, her voice a little softer than usual. “I’ll make you something special.”

With a shy smile, Minjeong nodded, her cheeks rosy from more than just the cold. She walked out into the night, her heart lighter and warmer than it had been in a long time. The thought of seeing Y/n again filled her with a quiet happiness that stayed with her all the way home.

And so, in the quiet little bakery where the world seemed to slow down, a gentle romance began to bloom, as soft and slow as the falling snow outside.

————————

As December stretched on, Minjeong found herself looking forward to her visits to the little bakery more and more. Each day, she’d walk in, greeted by the scent of fresh bread and the warm glow of the lights, and each day, Y/n would have a new creation waiting for her — something she’d made just for her to try. It was their silent ritual, and as the days grew colder, her heart grew warmer.

One evening, after a particularly busy day, she arrived at the bakery just before closing. Snowflakes clung to her hair and her cheeks were flushed from the cold. Y/n was at the counter, wiping it down, and she looked up as she entered, her eyes lighting up in that subtle way she’d come to recognize.

“Just in time,” Y/n said, setting down the cloth and motioning Minjeong toward the counter. “I saved something special for you.”

Curious, Minjeong watched as she reached into the display case and brought out a small, beautifully crafted tart. The filling was a pale shade of pink, with a sprinkling of dried rose petals on top. She could smell the delicate hint of strawberry and vanilla, and her mouth watered.

“It’s a strawberry rose tart,” Y/n explained, a bit shyly. “I thought… you might like it.”

Minjeong’s eyes softened. She knew this was no ordinary tart; it was one Y/n put thought into, a tiny gesture of affection disguised as a pastry. With a grateful smile, she picked it up, taking a small bite. The flavor was heavenly, delicate, and sweet, and she couldn’t help but close her eyes as she savored it.

When she opened them, Y/n was watching her, her gaze tender and a little vulnerable. Minjeong felt a warmth blossom in her chest, one that had little to do with the tart.

“It’s perfect,” she whispered, not breaking eye contact.

For a moment, the world seemed to fall away. It was just the two of them, standing in the quiet bakery, the snow falling softly outside, and an unspoken feeling lingering between them.

Before she could say anything else, Y/n cleared her throat, breaking the silence. “Would you, um, like to come by after hours sometimes? I could teach you how to bake something… if you’re interested.”

Minjeong’s heart skipped a beat. She had always enjoyed baking, though she’d never considered herself particularly skilled. But the idea of learning from Y/n, of spending time with her in the quiet hours, felt like a small dream come true.

“I’d love that,” she replied, her voice soft but sure.

————————

They planned to meet the following Friday evening, once the bakery had closed for the night. Minjeong spent the rest of the week in a flurry of excitement, hardly able to focus on anything else. She found herself daydreaming about Y/n’s gentle smile, her calm presence, and the way she seemed to understand her without words.

When Friday arrived, Minjeong could hardly contain her nerves. She walked to the bakery in the crisp winter air, clutching her scarf around her neck as her breath puffed in little clouds in front of her. The streets were quiet, and the snow made everything feel almost magical.

Y/n was waiting for her inside, setting out ingredients on the counter. She looked up as Minjeong entered, and for a brief moment, her face lit up with a smile that made Minjeong’s heart race.

“Ready?” Y/n asked, her voice warm.

Minjeong nodded, stepping forward to stand beside her. Y/n walked her through the steps, showing her how to knead the dough, how to carefully fold in the ingredients, and how to shape the pastry just right. Her hands moved with practiced ease, and Minjeong couldn’t help but feel a sense of awe at her skill.

As they worked, their hands would occasionally brush, sending a spark through her that she tried to ignore. But Y/n seemed to feel it too; Minjeong could see it in the slight pink tinge on her cheeks, the way her gaze lingered on her a little longer than usual.

After a while, they had a tray of pastries ready for the oven. As they waited, they sat together by the window, sipping tea and watching the snow fall outside. The silence between them was comfortable, and Minjeong felt a sense of peace that she hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Thank you for this,” she said quietly, glancing at the chief. “It means a lot to me.”

Y/n looked at her, his expression gentle. “I’m glad. You… you’ve been the highlight of my days, Minjeong.”

Her heart fluttered at Y/n’s words, and Minjeong felt her cheeks grow warm. For a moment, she was lost in Y/n’s gaze, the softness in her eyes mirroring the way she felt. She didn’t need grand gestures or declarations; this quiet, unspoken connection was enough.

When the pastries were finally ready, they pulled them out of the oven, laughing together as they admired their work. Y/n handed her one, and as she took a bite, the flavors exploded on her tongue — sweet, warm, and perfect.

They stood there in the dim light, sharing pastries and soft laughter, their fingers brushing now and then. And as the snow continued to fall outside, Minjeong realized that, somewhere along the way, she’d fallen in love with the quiet warmth of this little bakery — and the gentle, kindhearted pastry chef who had filled her winter days with sweetness and light.

———————-

The following weekend, Minjeong couldn’t keep the smile off her face as she walked to the bakery. She’d been so wrapped up in her blossoming feelings for Y/n that she’d accidentally let it slip to her members. Of course, they’d pounced on the story, pressing her for every detail, from Y/n’s shy smiles to the warmth of the bakery during those snowy evenings. Eventually, they convinced her to let them tag along.

“It’s not a date, right?” Giselle had said with a mischievous grin. “Just three girls, supporting their favorite girl!”

Minjeong had tried to protest, but she knew her members well enough to realize there was no stopping them. Now, bundled in scarves and coats, the four girls made their way to the bakery, laughing as they stumbled through the snow.

When they stepped inside, Y/n looked up from behind the counter. Her gaze softened as she saw Minjeong, but her eyes widened slightly at the sight of her friends. She looked a little nervous, but she quickly composed herself, giving a small, polite smile.

Minjeong could feel her cheeks heating up as she introduced them. “ Y/n, these are my friends — Giselle, Karina, and Ningning.”

The three girls exchanged knowing glances before offering Y/n warm greetings.

“It smells amazing in here,” Ningning said, inhaling deeply as she eyed the pastries in the display case.

Y/n relaxed a bit, nodding. “Thank you. We have some fresh blueberry scones and almond croissants if you’d like to try them.”

As she carefully set out the pastries on a plate, Karina leaned in close to Minjeong, whispering with a smirk, “I can see why you’re spending so much time here.”

Minjeong nudged her friend, trying to suppress a smile. She stole a glance at Y/n, who seemed focused on arranging the pastries, but she noticed the faint pink on Y/n’s cheeks.

They all settled at a small table by the window, each savoring the warm treats as the snow continued to fall outside. Minjeong felt a mix of nerves and excitement, hoping her friends wouldn’t embarrass her too much.

“So, Y/n,” Giselle said casually, flashing the chief a friendly smile, “Minjeong tells us she’s been learning to bake here. What’s she been working on?”

Y/n’s face softened as she looked at Minjeong. “She’s a fast learner. Last week, she helped me make strawberry tarts, and they turned out well.”

Minjeong’s cheeks turned pink, and she gave a shy smile. “Only because you helped me.”

Ningning leaned over the table, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “Ooh, can we see you two bake together? I bet Minjeong-unnie would be adorable in an apron.”

Y/n looked taken aback but nodded, her eyes glancing at Minjeong as if checking for her comfort. “I’d be happy to show you a few things… if Minjeong doesn’t mind.”

Minjeong gave a small, encouraging nod, feeling the warmth spread through her. She felt a tinge of nervousness but also a quiet excitement at the thought of sharing this part of her life with both Y/n and her friends.

As they made their way to the back of the bakery, Y/n handed her an apron, her fingers brushing against Mnjeong’s. Minjeong felt a spark from the simple touch, and her heart skipped a beat. She tied the apron around herself, noticing how Giselle, Karina, and Ningning were watching the two of them with barely contained grins.

Y/n began demonstrating the process of making a classic chocolate éclair, her hands moving with practiced ease. She explained each step, showing them how to mix the ingredients, pipe the dough, and fill the éclairs with a smooth, velvety chocolate cream.

At one point, as Minjeong carefully piped filling into the pastry, Y/n stood close behind her, guiding her hands. Minjeong could feel her presence, warm and reassuring, and her heart raced as Y/n’s fingers lightly covered hers.

“Like this,” Y/n murmured, her breath warm against Minjeong’s ear.

Her friends exchanged looks, their faces lighting up with barely suppressed giggles, but Minjeong ignored them, too focused on the way Y/n’s gentle touch sent a shiver down her spine.

Once the éclairs were done, they all gathered around to try them. Minjeong felt a rush of pride as her friends took bites and sighed in satisfaction.

“Minjeong-ah, this is amazing!” Karina said, beaming. “You two make a good team.”

Minjeong met Y/n’s eyes, her heart fluttering at the way she was smiling at her. “Thank you,” she murmured, feeling a warmth that had nothing to do with the pastries.

They spent the rest of the afternoon in laughter and conversation, the small bakery filled with a cozy warmth that seemed to chase away the cold of winter. Y/n’s shy nature softened around her friends, and she joined in their jokes, even laughing at Ningning’s dramatic retelling of how Minjeong had blushed the first time she’d tasted one of her pastries.

As the sun began to set, casting a golden glow through the windows, Y/n excused herself to box up a few pastries for the girls to take home. As she handed the box to Minjeong, her gaze lingered, her voice soft.

“I hope you’ll come back soon… with or without your friends,” Y/n said, her smile shy but full of warmth.

Minjeong’s heart fluttered, and she nodded, holding Y/n’s gaze for a long moment. “I’d love to.”

Outside, as they walked away from the bakery, her friends wasted no time in bombarding her with excited questions and teasing comments. Minjeong tried to brush them off, but she couldn’t hide the smile that lingered on her lips.

“Minjeongie and the sweet pastry chef,” Giselle teased, nudging her. “It’s like something out of a romance movie.”

“Can we come back next time?” Ningning chimed in, giggling. “I need more of those éclairs!”

Minjeong laughed, feeling a warmth that kept her company even as the winter chill settled around them. She thought of Y/n’s shy smile, the way she’d watched her with such quiet affection, and the way she’d made her winter days a little brighter, a little warmer.

As she looked back at the bakery, its lights glowing softly against the darkening sky, she realized that she was already looking forward to her next visit. And this time, she hoped it would be just the two of them, sharing the quiet warmth of their little corner of the world.

—————————

The days grew shorter, and the air turned crisp and chilly as winter settled into the city. Minjeong kept returning to the bakery, each visit filling her heart with warmth and quiet joy. She and Y/n fell into a gentle rhythm, their unspoken connection growing stronger with each shared pastry and lingering glance.

One snowy evening, after Minjeong’s band rehearsal, she made her way to the bakery as usual. She found Y/n tidying up, wiping down the counters in the soft glow of the lights. The bakery was empty, and the gentle hum of the heater added a cozy warmth to the room. The sight of her working alone, calm and focused, always brought Minjeong a sense of peace.

Hearing the door chime, Y/n looked up, and her face lit up with a shy smile when she saw her. “You’re here early today.”

Minjeong shrugged off her scarf, smiling back. “I couldn’t wait.”

The words slipped out before she could stop them, and she immediately felt her cheeks warm. Y/n’s smile softened, and she motioned her to a seat at the counter. She noticed that she’d already set out a small plate with a freshly baked cinnamon roll, still warm and gooey.

“For you,” Y/n said, her voice gentle. “I thought you might like something sweet after a long day.”

Minjeong took a bite, the sweet and spicy flavors melting on her tongue, and sighed in contentment. Y/n watched her with a soft expression as if the simple act of her enjoying her food was enough to make her day.

They fell into easy conversation, talking about small things — the first heavy snowfall, her band’s holiday plans, a new recipe he was working on. But as they talked, Minjeong noticed that Y/n seemed quieter than usual, glancing at her thoughtfully before looking away, as if she had something on her mind.

After a moment of silence, Y/n took a breath, seeming to gather her courage. “Minjeong… there’s something I wanted to ask you.”

Minjeong’s heart fluttered as she looked up, her curiosity piqued. “What is it?”

Y/n fidgeted slightly, her fingers nervously tapping the edge of the counter. She looked down, then met her eyes with a gentle intensity that made her breath catch.

“Would you… maybe want to go out with me sometime?” Y/n’s voice was soft, almost a whisper, but her gaze held hers steadily. “Just the two of us. Somewhere outside the bakery.”

Minjeong’s heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, she could hardly believe what she’d heard. She’d imagined this moment in daydreams, but hearing Y/n ask made her feel a warmth that spread through her entire chest.

“I… yes,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper, but her smile was radiant. “I’d love to.”

Y/n’s face brightened with relief and a hint of surprise as if she hadn’t fully expected her to agree. The chef let out a small, soft laugh, one that sounded like pure happiness. “Really? I wasn’t sure if…”

Minjeong shook her head, her laugh bubbling up, light and carefree. “I was hoping you’d ask.”

They both laughed softly, the tension between them melting away, replaced by a shared excitement. Y/n relaxed a shy but happy smile on her face.

“How about this Saturday?” Y/n asked, her eyes filled with gentle anticipation. “I know a little coffee shop nearby that has the best hot chocolate and a view of the park. We could go for a walk after if it’s not too cold.”

Minjeong’s heart melted at the thought — something simple and cozy, just the two of them. It sounded perfect.

“Saturday sounds perfect,” she said, her smile widening.

They shared a look, full of warmth and affection, and Minjeong felt a flutter of excitement in her chest, a promise of something sweet and new.

As she left the bakery that night, snowflakes swirling around her, Minjeong felt as though she were floating. For the first time, she looked forward to the weekend with nervous, giddy anticipation, knowing that soon, she’d be sharing something special with Y/n outside of their little bakery sanctuary.

——————————

Saturday couldn’t come quickly enough. Minjeong spent the days leading up to it with a mix of excitement and nerves, her thoughts drifting to Y/n whenever she had a quiet moment. She’d never been one to get overly anxious about dates, but something about the chef felt different. There was a gentleness to her presence, a quiet kind of warmth that made Minjeong feel at ease — and that only made her more eager to see what this date might bring.

When Saturday finally arrived, she dressed warmly in a cozy, oversized coat and a knit hat. Her friends fussed over her at the dorm, Karina making sure her hair was just right under the hat, while Ningning gave her a quick pep talk.

“You look adorable,” Giselle declared, giving her a thumbs up. “She’s going to be so nervous when she sees you.”

“Just be yourself,” Karina added, her voice warm and encouraging. “She already likes you for exactly that.”

Minjeong smiled, her cheeks pink from both their compliments and the thought of seeing Y/n. She thanked them and headed out, feeling the chill of the winter air bite her cheeks as she made her way to the little coffee shop where they’d planned to meet.

When she arrived, she spotted Y/n standing outside, looking around nervously. She was bundled up in a thick scarf and a dark coat, and when she noticed her, her face broke into a shy smile. Minjeong could see a hint of relief and happiness in Y/n’s eyes, and her heart melted at the sight.

“Hi,” she greeted, her smile mirroring Y/n’s.

“Hi,” Y/n replied, a touch of pink coloring her cheeks. “You look… nice.”

“Thank you,” she said softly, feeling a flutter of warmth as she took in her presence. “So do you.”

They both laughed, the tension easing as they exchanged shy glances. Y/n opened the door, and they stepped into the cozy warmth of the coffee shop. It was a charming place, with soft lighting, walls lined with bookshelves, and the comforting aroma of coffee and chocolate filling the air. They found a small table by the window, where they could watch the snow-covered park across the street.

After ordering two steaming cups of hot chocolate topped with whipped cream, they settled in, the quiet buzz of the coffee shop adding to the intimate atmosphere. Minjeong wrapped her hands around her cup, enjoying the warmth, and stole a glance at Y/n, who was looking at her with a soft, almost reverent expression.

“So,” Y/n said, breaking the comfortable silence, “how was your week?”

Minjeong smiled, feeling the conversation flow easily as they shared little stories from their days — her band rehearsals, Y/n’s latest bakery experiments, and a particularly humorous story about her accidentally adding salt instead of sugar to a batch of cookies.

“I thought it might be interesting at first,” Y/n said, chuckling. “Turns out, salty chocolate chip cookies aren’t a new trend waiting to happen.”

Minjeong laughed, picturing Y/n in the kitchen with her carefully organized ingredients, and how horrified she must have been to make such a mistake. It was so easy to talk to her, to share these quiet moments where everything felt simple and genuine.

As their hot chocolate dwindled, Y/n glanced outside and nodded toward the park. “Would you like to go for a walk? It’s stopped snowing, and… I thought it might be nice.”

“I’d love to,” Minjeong replied, her smile growing. The idea of strolling through the snowy park with Y/n felt like a scene out of a fairytale.

They bundled up and stepped back out into the cold, their breaths visible in the air as they walked side by side. The park was peaceful, the ground blanketed in untouched snow, and the world seemed still, as though it were just the two of them. Their footsteps crunched softly on the path, and Minjeong noticed how close they were walking, her arm occasionally brushing against Y/n’s.

They paused near a frozen lake, and Minjeong looked out at the serene scene. She felt Y/n’s gaze on her, and when she looked back at the woman, she seemed to be gathering her thoughts, a hint of nervousness in her expression.

“Minjeong,” Y/n began, her voice barely above a whisper, “I… I’ve never really done this before. The whole… dating thing.”

Her cheeks flushed, and she let out a small, nervous laugh. “I mean, I spend most of my time in a kitchen, and… I’m usually not very good at talking to people.”

Minjeong smiled softly, touched by her honesty. “Me neither. It’s different being with you, though… it feels comfortable.”

Y/n’s expression softened, her eyes holding Minjeong’s with a quiet intensity. “I feel the same way. You… you make me feel at ease. Like, I can be myself.”

They stood in silence for a moment, and then Y/n reached out, her gloved hand hesitantly brushing against the idol. Minjeong felt a spark, even through the layers of fabric, and instinctively, she slipped her hand into Y/n’s, their fingers interlacing.

Y/n looked down at their joined hands, her cheeks turning an even deeper shade of pink, and Minjeong felt her heart swell with a warmth that chased away the winter chill. They continued their walk, hand in hand, each step bringing them closer in ways words couldn’t.

————————-

After a while, they returned to the coffee shop, ordering another round of drinks to warm up. They sat by the window once again, this time sitting a little closer, their hands still intertwined on the table.

As the sky began to darken, Minjeong looked at Y/n, her heart full. “Thank you… for today. This was perfect.”

Y/n smiled, her eyes filled with warmth. “I was worried I’d be too nervous to even talk, but… you make it so easy.”

The woman hesitated, then reached over, brushing a stray strand of hair from Minjeong’s face. Her touch was gentle, lingering for just a second longer than necessary. Minjeong looked up at Y/n, her heart racing, and for a moment, everything around them faded away.

“I’m really glad I met you, Minjeong,” she murmured, her voice barely audible.

Minjeong smiled, her heart swelling with a joy she hadn’t felt in a long time. “I’m glad I met you too, Y/n.”

They sat together in the cozy warmth of the coffee shop as the night fell, sharing quiet words, soft laughter, and shy glances that held promises of more moments like this to come. As they finally left, walking through the snowy streets hand in hand, Minjeong knew that this was only the beginning of something beautiful, that felt just right.

Bonus chapter:

The winter chill had settled deep into the city, the streets blanketed in a soft layer of snow that sparkled under the streetlights. Minjeong and Y/n had spent the past few weeks finding cozy corners of the city to explore together — from late-night strolls through the park to quiet afternoons in local cafes. Their connection had grown effortlessly, with each shared laugh and lingering touch deepening the warmth between them.

Tonight, they’d decided to meet at a small, tucked-away garden park that Y/n had discovered years ago. Under the cover of winter, the park was almost empty, transformed into a serene wonderland of snow-covered trees and twinkling lights. A nearby fountain had frozen over, its icicles casting a soft glow in the moonlight.

They walked side by side, their breaths visible in the crisp air, their gloved hands brushing occasionally as they wandered through the quiet landscape.

“This place is beautiful,” Minjeong said softly, gazing around in awe.

“I thought you’d like it,” Y/n replied, her voice warm and fond. “It feels like a little world of its own, doesn’t it?”

Minjeong nodded, her cheeks flushed both from the cold and from Y/n’s words. There was something magical about being here, just the two of them as if they were sharing a secret that belonged only to them.

They reached a bench nestled beneath a tree that was strung with fairy lights, casting a gentle glow around them. Without a word, they both sat down, the silence between them comfortable and full of unspoken feelings.

Minjeong looked up at Y/n, catching her watching her with that same gentle gaze that had become so familiar. “Thank you… for always bringing me to the nicest places,” she murmured, feeling her heart beat a little faster.

Y/n smiled shyly, glancing down at their joined hands. “It’s easy to find nice places when… when I’m with you.”

Her voice was soft and vulnerable, and Minjeong felt a rush of affection as Y/n looked back up, her eyes searching hers. She wanted to say something, to tell her how much these moments with her meant to her, but the words caught in her throat. Instead, she simply looked at Y/n, her gaze filled with everything she couldn’t say out loud.

They stayed like that, caught in each other’s eyes, until Y/n shifted slightly, her gloved hand moving to gently cup her cheek. Minjeong felt her breath hitch at the tenderness of Y/n’s touch, her heartbeat pounding in her ears.

“Minjeong…” Y/n whispered, her voice barely audible, as if she were afraid to break the spell of the moment.

“Yes?” she replied, her voice a soft murmur.

Y/n then leaned in slowly, giving Minjeong every chance to pull away, but she stayed perfectly still, her eyes fluttering closed as she drew nearer. She felt the warmth of Y/n’s breath against her lips, and then, softly, tenderly, her lips brushed against hers.

The kiss was gentle, almost tentative, as though both of them were savoring every second. Minjeong felt herself melting into it, her hands finding their way to Y/n’s scarf as she pulled her closer. It was sweet and unhurried, filled with all the feelings that had been building between them, a quiet confession wrapped in warmth.

When they finally pulled back, their foreheads resting together, Minjeong opened her eyes to find Y/n gazing at her with an expression so full of affection that her heart swelled.

“Minjeong…” she said again, her voice soft and full of wonder. “I… I like you.”

She smiled, her cheeks pink as she whispered, “I like you too, Y/n.”

Y/n let out a small, breathless laugh, looking relieved and overjoyed all at once. They sat there for a moment, wrapped in each other’s warmth, as the quiet snow fell around them, casting a soft blanket over the world.

As they got up to leave, their hands still entwined, Minjeong stole another glance at Y/n, feeling an overwhelming sense of happiness. She knew that this was only the beginning of their story, but for now, she felt content, holding onto the memory of their first kiss — a moment she would cherish forever, filled with the sweetness of winter and the warmth of love.

#aespa x reader #aespa winter #kim minjeong #female reader #winter x reader #gxg #fluff #aespa giselle #aespa karina #aespa ningning

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littlemissmentallyunstable · 4 months ago

Note

Can u write an enemies to lovers fic of Grayson X reader??? Plsss!!

thank you for your request and I apologise for the delay in writing it, my request list has been mountainous for a little while now and this particular fic actually also had lots of rewrites before the final piece. It began as an academic rivals sort of thing, then became family-feud but finally ended with whatever this is. I’m praying you enjoy this 🤍🤍

title: we’re just project partners

pairing: grayson hawthorne x (first person) reader

synopsis: you’re partnered with the one person you hate to complete a project you love… but what if he’s not as bad as you thought

warnings: swearing, gray-bae is being a nasty little b-word (BUT ITS FOR THE PLOT OKAY)

a/n: I am alive!! It’s just taken me a week and a bit to post again, I’m writing three fics at once so this one just happened to be done first

taglist: @lovethornes @whatsamongus @wish-i-were-heather @inmyheaddd @never-enough-novels @fleuriosa @midiosaamor @sweetreveriee @emelia07 @f4iry-bell @zaraaaabear @thoughtdaughter3 @benny1989fredd @elysianwayy77 @maybxlle @sheisntyou @anintellectualintellectual @aleatorio1234 @adalia-jaycee @off-to-the-r4ces @lyra-kane @reminiscentreader @lyrakanefanatic @imaseabear @elizaa31 @loveinalocket

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I roll my eyes, eyeing the names on the board.

It just has to be him doesn’t it.

“There must be a mistake,” Grayson says. I turn my head to look at him, for once we can agree on something.

“No there is no mistake,” the professor tusks, “class dismissed.”

Everyone gets up and begins to pack their stuff, chatting about the project and their partners and various other things. It sucks when you have no classes with your friends, but it sucks even more when you get partnered with your rival for a project.

I’m about to walk out of the classroom when I hear my name.

“Y/n l/n, come back a moment!”

I stop myself from rolling my eyes, I just want to go home. I spin around and sluggishly walk back to the teacher’s desk where she stands and beside her is the infamous arrogant prat Grayson Hawthorne.

“You have to change it,” Grayson snaps quickly, his voice so insistent, so sharp. I look up to see he’s gesturing to our names beside one another’s. Classic Hawthorne. Thinks he can command people to do whatever he pleases just because he feels entitled enough to do so.

“What you gonna do, bribe her if she says no?” I scoff, arms folded.

They both ignore me but my lip still quirk upwards, proud of the pathetic joke I’d made, even if I was the only one who found it funny.

“There will be no changes Mr Hawthorne,” our professor replies sincerely.

“You don’t understand,” he shakes his head so vigorously I have to bite back a laugh, “I can’t work with her.”

“Well you’re going to have to,” she says, “this is 30% of your grade for the year.”

His eyes widen and he almost looks panicked. Almost. Nevertheless it amuses me to see the stoic, ironclad blonde crack for mere seconds.

“Professor please,” he says so desperately he’s practically begging, which I’d always thought was too beneath him to do, “she’s impossible.”

“I’m impossible?” I raise my eyebrows.

He rolls his eyes and turns back to our teacher, “anyone but her. I’ll do it by myself if I have to.”

“I’ve told you once and I will only repeat myself one more time, there will be no changes made,” she says too calmly, “I don’t see the problem, you are both excellent students with some of the highest marks I’ve seen in my time. You need to get past whatever this little tiff is and move on. Bounce off of each other, enlighten each other, create a show stopping presentation.”

Such a teacher answer to give. Played off to be inspirational, really just a nice way of saying get on with it or you fail.

“On the contrary Miss, I think Hawthorne here is the only one kicking up a fuss, I haven’t uttered a word,” I point out.

“That may be true but don’t you think I can see the vicious looks aimed at both him and me?” she asks, accusation in her tone.

So maybe the dirty looks weren’t as sly as I’d thought them to be. Still, it wasn’t like he didn’t deserve them.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I lie through my teeth, sweetened smile to sugarcoat it further.

“Perhaps it should be discussed in a detention then, I’m free after school tomorrow,” she proposes, her smile even sweeter than mine.

“No, no, that isn’t necessary,” I say quickly, “I’m suddenly horribly aware of the looks I’ve been giving.”

I’m not the kind of girl who gets detentions, actually I’d never gotten one in my life and I didn’t intend to change that. My record was perfect, it was going to stay perfect. My professor, annoyingly, knew that a bit too well.

“Good, I suppose no detention then,” she says, “and what about you Mr Hawthorne, would you like to discuss your stubborn means to switch partners in a detention with me?”

“No thank you,” he grits through his teeth, his jaw nearly set in stone. I fight back a grin at his irritation.

“Challenges are good for the mind,” she smiles, “and I have a feeling you two will very much challenge one another. You once told me you liked a challenge, no?”

“I do,” Grayson nods slowly, then side glances at me, “but not of this kind.”

I think it was meant to be an insult towards me but it was so poor it didn’t even come close to mildly hurting me so I don’t bother to respond.

“Try something new, branch out a little,” our professor shrugs, “and who knows, you may even enjoy each other’s company.”

“That is very optimistic,” I scoff at the same time as Grayson says, “that will never happen.”

“Only time will tell,” she replies with a whimsical look in her eyes, “good luck.”

We exit the classroom in the coldest of silences. Any colder and we would’ve had an ice palace with an interesting rendition of ‘let it go’. I vote Grayson plays Elsa.

He actually barely spares me a glance, with his jaw all clenched and tightened. I wonder at one point if he’s breathing. He’s so tense, the feeling smothers the air around me, suffocating any sense of relaxation. I turn to leave the building.

“Where are we going?” he questions, too assertive for my liking.

“I’m going home,” I tell him bluntly.

He furrows his brows, “why?”

“To get changed,” I deadpan.

“Why?” he repeats. I try to read his emotions but they’re not clear enough to define. He’s accustomed to hiding them.

I stare at him, “I don’t need to explain myself to you.”

“Fine, we’ll meet here in 15 minutes,” he decides.

I don’t reply as I turn on my heels and walk away.

***

After getting changed and piecing together all of the things I might need to study, all my notes and books and highlighters and pens, I walked back over to our ‘meeting place’. As I approach Grayson is already stood there with a sour expression on his face. Of course he’s already there.

“You’re late,” he tells me, his voice so bitter I wonder how many lemons it would take to rival it.

“No I’m exactly on time,” I sneer, flicking my phone in his face.

“It’s been 15 minutes and 43 seconds, so technically you’re 43 seconds late,” he smirks. I almost feel sorry for him because I can see how proud he feels after saying this, sense the smugness burning in his chest.

“Did you count?” I try extremely hard to suppress my laughter.

“Of course not, I wouldn’t waste my breath on that,” he rolls his eyes, then pauses slightly, “… I set a timer.”

“Of course you did,” I purse my lips with a sigh.

His screws his face up, “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s supposed to mean you’re a weird person who would time someone going home to get changed,” I shrug, attempting to walk past him.

Talk about being late, when he was the one stood here chattering on about meaningless subjects. He ignores the comment and briskly stands in front of me to block me from walking any further.

“What are you wearing anyway?” he asks, looking down on me with great distaste with all but his eyes.

“Clothes,” I deadpan, staring down at my much loved and slightly over worn band tee-shirt.

“They’re awful,” he tells me bluntly.

“Was that meant to hurt me?” I raise an eyebrow. I mean sure, it hurt a little, but I didn’t actually care what he thought. Or I shouldn’t at least.

“You could’ve picked something a little nicer to wear in public,” he continues, so cut-throat and cold.

I look directly into his mellowed silver eyes and wonder how someone with such soft, inviting eyes could be so sharp and jagged with the words he uses.

“Worried I’ll ruin your street credit,” I tease, “sully your good name with my sports leggings and band t-shirt?”

“I’m just surprised at your lack of care for your appearance,” he replies, a slight discomfort worming its way through his features. It makes me smile a little.

“I just think I’m not as fixated on it as you, I mean what’s with your outfit, James Bond? Do you own anything that’s not a suit and tie,” I ask.

“Matter-o-factly I do,” he replies bluntly as if to end the conversation.

So of course I continue it, “so do you just stare at those clothes then, hanging in your walk in wardrobe.”

His eyes snap up and his stare is suddenly so piercing it hurts to hold eye contact, “how do you know I have a walk in wardrobe,” he practically spits, in a defensive tongue.

I snort, “that was a joke, but yeesh rich boy you’ve got it all.”

“Rich boy, how original,” Grayson comments.

“I’ve got more,” I shoot back with that smile I know makes his blood boil and skin singe.

“Spare me them,” he responds, “sweetheart.”

A forbidden fluttering occurs in the pit of my stomach, it’s as if eight hundred butterflies have decided to dance a jive there. Some feeling between guilt and shame settles in my chest. The word sweetheart shouldn’t make me feel anything, least of all from the mouth of Grayson Hawthorne.

But it was the way he said it, so softly, so smoothly, the word just rolled off of his tongue like he’d called me it for years. It almost sounded nice. The guilt weighs heavier on my chest and I snap out of it. I don’t feel anything. For anyone. Least of all him.

“Awww you’ve got a nickname for me too Goldilocks,” I reply with a laugh to bury the truth.

“Did you not hear the spare me part?” he tusks, beginning to walk.

I shake my head, walking a little faster than usual to keep up with his strides, “sorry I usually don’t listen when someone irrelevant talks.”

He scowls at me and I wink back.

“Did your face get stuck in a permanent scowl as a child or were you just born unhappy?” I cock my head to the side and narrow my eyes.

“Do you ever shut up?” Grayson asks flatly.

“My therapist told me not to hold back,” I shrug.

“Doesn’t that explain a lot,” he says dryly, shooting me a look that makes me feel inferior. I go to bite my tongue, but ask myself when I’m trying to hold back. I don’t owe him anything.

I stare at him, “don’t look so disgusted blondie, just because you’re too up yourself to admit you need help doesn’t mean all of us are.”

“I don’t need help,” Grayson replies, each word candid and dull.

Something in me almost feels sorry for him. Did he really think he didn’t need help? Did he really feel that alone and isolated? I wanted, in that moment, to reach out and be there for him. Then I remember who he is.

“Whatever you say,” I sigh.

“We’re working at my house,” he responds abruptly, as we get to the end of the street.

I fold my arms and raise my eyebrows, “says who?”

“Me,” he shrugs.

“And who are you to tell me where I’m working?” I ask.

“I’m your partner and I’m making a decision,” he presses on, stubbornly. Little does he know, I’m twice as stubborn and I’m not going to back down.

“I don’t think you really understand how this whole project thing works,” I say.

“I’ve done plenty of projects and I can very much assure you, I understand what I’m doing,” he grumbles back, clearly annoyed that he isn’t getting his way this time. Someone has to teach him I suppose.

“Oh great,” I smile sickeningly sweetly, “then we’re not working at yours.”

“Why on earth not?” he screws up his face as if I’ve just told him I want to skin a cat alive.

“I don’t want to,” I reply simply.

“Well I do,” he argues back.

“That’s a shame,” I shrug softly, leaving him with no option.

He shakes his head and runs a hand through his perfect hair, “you are insufferable.”

“That the worst you got Hawthorne?” I giggle a little, turning left to walk down the pathway.

“And impossible,” he says, following me.

“Oh you wound me,” I say hyperbolically, putting I hand in my head and feigning a dizzy spell.

Grayson rolls his eyes, he’s done it so many times now I’m worried they might get stick here soon, “can we just work?”

“Where?” I shoot him a lopsided grin.

He sighs, most likely suppressing some very colourful language, “why don’t you decide seen as my ideas oppose you.”

“Much like your entire personality,” I let him know.

“My personality is fine,” he replies, probably trying to soothe his rapidly declining pride under that suit of his.

“Mhmmm,” I nod sarcastically, “and I have a unicorn that shits cupcakes called Craig.”

“Really?” he wrinkles his nose, “profanities?”

“Oh no is it too beneath the great Grayson Hawthorne to say fuck every now and then,” I laugh.

He tenses and mutters something under his breath. I don’t quite hear the words but you can see he’s fuming. It ignites something in me, a spark. I like seeing him furious. I really like it.

“Where do you want to work?” he asks me, grey eyes a little too distracting for my liking.

“The library,” I tell him, my answer almost immediate.

He tries to mask his horror but fails miserably, “in public?”

“You’re not going to get cholera,” I snort.

“Can’t we just work somewhere nicer,” he complains.

“The library is nice,” I tell him, “and they have a coffee stand outside and I want coffee so that’s where we’re going.”

“And you call me demanding,” he mutters underneath us breath.

***

We walk to the library bickering about how fast he walks and how slow I apparently walk. In my personal opinion I think he was walking fast on purpose, he obviously disagreed.

“Do you even know where you’re going?” I ask him, it now only just dawning on me that he was leading the way yet he didn’t know where the library was.

“I’m not an idiot,” Grayson spits back, nose in the air, posture upright and powerful.

He always carries himself like that as if he’s saviour of the world and we should all bow down to kiss his presumably pedicured feet.

“Are you sure?” I tease him.

“Certain,” he snaps regimentally.

“We’re here,” I say halting conversation to walk up to the coffee stand.

“I knew that,” he mumbled.

He glances at the cart, looking it up and down like it needs to be judged and inspected to his high standards.

“What is this?” he interrogates me.

“It’s called a coffee cart in english but in rich boy it might be called something else, I haven’t studied the language yet,” I respond coolly.

“Is this even safe to drink?” Grayson says, some variant of worry wavering in his tone.

“It’s coffee,” I deadpan, “not raw chicken.”

He rolls his eyes in an exaggerated manner.

“I like it and I’m getting some,” I tell him bluntly, “you don’t want to, you don’t have to.”

“No,” he checks his watch, “I need a coffee, this’ll have to do.”

I don’t bother wasting my breath to respond but make a mental note that maybe the Hawthorne wasn’t so different from me, addicted to coffee.

“Hey Jack,” I wave, walking closer to the cart.

I’d known Jack for a good eight years of my life, he was my rock. The smile in endless clouds of grey, the light at the end of the tunnel and of course, most importantly, the coffee provider to my caffeine deprived being.

“Bonsoir sunshine what can I get you,” he grins his usual grin at me, the witty mischief-ridden grin is known since I was nine years old. His eyes slide over Grayson judgementally though when he realises I’m watching him he immediately flicks back to his job.

“The usual of course,” he makes sure.

“You come here often?” Grayson raises an eyebrow, interrupting my answer.

“Just every day,” Jack says, before I can get a word out. I shoot him a look.

Grayson looks at me, “every day?”

“I really like coffee,” I explain with an exaggerated hand gesture.

“Coffee is bad for your health,” he responds almost immediately.

I suppress the hundreds of colourful words exploding in my mind settling for a more well-mannered reply, “well it’s good for my mental stability.”

“She’s addicted now,” Jack adds, “she’ll get withdrawal symptoms without it.”

“Shaking, sweating, you name it, I get it,” I continue.

“That sounds like a serious health condition,” Grayson says, his eyebrows pinching together. It was so soft I could’ve mistakened the expression for concern. But of course, why would he be concerned for me. I must’ve been reading it wrong.

“Hence me buying this coffee,” I tell him.

“Blueberry muffin, on the house,” Jack offers me, as if he didn’t every Friday.

We had a deal, I was allowed to take a free blueberry muffin that came out of his earnings if he kept up to date with his school work. Jack had always had a problem with handing things in on time and concentrating and school wasn’t his strong point. He hated going and was so close to dropping out too many times. That was until I made him stay. I talked him into it and he promises me he doesn’t regret it. It seems this week, he’s turned in all assignments on time.

I smiled, “you mean on the cart?”

“Sure whatever,” he brushes it off, “anything else?”

His eyes dare to skim over Grayson again though he is quick to come back and meet my gaze, his cheeks flush like he’s a child who’s done something wrong.

I turn to Grayson, “what do you want?”

“I’ll pay for myself,” he says shortly, looking slightly offended at my question.

I screw up my nose at him, “I wasn’t going to offer to pay for you asshole.”

“Play nice, sunshine,” Jack teases.

I glare at him and his smile quickly fades.

“You can’t play nice with that,” I glower.

He shoots me a look, the turns to Grayson, “what can I get you sir?”

“It’s not the evening,” Grayson replies.

Jack’s eyes are lost in a blanket of confusion, “sorry?”

“It’s not the evening it’s the afternoon,” he clarifies, as if it made the meaning of his sentence any clearer.

“You’ve lost me sir,” he shakes his head with furrowed brows.

“You said bonsoir but it isn’t the evening,” he chastises, “it’s afternoon and therefore you should’ve said bon après-midi.”

Jack turns to me, bewildered, “is he on drugs?”

“Probably,” I shrug. I wouldn’t be surprised if the rich kid had private access to that sort of stuff, he probably had the lawyers to cover it up as well.

“Are you…” Jack hesitates, “…you know?”

He makes an odd gesture with two fingers as I confuse to stare at him blankly.

“No I don’t know,” I reply.

“Are you with him,” he asks, “romantically.”

I almost choke on my own spit as I bark out a laugh, “oh god no.”

For a fraction of a second a look of relief passes over Jack’s features. Something uninvited tugs at my insides but I quickly ignore it.

“You’d be lucky,” Grayson scoffs.

“Oh he fancies himself,” Jack grins, clearly amused.

“Yeah it’s an ego thing, his is massive,” I explain.

“No it’s not,” the blonde insists.

“In denial as well,” Jack smirks, folding his arms.

“Always,” I say, then turn to Grayson, “now what do you want to drink because if you don’t tell him now I’m taking mine and ditching you.”

“Black coffee, no cream, no sugar,” the answer was instant, rehearsed.

“Ooo you made a hardcore friend,” Jack snickers, I want to slap him.

“We are not friends,” I make clear.

“Yeesh okay,” he raises his eyebrows, lifting his hands up as if he’d been convicted of a crime.

“And let’s be realistic here, rich boy probably has a massive sweet tooth and is too embarrassed to let people know,” I say with a sly smirk.

“Oh one hundred percent!” Jack nods, handing me my cup and muffin.

“I do not,” Grayson mutters, but loudly enough for us both to hear.

“That’s confirmed then,” Jack winks at me.

I giggle as he hands Grayson his drink. We exchange payment and then comes the dreaded point where I actually have to leave to get work done. Usually coming to the library for me was getting to see Jack and getting my coffee, not the actual going to library part.

“See you tomorrow,” I smiled sadly.

“Hopefully without thunder face here,” Jack says.

“I can hear you,” Grayson says curtly, before taking a sip of his coffee.

“I know,” Jack shrugs.

“I hope so too,” I reply to his previous comment, “bye!”

“Bye,” he salutes me as I turn around and begin to walk.

I’m aware that Grayson is by my side but neither of us speak. The only sounds come from our surroundings and the alternating elongated sips of coffee were taking to avoid talking. I practically inhale my muffin, after skipping lunch as school had booked my time table that way.

“I didn’t like the way he looked at you,” Grayson says suddenly with a sour expression on his face.

“The way he looked at me was none of your business,” I reply sharply, indicating for him to drop the subject unless me wanted a fight.

“Well I didn’t like it,” he continued. Fine, he wants a fight.

“I don’t really care,” I shrug, “he’s Jack, he’s been a friend since freaking kindergarten, he’s got no dishonourable intentions.”

A slight exaggerated lie on my part, but I wasn’t ashamed. It feels like I’ve known Jack that long anyway, the technicalities don’t matter.

“You don’t know that,” he states.

“I know that better than anyone now back off okay?” I snap, “or you and I will have a real problem.”

He laughs, “you’re almost adorable when you’re angry.”

“Adorable?” I say, fantasising spitting in his face after that comment.

“Almost,” he corrects me.

“I can throw a good hard punch and I’m not afraid to,” I warn him.

“Oh I’m sure you’re not,” he says, a ghost of a smile twitching on his lips, “I can see as much in your eyes.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I ask, raising my voice a little.

He stays quiet and averts his eyes, deciding to ignore me a continue walking.

“Oh ignore the question, real mature,” I roll my eyes, “so glad I’m having a proper adult conversation.”

Silence hits again, like a sonic boom of nothingness. He doesn’t even look at me. It’s as if I don’t exist, as if in the last three seconds I’ve become an irrelevant invisible being.

I stop Grayson in his tracks and force him to meet my eyes, “stay away from Jack,” I practically growl, “or I’ll fail this assignment on purpose.”

“We both know you wouldn’t damage your perfectionist reputation for petty revenge,” he murmurs, our faces only inches away from one another’s.

“I have a talent for getting myself out of things,” I cock my head to the side in an art of competition, my cheeks flushing at the realisation that I could feel his warm breath on my face.

“How funny,” he counters, “me too.”

His eyes are narrowed to challenge me. Okay Hawthorne, game on.

***

We’ve been researching for an hour with no further conversation. Since our previous altercation neither one of us had so much as looked up from our laptops. The only reason I knew he was still sat opposite me was the sound of his keyboard typing. I get out my textbook and begin to highlight the lines I need to use

“Why are you using six different highlighters?”

The first thing he says to me in an hour is that? I don’t bother looking up.

“Why do you care?” I ask, my eyes flicking over to my work, my hands continuing to highlight information.

“It’s annoying me,” he shrugs.

“Okay,” I reply slowly, “it sounds like more of a you problem to me.”

I look up. Grayson is staring right at me, his steel eyes cold looking on my face. He opens his mouth to reply but my surprise gets there first.

“You wear glasses?” I gape.

“Seen as I’ve had them on for the last hour that would make sense,” he teases.

“I never see you wear them at school,” I explain.

“That’s because I don’t,” he pauses, “why were you looking at me in school?”

“It was just generally, like I’d waste my time looking at you,” I roll my eyes.

Then catch his for a moment. My head tilts to the side. Something feels off about him. He looks warmer, softer, calmer.

“What?” he asks, clearly annoyed.

“You look weird,” I blurt out before my brain can filter it.

“How lovely of you to say,” he replies dryly.

“You don’t look like you,” I say, “you look more…”

Human. That’s what I want to say but I trail off instead.

“More what?” he prompts.

“It doesn’t matter,” I shake my head, getting back to my book. I can feel his eyes on me.

He stares me down quizzically, like he’s trying to work me out, “I know what you’re trying to do.”

“Highlight my textbook in peace? Yeah,” I scoff, “but that’s not really happening anymore.”

“You’re trying to get under my skin,” he seethes.

“By highlighting my book?” I raise my eyebrows.

“In six different colours,” he reminds me, as if I don’t already know.

I sigh, “I dare say that coffee made you even more of a bitch.”

He rolls his eyes, “you really feel the need to use those words?”

“No but I feel the need to punch you,” I retort.

“Well I’m right here, why don’t you?” he challenges.

“Because I have a level of self control,” I shrug gently.

“Are you quite sure?” he asks me.

He doesn’t realise I’m not the kind of girl to question myself just because a man did first. I’m not that kind of girl at all.

“Are you quite finished?” I reply, just a smoothly to mirror him.

“No.”

Our eyes linger on each others and it feels like we share a million unspoken conversation through the patterns of our irises. I’m fixated on him like I’ve been fixated on no other before. It’s not me but that doesn’t make me pull away. His gaze becomes more concentrated, harder to ignore without unwelcome feelings arising so I look back down to my highlighters and pick up for where I left off, except now I had a thumping heart in my chest.

I slide a sweaty palm on my trousers keeping it hidden under the table. I finish up my highlighting and then begin type up the final few notes I have to get done. After that, it’s over. I get to leave, I get my freedom, I get to breathe.

“I’m finished,” he announces when I’m mid sentence. Why is his tone always so articulated, so definitive?

“Okay I’m nearly there,” I say, frantically typing the last of my notes.

“Bit slow,” he comments.

I roll my eyes with no energy to reply. He’s done me in today. I’m exhausted at the thought of more bickering. With a few more clicks of my keyboard I complete all that I wanted to.

“I’m done,” I exhale, “just send me your work so I can proofread and check the facts.”

“You doubt my skill?” he raises an eyebrow.

I shrug, “I don’t know you well enough to trust it.”

“Then send me yours,” he purses his lips, “and I’ll do the same.”

“Okay then,” I say, sending him over my copy slowly.

He opens it and begins to read as I open his. My eyes are just in the middle of the second paragraph when there’s an untimely interrupted.

“It’s a waste of time,” he says suddenly, irritation thick in his tone.

“Not if I find mistakes,” I sing song, not taking my eyes off of his page, knowing full well I’d have to reread this sentence and other four times.

“You won’t,” he snaps.

“Oh take it out!” I exclaim finally, growing too exasperated to keep my feelings at bay.

He grows suddenly extremely confused, providing a perfect answer, “what?”

“The stick, wedged up your backside!” I whisper-yell, exasperated, “just yank it out already.”

“Excuse me!” he widens his eyes, looking highly disgusted.

“You’re rigid as a board, you never smile, your muscles are literally tensed, chill out a little,” I breathe, “I literally just want to check over the notes, why is it nearly world war three?”

“Your imagination is quite something,” he comments, practically ignoring all that I’d just said.

“So is your expressionless face,” I answer with a small shrug.

Grayson’s lips twist into a smile, “you think my face is quite something?”

“Don’t flatter yourself Hawthorne,” I scoff, rolling my eyes.

“I’ll try not to,” he replies.

“It must be hard for you,” I tease.

“Not as hard it is for you to admit you like my face,” he continues to smirk, annoying twinging through me with each curve of his mouth.

“If liking it means I want to spit in it, then yeah I really like your face,” I reply.

He leans over the table, getting closer, “you’re revolting.”

“Get the dictionary out for the next adjective,” I taunt him, “there’s one behind you.”

He doesn’t respond and I take that as my win. His eyes just become fixated on my notes all of a sudden. My stomach dances a little. I feel nervous, why do I feel nervous? It’s just Grayson, reading my notes… but my leg is bouncing up and down and I’m holding my breath without realising it. The clock has never ticked so loudly.

I focus on his notes and unfortunately realise he’s right. There are no mistakes. How annoying. I wanted to make him feel stupid for being so arrogant but he had a right to be. His work was practically perfect. Of course there are things I would’ve written differently but it didn’t taken away from the fact that his work was masterful.

“There’s a mistake,” he says suddenly.

Damn it.

“What?” I ask.

“In your work,” he smiles, almost proudly.

“Okay?” I say, “that’s why we proof things, hence proving my earlier point of the important of proofreading.”

“You got the date wrong,” he explains.

“Which one?” I furrow my brows, dates were the first thing I checked usually. It wasn’t like me to make mistakes on them unless I was distracted.

“1922 should be 1923,” he counters, showing me on his screen.

“Must’ve been a typo,” I shrug.

“Or poor research,” he replied smugly.

“Well I’ve written down 1923,” I tap my pen on my paper notes, “so it must have been a typo,”

“Well you should proofread more carefully then?” he says.

“Maybe I should’ve,” I nod.

He’s got nothing left to say. He can’t argue with me if I’ve agreed with him. Silence hit us like the dead. You could cut the tension with a knife.

“Just correct it,” I finally breathe.

“I will,” he says, tapping at the keys.

“Done?” I ask once he’s finished.

“Done,” he consolidates.

“Great so now we can leave,” I say, standing up, a little too eager to get out.

“Not yet,” Grayson tells me, his words slow and staccato.

“What is this? Some sort of damnation? I want to go home,” I exclaim.

“Well we need to seal our work with our fingerprints,” he explains.

I stare at him blankly, it feels like he’s just said something to me in a strange foreign language, “what?”

“Put fingerprint recognition onto the data base so only we can open our work,” he clarifies, as if it makes it any easier for me to understand.

“Why?” I ask cluelessly.

“So no one can hack into it,” he replies.

“Why do you say it likes it’s obvious?” I say.

“Because it is obvious,” he shrugs.

“Only you would have a fingerprint recognition for school assignments,” I roll my eyes.

“Well I want them secure,” he says.

“Clearly,” I snort.

He opens his mouth to reply but I interrupt him before he can get there.

“Let’s just get this over with, I want to go home tonight,” I sigh.

“Fine,” he says, “you just have to tap here.”

I place my finger where he directed it but it didn’t work. Huffing, I jab my finger at the screen a few times harshly. I’m surprised I don’t break the screen.

“I said tap, not murder,” Grayson says.

“I’m imagining it’s your face,” I growl back, still tapping relentlessly at the uncooperative piece of technology.

“It’s cute you think you’d even get close to touching my face,” he replies cooly.

I smack his forehead sharply. His reflexes aren’t fast enough to register it until the act is done. He sits there, stunned and blinking.

“Still cute?” I ask, batting my eyelashes.

“Adorable,” he growls, a sarcastic venom dripping from every letter.

I groan, as the fingerprint fails me again, “it’s not working.”

“You’re doing it wrong,” he tusks.

“Come on then genius,” I roll my eyes, “show me how it’s done.”

I’m surprised when he takes my hand gently and guides it to the screen. That familiar jolt in my stomach returns. He’s so delicate with me, as if I’m worthy of being treated fragile. He applies light pressure to the tip of my thumb so the fingerprint recognition goes through, his eyes fixated on the screen. Mine are on him.

“There, that’s how it’s done,” he says, snapping me out of my thoughts. The screen lit up green.

He let go of my hand and a wave of shame rolls over me because I’m disappointed he let go.

“Good then,” I nod, mentally telling myself to stop thinking such nonsense, “I need to get home.”

“It’s 6pm,” he deadpans.

“And I need to get home,” I repeat, remembering what an aggravating human being he could be. It washed away any tentative hand touch in an instant.

“But the assignment-“

“We have three weeks,” I say, “don’t get your kickers in a twist Barbie 2.0.”

“The names keep getting better,” he grits through his teeth.

“Well practice makes perfect,” I tease, enjoying myself a little too much

“Doesn’t it just,” he smiles sarcastically.

I sigh shaking my head, “why did she have to pair me with you?”

“I don’t know why you’re complaining, you got the better end of the bargain,” he says with a laboured laugh.

I pause and stare at him, “how?”

“You were partnered with me,” he states, “I’m coherent, cohesive, co-“

“Too many co words Mr,” I cut in.

“But I got you,” he says.

“You say it as if I’m a piece of shit on your shoe,” I practically spit at him. I hate the way me makes me feel inferior.

“Well you’re not exactly pleasant to be around,” Grayson defends, leaning back in his chair.

“Ditto.”

“You’re annoying, irritating-“

“They’re literally synonyms of each other,” I yell over him, earning myself a stern look from the librarian.

“I mean you’re clearly very argumentative,” he says, gesturing his hands as if I were proving his point, “but I wouldn’t put it past you, after all I’m presuming your background didn’t give you lessons in etiquette.”

I clench my jaw to keep it from dropping. I knew he was nasty but I didn’t know he could be cruel.

“My background?” I question him. I know what he means, I just want to see if he’s brave enough this stick his neck out and explain it

“You’re a scholarship student,” he shrugs.

“How do you know that,” I ask quickly.

No one is meant to know that. The headmaster assured me no one could possibly find out and yet Grayson Hawthorne knew. How funny. He only shrugs in response, he wasn’t going to let up that information. He could see it meant something to me.

“I know you think you’re king of the world and all that but it wouldn’t kill you to take your head out of your ass every once in a while and breath some fresh air,” I raise my voice a little, wildly furious.

“Must you be so creative with your insults,”he asks dryly

“Must you be so blatantly rude with yours,” I shoot back.

“So it’s not true?” he replies.

“You don’t have the right to judge me on what you think you know about my life,” I snap fiercely.

He raises his eyebrows, “sorry, did I hit a nerve?”

“You hit nothing,” I mutter.

He smiles to himself, he knows he hit something.

“I’ll be leaving now then, see you later,” I say, the annoyance too thick in my tone for me to hide. I stand up and grab my bag.

“Wait!” he calls.

I spin around, “what?”

“I need your number,” he says slowly.

“You don’t need to sound so desperate,” I smirk.

“I need it to text you the times to meet up and work on the assignment,” he clarifies with an infamous eye roll.

“You don’t need to use that as an excuse blondie,“ I say.

“How can someone some on so intelligent be so utterly exasperating,” Grayson groans.

My cheeks heat up. He thinks I’m intelligent. He values my mind.

“It’s a talent,” I grinned back.

He rolls his eyes as I write down my number and hand it to him.

“There.”

“Thank you,” he nods at me.

“Wow,” my eye widen in shock, “you can be civil!”

“Every once in a while,” he shrugs delicately.

I almost smile but suppress it. Quickly I stack all of the books I’d borrowed to out them away on my way out. Though as I go to carry the pile his voice stops me.

“You’re never going to able to carry all of those books,” he says.

“You don’t need to underestimate me Hawthorne, you’ve done that too much today,” I tell him.

“Watch me defy your so called fact then,” I retort, lifting all eight volumes on top of one another into my arms.

“I’m not underestimating you,” Grayson replies, “I’m stating a fact.”

It’s heavier than I’d estimated which is the first shock. They sit unstably, wobbling and threatening to come cluttering to the floor. But he could not be right. I wouldn’t buckle. I wouldn’t drop anything. I’m not a failure.

“Need some help there?” he tilts his head to the side.

“No,” I say, my strained voice giving me away.

“You look like you’re struggling,” he comments.

“Well I’m not,” I reply, feeling that my face is rosy from sheer effort.

He looks at me, “are you sure?”

“Very,” I grunt, my arms burning with the weight.

“I’ll save you the stubborn act and the library damage fee and take some,” he rolls his eyes.

“I said I’m fine-“

He takes a large sum of books from the top. My arms relax slightly as I glare at him.

“If you drop them you’ll like an idiot,” he explains.

“I wouldn’t have dropped them,” I state.

“Okay, whatever you say,” he replies.

“Don’t use my saying on me,” I say.

“It’s not yours,” he shrugs, “you didn’t create it.”

“I used it earlier, that’s close enough,” I tell him.

“Sure.”

We come to an abrupt halt in conversation and both turn back to back to put the books back to their respected areas. I see one in my pile that has a page marked. I flick to it and pause to skim over the contents.

“What are you reading?”

He almost makes me jump, I didn’t hear him sneak up behind me.

“An article,” I say, tying to keep my voice from trembling after the shock.

I can feel him now breathing down my neck, his chest almost touches my back. My pulse races, skyrocketing a little too far.

“Who’s it by?“ he asks.

My eyes flick to the bottom of the page where I read aloud my response, “am anonymous writer.”

He scrunches his nose up, “what good an article with an anonymous author?”

“It’s not about who wrote it, it’s about the impact it has,” I say.

“I disagree, if I wrote a life changing article I’d want people to know I’d written it,” he replies.

“Of course you want more,” I scoff, stacking the books a little too aggressively.

Classic Hawthorne. The second I think he might not be so bad he goes ahead and reminds me of exactly why I hate people like him.

“Want more?” he furrows his brows.

“You want the glory of it, your name talked about, your legacy preserved,” I snap.

“So I can’t want anything?” he shoots back with venom on his tongue.

“You’re a rich, stuck up prick, like all the rest of them at that school,” I laugh bitterly, “your grandfather is a billionaire, what could you possibly want that isn’t already at your fingertips?”

“You don’t have the right to judge me on what you think you know about my life,” he quotes me.

“Bite me Hawthorne,” I snarl, spinning around.

He catches my wrist and the corners of his mouth lift to form a smirk. A twinge of hatred shifts in my stomach as I glare at him.

“Any other requests?” he raises an eyebrow.

“Don’t play that game with me,” I say, my voice low and dangerous.

“And what game might that be?” he asks, our faces inching closer by the second. The butterflies madly gnawing on my internal organs.

“You know what you’re doing,” I mutter, as my fingers clasp around his wrist too.

His smiles broadens and his silver eyes ignite, “and what is it that I am doing?”

“Stop,” I snap at him. We’re so close now that our foreheads could touch with the slightest of movements.

“Stop what?” he questions me, his voice so hushed it send a shiver down my spine.

“I’m going to strangle you,” I growl, the sound coming from the back of my throat. An uninvited passion rippling through my tone.

“I’d like to see you try,” he murmurs, snaking a hand around my waist. A soft gasp escapes my lips at the warmth and tenderness of his touch. He holds me like I’m breakable. It makes me vulnerable and I hate it yet I don’t tell him to stop. I come to horrible realisation that maybe I don’t want him to.

“I swear to god Hawthorne-“

“Shhhhh,” he says, eyes pinned to mine.

“What are you doing?” I ask breathlessly. All the oxygen previously in my lungs had been sucked out mercilessly by his tentative being.

“Just shut up for one second,” he snaps.

Fury lights inside of me and the spark of rage burns brighter than ever, “don’t tell me to shut-“

“Shhhhh,” he murmurs, placing a gentle finger to my lips.

My mouth obeys without my brain’s consent and my voice ceases. It’s just him and I and the silence around us. My heart thumps in my chest, so loudly it rattles through my ears. Slowly, almost cautiously, my own hands slide up his back as if some other world force is tugging them that way. I know I don’t want to do this but a familiar aching for deprived feeling was forcing me to.

“What are we doing Grayson?” I say, the words barely heard.

“I don’t know,” he whispers, “all I know is, you drive me insane.”

“Funny,” I smile softly, “you drive me insane too.”

His pupils dilate as we get closer. An entrancing monochrome kaleidoscope, only black and grey. Our foreheads meet, pressing into one another. It feels so natural, so right. His hands tighten slightly around the small of my back, as my eyelash graze his cheek, tickling him lightly. I can feel his breath on my face and his heart beating against my own. Our lips go to meet and-

“We’re closing the library now.”

I jerk backwards to suddenly my back smacks into the shelves of books behind me. Pain surges through my spinal cord and I bite my lip to keep me from crying out. My eyes become glossy as previously stacked books thump to the floor. I look up to see the librarian standing there.

I cough, picking up the books, “thanks, we were just leaving.”

She raises a brow but doesn’t say another word. I feel my cheeks burn a feverish red. I don’t meet Grayson’s eyes as I spin on my heels and charge out.

thanks for reading my loves 🤍🤍

TIG masterlist

#bella writes 🤍#the inheritance games #tig #grayson hawthorne #the brothers hawthorne #the final gambit #the hawthorne legacy #grayson hawthorne one shot #grayson hawthorne x you #grayson hawthorne x reader #grayson davenport hawthorne #grayson tgg #graybae

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depressedstressedlemonzest · 1 year ago

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I 👏SURE 👏 AS 👏HELL 👏AIN'T 👏LOST👏!!!!!

Aww more dad rumple and bae. I love that.

First of all, young angsty bae and overprotective parent rumple. 100% relatable.

Second of all?

THAT WARPAINT

HOLY HELL 🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🤌🤌🤌🤌🤌🤌🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷😈😈😈😈😈😈💜💜💜💜💜

THE WARPAINT WITH THAT OUTFIT???!!!!!

SEE MY PREVIOUS POINT🥵🥵🥵👏👏👏🤌🤌🤌🩷🩷🩷🩷

THEY'RE BOTH JUST SO PRETTY

Damn angsty bae, dropping THAT line making us all tear up at the club.

The SHOCK on both of their faces.

PLEASE PAPA😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

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juviabrainrot · 1 month ago

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LET'S GO TO THE FAIR !

PAIRINGS ... d.kaminari, h.sero, e.kirishima x fem!reader

a/n: it's fair season! (at least where i live) and i got the idea to do this. also we're not gonna talk about my tiktok ban crashout but that shit was literally 14 hours i am so dramatic idc. this also isn't proof read (again!!! are we surprised) ALSO ignore how sero's is probably longer than the rest of them bc idk he's bae and needs that extra little ramble

requests are open!

d. kaminari

ik damn well this man is trying to do all the fair games and loses at nearly all of them

and yes, he did win one game at the very least! (it was the one where you have to squirt water into the whole)

for his prize, he got a minion plushie and was mad because when you guys had previously passed, there was a pikachu plushie but it was gone by the time you came back

he only wanted it so he could give it to you since it was "basically his twin", but it's ok because minions are TOTALLY better!! (imo, fight me idc)

you both decided to go on the zipper and halfway through the line, he started getting scared because of the plethora of screams

with lots of reassurance, you two got on there and it was... something!

he screamed like a baby and started crying for his mom at one point

"I'm too young and handsome for my death to happen like this!"

after, he acted nonchalant and like he wasn't just bawling his eyes out

for some reason, he really wanted to go on zero gravity and pretended to climb the walls to take a pic and send it to sero

"wait catch my good side I want to look mysterious"

h. sero

definitely snuck his penjamin in

his plan was to go to the fair 2 days: - day 1: get high af and eat literally every food, play games, and go to the petting zoo - day 2: ride all the rides

literally the first thing he did was go to the corn dog stand and tore up an XL corn dog

next, he attacked a turkey leg and got the juices all over his mouth

did he know? no. did you let him walk around with them decorating his mouth for a while? yes

he was starting to get a little stuffed so he got himself a fresh squeezed lemonade to share and you both walked around the fair grounds

you walked past the basketball stand and he was convinced that he could shoot the hoop with perfection, but ended up bashing the ball into the front of the hoop and it came back and hit him

he gave up and pouted a little so he decided he wanted to pet some goats in the petting zoo

was about to cry when he saw the miniature ponies because he wanted to take one home

made sure no one was around, whipped out his pen and asked the horse if he wanted a hit

before you were about to leave, he decided he wanted to split a funnel cake with you but could only eat four bites before he gave up and left the rest to you

on day two, he bought the unlimited pass for you both and wanted to go crazy on all the rides

the first ride you went on was the thunderbolt and you accidentally crushed him because of how fast it was going + literal air force

forced you to go on the pendulum ride 4 times and the fireball 3 times

went into the fun house and pretended to be a hamster on a hamster wheel in the spinning tunnel, and accidentally kicked a kid that was trying to get in

e. kirishima

like denki, he was also trying to do all the carnival games, but there's one difference - he was actually getting prizes

his favorite game was the hammer and bell one since it showed off how strong he was

started winning so many prizes for you that you had to give some to little kids because you physically couldn't hold them all

you both walked through all the crazy popup shops and got weird/cringe matching shirts ( I am so sexy that even life gets hard / I am life)

he also ate a chicken leg and held his face out with a smile for you to wipe it clean

held your hand the whole time as you walked around and you became one of those cringe couples in the lines even after you swore you wouldn't

he wanted to go on quite literally every ride, even the kiddie rides

his favorite ride was definitely the fireball and rode it 5 times

took loads of pics in the photo booth and put one of the strips in the back of his phone case

ended the night with a romantic ride on the ferris wheel and took tons of pictures to post, some of them you didn't even know he took

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carryonafi · 4 months ago

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blood on the drums.

ashton irwin x reader; SMUT!!!🔞

a/n: HELLO MY LOVELIES!!! gosh it’s been so long, life has been chaotic and yes i’m still alive HAHA. but hey… this one’s been cooking for a while and this is the second au ive done!! my bae @souperbloom gave me some amazing WWE insight and i just needed to write some dirty wrestler ashton. so this is truly for the girlies who get it. i’ve missed yall, enjoy!!

words: 2.9k

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

SMACK

A gasp tore through your throat, watching Ashton stumble back to the rubber barriers of the ring and when he lifted his hand to his head, there was a mess of red everywhere. That horrible screeching ring of the bell going wild and signaling the end of the match had your fists balled at your sides

“Ashton!” You shrieked, running up each platform and entering the ring. The crowd seemed to ripple in cheers and shouts of surprise and excitement from left to right, all the way around the ring until you made it to Ashton’s side. Adrenaline pounded through your chest, getting down on your knees beside him and shooting a flaming, angry glare at his opponent. It took everything in you not to storm off and beat the shit out of him, but there were rules, you needed to abide by them.

“Are you okay?” You whispered, meeting the gaze of your boyfriend which was dazed and unfocused as you helped him sit up. Security was everywhere, cameras were on you, people watching were muttering angrily and shouting profanities at the intense turn of the match. Your shaking hands moved to cup his face, pinky pressed against his pulse point which was pumping rapidly.

“Yeah, fuck — ‘m fine.” Ashton breathed, wiping his bloodied nose on the back of his hand and letting you help him into a sitting position. Your heart hammered ruthlessly against your rib cage, not a single thing on your mind other than Ashton’s wellbeing as he swayed a little upon getting to his feet. Your arms looped around his waist. The unusual hesitation in his movements and the way Ashton seemed to think about every single step was more than concerning.

“Here, c’mon…” You hoisted his arm around your shoulders, the sheerness of sweat on him slicked your shoulders and hair which was messily tied back and falling out of its done-up style. Ashton leaned into you heavily, bringing a bit of irritance into your eyes. He just wouldn’t stand on his own— you had to basically push him the rest of the way down and into the right backstage door.

“We should get you some water or something, you look…”

Which was where he completely cut the act.

Ashton looked at you with a shit-eating grin, the blood from his nose trickling down to his mouth as he flashed you his teeth.

“I really fuckin’ got ya, didn’t I?!” He nudged you aggressively, making you snarl and almost immediately shove him off of you.

“What’re you talking about?” You snapped, glaring at Ashton with expectancy.

“Oh my god, Y/N — You really thought I was gonna pass out.” He laughed loudly, the sound grating to your ears. Seriously… you wanted to rip the fucking tape off of his knuckles with less care than you ever could’ve imagined.

“No! I didn’t! I was just playing my part!” You stammered, the heat of the moment quickly showing in your cheeks which you tried to play off as exhaustion, but there was no way in hell Ashton was letting you live it like that.

This ‘relationship’ which was set up by the script writers clearly had no thoughts taken to personal relationships, and not that it should, it was just a bit unfair that you had to be all sickly loving to the guy who you found painful to be around.

Ashton was still laughing, near tears to the point where he had to stop in his tracks and catch his breath. You leaned against the wall, nostrils flared up in shame and embarrassment as you stared him down.

“Are you done yet?” You muttered under the sounds of his laughter, Ashton pressed his sweaty back to the opposite wall and his cheeks stuck in a smile with broken giggles.

“No. no. Absolutely not, I’m not done.” He sighed heavily, still trying to catch his breath. The blood from the exaggerated blows had run down his neck, making a sick lightning trail of red which made you cringe. Ashton reached for a bottle of water on the table, carelessly cracking it open while staring dead at your face.

“What?” His eyebrows quirked, the angry little quirk of your lip, he found quite adorable.

“I’m trying to be angry. Stop talking.” You blinked at the way his body glistened, blood trickling in one smooth, flawless line down his chest and matting up in the section of hair in the upper center.

“Trying?” He hummed, tossing the water bottle into the recycling after slamming nearly all of it due to how much he had just exerted himself. Ashton’s eyes were back to boring into your face, the way your brows furrowed and how your lips formed a tight line as you held your tongue.

His face was so fucking annoying, his perfect eyebrows, sweaty skin and hair clinging desperately to his forehead. His chest heaved with every single breath now bated with laughter all while still feeling the adrenaline, it made your jaw tick.

“Never mind.” You snapped, oddly enough, as much as you avoided the blood the more he seemed to become insufferable again. Ashton groaned loudly, like he just lost a sibling fight. A pathetic child who thought he had you where he wanted you.

“Do you know how I feel about you?” Ashton jogged after you as you started to walk away again, your boots clicking aggressively along the tile floor. There were crew and doors, muffled music and crowd roaring which started to piss you off even more.

“Why would I care?” You added with a scoff, nearly ripping the hair tie out of your hair and letting the strands stick to your shoulders. One door seemed like a good choice, so you quickly swerved to the left and ended up in an empty dressing room with a sofa in the corner next to some lit up vanities. This wasn’t like the usual locker rooms, this was for real performances.

Once you turned around to face Ashton again, he looked angry as well which honestly caught you by surprise. “What?” You asked, looking at each frown line on his face and narrowing your eyes at him like he was acting a fool.

“You would never know what pisses me off about you.” Ashton shook his head, taking a few steps towards you and feeling satisfied with the way you stepped back. “Why would you care what I think, huh? Would it hurt you that badly to have a thought for anyone else?” He responded in the tone you were using earlier, and goddamn, something about him standing up like this was hotter than he looked.

“I do give a thought for other people, just not you.”

“Why?”

“I don’t fucking know, Ashton!” You threw your hands up, heels hitting the wall on your last step and his shadow loomed over you. “You’re annoying, all you do is bug me when I’m clearly not in the mood. You want to talk about thinking of other people? Pick up on the clues, idiot! Read the room!”

The arguing stopped, now it was just silence. Your breath on his and it all caught up to you again, the blush on your face started to mirror the dried blood thriving on his skin. There was a sudden, rough warmth on your hip which made your gaze snap towards it. Ashton’s hand was on you, sending a realization in the form of goosebumps all over your body. When you looked back up at Ashton, he was smiling that stupid cocky smile again.

“Y’wanna know what else pisses me off?” He spoke, pausing as if you would say something or perhaps react to how low his voice could get. “You can’t admit that you want me too.”

Too? Who did he think he was?

You shoved Ashton’s chest, not very hard… just a playful little shove as you tried to keep up your act. “You’re so humble.” You rolled your eyes, getting cut off by another hand on your chin, holding you in place as Ashton collected your lips in a tense and searing kiss. Relief. Sweet, intense relief.

That was one thing you couldn’t deny, you felt so relieved and it made your jaw significantly less tight.

“Am I reading the room correctly?” Ashton whispered against your mouth, ready for another hard smack… which he definitely received. Straight in the chest again.

“You’re lucky I didn’t kick you in the dick.” You whispered back, the tone soft despite the snarky comment.

“Why? You want it that badly and don't want to hurt it?” Ashton started to grin again, but this time it wasn’t that painful. The hand that was on your hip moved to the small of your back, calloused thumb gently caressing your bare skin. His words had you fumbling for a response, it wasn’t that witty, but everything about the last few minutes had your brain turned into mush.

“Fuck off!” You blushed, swallowing down your nerves and watching Ashton’s expression quickly shift to one of possession. You could see that light bulb above his head.

“Yeah?” He breathed, eyes challenging as you nodded and pressed yourself firmly against the wall. “Be that way, then.” Ashton muttered, the hand on your hip gripped tightly and his other swiftly trailed down the front of your skirt to lift it up.

“Ashton,” You cut yourself off as his hand moved between your legs, his eyes silently asking for permission as his thumb moved in slow circles over the fabric of your panties. Instead, you gave him a smile back. “Do what you want.”

There was that nasty grin again, Ashton chuckled and pressed a wet kiss to your cheek. “Sick.” He nodded, now using both hands to tear your panties down which ripped a gasp out of your throat. Now he had gotten all the green lights he needed, allowing the fabric to slip down to your ankles and catch on your tall boots.

It was unpredictable and such a blur, Ashton’s eyes had a bright sparkle of lust and wonder as his fingers dug into the softness of your upper thighs and hips, roughly guiding you to turn around and press your body against the wall. Your breathing had become labored, but Ashton wasn’t one to care. He quickly tugged your skirt up to expose your bare ass, and if only you could see the look on his face… but he wasn’t wasting time.

“This wet, all for me, baby?” He spoke against your hair, breath hot as he ran his fingertip between the slick folds and plunged deep inside once he met your entrance.

“Sh.. Shut up, you’re lucky.” You gasped, turning your head a little, but unable to see him very well. Ashton laughed from behind you.

“Still keepin’ this thing up, huh?” He said right next to your ear, giving himself another challenge as he pushed another finger inside of you. You were about to reply, but clearly, your act wasn’t going to be kept up for long.

Ashton had you pathetically moaning out into the nearly empty room, trying your hardest to keep yourself quiet since these walls weren’t very thick. He knew just the right spot, his fingers were long and rough, curled in just the right spots which drove you further and further towards the edge — until the sensation disappeared.

“Why’d you stop?” You whined, that voice… that didn’t sound like you at all.

“You want more of me, don't you?” He replied, in a tone that was unfamiliar to you as well. It was rough and husky, urgent and just as needy as you.

That was something you yet again, couldn’t deny. You swallowed down the lump in your throat and waited, waited… the silence started to ring in your ears and it became too much. Way too much.

“What are you doing?” You snapped, Ashton was standing behind you, clueless only for a moment until he grinned again.

“Hold on, hold on… tryna’ get a plan.” He mumbled, time broke when he finally moved forward and slowly guided you to turn around. As if you couldn’t do it on your own.

“Okay,” You breathed, disoriented eyes meeting that calculated stare as both of his arms hooked up under your thighs.

“Jump.”

It wasn’t a second thought, there was nothing holding you back from immediately following his orders and wrapping your arms around Ashton’s neck. You hopped up and his forearms flexed beneath your thighs, hooking them around his waist as he maneuvered the fabric around his own body to let his cock spring free.

Your breath coming out in short pants, you tried not to look down and instead stared straight into his green eyes which had morphed into a fury of lust and control fighting over one another. His body pressed yours as far as it would go to the wall, making your heart pound like this was your own match and you were just seconds from the end.

“Do you really fuckin’ want this, huh?” Ashton glared at you, but it wasn’t a harmful glare. It was hungry and feral. The only response he needed was a nod, fingers abusing the curve of your hips as his head dropped forward. He was looking straight down between your bodies, sweaty and bloody, letting himself gently nudge your wetness and drawing a whimper from the back of your throat. There was no control over your own body.

Your thighs were already burning from the effort, nails digging into Ashton’s shoulders and back as he only pushed himself further. It was a quiet mess of heavy breathing, soft grunts and light gasping… then it changed. His hips snapped forward aggressively which made you yelp in response, Ashton’s name just on the tip of your tongue as you bit down on your lip to stay quiet.

“Shit, fuck—“ He huffed, jaw ticking in concentration as he just let go. Ashton figured that if he had already lost it, there was no going back with that rough rock of his hips. His thrusts were near reckless, paying no mind to the sound of lockers and the uncertainty of whether or not the two of you would be heard. It was clear that you felt the same way, holding back was no longer an option as you cried out and grasped for any part of his sweat-slick body. It was his shoulders which faced the abuse and left him hissing with each drag of your nails.

“Gonna make me fuckin’ bleed, for real, ain’t ya?” He growled, his eyes boring into yours through the sweaty waves that fell in front of his forehead.

“Y.. Yeah, no props,” You stammered out the best reply manageable, gasping in pleasure and eyelids fluttering closed as Ashton found that spot.

“Fuckin’ look at me.” He spat, accompanied with a rough slap to your thigh, and not that it caught you off guard, but it did make your eyes widen right as he would have wanted them to. “Y’look like a real slut.” Ashton smiled, the pace of his thrusts slowing to a rough grind instead of the desperate abandon he had started with.

“God—“ You choked out, cursing under your breath with each tremble of your body. Body language was speaking for you, the quivering of your bottom lip and how even after this command, your eyes fell shut again.

“Go on, yeah… look at that.” He licked his lips, his eyes scanning frantically over your body as your release hit you like a truck. Ashton had the decency to let you ride it out slowly, becoming spent himself and pulling out to make a quick mess of your bare midriff. It was over about as soon as it started, your mind a bit hazy and confused with all of the events whirling around trying to make some sense of itself. The frenzy which had taken over Ashton died down, he carefully helped you to stand but kept a hand on your hip just in case the support of your jelly-like legs wasn’t enough.

“So…” You said softly, voice hoarse with way too much effort. Ashton’s eyes turned soft again, the way you had seen them a few moments ago.

“So.” He chuckled, but you shook your head.

“No, no… that was just one time, wasn’t it?” You asked, but it sounded like you were trying to convince yourself of the words you spoke. Ashton’s face fell a bit, blinking increased as he shrugged his shoulders.

“If you’d like it to be, I mean, that was kinda’ spur of the moment type shit.” Ashton was trying to act as himself, huffing out a laugh which didn’t quite make the cut and instead broke down the nonchalance of his act.

“I’m..” For the first time you were speechless, unsure of your feelings and the internal battle which was currently taking place. His hand was on your hip, but gentle. Gentle and steady, not something you two were used to. “Would you be mad if I said I needed to think?”

You had never seen his face light up so quickly, like there was a bit of childlike hope in his eyes as he nodded. “God no, absolutely not. Take your time, however long you need.” He laughed again, not strained at all.

However, the way that he had responded had you pretty sure that your mind was made already. As well as the way he helped you get dressed, used his own towel from his bag to clean up and walked you out through the back doors of the event to avoid being seen. There was no more thinking to be done, that was not a one-time thing.

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