#the amount of times I have seen that exact scenario play out in front of me even with people who would claim to be experienced trainers...

[noteguk]

any way you want it | kth | m

— summary; in which your best friend, Taehyung, finds out about your unsatisfying sexual experiences and decides to put an end to that track record himself. 

— contents and warnings; smut, childhood best friends, Taehyung x reader, bigdick!tae, breast play, oral (f receiving), dry grinding, dirty talk, tae has a praise kink, unprotected sex (be responsible!!), rough sex, creampie, multiple orgasms, Taehyung takes things personally but he has good intentions, this is what happens when mutual thirst gets suppressed for years of friendship 

— words; 6.6k

— author’s note; i have no idea why but this fic was so fucking hard to put down into words??? I felt mentally constipated the entire time but it’s finally here 

Taehyung wasn’t the slightest bit surprised when you called him at almost two in the morning, complaining about your newest nightmarish date and practically begging to come over. Like the good friend that he was, he made sure to tell you that you would be more than welcome to join him in his newest documentary marathon about aliens, and wondered if you could bring him some takeout on your way over there. Like the bad friend that you were, you said no. 

To be fair, the nearest takeout place was across the city from his apartment (about thirty minutes away and in a bad neighborhood), and you were already having a horrible night as it was. Besides, you refused to take part in Taehyung’s search for a high blood pressure and cholesterol levels, arguing that it wasn’t the right time to stuff his face full of hypercaloric noodles. 

But you did pity him enough to comply with his second request: a big pot of vanilla ice cream, which you were sure you’d end up consuming too. You were in a crisis.

As if to prove that the gods above were laughing at you, during the walk of shame to Taehyung’s apartment, it had started to rain (because of course it did), and your umbrella was only able to save you from the shoulders up before it crumbled and flew away from your gasp, rolling on the asphalt like a ball of dirt in a Wild West movie. By the time that you dragged yourself to his front door, you were completely soaked (and not in the way you had planned for that night to end), and about to break down crying. 

Taehyung, like the angel that he was, helped you with your heavy coat and talked you into taking a warm shower before you got sick. He took the supermarket bag from you (where the ice cream had probably already melted) and walked you to this bathroom, excusing himself so he could grab you some dry clothes — and you only saw the ones he had picked when you got out of the shower. 

With a silly smile dancing on your lips, you fumbled with the black booty shorts that Taehyung had jokingly gifted you that past Christmas — one that read “daddy’s juicy butt” in big, bold, neon pink letters over your ass — and then decided that your dignity was already dead by that point, so another kick wouldn’t hurt. Taehyung had also given you one of his favorite band shirts, which he only revealed during desperate times. 

Your heart melted with the thought of your best friend trying to comfort you, and pulled the fabric close to your face so you could take a deep inhale, drowning in his scent. It smelled of that stupid cologne that Taehyung had used ever since he hit puberty, and a bit of fabric softener. 

The two of you had an extremely close friendship, to the point that it got kind of strange at times. Ever since childhood, it was joked that you and Taehyung had been long lost soulmates — doing everything together, from going to school to laughing at the same exact jokes during movie marathons, often at the same moment and for the same amount of time. Before puberty hit (and the hormonal rage took over your first teenage years) you couldn’t remember disagreeing with him even once. You two had always been in sync. 

But the uncomfortably close part only hit after you two went to college, and your anxiety for being a virgin in a sea of starving sharks got the best of you. After long conversations, you had managed to convince Taehyung to help you learn a thing or two about the art of naked wrestling. 

Apparently it was weird to give your best friend a handjob and a blowjob for the sake of education. Go figure. 

Regardless, your friendship wasn’t affected by any of that — even if you two had agreed to never mention any of it ever again — and you could always count on Taehyung to catch you when you fell. 

Even if it was at two am on a Tuesday, after one of your nightmarish dates. 

You threw yourself on the couch next to him, hugging your knees against your chest to form a barrier between you and the divine providence that had taken you to that point. You had half-assedly dried your hair, but pools of wetness had started to build on the back of Taehyung’s shirt. 

Instead of accusing you of ruining his favorite piece of clothing, Taehyung reached for the remote and paused his documentary just as the narrator was starting to explain how hieroglyphs were actually part of an alien language. “Just tell me how bad it was,” he said, a mustache of ice cream melting over his top lip.

You took a peek at the bowl of melting vanilla on his center table, and decided that you would probably pass the desert for the night. 

You glanced at him sideways, voice coming out monotone. “You sure you want to go down that path?” 

Taehyung licked his sweet mustache off and nodded, clearly intrigued. “Yeah, hit me with it. You look like you need all the help that you can find.” 

You sighed, turning around on the couch so you were facing him — legs still against your chest. “Okay so… I went to his place...” 

“Yes…”

“And... we had dinner, talked for a bit.”

“How was the talk?” He asked. 

You shook your head, trying to kill the memories inside. “He didn’t let me say a word. He just went on and on about this new website he’s working on, and how expensive his wine glasses were.” You scoffed, angry at yourself for ignoring the clear red flags of an arrogant douchebag. That was what the desperate need for immediate human connection could do to someone, you thought. “Apparently it’s supposed to be the next Facebook or something. Or twitter. I honestly wasn’t paying much attention.”

He chuckled. “Starting off strong.” 

“That wasn’t even the main issue,” you said, lowering your forehead so it was touching your knees. You just wanted the world to end at that moment, so you wouldn’t have to go through those experiences again. “After that, we sat on his couch and started watching a movie. And you know how that goes, we started kissing, he pushed me down and got on top of me…”

“And?” He instigated. 

With a sigh, you raised your head, meeting your friend’s gaze. Taehyung thought he had never seen you look so dead inside. And he had seen a lot from you. “And he humped like… my lower abdomen for about three minutes and came in his pants.”

Taehyung cringed visibly, taking one hand to cover his mouth. “Oh, man. That’s bad.” 

You nodded, strangely relieved at his reaction. Part of you was worried that you were the evil witch in that scenario, that maybe you had done something wrong. “The worst,” you agreed. “Wanna know what else?”

“What? There’s more?”

“He didn’t even ask me if I was satisfied with whatever the hell that was.” You told him, bitterness dripping from your tongue. In the grand scheme of things, that was something silly to get mad over, but the fact that your date didn’t even have the guts to ask if you had gotten something out of that was ridiculous. “Not that I could possibly be. But it’s like he didn’t care and I was just a pillow for him to hump like a… sexually repressed religious teen, I don’t know.”

Taehyung only nodded, realizing that there wasn’t much that he could say to fix the situation. “Was he a good kisser at least?”

You sneered. “I think he was trying to crush my face with his.” You glanced at your friend, only half of his face bathed by the yellow and orange shades coming from the television. Maybe a documentary about ancient history and alien expeditions wouldn’t be so bad. Worst case scenario, it would knock you out, and you wouldn’t have to think about that mess anytime soon. “Also, too much tongue, just… the amount of saliva…”

“Got it. You can stop there.” Taehyung raised one hand, his eyes closing for a second. His palm lowered and met one of your knees, standing there in a silent attempt at consolation. “I’m sorry about your terrible date experience, dude.” 

“If you could even call it that.” You ran one hand through your hair, suddenly overtaken by a wave of anger. “God! I was just… so… ugh! Like… ughhhh!!” 

Taehyung, bless his heart, sometimes couldn’t understand the random neanderthal sounds you threw his way. “So... what?”

At last, your makeshift protection came crumbling down, and you collapsed on the couch dramatically, legs dangling off the edge. Taehyung thought that you were being possessed for exactly two seconds before you started talking again. “I did a full body shave for this night, Taehyung. Do you realize what that means?” His lips fell open, but, before he had the chance to answer, you continued. “It means that I really wanted to get railed tonight. Actually, I wanted to find a guy who actually knew what he was doing for once in my life.”

Taehyung chuckled, trying to disperse the tension in the room. “Come on, the dating pool can’t be that bad.”

“Oh, it’s bad,” you said. 

He wasn’t giving up that fast. “How bad?”

You raised your head to look him dead in the eyes, a silent threat, before finally uttering, “Try no-man-has-ever-made-me-cum bad,” and crashing your head back against the sofa. 

If you weren’t so hyper-focused on your own sexual melodrama, you would have noticed the thick silence that fell between the two of you, Taehyung’s face contorting into fifty different emotions within a few seconds. He thought that he had heard it all — from the secrets hidden in Machu Picchu to the obvious extraterrestrial influence on earthy religion — but no amount of bad documentaries could ever prepare him for that revelation. That didn’t make any sense. 

“Wait. Seriously?” He finally found his voice and managed to push his doubt out of his throat. “You’ve never had an orgasm before?”

You chuckled, humorless. “Oh no, I’ve had plenty of those. Just not from another person.” 

“How’s that possible?” he asked. 

“I ask myself that every single day.” You sighed, forcing yourself to sit back up. Taehyung was staring at you like you had just grown two extra arms, and you wondered what an amazing sex life he must’ve had for that confession to get him so confused. “Guess I’m just really bad at picking partners, who knows.”

There was a soft grunt on your throat as you fixed your position on the couch, suddenly feeling the exhaustion of your entire day piling up at once. Your gaze mindlessly traveled to the TV — a big plasma monstrosity that Taehyung had bought compulsively during a Black Friday sale — looking at a white-bearded man pointing maniacally towards a specific, round-shaped hieroglyph. You didn’t even need to hit play to know that he was making it seem like it was an UFO, but curiosity got the best of you. 

“Can you pass me the remote?” You asked, pointing at the small device that laid beyond Taehyung’s body. “I kinda wanna see what—”

“I’ve made tons of girls have orgasms,” Taehyung interrupted, looking at you like he had just clicked out of a transe.  

You laughed at his monotone voice. “I’m happy for you, Tae.” You leaned over his legs so you could finally reach the remote. “That wasn’t a jab at your masculinity, I’m sure you’re a very caring partner, and I’m sure there’s tons of guys out there that—”

“I can make you cum too, if you want.”

You had just grabbed the small piece of plastic when his sentence hit you like a smack in the face, making you drop the remote back on the couch, eyes widening. “You… what?”

He suddenly broke eye contact, taking one hand to massage the back of his neck. “Did that sound as creepy as I think it did?”

“A bit, yeah.” You forced out a light chuckle, trying to break the ice. There was no sign of mockery in his voice, and you didn’t know how to react. You could not say that the offer wasn’t tempting (you’d be lying if you claimed that you didn’t think Taehyung was attractive), but his proposal was so oddly-placed that it sounded like a joke. “What are you talking about?”

Taehyung sighed, turning his head to look at the television. “I just think it’s really unfair that no one has ever made you cum before.” 

You smiled. “That’s very nice of you, but…”

“And I want to help you with that.” He looked back at you. Oh, he was being a hundred percent serious. There was no longer a single ounce of doubt in your mind. “We’re friends, it’s not gonna be weird. We’ve done similar stuff before.”

“We were a lot younger, though.” You didn’t know why your mouth suddenly felt so dry, your fight or flight response kicking at full strength. You could tell that Taehyung was also trying to convince himself about the strangeness of the situation. “It’s gonna be kind of weird, yeah.”

“Not if we don’t make it weird,” he threw back. Was it bad that you were actually considering it? Maybe it was the piled-up exhaustion combined with the years of sexual frustration, maybe you were finally out of your mind. But you were really considering it. “I don’t wanna pressure you, alright? Just making a friendly offer. If you don’t want it, that’s fine.” 

You kind of wanted it, though. There was too much accumulated libido inside you from years and years of unsatisfying partners, and you trusted Taehyung with your entire heart. It sounded like a safe enough bet: if all went to shit and it got too awkward, you two could just stop, no hard feelings. Besides, you knew that Taehyung cared about you, which was more than you could say about all your dates in the past couple years. 

And the more you stared at him, probably looking like a deer in the headlights, the more you grew soft under his presence. At once, you were hit with desires that you had never considered before: you wanted to kiss those soft lips, wanted to know how his large hands would feel around you. You really, really wanted to know how it was to have a good sexual experience with someone, and you couldn’t think of a better candidate than your best friend. Even if you still thought it could be seen as a little bit weird. 

But you also kind of didn’t care. 

You licked your lips, finally finding your voice after a long moment of silence. “How… how would you do it?” 

Taehyung turned his head and looked at you, noticing the expectation in your eyes. “How would you want me to do it?” He asked. 

You tried to think, but your mind was completely blank. What did you want him to do? What did you like? Suddenly you weren’t sure about anything anymore. “I don’t know,” you admitted, glancing down. 

Taehyung smiled at your nervousness, one of his hands moving to your chin and tilting your head up. “How ‘bout I start by kissing you?” He questioned, gaze flickering to your parted lips. “Is that alright?” 

There were no words in your throat, so you simply nodded, closing your eyes as he leaned in. 

Taehyung’s mouth tasted of vanilla and you thought, even for a moment, that you were in paradise. The second that his tender lips met yours, your anxiety melted away, giving space to a newfound flame of desire. Taehyung kissed you softly, sensually, taking his time caressing your mouth and drowning in your heat. His hand moved to the back of your head, pressing you closer to him and leaning your head to the side so he could deepen the kiss. 

He sighed heavily into your mouth when your tongues met, his other hand moving to hold your waist. The position on the couch was kind of awkward for kissing, with the two of you sitting side by side, so it wasn’t an unwelcome surprise when Taehyung tugged you onto his lap, making you straddle him. 

The kiss was starting to get hungrier, messier, a small whimper dying in your mouth when his palms traveled down to cup your ass, pressing you down against his semi-hard cock. Taehyung sighed and groaned at the feeling of you on top of him, loving the way that your fingers played with his hair, your body so perfectly tight against his. If there was any hesitation before, it had completely vanished by that point. 

It caught you off guard when he suddenly broke off the kiss to ask you, “Do you like any pet names?”

You blinked, taken aback. “Hm? What?”

He placed a strand of your hair behind your ear. “You know, you want me to call you by something?”  

You realized that Taehyung was really taking that personal service to a different level, and you couldn’t say that you were let down by it. If any of your past partners had the dignity to ask what you liked, you wouldn’t be in that position in the first place. “I… like being called ‘baby’,” you told him. 

Taehyung smiled. “That’s cute. Baby it is.” 

Before you had a chance to respond, Taehyung’s lips were back on yours, a dreamy sigh leaving his mouth as your tongues met once again. Only a few seconds passed before he shifted his weight to lay you down, never breaking the kiss as he positioned himself between your legs, hovering over you. Taehyung started trailing a path of kisses down your neck, his large hands slithering beneath your oversized shirt and caressing the skin of your stomach. 

“Can I take this off?” He asked, tugging at your shirt. 

You agreed and, within a heartbeat, that piece of clothing was already on the floor, and Taehyung was diving in to kiss the valley of your naked breasts. You moaned timidly when one of your nipples was wrapped by his lips, his tongue coming out to play with it. Taehyung’s other hand was occupied fondling your other breast, tugging and pressing down on it, and the sensations were taking over your mind. 

“You have great tits,” Taehyung mumbled against your skin, switching to mouth your other nipple. 

“I’m glad you like them,” you teased, playing with the hair on the nape of his neck. You were letting out these cute little whimpers that were making him lose his mind. “Feels really good.” 

“Yeah?” He asked, moving back to kiss his way up your neck. His tongue was hot and heavy as it danced on your skin, and you knew that those sucks he was giving you were surely gonna leave a few marks on your flesh. But you didn’t really care. “Gonna make you feel even better, baby.” 

Your eyes fluttered shut at the pet name — it sounded heavenly when Taehyung used it with his deep, honeyed voice; his warm breath hitting your neck as he continued with his ministrations. 

He kissed his way to your cheek, placing a small pec on your lips before saying, “Can you do something for me?”

You nodded. “What is it?” 

Instead of responding right away, Taehyung’s gaze fell to your lips, and he was once again attacking them. That time, you weren’t able to hold back the whimper that you let out, your panties already glued against your core with how much he was turning you on. 

One of his hands had trailed down your exposed abdomen, teasingly playing with the hem of your shorts. You held your breath when he tugged them down, bringing your underwear with it and throwing them somewhere in the living room. Taehyung grunted loudly when his fingers slipped past your folds, digging into your heat. His brain almost short-circuited because of how wet you were. 

He broke the kiss and looked you deep in the eyes. “I want you to sit on my face, baby,” he said, and his request shot straight to your core. “Let me take care of you, okay?” 

“Are you sure?” You asked. You had never done that before.

But Taehyung wasn’t sharing your reluctance. “Yeah,” he said, voice hoarse and eyes darkened. “Wanna taste you so bad. Sit on my face, please.” 

And you didn’t need any more convincing than that. Taehyung helped you get up from the couch so he could reposition himself on it, laying flat on his back and watching as you settled yourself above him, thighs on either side of his head. The couch was the exact size for that, a little smaller and you’d have one leg dangling off the edge.

Taehyung took his hands to your thighs, running them up to your hips. His eyes were focused on your pussy, and you never felt so exposed when he started pressing you down lightly, guiding you closer to his mouth. 

You held the back of the couch for support and did as he requested, lowering yourself until Taehyung had you flat on his tongue. Your breath trembled and caught in your throat when he licked a thick stripe from your entrance to your clit, humming around the taste before doing it again. Taehyung was an expert at erasing your worries because, with a few more licks, he had you fully losing yourself in his sinful ministrations. 

It wasn’t long until you were whining out his name, your folds lazily dragging against his tongue as you started to grind on his face. “God, Taehyung!” You called out, hand coming down to tug at his hair. Taehyung grunted in satisfaction, the vibrations of his deep voice sending shockwaves through your pussy. “That’s… that’s really nice. You’re really good at this.” 

He moaned in response, closing his eyes at your words. Taehyung was eating you out like his mouth was made for it, like he was starving for your taste and you were all that he could think about. He licked you from your entrance to your clit, playing with your sensitive spots and enjoying the tremors of pleasure that ran through your thighs, his hands locked tight around your hips. You sobbed and cried over him, making special effort to keep your legs steady as you rocked yourself on his tongue. 

It was only when he decided to suck on your clit that you realized how absurdly close you were. You clenched your teeth and whined out, yanking his hair harder. “Do that again, please,” you asked and Taehyung, like the good friend that he was, was quick to comply. Taehyung wrapped his mouth around your clit in a way that had you trembling over him, licking and sucking on your sensitive nub like his life depended on it. “Fuck, that’s so good, Tae. Feels so good…” 

He moaned again, more desperate this time, and some part of your mind understood the pattern that he was presenting you: Taehyung really, really liked your compliments. And you had no problem giving away any more of them. 

“You’re licking me so well, Tae, you’re gonna make me cum like this,” you told him,  meaning every word you said. Taehyung was a Greek god beneath you, staring up at you with those dark, focused eyes as if he dared you to cum on his tongue. “God! You’re so good for me.”

And then your praises ran thin, because your mind was gravitating somewhere else — seeking for the high that was dangerously close. It was only when Taehyung started toying with your entrance, brushing two of his fingers on it, that you came undone, crying out his name like it was a personal prayer. 

There was a smirk on your mouth as you came down, a flooding relief that overtook you. You never thought that you could come so hard in your life, especially when it depended on another person, and you were so, so happy to be wrong that you could cry. 

With shaky legs, you removed yourself from Taehyung’s face, straddling his lap and watching as his lips glistened with your arousal. His pink tongue came out to lick them, a hum on his throat as he took in your fucked-out expression. 

“You did so well, baby,” he said, placing one of his hands on your waist. “Come here.” 

Obedient, you leaned in and sighed as his mouth met yours. This time, Taehyung didn’t wait to eagerly insert his tongue inside your mouth, making you taste yourself on him. 

He pulled away leisurely, his voice hoarse. “Can you taste how sweet you are?” He asked. “I loved making you cum on my tongue, baby. You looked so pretty.” 

Taehyung breathed out, planting kisses on your neck, one hand trailing down to squeeze your ass. You whined at his tight grip and pressed yourself down on him, feeling his hard cock poking out against the fabric of his sweats. 

Taehyung groaned at the stimulation, pressing down on your asscheek again. You rolled your hips on top of him, wincing in sensitivity as his member brushed your clit. “Loved your pussy so much, baby,” he continued, sounding like he was lost in a daydream, “I can’t wait to be inside you. Bet you’d be so tight for my cock, hm?” 

“Yeah,” you managed to speak. Even if you had just reached your orgasm, you were still aching to feel something inside you. You wanted Taehyung more than you could understand. “I want you to fuck me, Tae, please.” 

He breathed out, his hands tightening around your flesh as you rolled your pussy against his cock once again. Taehyung looked like he was one heartbeat away from completely losing his self control, and hearing you beg for him to fuck you wasn’t doing him any favors. “Gonna need to lie down for me, baby,” he asked. 

With a few more shifts on the couch, Taehyung had you beneath him once again, your legs open for him as he removed his shirt and pants. It wasn’t long before his cock sprung free from its confinement, standing erect. You licked your lips at the lustful sight, pussy clenching in anticipation as you took him in — Taehyung was big. Bigger than anyone you’ve ever had, that’s for sure; long and thick and already leaking for you. 

You would’ve cried out in need if he didn’t interrupt you. “What are you looking at?” Taehyung asked, the ghost of a smile creeping up on his lips. 

Your stare oscillated toward his own. “That’s why you have such a good track record, your cock is huge.” You bit your lip, thinking about how good he would feel inside you. You didn’t know how it was possible, but you were pretty sure the last time you’ve seen his cock — back in the dark ages of your freshman year of college — it wasn’t as big as that. Or maybe you just didn’t have anything to compare it to. 

“Hey, I just used my tongue on you, don’t ignore my efforts,” Taehyung teased, wrapping one of his hands around his member so he could pump himself a few times. The playful atmosphere swiftly shifted back, and, when he spoke up again, his voice was deeper. “You think you can take it?” 

“Yeah, I can,” you said. You couldn’t be sure, but you were sure going to try. 

Taehyung hummed, moving a bit closer so he could brush his tip against your pussy, coating it with your wetness. You closed your eyes in expectation, knowing that you’d love the stretch he would give you. 

“You want it?” He asked, a touch of desperation covering his words. Taehyung was nearing his breaking point, and the fluttering of your pussy on his cock was making him go insane. “Want my cock inside your tight little cunt, baby?” 

You nodded, frantic. The brushing of his thick tip on your hole was becoming too much, your walls clenching around nothing, seeking for something to fill you up. “Yes, fuck, I want it so bad.” 

“Are you tight for me, baby?” He was trying to prolong that moment for as much as he could, keep the pretty face you made when you pleaded for him to fuck you burned in the back of his head. Making you cum once was a victory he would take forever, but making you cum around his cock might as well be his life’s biggest achievement. “Ready for me to fuck you?” 

You cried out when he started pressing himself inside you, guiding his crown inside your pussy, then stopping. “Yes, Tae, just put it all in, please,” you whined, hands fumbling for support on his broad shoulders. Taehyung already had you clenching around nothing, you didn’t know what else he wanted from you. “Please, please, fuck me.” 

Taehyung chuckled, looking down at where you two met. He was only human, and his self control was short lived. “Since you asked so nicely…” 

Your back arched off the sofa as you felt the delicious drag of his large cock inside you, opening you up gradually, taking its time before filling you up to the brim. You gasped and sobbed at the overwhelming feeling, nails digging on the skin of his back as Taehyung groaned besides your ear. 

“Fuck, that’s so good.” He let out a shaky breath, and you swore you never heard his voice get so husky before. “I just slipped right in. You’re so fucking wet.” 

Your mind was an apocalypse of confused thoughts and forgotten exclamations, eyes fluttering shut as you dove into the sensation of Taehyung inside you — his hips angling backwards, tilting up just enough so he could move himself away from you core, only to come slamming back inside. The stretch of his cock was amazing, it was making you drunk, and all that you could think about was how much pleasure it was giving you. 

“So-So big—“ you muttered, half aware that the words actually left your lips. 

“How do you like it, uh?” Taehyung asked, his voice dripping sin and hunger. You could tell that he, too, was getting carried away by the feeling, his hips rutting themselves against you at a lazy pace. “Gonna give it to you any way you want it, baby.” 

You bit your lip, a small moan leaving your mouth when Taehyung leaned closer to you, distributing hot kisses on your neck. You swore you’d be happy if you died then. “I like it rough,” you answered. 

He groaned, apparently satisfied with your response. “Whatever you want.” 

Taehyung got to his knees on the couch, deciding to put one foot on the ground for support, his hands raising your hips to help him reach even deeper inside you. Faster than your brain could compute, the shallow, lazy pace he had sat was being replaced with a harsh, fast pumping that made you cry out his name, eyes closing in sheer bliss. 

“Tae! Yes, yes, just like that,” you sobbed, running one hand through your hair. You felt like your body was floating, every cell of your body overheating with the amazing pleasure that Taehyung was giving you. You never had someone fucking you so hard, his cock pistoning inside you, your body bobbing up and down on the couch. 

Taehyung’s eyes were glued to the bouncing of your breasts as he continued to fuck you, a deep groan leaving his chest. “That’s it, take it,” he moaned out, quickening his pace even more. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, mouth opening in a silent scream.  “Gonna make you cum so hard around my cock, baby. Gonna fuck you until you cry. Want that?” 

“Yes, yes, please,” you moaned. “Feels so good, Tae.” 

“You like my cock, baby? Like it filling you up?” He asked and you could only nod pathetically, your entire body too fucked out to even respond. “F-fuck, your pussy is so good. Tell me that you love my cock.” 

“I love your cock,” you whined, feeling like a complete hot mess under his thrusts. “I — fuck! — I love your cock so much, Tae, it’s so big.” 

Your words motivated him to fuck you even harder, his member hitting even deeper inside you. Taehyung was getting lost in the stretch of your pussy around him, the glorious sounds you were making, the lust that coated your face every time you called out his name. 

“Shit, I don’t know how anyone could look at you like this and not want to see that pretty face cum.” He was breathing out hard, grunting every time your cunt tightened around him. Taehyung wanted to see you like that forever, taking his cock like a good girl, creaming all over him and begging to do it again. You were wrapping around him so perfectly, taking all of him so well, that he didn’t think he’d manage to move on from that anytime soon. “So fucking hot.”

Taehyung chased after your high like a starving man looking for food, experimentally changing the angle and force of his thrusts to see what would get the best reaction out of you. At last, after a pathetically loud cry from your part after he raised your legs up, it seemed as if he had found it. “I bet you’d be so tight cumming around my cock, baby,” he was thinking out loud at that point, trying to make sense of the pretty sounds and expressions you were giving him so eagerly. He wanted nothing more than to see you cum — it was personal at that point. “I wanna feel you cum around me, baby. Wanna feel it so bad.” 

“I’m c-close.” Your nails dug into his shoulders, eyes closing tightly. There was a light heat in your cheeks and sweat on your forehead that was making Taehyung wonder if you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. “You’re so good, T-Tae, you’re fucking me so well…” 

Taehyung thought that he could cum right then and there, pushed over the edge with those sweet words alone. He loved being good to you, loved making you feel things that no one else managed to before. He was intoxicated by that sense of superiority, drowning in your praise. He wished that he could fuck you forever. 

“Cream my cock, baby, come on,” he pushed you on, his words hanging somewhere between an order and a breathless plea. You were getting so tight around him that it was making him crazy, your wetness coating his cock and dripping down between your legs like his own personal brand of aphrodisiac. “You can do it, come on. I wanna see you cum so bad.” 

You smiled at him, a cute, fucked-out smirk that made Taehyung go to heaven and back. “So good for me, Tae, you’re so big,” you said, your voice so needy and high-pitched. Your orgasm was looming over you, pressing down on your lower body and making you see stars. It was only a matter of time before Taehyung got you crying out his name, back arching off the couch and mouth falling open in delirium. “Tae! Fuck! Don’t stop, please, I’m gonna—“ 

But your warning came a second too late, because you were already spasming around his length, body shaking as Taehyung thrusted hard inside you. Just as expected, you were absolutely fucking gorgeous when you came — all quivering lips and rolling eyes —, and Taehyung was beyond satisfied to know that he was the only one who saw that pretty face of yours. 

“That’s it, baby, fuck.” Taehyung was starting to feel his own high approaching, called by the delicious tightening and releasing of your pussy around him. His thrusts were messy and harsh; his sweaty hair falling over his eyes like a cascade. “Can I cum inside you, baby? Can I fuck you full of my cum?”

You noticed the desperation in his tone and, with the throbbing of his member inside you, you knew that he wasn’t far. “Yes, please,” you said. “You were so good for me, Tae, you can cum wherever you want.” 

And it was that final taste of praise that pushed Taehyung over his limit; waves upon waves of cum filling you up as he rode out his high. “God— fuck!” He cried out, drunk on the feeling of your walls milking the last drops of cum out of his cock. A few lazy pumps later, and he was collapsing on top of you with a mumbled, “F-Fuck.” 

There was an instant of silence after his orgasm, the quietude only filled by Taehyung’s heavy breathing. You took one hand to his head, caressing the strands as a smile blossomed on your lips. “Well, I believe you now,” you said playfully. “I’m sure you made a bunch of girls orgasm.” 

Taehyung chuckled, breathless. “Thank you, I try,” he said, looking up at you. The darkness in his gaze was gone, and it was just your best friend staring back at you. “You alright?”

“I’m great,” you admitted. You never felt so good in your life. “You?”

“Fantastic, thanks for asking.” He leaned back so he could sit up, running one hand through his disheveled hair before saying, “I’m gonna grab you a towel, hang on.” 

Taehyung left you for a couple minutes before coming back to clean you up, tenderly wiping away the mess you two had created. After he was done, he discarded the towel on the floor and crawled back to rest on your chest once again. 

There was a comforting quietude that floated in the atmosphere, only filled by the muffled buzzing of his freezer and the vague sound of raindrops drumming on the window. You didn’t really know how to deal with that entire situation, didn’t know how things would stay between the two of you. But, at that point, you made the decision to keep those worries for the following morning and, instead, just enjoy his warmth radiating all around you. 

The glorious silence, at last, was broken when Taehyung started mumbling against your breasts.  “Hey, ___?” He called. 

“Yeah?”

“How many dates have you been on?”

You hummed, thinking for a moment. “Ever?”

Taehyung made a clicking sound with his tongue. “I don’t know, like, this past year.”

“Uh… like… five or six? I think?” You answered, looking down to meet his gaze. You knew that wicked expression very well. “Why?”

He smiled. “Because we have a lot of shitty dates to make up for.”

[yourmomswallet]

Stevo & Klepto

"Heya, Punky!"

A plastic bag falls into Stevo's lap as a body flops next to him. Looking to the side, said "Punky" fumbles with the knot of the bag, taking in your black-lipped smile.

"Heeey! What culinary delights have we today, Quick Hands?"

Rattling plastic reveals the carelessly crafted random assortment of candy and cigarettes. A bigger smile replaces the one on your face, almost resembling one of the Cheshire Cat.

"Oh, the usual: lung of cancer and cavity inducers. My cruel mistresses.” You pretend to feel faint as you put your hand to your forehead and collapse onto him. The spikes imprint on your fishnet-clad shoulder, promptly tearing them even more than what you had distressed them to.

“Don’t suppose you happened to snag a lighter, would ya?” Stevo asks, shuffling through the many Dum-Dums and Air-Heads until he finds a pack of Camels.

“Would you happen to have lost this little lady?” You flash him the small Zippo that has seen better days. He looks at your hand and grins that grin that makes your stomach dive off a 10 story building.

“Ya know, I think you’d be a great magician if the whole “functioning member of society” career doesn’t work out, Klepto,” he mumbles out with a cigarette already in his mouth. “Whuh wah ih’? Accoun’an’?”

Flipping the lighter on, you light his cancer stick and grab your own from the carton.

“Actually, it’s computer programmer. Technology is the future, Stevo! Imagine,” you stick the cigarette in your mouth. “Getting information from a computer instead of having to look at a dictionary! O-Or sending messages back and forth with someone across the city in just minutes!” Your hands mimic the different scenarios your cig-muffled mouth exclaims, with Stevo just enjoying his nicotine and sugar.

“Wow! That’s…” he takes a drag, smoke expelling from his chapped lips. “So fucking cool!” He grins at you and your excitement of information expansion via computer connections.

“You ass! I’m being serious here!”

“And so am I! Can’t you see I’m elated for you here?” Arms spread to gesture that he is being serious.

“Oh yeah, make fun of the nerdy goth klepto. Especially the one who shared their klepto-shit with you.”

You flick open the Zippo once more to light your cigarette, only to be met with nothing but a small, meager spark that disappeared just as soon as it appeared. Glowering at the metal, you curse at it. You notice the red tip of Stevo’s cigarette moving around as he starts speaking.

“And have I thanked you for your generous contribution to the poor and needy? I can’t tell you how much this-”

His gratitude is cut off by your sudden physical closeness, then hands on his cheeks.

“Hol’ ‘till,” you tell him, aiming your stick at his.

The cigarette reluctantly lights, and within that seemingly everlasting moment, with tip-to-tip and knee-to-knee, Stevo feels his cheeks warm in your hands. The embers from him slowly light your stick, almost a symbolic testimony to what had been happening over the past few months. Slowly but surely, you’d lit his heart afire with your bright demeanour. Meeting you in the line for chicken pot pie day at the cafeteria, conspiring over the authenticity of the punk in front of you’s piercings, Stevo’s fist connecting with the guy’s face, patching up Stevo in your rundown Oldsmobile much to his chagrin. 

The next months led to you spending a suspiciously large amount of time with him just to be considered great friends. His and Bob’s place was almost partly yours, permanent toothbrush and extra underwear indicating your crossing of the friendship line. The only time away from each other was for your job and classes. Stevo couldn’t imagine another day without listening to the latest Cure song you’re playing on repeat or discussing how his parents didn’t like how he was rebelling against the common denominator of the world.

You had created a monster- a poseur, to be exact.

“Good boy!” You praise him, exhaling smoke and ruffling his blue head. He couldn’t take his dilating eyes off the black ring around the tip of the cigarette, even when you pulled on his barbed choker.

“Now, let’s get going! I have coupons for the most lovely Chinese takeout place in town! I hope you’re in the mood for chicken-fried rice!”

[definitelyseven]

risky business | one (m)

summary: you were hired to be with everyone else but Park Jinyoung

one (m) | two | three |

You stared at yourself through the mirror, watching the half-naked women behind you rush to get ready to go on stage. Tonight was your first night at the club and you were extremely nervous. It was obvious you didn’t fit in here but you had to do this. You didn’t have a choice - not when your mother left you with thousands of dollars of medical bills and you father thinking he can pay it all off by gambling. You were millions of dollars in debt and there was no way you could pay it off without doing this; without selling your body. Your sister was still young and you couldn’t put her through this. She didn’t deserve it. She was innocent. 

“You should put on some lipstick,” the woman behind you suggested. 

“Thanks,” you smiled weakly as you took the lipstick from her. You twisted the cap off to reveal a bright red lipstick; a color you would never wear. 

“I’m Momo,” she introduced. “This doesn’t seem like a place for a girl like you.”

“Y/N. You’re right, I don’t belong here. But I need to be here,” you tell her without revealing to much detail. 

“Don’t worry. Most of them are nice and great tippers. Just follow my lead out there.”

You quickly patted some lipstick onto your lips and followed her out. The club didn’t open for about another hour but there was a special guest today and all the girls were requested to come in early. 

“Mr. Park, these are my girls. They’re all very good,” the manager of the club said before handing the attractive man a portfolio which you assumed was filled with pictures of all the girls here.

The man seemed disinterested though. He was busy scrolling through his phone, didn’t even bother to take the portfolio out of the manager’s hand. The manager eventually set the portfolio down on the table. It was awkward - all the girls were standing there half-naked, ready to shake their asses off for random men but the men standing in front of you was unbothered. It was like you didn’t even exist to them. But then again, how could you? These men were well-dressed, handsome and obviously wealthy. They could get any women they wanted so why were they here? 

“Are these girls not to your liking Mr. Park?” the manager spoke again. 

The man finally looked up from his phone and towards you and the other girls. He was attractive, really attractive. He looked like one of those models in the magazines - not one single flaw. He watched the girls carefully, mentally picking out which girl he didn’t want and then his eyes met yours. 

You held your breath, feeling awkward. This was the first time you revealed so much of your body to anyone, let alone strangers. You wrapped your arms around yourself, rubbing them up and down to keep warm. You could feel the goosebumps on your skin. 

“Her,” he finally said. You looked up from the ground and see him pointing at you. The girls around you began to whisper - you were just as shocked as they were. “I want her,” he repeated. 

After the man selected you, the manager rushed the other girls out of the room. You don’t know what you were selected for but he chose you. He picked you. 

You continued to stand there awkwardly until another man ushered you to come closer. You slowly made your way over to the men, taking a seat next to them. 

“You’re perfect.”

“I’m sorry but what am I perfect for?” 

He chuckled at you before speaking, “What if I can offer you another job that pays more than this one?” 

“How much?” you asked interested. 

“Two, three times as much. I’m willing to pay for something that’s worth the price,” he smirked. 

“W-what do I have to do?” you asked, scared. 

“Don’t be scared princess,” he continued to smirk, making you blush. Even his smirk was attractive. “What’s your name?”

“Y/N.”

“I’m Jinyoung. Park Jinyoung,” he introduced himself. “I have a proposition for you.” You raised your eyebrow at him, curious as to what his offer was and how much money you could make from this. “You work here because you need money. I work with a lot of rich, powerful and secretive men. Men that are willing to pay anything to have their fun.” You chewed on your lower lip as you listened carefully. “You’ll be doing what you’re doing here but during the day you’ll be in an office - something you can eventually put on your resume.” 

“Why me?”

“These men that I work with have seen all types of women but the type of women that is the hardest to find are the innocent but kinky ones,” he teased, tipping your chin. You gulped, nervous from his touch.

“How do you know I’m innocent and kinky?” you asked, mumbling the last word. 

“Just by looking at you. That’s why you’re perfect,” he reminded. You looked down at your lap, debating whether or not to take the offer. Jinyoung was right - you’d be doing the exact same thing here anyways but you’d be in an office. It looks so much better on paper.

“O-okay,” you agreed. “What do you want me to do?”

That night you met Jinyoung was almost three months ago. He saved you from working at the club, from stripping for random men. At least now, your sister won’t have an older sister who strips for money. These past few months Jinyoung and his team worked hard to train you into the perfect secretary by day and the perfect seducer by night. 

Today was your final test.

“I’ll wait here,” Jinyoung said before taking a seat by the fitting area. Your last test was to pick out an outfit that would make any man swoon for you. It seemed easily enough but if someone would have asked you to do something like this three months ago, it would be nearly impossible for you.

You were different now. Three months of hard work to change you into someone completely different; someone that exuded confidence, someone that can speak various languages, manage another person’s entire day, and most importantly seduce anyone that laid eyes on you which was by far the hardest thing to do.

“What do you think? you asked Jinyoung as you smoothened out your tight dress that accentuated your curves and revealed just the right amount of cleavage that would make any guy look twice.  

Jinyoung looks up from his phone and at you. He smirks in satisfaction as he shifts in his seat, spreading his legs slightly apart at the site of you. You could tell from the tent in his pants that he enjoyed what he saw. “Stunning,” he said proudly, making you blush. He made his way over to you before turning you around to face the mirror. He stares at you, scanning your body from top to bottom while he licks his lips. His hands made his way to your sides, his fingers dancing against the fabric of your dress. Jinyoung gives your waist a small squeeze. You hissed at his touch. He brushes your hair to one side, revealing the nape of your neck to him. He runs the back of his hand up and down your neck as he plays with your ear. 

“Like what you see?”

“Mhmmm, the confidence,” he hummed, giving the back of your neck a small squeeze. That was lesson #1 - confidence is attractive. Jinyoung reaches inside his pocket and takes out a diamond necklace. “Last piece to make this outfit perfect,” he whispered in your ear before putting the necklace on you. 

“There’s one last thing you can teach me,” you tell him. Jinyoung looks at you surprised as he has nothing left to teach you. “I’ll eventually have to sleep with them, don’t I?”

Jinyoung turns you around to face him. He strokes your cheek gently. He didn’t want to lie to you. “There’s a possibility that could happen.”

“Then teach me.”

“Teach you?” Jinyoung repeated. 

“Teach me,” you paused. “Jinyoung, I’m a virgin.”

“Oh...I didn’t know. If you-”

You shake your head, “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want it to be the reason that I couldn’t do this.” You paused again, waiting for his response. “I want my first time to be with someone I know, someone I trust.”

“I can’t do that,” Jinyoung rejected softly. 

“You can,” you assured him. “I need you to do this for me. If you want this to be successful than do this for me. Please.”

Jinyoung nods slowly, finally agreeing to your suggestion. He lets out a light sigh before pulling you into his arms.

“Do you live here?” you asked once you entered into his luxury condo.

“It’s one of my many estates,” he explained, taking off his tuxedo. You were nervous but you knew Jinyoung will take care of you. He always does. “Want a drink?” You nodded, watching him pour the drinks. 

“Expensive,” you teased as you took a sip out of the beverage. 

Jinyoung clears his throat before setting his drink down. “Show me what you got,” he demanded.

“W-what?” you almost choke.

“Show me what you got,” he enunciated. “Pretend I’m like those men.” You didn’t know what to do. You’ve never done this before. You slowly set down your drink, running different scenarios in your head on what to do next. “Don’t think, just do it.” Jinyoung takes a seat on the couch, carefully watching your next move. You swallowed the lump in your throat. You could do this. You have to do this well. 

You slowly made your way towards Jinyoung, your eyes on his as you gently bit your lower lip. You stopped in front of him before taking a seat on his lap. You run your palms up and down his chest, stopping just below his collar. You leaned in close to his face, feeling his length poke against your thigh as you pressed your body against his. Jinyoung’s hand rubs your lower back, fiddling with the zipper on your dress. 

You got off Jinyoung’s lap and kneeled down in front of him. You licked your lips before looking up at him. He was eager, desperate for you to do something; anything. You rubbed his thighs up and down, inching closer and closer to his length. You stroked him through his pants, feeling it grow harder by the second. You licked your lips again while you unbuckled his pants. His cock was pressed tightly against his pants, aching to be released. You bit your lip, nervous about touching him. 

“Don’t think, just do it.” You pulled his pants lower until his cock was fully exposed. It sprung up almost automatically. He was hard; the tip of his cock bright red with a large bead of pre-cum threatening to fall. You gulped before rubbing your thumb over the tip. Jinyoung lets out a low groan, attempting to hide his moan. His tip now wet with his own pre-cum, you opened your mouth and twirled your tongue against the tip of his cock. He hisses at your touch. You opened your mouth wider, slowly taking in his length. He moans feeling how wet your mouth feels against his cock. You didn’t know any techniques but you did know that sucking was the right thing to do - so you did. You sucked him hard like a lollipop while wrapping your hand on the base of his cock, stroking him long and hard. You bobbed your head up and down until the tip of his cock hits the back of your throat. You kept bobbing your head up and down, hearing him moan and swear under his breath. You had one hand on the base of his cock, stroking him slowly while the other hand massaged his balls. You feel him twitch in your mouth as he groans in pleasure. Jinyoung gets lost in pleasure and thrusts his hips forward. His cock slams into the back of your throat making you choke. “Fuck...” Jinyoung runs his fingers through your hair, gripping tightly onto it. He guides your head up and down his cock, each time harder than the next. “Shit baby...” he moans loudly before pulling away.

You pulled away from him, saliva dripping down your chin. “Did that feel good?” you asked him, staring up at him. 

He chuckles out of breath, “Yeah....” You get up off your knees before wiping your lips. 

[watchmegetobsessed]

Serendipity - Part I. (Harry Styles)

a/n: i am BEYOND excited to share this story with you guys! i’ve been working on it for over a month now if not more and what started as just a oneshot, slowly grew into this massive fic. i really hope you’ll love the story of Harry and Lis bc im obsessed with them haha. please feel free to share your thoughts and reactions about the chapter and the fic itself!

pairing: Harry x OC (Annalise Lloyd)

word count: 8k

SERIES MASTERPOST  ⚫️ my masterlist  ⚫️  come and talk to me about Serendipity!  ⚫️ consider buying me a coffee!

Serendipity (n.) Finding something good without looking for it.

There are people who plot out their New Year’s Eve plan even months before the last day of the year, making sure they will be celebrating the upcoming year at the best party possible. And then there are the folks who just ignore it until the very last moment and end up spending at a random place with even more random people.

Harry Styles desperately wanted to be the first kind, but unfortunately often found himself falling into the second case scenario. With his busy schedule and endless ocean of his upcoming projects, he never really had time to think about the last party of the day and usually ended up just tagging along some of his friends wherever they headed to. This year was no different, having to work up until even the last few days of the year, Harry had little to no thought about where he would be when the clock strikes midnight.

Just about a day before it, one of his old high school friends, Griff hits him up with a text if he would want to join them for the celebration at the pub he opened not that long ago. Harry didn’t think twice to accept the invitation, finally checking one more thing off his list, so he won’t just stay at home, and pathetically fall asleep at ten.

It’s nothing big or fancy, Griff assures him in the morning when he rings his friend up to ask when he should arrive and what he should bring.

“Nothing, ey? Just come and ‘ave a good time with us,” Griff tells him, though he already knows Harry won’t show up empty handed.

 December 31st

A little before seven Harry opts for a quick shower before he dives deep in his wardrobe to find something to wear. He is torn between wearing a fancy outfit or something cozier, but eventually stands up for the latter, putting on a pair of light washed jeans, a simple white button up and a seaweed green knitted jumper under his coat. He doesn’t pay much attention to his hair, his curls falling around his head in a messy, warm brown halo. It’s been raining all day, it wouldn’t have had any use to try to tame them.

Slowly but surely, Harry feels the buzz in himself, excited to see his old friends and maybe meet some new people while having drinks and just relaxing. He grabs a bottle of fancy whiskey from his bar and heads out around eight.

Griff is one of the few people Harry stayed in touch with after his career launched so abruptly, the two of them often met up whenever Harry was around, having a pint together, just chatting up. Griff bought an old pub a few years prior and completely renewed it, opened at the beginning of the year, Harry was there at the opening party, he had way too much to drink, but he surely had a great time.

“There he is! My favorite arrogant son of a bitch!” Harry immediately hears as soon as he steps into the pub that’s already quite filled.

The tall lad makes his way through the groups of guests until he can envelop his old friend in a warm, brotherly hug as Harry chuckles at the name he just called him. Griff always loved that line from Harry’s song and never missed a chance to call him that. He doesn’t mind though, keeps that playful side of their friendship he always adored so much.

“Good to see you, mate,” Harry smirks at him. “Here, this is for yeh.” He holds out the pricey drink and Griff shakes his head at him.

“Told ya not to bring anything!” he sighs but accepts the gift anyway, knowing well Harry would just sneak into the back anyway and leave the liquor on his desk. “We ‘ave a nice evening ahead of us. Got food, drinks, everything’s on me, take what yeh want,” Griff assures him as the two of them walk further inside.

Harry sees a few familiar faces, high school friends, kids from around the neighborhood that are now grown adults, just like him, but there are quite a lot of guests he doesn’t know.

“C’mon, yeh need t’ ‘ave a welcome drink with me,” Griff grins as he pulls Harry to the bar and fills up two shot glasses generously. Harry doesn’t even bother to ask him what it is, he just takes the glass willingly and after they clink in the middle they both send it down.

Harry grimaces as the hard liquor burns down his throat, Griff never played around with the soft drinks, he knows what hits the best and fastest and Harry figures it’s one of those drinks that would have him crawling on the floor after two more shots.

It doesn’t take Harry long to mix and mingle, get into conversations and meet new people, just enjoying the welcoming and warm atmosphere of the party. He is pleased to see that people treat him just like any other guest, rather than a famous person and he is beyond thankful for that.

Near the bar, Griff has set up a quite rich buffet table filled with all kinds of snacks and food. It’s way past ten when Harry shuffles over there feeling his stomach growling. He grabs a paper plate and his eyes roam everything that’s set on the table. Humming to himself he decides to opt for the delicious looking fries, his mouth drools just at the sight of them, so he puts a generous amount to his plate before his eyes spot the bowl of peas. That’s exactly what he needs to go with the fries.

He goes a little overboard, but he couldn’t care less. Once he is satisfied with his meal he puts back the spoon that was sat in the bowl of peas, right when someone reaches for it. Glancing up his gaze meets a pair of warm brown eyes and a shy, but playful smile. Harry can’t stop himself from smiling instantly as the woman takes the spoon and fills her plate with peas. He looks down and sees that her plate is filled with the exact same things: fries and peas.

“Excellent choice,” he smirks teasingly and her eyes snap down to her plate before she sees the similarity on Harry’s plate. She lets out an airy chuckle before she tugs her chestnut colored, wavy locks behind her ears with her now free hand.

“Mother always told me to balance the junk out with something healthy,” she admits, the corners of her mouth curling up as she blinks a little shy under Harry’s burning gaze.

He always knew he had an eye for pretty things and he never dared to deny himself from admiring them once he laid his eyes on something he found breathtaking. She was by far the prettiest thing he has seen in quite some time, so he doesn’t shy away from taking in her figure in front of him. Delicious looking curves dressed in a pair of tight jeans and a sheer shirt with a top underneath it, the front tugged into the waist of the jeans. Her hair looks effortless, but he can tell she probably spent some time forming the natural looking waves before coming here. The thin eyeliner makes her eyes appear more cat-like and her long lashes dance around with each look she pays him.

“You want to—um, sit?” she stammers nodding towards an empty table near the buffet, a soft blush tainting her soft skin. Harry absolutely adores the hint of innocence in her features.

“’fcourse,” he nods and follows her.

The two of them move over to the table and sit down with their meal, Harry sneaking a fry into his mouth right away.

“’M Harry, by the way,” he says, realizing he hasn’t even introduced himself just yet. Some people tend to look at him weird whenever he does it, as if it should be common knowledge to know who he is, but he never takes it for granted. Luckily, she doesn’t find it funny or weird that he introduced himself.

“Annalise. But everyone just calls me Lis,” she explains and holds out a hand for him, which at first looks a little odd and he can tell she regrets the motion, but he appreciates it, even finds it cute. So before she can pull her hand back he takes it and gives it a soft shake. “So what brings you here tonight?” she asks as both of them digs into their food.

“Griff invited me, saved me last minute, didn’t have any plans.”

“How do you know him?”

Harry finds it amusing that she didn’t bring up that a famous person like him would probably have tons of invitations to fancy parties. He hates when people assume that his social life is blossoming at all times, packed with parties and events to attend every day.

“We went to high school together. Stayed in touch through the years.”

Lis nods with a small smile before her eyes return to the plate in front of her.

“How ‘bout you?”

“Oh, um… Well, Griff and I had a blind date like ages ago, but we both figured out pretty quickly we are never gonna be more than just friends. But that we are perfect for. Have been meeting up every once in a while. I was kind of in the same shoe like you, wasn’t planning on coming out tonight, but… I was forced to,” she admits with a nervous chuckle.

“Y’ don’t like to go out?”

“I—uh, don’t really have the time,” she answers, clearly a bit nervous at the topic so Harry decides to just drop it.

The two of them sit there, just talking and eating and with each passing moment Harry finds himself more and more enchanted by the woman sitting on his right. The way she rambles sometimes, how her nose scrunches whenever she is laughing hard, how she likes to keep tugging her hair behind her ears all the time, are the smallest things but they easily catch Harry’s attention.

Besides, she is not just the looks, also an amazing company. Easy to talk about anything, even the riskier things too. She doesn’t shy away from giving her honest and raw opinion, but also doesn’t attack if someone thinks differently. Instead, she is open to other point of views, seeking opportunities to learn and grow. It’s a mindset Harry values highly and feels like it’s hard to find it. But on this evening in his mate’s pub, he found a gem, it feels like.

The plates soon get swapped to beers and Lis is getting giddier with each gulp, which he finds amusing, especially because she lets her thoughts slip without thinking about them and it allows Harry to look into that pretty head of hers easier.

He doesn’t fail to notice how his heart flutters every time she touches his arm or hand whenever she is deep in a story. The warm touch of her soft hand is sending him into trembling and he is glad they are sitting because he surely would be having a hard time keeping himself up on his feet. She is just the kind of person that wraps others around her fingers without even trying or noticing.

Though it’s only been over an hour since he first laid his eyes on her, he feels like he has known her for ages. The connection built up fast and smoothly, sweeping Harry right off his feet. He’s got it bad for her and he already knows he wants to see her again once this night ends.

“Oh, it’s almost midnight!” Annalise gasps snapping out of her thoughts, a hand snapping to Harry’s upper arm. The crowd is starting to buzz, getting ready for the count down.

“C’mon, let’s get some champagne,” Harry tells her and helps her up from her seat.

They head to the bar and each of them grabs a flute filled with the sparkly alcohol. They stand a little to the side, but still mingled in the crowd of guests. Harry can feel his hands getting sweaty as he thinks about the countdown. Every fiber in his body is aching to kiss her, even though he knows it’s quite crazy knowing the fact they have known each other for only two hours. But he just can’t help it, she has a spell on him with just one look, making him act like a teenager in love.

Annalise peeks up at Harry with a lazy smile, the drinks have made her a little lightheaded, but she is nowhere near being drunk. Her thoughts are absolutely clear and they all focus on the man standing close to her.

Harry watches her bite into her bottom lip and he wonders if she is thinking about the same thing. If she’d be mad if he kissed her when the clock strikes midnight or slap him right across his face. He notices as she draws a deep breath, eyes looking around before they return to him.

“Get yo’ drinks, lads!” Griff shouts from somewhere behind the bar and those who haven’t picked up a glass quickly work on the problem.

Then the countdown begins.

“Ten!... Nine!... Eight!...”

Annalise glances up at Harry and her cheeks blush when she catches him already looking at her. She wishes she had her beer so she could hide in her glass from his burning eyes.

“Seven!... Six!...”

Harry turns so his whole body is facing her and takes just one tiny step towards her. When she doesn’t back away from him, he takes it as a sign that she might want the same thing as him.

“Five!... Four!...”

She looks straight up at him with a sheepish smile and pushes herself against him right when his free hand finds its way to her waist. She sucks in a sharp breath, but doesn’t move while Harry is aching to taste her plump, soft lips.

“Three!... Two!... One!... Happy New Year!”

The crowd cheers as one, guests are clapping and screaming, welcoming the new year with high hopes and full of planes for the new chapter that just started.

Harry and Annalise lock eyes and while everything around them is a full chaos, he feels like a bubble of silence and tranquility is surrounding them. Harry sucks in his breath, lips parted as he doesn’t break his gaze with hers. There’s a moment of hesitation, but the voice in the back of his mind tells him that he can’t let this moment go to waste.

Fuck it! He tells himself before he leans down and his lips meet hers in a soft, warm and breathtaking kiss.

He is a man who believes in magic, in things he can’t explain rationally, he is a man who doesn’t try to pull reality into everything when something odd happens. When his lips meet hers, he is swept right off his feet with just that tiny touch. It’s not a demanding kiss, very restricted and shy, but it still makes his insides tremble for her, almost falling to his knees right in front of her.

There’s a moment of hesitation from her side, when their lips are just touching in a little awkward way, but it fades into nothing before Harry could wrap his head around it, her lips parting as she lets him deepen the kiss, a soft moan slipping out of her throat that brings a knot to his stomach.

The moment is so vivid, raw and intoxicating, he wishes he could bottle it up and open it to have a taste of her anytime later, keep her in his pocket just to have her lips glued to his like this whenever he needs to be grounded or taken away from the world. His fingers dig into her waist, pulling her close to his body, hoping to just merge into her, become one with the woman in his arms.

She softly glides her hands up his arms, through his shoulders before they stop at the back of his neck, digging into his soft curls, while never breaking the kiss. Their lips stay melted together, tongues and teeth clashing, they are a hot mess in the first minutes of the new year.

The cheering slowly dies down and the usual buzzing of conversations and laughter replaces it, but the two of them are still busy with each other and it takes quite some time to pull themselves out of the bubble they created.

“Happy New Year, Lis,” Harry smiles down, lips swollen, eyes glistening from the joy that’s filling up his veins. She glances up at him shyly from under her lashes.

“Happy New Year, Harry,” she whispers, biting into her bottom lip, coming off the high this little make out session gave her.  

One hour passes by, then another and the party is starting to slowly die down. People are flaking out the door, the crowd is getting smaller with each door opening.

Harry and Annalise remain in the corner of the place after their kiss, a barrier that’s been noticeably present before has come down as Harry has his arm swung over the back of her chair and she lets herself lean against his side. There’s something so calming and tranquil in just being so close to each other, sharing thoughts and stories while his fingers graze on her shoulder gently and her head always falls to his shoulder when she laughs on something. He loves her laugh, it could easily light up any place and Harry can’t help but feel sorry for the people who don’t see her shine. So many guests didn’t get the chance to get to know her, but on the other hand, he is a bit selfish, he wants her all to himself. No one else should have the honor of making her laugh or bringing a smile to her perfect lips. He wants her all to himself, even if it makes him sound like a mad man.

After she leaves to the restroom, she comes back with her phone in her hands and a tired smile playing on her lips.

“I, uhh—called an Uber. I really should get going,” she tells him and he wants to make her stay. He wants this evening to last forever, but he can’t ask her to stay longer than she wants, so he just slowly nods.

“I’ll walk you out,” he offers, but it’s more like a fact.

The two of them find their coats on the packed rack, Annalise says goodbye to the handful of people she knows, hugging Griff before they head outside to wait for her car to arrive.

“I really enjoyed tonight,” Harry mumbles, shoving his hands into his coat’s pockets, feeling like a nervous teenage boy talking to his crush. She glances up at him with a smile, but there’s something clouding her eyes he can’t really put his finger on.

“Me too,” she assures him, a pair of headlights turning the corner and they both look in the approaching car’s direction before facing each other. “It was really great meeting you, Harry. Take care of yourself in the new year,” she tells her, but he doesn’t like the weight of her words. It sounds like a proper goodbye, like she is bracing herself to never meet him again, but he can’t let that happen.

“Can I—Uh, can I have your number? I would love to take you out sometime.”

The car stops next to them and she nods in the driver’s way to let him know she’s the one he is supposed to pick up. Taking a step to the backseat, she looks back at Harry.

“I’m really sorry, Harry, but we can’t.”

Devastation washes over him, her words are like a punch into his stomach each. Why is she rejecting him? Did she not enjoy the evening? Did he say something stupid? She seemed to be having a great time, so why can’t he see her again?

“What? Are you sure? Because I really loved tonight and would love to see you again.”

Annalise opens the car door and shoots him an apologetic look. He has never felt this helpless in his life, than at that moment, looking at the woman of his dreams escape from his reach.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t get into… whatever it is you want from me. I really am sorry, I wish it was different.”

“But I just want to see you again. I thought… You didn’t feel like it was something special?” he breathes out, feeling the world crashing down on him with each passing moment.

“I did, but I can’t do this. I’m sorry. Take care, Harry,” she sighs, clearly not happy about her own actions and he doesn’t understand why she is fleeing away like this.

He stands there, completely frozen as she gets into the car and shuts the door open. Their eyes meet through the window one last time before the car starts moving and she falls out of his view. He stares after her until the very last moment, when the car disappears at the end of the street, leaving him in pieces from the major rejection he just suffered.

He stays out there until his nose and cheeks turn red and his ears are freezing off, part of him wishing that if he just waits she’s gonna magically reappear and tell him it was just a joke. He can’t believe he met such a wonderful creature and had to let her go like she didn’t flip his whole world upside down under just a couple of hours. Does she know how much of an effect she had on him?

She probably doesn’t, he thinks to herself, because then she wouldn’t have left so abruptly and without a trace for him to find her again.

When Harry returns to the pub, he is met with a tipsy Griff, shoving a pint into his hand immediately.

“Ay, saw you hanging with Lis all night!” he teases Harry, but the mentioning of her name just makes his heart ache. However, knowing that Griff is friends with her, he is ready to use him as a way to get to her.

“Yeah, hey, you have her number?” he asks, trying his best to look as innocent as possible, but Griff sees right through him, even with all the alcohol in his body.

“Sorry, mate. F’she didn’t give it to ya, I won’t go against her.”

“I’m begging you, Griff. I need to see her again!” he sighs in despair, ready to do anything he can to get to her.

“Y’not the first bloke to fall for her magic. I know what it feels like, but I can’t do anything, sorry.” He shrugs his shoulders, giving an apologetic look to his friend before he joins another conversation.

Harry could scream from the frustration, the urge to punch something or someone is growing with each passing moment, but he has to realize there’s nothing he can do at this point other than accept the fact that he met this wonderful woman, had the best night with her and then was forced to watch her walk out of his life before she could even become part of it properly.

Harry starts to realize that what he thought about heartbreaks is nothing compared to the feeling Annalise left in his heavy heart.

There has to be a solid reason for what she did. Or did not do.

Endless theories about Annalise flood his mind through the days following that night when he was forced to watch her leave on such a bitter and painful note. Harry couldn’t stop himself from making up the most ridiculous cases just to give himself a possible peace of mind, but neither of them brought him enough comfort to forget about her.

His best shot was that she had a boyfriend, or even worse, a husband. This was the only version that sounded somewhat real and believable, though he just knew she is not the type of woman to cheat on a significant other.

How would you know? You spent just one evening with her, she could be a serial killer for all you know! Harry’s rational side was always quick to shut him down when his thought swirled around the idea of knowing her well enough to assume anything about her.

As the days dragged by him in a painful pace, he slowly had to realize it’s going to be a question in his life he’ll never get an answer to, so he just has to learn to live with the thought of the woman that got away.

The end of January rolls around faster than he could comprehend, February comes and he finds himself spending his days mostly in the studio, cooking up new music. Studio sessions are his favorite. That’s his element, he feels safe and comfortable, surrounded by people he trusts and enjoys creating his art fully. In the new year, he has also been eager to pick up a new hobby so he has been trying himself out in knitting and painting recently, finding both of them just a tad bit too hard for him just yet, but they were enough to get his mind off of the one woman who was constantly occupying his thoughts following New Year’s Eve.

Sitting in an armchair in the studio, he and his bandmates are listening back to some recordings they did today and he is trying to find that one thing that keeps throwing him off whenever he hears the song.

“I think it’s great,” Mitch states once the recording ends, and Harry agrees, it is great, but not the best.

“Maybe we could tone down the keyboard a little through the bridge, give more space for the guitar,” he contemplates, but really, he is just shooting in the dark, not sure what it is that keeps him on edge about the song.

“Why don’t we have a break?” Sarah suggests with a warm smile, seeing how everyone is keen on leaving for a little, except Harry, who is still fixated on mastering the song. But he agrees to have the break, however while everyone gets ready to leave and grab something to eat from the diner that’s around the corner, Harry stays where he is, eyes glued to his notebook.

“You’re not coming?” Charlotte asks him and he just shakes his head.

“No, not that hungry.” He looks up and shoots them a short smile and though they all can tell he could use the time out, they know him enough already that he won’t leave before he finds what’s not right.

“Alright. We’ll be back in an hour,” Mitch informs him and he dismisses them all with a nod.

He stays right there, going through the lyrics a few more times, making tiny changes in hopes that it’ll fix it all, but he can feel himself growing frustrated. Doesn’t matter how hard he is trying, he realizes his brain needs a break. Letting out a defeated huff he leans back, looking around in the empty studio. He doesn’t feel particularly hungry, but he could use something to snack on. So grabbing his coat he locks up the studio and heads out to the nearby Tesco they usually run out during sessions.

He is still humming the melody to himself when he walks in, a pair of sunglasses sitting on the bridge of his nose, his famous curls hidden under a green beanie. He doesn’t bother to get a cart or basket, just strolls inside and roams down the aisles, trying to decide what he desires.

He settles on some kind of canned tea and a protein bar, but before he heads towards the cash registers, he wanders down the aisle where they keep cereals, looking around aimlessly. It’s the middle of the day on a weekday, most people are at work at this hour, so just a few other customers are lingering around, filling their carts. At first, he doesn’t pay any attention to the figure a little further down the aisle, his eyes are glued to the shelves, but then he just mindlessly glances to his left, his brain not even processing what, or who he is seeing at first. Then he takes a double take and his stomach drops to the tiled floor when he recognizes the woman, deep in her thoughts to decide which cereal to buy.

Annalise is standing just a few meters away from him, looking just as beautiful as he remembered, wearing a pair of simple jeans, light blue sneakers and a white jacket, her hair is in a loose ponytail on the top of her head.

“Lis?” he calls out, as if he thinks she is just a ghost. Taking a few steps closer he watches as her eyes fall from the products on the shelves to him, then they widen and her lips part in shock.

“Harry? Wha-what are you doing here?” she asks and Harry is quick to read the panic out of her tone as she looks around cautiously.

“I’m… shopping?” he answers with a soft chuckle, holding up the items in his hands.

“Haven’t seen you around here.”

“The studio we use is nearby, I drop by sometimes. But today is clearly my lucky day.” Even though her reaction is giving him doubts, he can’t hide his joy upon seeing her again, fate clearly playing on his side this time.

“Uh, yeah?” she lets out an anxious chuckle, her eyes often wandering off him, as if she is waiting for someone to show up and it just fuels Harry’s rich theories about her.

“So, are you here with your boyfriend?” he boldly asks, deciding to just go for it. Annalise’s eyes widen once again, but not in a way that makes him think he just busted her, it’s more of a confused one.

“Boyfriend? What are you talking about?”

“Well, you basically ran away from me that night, I figured you had someone and that’s why you didn’t want to give me your number.” He tries his best not to sound petty or bitter, though that’s exactly what he’s been feeling ever since she left that night.

“Harry, that’s… not the case.”

“Okay, so does this mean you’ll give me your number this time?” he tries and he is so busy with her presence, he doesn’t even notice when a smaller frame runs past him down the aisle.

“Mommy! I want this!”

At first, he doesn’t even register that the little boy is talking to Annalise, he dismisses his presence, eyes still fixated on her, but then her gaze leaves him and turns down to the boy, holding up a bar of chocolate.

“Honey, that’s too big. Choose something smaller, alright?”

It takes Harry a few moments to put one and one together. This kid just ran up to her, called her mommy and most likely not on accident since she answered him, very much talking to him like his mother. Though Harry can’t see his own face, he knows it fell, shock completely taking over him as his thoughts finally add up. Annalise looks back at him in panic, completely puzzled about what to do or say.

“Benji, go get another one, a smaller one while I talk to my friend here,” Annalise softly tells the boy.

He turns to Harry, eyes meeting his as he cocks his head to the side, examining the shocked adult standing in front of him.

“Who’s this?” he blurts out.

“Just a friend, alright? Go get your chocolate,” she urges. Benji gives Harry another look before nodding and running off, leaving them alone once again in the cereal aisle. “Harry, I-I’m sorry, you weren’t supposed to know.”

“Are you married?” is his first question, taking her by surprise.

“What?”

“The father. Is he your husband?” he urges, eager to clear the picture. Annalise shakes her head.

“No, we were never even married.”

He feels relief washing over him. At least at this point he doesn’t feel like a homewrecker. If he found out she wasn’t only a mother but also married, and that she cheated on the dude with him, that would have crushed him. But it’s one less thing to worry about on a long list.

“Okay, it’s fine. You are not married, it’s all good,” he breathes out and it brings her a smile through this absurd situation.

“You thought I was married?”

“Or at least had a boyfriend, yeah,” he nods, hands on his hips as he licks his lips. He surely had a mini panic attack, but he can feel the life coming back into his body.

“Do I come off like the kind to cheat that easily?” she asks with raised eyebrows, but she didn’t take it as an offense, she more like finds it funny rather than hurtful.

“No, not at all! I was just trying to figure out why you rejected me and this was my best shot!”

“I’m sorry, Harry. I just… I didn’t know how to tell and I didn’t really think you would want to see me again after that night.”

“I think I made it clear that I wanted to when I asked for your number.”

“Well, yes, but I thought you just wanted a hookup and that’s just not what I can do.”

“Because of…” he gestures towards the boy that jolted down the aisle just a few minutes ago.

“Because of Benji, yeah.”

“Alright, it’s understandable, but I did not just want a hookup, and that’s still not what I want,” he clears, his words certainly surprising her. This is definitely not what she was expecting when she came down to get groceries today.

“Harry…” she breathes out, already feeling guilty that she is about to turn him down once again. “You can’t be serious.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m a single mother with a six year-old and you are… you.”

“I don’t see your point,” he truthfully answers.

“I’m not some model you chatted up at some award show, who is living her best life, traveling the world just like you. My days consist of work, doing laundry, cleaning the house, cooking, doing first grade homework, going to football practice and watching cartoons. We are polar opposites.”

“No, just our lifestyles, but that doesn’t mean we can’t get closer.”

“Is that really what you want?”

Harry is about to answer right when Benji emerges again, proudly holding up a bar of KitKat in his hand this time.

“This one! This one!” he declares, stopping next to Annalise.

“Okay, put it in,” she nods and the little boy throws the chocolate into the cart with a beaming smile. Her eyes flicker back to Harry, who is now staring down at Benji, who is seemingly not that interested in him at the moment, his attention is more focused on the cereals on the shelves.

She is aware she can’t really push this conversation, but she also doesn’t want Benji to hear it.

“Benji, can you get me three apples? I’ll go get paper towels in the next aisle, alright?”

“Three?” he asks holding up three fingers to make sure he heard her right.

“Yes.”

Benji nods and runs off once again, while Annalise grabs a random box of cereal off the shelf and starts pushing her cart, Harry walking along with him.

“It’s nice that you want to prove that you are fine with whatever baggage I come with, but I’m not stupid, Harry. I know I’m not the jackpot and I’m not naïve, I’m not trying to make myself believe that I’m easy to date when I’m clearly not.”

“You act like you are the only single parent out in the dating field. I genuinely don’t think that it’s that big of a deal.”

“Yeah, that’s what you are saying now. But then we would get more involved, you’d grow frustrated that I can’t just go after you whenever you feel like it, or that I would have to cancel on plans because Benji is sick or has homework to do that he needs help with. Or that my Friday night consists of playing board games, then watching whatever cartoon Benji is keen on seeing and I’m in bed by ten while you probably spend these nights out with your friends, hopping from one bar to the other. And I’m not saying that you shouldn’t, that’s exactly what you should be doing at your age… at our age. But for me, it’s just different.”

She is not talking just out of theories. She has tried to date, several times, but it was always kind of doomed from the beginning. Men in their mid-twenties don’t want to be a stand-in dad, though it’s completely not what she expects. But as time went by, they all grew tired of having to deal with a kid in the relationship and they all ended up leaving and she can’t even blame them. It’s not what they want in life at this point, but she can’t be what they wanted her to be so slowly but surely she gave up on finding a man before she turns thirty and her peers start to get into the whole idea of having a family that’s already been her reality since she was eighteen.

And the situation is even more complicated with Harry. An international rockstar is definitely not the right person for her and vice versa. She can only imagine what some lowlifes would think when they found out he is dating a single mother. People can be cruel for no damn reason and she is definitely not in the right mindset to be humiliated just because she is a mother.

The two of them move down to the next aisle so she can grab the paper towels along with some dish soap. Harry is keen on making her understand that he is still very much interested and he has nothing against her being a mother. It was just a little shocking to find out this way, instead of hearing about it from her.

“I think you have an unreasonable picture in your head of what my life is like,” he explains. “Yes, I do travel a lot and I go to parties, but it’s not what I do most in life. And I’m not expecting you to turn your whole life around for me.”

“Yeah, but dating me is kind of me asking you to turn your whole life around for us,” she simply says and he is stunned at her words, having nothing to bring up against them. “Look,” she sighs. “I appreciate the effort and everything, but I want to save you the time, just like I originally wanted to. I know that it seems reasonable now, but once you get involved, it’s a whole different world, I’m telling you. And while I would love to give you the chance to prove me wrong, I still have to think about Benji. I can’t just drag someone into his life and then have them leave when they figure out it’s not what they want after all. He needs stability around him and it’s enough that he can’t get that from his father.”

Harry has a million questions roaming in his head that he is dying to ask. Mostly about the father, because if he is not in the picture, he can’t imagine what kind of scumbag he is for leaving someone like her. But he keeps them all to himself, especially when Benji appears again with the three apples, putting them into the cart with a proud smile. The boy turns to Harry this time, finally acknowledging his presence.

“Who are you?” he asks. Harry looks down at him and pushes everything else into the back of his mind as he hunches down a bit, holding out his hand for the boy, a friendly smile playing on his lips.

“I’m Harry, your mum’s friend. Nice to meet you.”

The boy doesn’t hesitate to take his right held out, his small hand almost getting lost in Harry’s big palm as they shake hands like two adults. Harry is stunned by how confident he is, unlike most kids his age.

“I’m Benjamin Lloyd,” the boy introduces himself smiling and Harry can see the resemblance now clearer than anything. His smile is certainly his mother’s and the shape of his eyes along with his chin are the exact same as Annalise’s, leaving only a few traits that must have been inherited from his father.

Benjamin lets go of Harry’s hand and turns back to his mother completely unbothered by the man he just met.

“Mum, are we staying on the playground a little?” he asks as they all move down the aisle, heading to the cash register.

“Uh, yeah, we can stay for a little, but you need to do homework when we get home. Mrs. Conrad sent me all the work you missed today so we have to catch up on everything. You got away with faking sickness this morning, but you are doing the work you missed.”

Benji doesn’t fuss about having to do work, he knew this would happen when he faked to have a tummy ache, he nods understanding the importance of doing his homework and Harry is amazed by how great his behavior is. Most kids his age would have thrown a tantrum over what Annalise just said, but not Benji. He is like a small adult, Harry thinks.

“I honestly don’t see why you still have to push me away completely. Did you not enjoy talking with me?” Harry continues as they stand in line, Annalise putting everything to the belt from the cart while Benji is busy playing around the poles that separate the lines.

“Of course I did!” she sighs.

“So then why can’t we just continue? See where it goes?”

“Because that’s just not how things work for me,” she says with a soft, sad chuckle.

“What, you can’t have friends?” Harry asks innocently as Annalise finishes packing, puts a divider on the belt so Harry can put his items behind hers.

“Oh, so you just want to be friends?” she asks raising her eyebrows, seeing through him easily. Harry opens his mouth, but then closes, a cheeky smile stretching across her face that makes her chuckle.

“For now, yeah?” he tries to sound convincing, but it’s more of a joke.

The cashier starts to scan her items so she pushes the cart over to the end and starts packing everything back, Benji still climbing on the poles, completely oblivious to the conversation happening around him, or he just chooses not to listen.

“You are unbelievable,” she shakes her head at the man in the line. The cashier finishes up with her items and she taps her card on the terminal, pushing the cart away a little.

Harry is scared that she’ll flee the moment she gets the receipt and leaves before she could go after her, but for his biggest surprise, she just pushes the cart a little away from the cash register and starts packing her items into totebags. Benji runs up to her and she gives him his KitKat without a word, the boy happily tearing the packaging open, snacking on the chocolate.

Harry is quick to finish with his items, catching up with Annalise as the three of them head out of the supermarket.

“Look, I’m gonna be honest with you, I haven’t felt like this with anyone in a long time, Lis. I loved talking to you, I feel like we had a connection, and I think you felt it too. I would hate to waste whatever we had so I’m offering you my friendship. I want to hang out, spend time with you, just as two adults enjoying each other’s company. Nothing more, if that’s what you really want for now. And we can see where it heads later. How does that sound?”

They reach her car and Benji runs to the backseat, tearing the door open while Annalise opens the trunk and she is surprised to see Harry help her pack her bags into the car, but she doesn’t protest.

“I really don’t know…” she sighs.

“Come on! Just friends. Give it a try! I have a great feeling about it and I promise to be very careful. I understand that you need boundaries because of Benji and I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable in any way. But you do have to realize that you need to open up at one point. You can’t use him as an excuse forever.”

“I’m not using him as an excuse!” she points out, but she can feel how that’s not the whole truth.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Lis,” Harry smirks, pulling his phone out of his coat’s pocket and unlocking it he holds it out for her once she has closed the trunk. “I’m just asking for your phone number, not to travel the world with me. You can decide to block me later if you change your mind, it’s nothing serious, alright?”

Annalise’s hesitation is clearer than the light and in any other case, he would take offence at it, but not with her. Harry is keen on proving to her that he meant everything he said and that he is willing to take a chance with her.

Chewing on the inside of her cheeks, she glances back at Benji, who has climbed into his seat in the back of the car. She is fighting with herself, bringing up all pros and contras until she finally caves in. Grabbing the phone from Harry’s hand she types her number in and gives herself a ring so she can save his number as well. She hands the device back and Harry’s smile is so wide, she almost wants to punch him in the face, but she can also feel the excitement running through her veins.

“Great. You won’t regret it, Lis,” Harry beams shoving his phone back into his pocket. His hand reaches for her arm and gives it a gentle squeeze as he doesn’t want to try anything further with her at the moment.

“I better not,” she mumbles shaking her head before turning around to buckle Benji in. When that’s done she pays one last glance at Harry who stands at the car next to hers, watching her get behind the wheel and back out from her spot. He waves at her happily and she just nods in his way before turning around the car and driving away.

“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?!” Harry rages through the phone, his anger only met with a soft chuckle from Griff on the other end of the call.

“Mate, I told ya, s’not my place! She didn’t tell ya, so I didn’t either.”

“You saw how hooked I was on her! You could have, no, no… you should have told me!”

Harry was quick to run back to the studio and called Griff right away to load everything out on him. He felt betrayed that his friend didn’t let him know this small little detail even after seeing him all crushed after she left without a trace to find her. He gets his reasoning, he does, but it still doesn’t stop him from being so bloody mad at his mate.

“Sorry! I really am sorry! But I know how protective she is over Benji. I was not gonna betray her like tha’.”

Harry takes a deep breath, paying up and down the hallway in the studio, trying his best to calm his nerves. It’s an unfortunate situation as a whole, he sees that clearly, but the frustration how it had to go down at the end is getting the best out of him for sure. He is not mad at one specific person, because everyone was doing what they thought to be the best, but everything added up to be such a shitty outcome, or at least on Harry’s side.

Pinching the bridge of his nose he huffs again, putting aside his burning emotions.

“Okay, okay. Sorry to snap at you like that, it was just… a lot.”

“I get it, don’ worry about it,” Griff assures him, glasses clinking behind him somewhere, he is probably working at the pub as they are speaking. “She gave ya her number now, right?”

“Yeah, she didn’t want to, but I talked her ears off,” Harry chuckles lowly. He could still feel the excitement that rushed through him when she finally gave in.

“M’happy for ya, mate. But please be bloody careful. She doesn’t need any shit right now, has enough on her plate.”

“I know. I’m just trying to be her friend first, that’s all.”

“Alright. Swing by the pub sometime soon, if ya want.”

“Sure thing. Bye Griff,” Harry smiles before ending the call.

Walking back into the recording room, all eyes snap up to him and he stops in his track.

“What?”

“The hell was that about?” Sarah questions, asking in the name of everyone in the room. They all just heard his rage outside and now are dying to know what it was about.

“I uhh—I found her,” he simply says and watches all his bandmates gawk back at him with wide eyes.

“What? Did you like, hire a private investigator or something?” Charlotte asks, making Harry chuckle as he shakes his head no.

“No, I ran into her at Tesco. Well, her and her… son.”

His last word washes out the whole room, everyone stops breathing for a moment as they stare back at Harry who has that ‘yeah, you heard me right’ look on his face.

“A son?” Mitch asks snapping out of his shock. “Like a proper kid?”

“How do you not have a proper kid?” Harry asks him with a look.

“I don’t know! I’m just… surprised. How old is the kid?”

“Like six or seven. She said something about being a first grader.”

“Didn’t you say she is a year younger than you?” Sarah asks, as everyone is doing the silent math in their head.

“She is, with one year. Or that’s what she told me.”

“That makes her, what, like eighteen when she had the kid? And what about the father?” Charlotte trails, still trying hard to put the picture together.

“She didn’t say much, but from what I understood, he is not really in the picture. So at least she is not married or something,” Harry adds, still open about the relief he is feeling about that information.

“This shit is twisted,” Sarah huffs. “So what’s gonna happen now? Did you ask for her number again?”

“Ask?” Harry chuckles bitterly. “I begged, Sarah. I was ready to be on my knees in the middle of a bloody Tesco.”

A round of laughter runs through the room and the mood finally eases a little after the shock that just set in. It wasn’t the fact that Annalise had a son that sent everyone over the edge, but rather that she didn’t say a single word about it and how it all surfaced.

“And did she give it to you?” Mitch prompts and Harry nods, a shy smile stretching on his lips as the two girls start clapping and cheering.

They all saw his long face after New Year’s Eve, it couldn’t be missed how he was moping around for weeks. He told them all about this girl he met, who completely blew his mind just before breaking his heart. Now that she was found and gave him just a small crumble of information about her to him that makes him able to contact her, the change is visible. That little sparkle in his eyes is back and that’s all his friends wanted to see.

“So what are you gonna do now?” Sarah asks as Harry walks over to one of the armchairs and makes himself comfortable.

“Now… I’ll try not to scare her off. Hopefully she won’t push me away and at least let me be her friend.”

“Friend? Is that what you want to be?”

“Of course not,” he sighs, his head dropping to the back of the armchair. “But this is all I can do for now.”

They all just nod, tasting his words and letting everything that just happened sink in. Harry is doing the same, he has a lot to think about and figure out, but there’s one thing he is one hundred percent sure about: he will not give up on Annalise.

NEXT PART

-

TAGLIST

let me know if you’d like to be added or taken off!

@stylesfics-xx​​ @dontworrysunflower​​ @mariamuses​​ @bookwormandtea​​

[sharkiethrts]

Hello, I really your writing! ❤️ since Levi is seen as unattractive in the aot world, would you write a scenario of a fem reader who talks with the other corps ladies about attractive men & the reader can’t believe that they don’t find him attractive & he overheard or just entered the room or so? Cause damn, Levi needs some praise & love 🥺

Oh my, thank you so much! And yes!!! He needs some praise and love! :((

LEVI’S SIGNIFICANT OTHER FINDS HIM EXTREMELY ATTRACTIVE, WHICH HE OVER HEARS.

SCENARIO: Levi almost wonders why you even chose him out of anyone else. Almost. His reasoning would be that he was humanity’s strongest soldier and you took interest in him because of that title. He doesn’t give up on stepping himself down, despite how you praise him whenever both of you were alone. All those you’re so adorable, or you’re the love of my life doesn’t stop him for being doubtful of your blossoming feelings for him. 

  But he didn’t dare question you face to face, as his feelings for you are blossoming as well, growing larger minute by minute whenever he was around you, he absolutely adores the words you say, the things you do and the way you cherished him for who he is. And who he will be.

  So breaking his own heart by finding out the ‘truth’ which he buried at the back of his head is a big no-no. He’s definitely not playing that way with himself. And neither are you. He finds himself doubting himself, opting to do better and wanting to impress you, from personality to abilities. 

  If his past self were to see him right now, his past self would feel the second-hand embarrassment, calling his future self ‘pathetic’ or ‘a disgrace to humanity’. A simpleton by all means. Although this man doesn’t show it, he’s more than willing to do things for you.

  He doesn’t trust himself much, overall. He has an overbearing anxiety, a insecurity that he opts and hopes to hide from anyone. He finds it hard to let things go the way they are. Hoping to go above and beyond, he fights towards the practising technique that most humans would dread. He, himself dreads that technique as well. But you leaving him would be a nightmare that lays in his subconscious as he holds you by his side every night.

  Although things are peaceful, the anxiety in his heart never rests. So imagine his surprise when he hears it. “Levi Ackerman is the most attractive man in my heart, I’m more than lucky to have him by my side.”

  He found his heart blooming roses and sunflowers, lilac and vines curve each line in his heart, creating a pattern that writes “I am absolutely in love with this woman in front of me.”

  Although he finds it hard to believe and create an inner monologue that speaks just how wonderful, extraordinary you are. He finds it hard to speak his mind whenever you praise him, see him as above and beyond, see him as the love of your life. He finds a smile carved on his face regardless. He knows you’re the one he has been waiting for: His true love ending.

  “Seriously, Y/N?” Your friends laugh in disbelief, amused by how smitten you are by a single man that drove your heart beyond its measures, “Did the cupid put some damned spell on you? Look how small his eyes are!” Another one joined in. Though she doesn’t mean harm, it did cause you a little discomfort at how much people view Levi as ‘unattractive’. 

  “He’s pretty short,” The blonde girl says. Causing Levi to jolt in annoyance, “He has a huge amount of eye bags under his eyes, it’s so distracting,” She suddenly claps her hand in annoyance, “He’s no match to JC’s pretty blue eyes. They look so tired that they look grey. Wait,” She widens her eyes jokingly, creating a funny banter atmosphere that every girl in the room giggled at, the funny expression on her face almost made you crack a smile. But with what she’s saying, you couldn’t, “Or are they really grey? That would be boring as hell, not gonna lie.”

  Every girl in the room, except for you, started laughing at the extremely dry joke. Most people are just laughing to join the wagon. Hence, the laughter.

  “He’s always frowning,” The brunette points out.

  You sighed at her words,. Your best friend looks at you warily as she places a hand on your shoulder, telling you to not fret over the mean girls who are plainly dry and insecure. They’re just being rude at this point, “Levi smiles too. He smiles prettily,” Your best friend suddenly says, shocking both you and Levi, “He smiles a lot when he’s around N/N. Isn’t that what you all want? A man that treats you differently than how he treats others?”

  That caused the laughter to die down as you gave your best friend a bright smile, she returns it with a kind grin. 

  Levi suddenly decides to treat your best friend a little less coldly.

HEADCANON AFTER SCENARIO:

-> I see Levi a little insecure about his abilities, looks and height at some point. So he definitely needs a little reassurance about his worth.

-> He would find himself melting at your words and views of him, a smile would never leave his face as he hears you banter with your friends, completely standing by the point: That your man, is the most handsome man in the world.

-> Lastly: He wouldn’t tell you that he heard your conversation.

-> He’s too flustered to let you know that he completely melted and his heart is completely soft at your actions and words. 

-> But he would be ten times sweeter than usual: Going to bed ten times earlier to fill you with warmth in bed, or maybe a little flustered when he realises that how you look at him is definitely different from anybody else that looks at him.

-> Adoring eyes, pleased smile, fingers soothing his skin as they carve his perfectly structured jawline, up and down. 

-> He just doesn’t realise that he looks at you the exact same way you look at him. Neither do you. 

BONUS: In this world, it seems a little more bearing when he’s around you. He doesn’t have to be the best of himself, nor does he have to impress you. Because he soon realises quite quickly with your actions and your words: That with the way you look at him, his existence itself is enough to put you on your toes and make you fall in love. 

  He thinks you are his solace. He views you as his blanket that provides him comfort. And now, every night, he’d hold you and first prayers he’d give out to the God that he doesn’t believe existed when he was younger, “Please, don’t take her away from me. I’m begging you completely.”

[werewolf-cl4ws]

Random head cannons for my AU because these require oddly specific questions I don’t think I’ve ever seen ask memes have.

A lot of these I do have something to back them up with, but others it's just logical hilarity to me because I can.

Kitty!Sonic:

- absolutely mistrusts/gets annoyed by anyone that is an "authority figure" (i.e. adults "in charge", leaders, etc) but does nothing to actually be useful. As a kid he was always told to listen to the adults because "they know best", but after the coup and seeing a good number of adults doing everything in their power to just save their own hides or hiding, it fucked him right off. Only adults he’s ever respected were his uncle and Rosie (Rosie took some time to gain that trust though because why the hell is she teaching us maths when people need help???). Bookshire is another but he does fight Bookshire on occasion because Sonic hates fussing with medical stuff.

This carried on into his own adulthood, and it’s hilarious whenever someone points out he’s the adult now as it sets off his aversion to being older, but if he has to be called an adult then damnit he’s gonna be a USEFUL one at least.

And yes he has confirmed on many occasions that he can and will flip off King Acorn if he plays up. What's he gonna do, ground him? Arrest his for treason? He flipped off Robotnik, he ain't scared of no thing.

- his uncle was brilliant with robotics and mechanics and science. Sonic has literally zero idea about any of those. And yet he’s weirdly good at chemistry. But he doesn’t get a lot of opportunities to use this so no one knows this, but Rotor has come by chemistry formulas mysteriously solved if he leaves them out on his workbench after a night of wracking his brains over why something isn’t working. How does Sonic know this? Nobody knows, Sonic will never tell either, and will deny he’s even good at it.

- he’s also very good at physics, in that he knows exactly how to break physics to do impossible shit. He’s great at figuring out just what angles he needs to shoot himself into to get the most air time, how much speed and lift to land in the exact spot, etc. It all happens automatically to him (it has to, going at the speeds he does there’s literally no time to plan this shit) but if someone asks him he will actually figure it out in the spot with freakishly good accuracy, and can do it not just with him being the projectile but any object (he has worked out perfect catapult trajectories before and it still baffles everyone to this day). Again, he doesn’t know how he knows this, will never tell anyone he knows how to do this, and will deny he knows this.

- he’s also good with musical instruments. Obviously his favourite is the electric guitar, but if you give him a sheet of music and at least an hour to mess around with the instrument he’ll work it out. Getting to watch him play the violin is a rare but delightful treat. This is his special interest, the thing he would have gotten into if the world hadn’t gone to shit. He doesn’t get to indulge in it as much as he’s like but he loves music and could ramble about it for hours on end if given the chance.

The con of this though is that he's really good at identifying music, including ones from operas and orchestras. Sally takes great delight in making him identify both because he does get embarrassed about it, but his pride doesn't allow him to just not pick them out.

- he likes to cook, but he prefers recipes that allow him to leave things to cook without him needing to watch it once it’s prepared. So baking, roasting, slow cook stuff like soups and chili, that’s his jam. Anything that’s gonna be a long haul he has to be basically trapped in his hut to do it without wanting to go nuts (so extra cold days where being outside would be hell are good cooking days).

- during the summer he sleeps in a hammock. During the winter he sleeps in a bed and practically buries himself in blankets.

- loves bubblegum. Gum balls, sticks of gum, whatever. If it’s gum he loves it. Unfortunately it is non existent thanks to the coup (shelf life of gum is terrible) so finding any that’s not terrible is an amazing day.

- milk and cookies is oddly a comfort food to him. Something about the simplicity of it just works for him, and ridiculously shit days are made better by it. Default choc chip cookies work best.

- he hates spiders. More specifically, he hates when you see a spider, look away, then look back only to find the spider is gone. Spiders themselves don’t bother him until they do that, but once they do he has to fight himself to not just set whatever building or dwelling he happens to be on fire in order to solve the issue of having to deal with it later.

- he’s about .0001 seconds away from just walking away into the forest and never coming back. He won’t do it because he honestly doesn’t want to abandon his friends… but he’s so close to just becoming a cryptic in the forest. He has wandered off before when things get super annoying, but someone always drags him back, much to his endless frustration.

Sally:

- can’t cook for anything. Sonic has seen her burn water. Toast somehow always ends in fire. No one ever attempt to drink her coffee for your own sake.

And yet somehow she makes really, really good pancakes. Like ridiculously good. She makes them very rarely because she’s always busy with something and has been banned from all kitchens, but when she does they’re amazing and no one can figure out how this happens.

- if she’s snacking on nuts or anything that doesn’t go soggy (like hard/dry fruits, or extra crusty breads) she will sometimes keep some in her cheeks. Not to the point that her cheeks will be bulging with them, but if she’s working while snacking she will just stash some away so she can focus on what she’s doing, and then when she’s done just finishes those off. This only happens when she needs to focus so she’s pretty discreet about this and has perfected talking/quick chewing with them if someone interrupts her.

- she loves video games, but because they’re so hard to come by thanks to the coup she doesn’t get to play as often as she’d like. She knows Sonic, Tails and Rotor has some stashed away and has played them on the sly, which has left them wondering how their high scores got beaten or how new levels have been unlocked. Though she has to be careful about this because if she’s left alone with them long enough she will just play them until either she finishes the game, or someone physically drags her away from it. This is probably her only weak point in terms of something that can just pull her away entirely from everything.

- she is very, very neat… only because she literally doesn’t make a mess of anything thanks to her one-track mind. If she’s working on a plan or something that needs a lot of research she will basically just make a pathway to her desk and bed and leave everything else undisturbed. She will still shower, only because the shower is just another place for her to think without interruption. This is a big factor on why she can’t cook for shit, too. She just… doesn’t. At all. Because she’s gotta work. Work is life because they may literally die if she can’t figure plans out

- she is genuinely fascinated by legends and myths, which we see a lot of in SatAM. Although she does sometimes dismiss some legends or myths as just stories, if she finds anything that even hints at it being real, and if time allows it, she will chase it down. If it’s anything that might be especially useful in their fight she will go for it after doing a ton of research to make sure she’s got every angle and possibility down. The researching to that extent is due to her own perfectionism, but also because if the expedition turns out to be a bust it could mean time that should have been spent on something else/time being away from the village for a crapshoot.

Sonic and Sally as a couple:

- they don’t use pet names for one another… until one of them is absolutely pushing their luck with the other. Pet names = stop it.

- Sally did once call Sonic a shit-weasel out of anger during such a scenario, and then was immediately apologetic for it because that was Too Far™. Sonic said that made him fall in love with her all over again and it was an awesome insult. Pet names are still a no-go though.

- they live together and everyone thinks it’s Sonic that would be the nightmare to live with.

It’s not.

It’s Sally.

Sonic does get messy and likes to live in organised chaos, but Sally just has the worst sleeping habits (she doesn’t sleep), functions mostly on auto-pilot (the amount of times she eats the last of something but leaves the box it came in/was stored in for Sonic to find drives him up the wall something shocking all because she’s just vaguely thinking "I need food I suppose" alongside whatever she’s doing at the time), and if she’s working on something big she will spread herself everywhere (including Sonic’s bed if he isn’t in it or on it in some way).

Sonic won’t move out because he genuinely thinks if he did Sally would never sleep at proper hours or eat like a regular person unless he monitors her. Plus they actually really do like each other’s company and do miss one another if they aren’t in the same space in their down time. But Sonic is constantly amazed at just how much of a gremlin Sally can be and no one believes him.

- Sally takes great delight in this and amps up her gremlin behaviour because of it. If she does this in front of anyone else it just gets encouraged. It’s okay though because Sonic knows how to be a bastard so it’s a constant battle of who can out bastard or out gremlin who.

- they sleep separately (see aforementioned sleeping habits of gremlin ground squirrel), but on occasion will share a bed. Or share the couch. Sharing will almost always result in Sonic being used as a pillow/mattress but he’s fine with it, as long as it means Sally’s sleeping and they get to cuddle ‘cause cuddling is great.

- Sally loves puns. Sonic has begged her not to say puns. He secretly loves them but he hates that he gets them (temporarily forgetting your own language, then relearning it is a trip and picking up the puns does things to his head). Sally does not stop the puns. This has led to Sonic almost achieving his goal of becoming a forest cryptic as he does just start walking out when she starts.

- this is kinda canon but I like to joke that they are actually legally married and this happened during their zone-hopping adventures. But the marriage itself happened in the most mundane way for the most mundane reason, and yet it is legally binding and they do actually have wedding rings from it. They don’t wear the rings but they do carry it on their person at all times, and pull them out just to blindside people with them because it’s funny.

[everafterkeiji]

Song: Getting Over You by Lauv

Summary: Unexpected things happen all the time but meeting him was one of the best parts of it.

Pairings: Atsumu Miya x gn!reader

Word count: 7.1k

Tags, Genre: implied enemies to semi lovers! trope, slight angst, curse words, timeskip! Atsumu

A/N: pls i didn't intend to change it last minute but pls let me know if u liked it cuz im still having second thoughts <3

“No- I’m sorry.” Atsumu says as you felt your heart snap and break into two distant pieces. You already limited your expectations but there was a miniature amount of hope that you held onto and that was when you should’ve lost your grip.

“It’s fine, ‘Tsumu.”

It obviously wasn’t. No matter how loud the cries of your heart were, what mattered to you in this moment was to forget it ever happened- to run away and never face another failed trial of love. Atsumu can see past your smile and he hated the way it had to end in a way he avoided. There would be a time where his feelings would be up to confrontation but when it finally happened, he’d became a coward.

He was late to realize what the outcomes could lead to. How certain was he that your paths would meet again? How was he sure that he can revert this scenario in a better way that he wanted when you were losing your hold onto him?

“I have to go but it was nice knowing you, Miya.” Your lips were tugged in a weak smile while he questions why his body lacked the power to move but what resumes to play in his mind was the way his name escaped your lips like it was a curse to say it.

Turning your heel, there was an ache in Atsumu’s head. Was it regret? His decisions tied in knots? His emotions unable to declutter themselves? Hesitantly, he reaches for you. His hand wrapped around yours as you glanced down on his soft skin you used to despise to get near to.

His eyes told you stories that were hard to decipher all at once. His stories didn’t start with a setting, it started and ended with you, not a single page where you weren’t there but it seems like the chapters you had in your own story were being torn off to erase the traces of false hope.

“Y/N, I'm so sorry.” He whispers while you felt his hand tighten to make sure that you could stay- even if it lasted for a minute because he wasn’t sure fate could spare you two another moment.

But then, you softly removed his hold on you while the cold sweat runs down his forehead.

“It’s okay, ‘Tsumu. We were just never meant for each other.”

We could’ve been.

-

“Thank you for your time.” You bid the player as both bow each other as a way of manner. You gathered your bag as the athlete turns to you with a kind smile.

“I enjoyed the interview. I’m impressed at how prepared and professional you are. How long have you been doing this?” He asks, adjusting his outfit while you toss your bag on your shoulder with your camera slung around your neck.

“There was a journalism club back in my high school and I joined in ever since I was a first year.”

“You’re in college now?”

“Yes, sir.” He chuckles at your formality while he gives a pat to your shoulder.

“That’s good to hear. Goodluck with everything- I believe that you’ve got bright things ahead of you.” Your heart fluttered at the compliment while you bid your goodbyes. You step out of the hotel feeling the satisfaction hit you like a prize. The report can finally be simplified into a few more subtle fixes and maybe by 1am, you’d be able to present it to your professor without doubting your work.

Sighing happily, you decided to reward yourself to a lovely lunch with a view you often visited due to a reminiscent feeling that bubbles in your system. After ordering, you sat outside admiring the way the sun sets and leaves a lasting beauty before the moon shows.

The stress was fading from you. You had expected that the project would’ve taken weeks for you to finish knowing that some retired athletes usually avoid questions to why they left the sport they used to love. You had called a few, a struck of confidence was enough to make you do so but they often cancel your request because they either paid attention to your young age or because they weren’t ready to be asked such personal questions about them. You were lucky to score and interview with a well-known athlete whose had his fair share of the spotlight during his early 20’s. Sadly, his retirement was due to an accident and his weak body levels couldn’t bare the adrenaline of the sport. He was kind, patient, and understanding. Ever since he agreed, your attention was on the questions you’d lay upon him seeing that this was an opportunity you can’t waste. After gathering some of his past glories, you narrowed down your interrogation on what remains important to benefit the topic of your project. You were more than proud because of the compliment he had given you and the fact that you might be able to catch a break after a hectic week.

Opening your camera and flicking through the photos to decide on which you were going to use. Suddenly, a photo meets your sight. The peak of blonde and gray hair with a uniform that you missed.

The Inarizaki Volleyball Team.

Most especially, him.

A few years has passed since you’ve seen him and his brother. Osamu’s last interaction with you was filled with nothing but sweet memories and a hug that you could never forget the warmth of, while Atsumu’s last memory with you remained bittersweet- like a sour flavor in his tongue that never left. You tried too hard to forget fragments of your time with him but because of how much work you put yourself through, you lost time to reflect on the moments that didn’t hurt.

Half of your high school life was compressed into confusing parts of your story.

But the chapter that seems to be the most influential part of it, was where you got to meet the blonde who has stomped on your heart.

It was funny to be remembered as a person who had the guts to sneeze during the great Miya setters serve.

“Achoo!”

You immediately cover your face with your handkerchief as your sneeze echoed through the gym making Atsumu’s hand lose its power because he was stunned by the sound, the ball hitting the net instead as he almost hits Aran who was wide eyed that ball went his way. The team could hear Osamu’s ‘uh-oh’ and it was enough for them to know what the setter feels after the unfortunate event.

Atsumu grits his teeth as the other team cheers knowing they got the score while his head jolts to the crowd, aggressively searching for the one who messed up his serve. Even eyeing his fans who got scared by the way he turned his head in their direction.

Meanwhile, you’ve got glares surrounding you as your friend nudges you, letting out an exhale of disbelief that you’ve got death stares.

“We’ll get the next point ‘Tsumu, don’t worry.” Osamu says landing a hand to his brothers' shoulder while Atsumu readies himself for the serve of the opposite team.

“Whatever.”

After that certain match, Atsumu was more than determined to hunt down whoever caused the flunk of his serve. Silly as it is, he’s never heard someone dare to speak during his serve. He’d always let out a hand signal for them to be quiet- let it be known that if someone spoke, he’d be fine with it but a whole sneeze? He’d never let it go, especially when it resonated in his ears.

So, imagine the look on his face when he hears the exact same sound when he was just stopping by his locker.

“Fucking dust.” You said sniffling as you closed the door to your locker, and you were face to face with a wide-eyed Miya Atsumu holding out his finger and pointing it to you, as if he was accusing you of murder.

“It’s you!” He shouts making you raise your eyebrow at him, but the raise of his voice had intimidated you.

“What?” You asked him, not finding a single clue on whatever he was pertaining to.

“You messed up my serve by sneezing.” He says in the tone of ‘as-a-matter-of-fact’ making you lick your lips, a hand to your hip as you looked at him.

“I’m not apologizing for something I can’t control.” You were completely baffled by this man. Sure, you were his classmate, but this was your first year and you barely cared to take notice of all of them, only focusing on your school group that had you busy.

“You could’ve held it for like 2 more seconds at least.” You blinked before letting out a tired exhale as you eye him up and down. The setter of the school's volleyball team, you were aware of that because of how many matches you’ve been dragged to, but he’s never come up to you before.

This was a whole other introduction.

“Miya, right?” You asked him as he steps forward, looking down on you with a sly smirk.

“I guess I’m sorry.”

Atsumu stays silent for a few seconds but returns to his angry pout as he continues to stare at you.

“What’s your name?” Atsumu asks, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“Y/N.”

From thereon, it looked like your life’s plot had spiked up. Atsumu was- you could call it as a miscalculation. Someone so loud and had his ego constantly fed was not someone you would stick around due to your strict schedule of balancing schoolwork and papers from your club. It was like a bump in the road wherein the objects in your car would’ve been juggled around because of the impact- that's what it felt like. Thinking that two years would’ve passed by like a breeze, time slowed down with him. The constant bickering and arguments were embedded in you like a tattoo. The way his cackle would echo through your ears when he’d struck a nerve to you, the way he’d purposely call you nicknames you swore you hated, to the same jokes can be dragged on for hours, and how every fiber of your body promised you’d leave when you’ve had enough.

But promises were always broken.

You stuck around and he did too. Atsumu provided you with his trust and company whenever you needed it. It’s a pleasant experience but it surely wasn’t at its best. What comes with it were headaches and harsh words but having a person who knew you until graduation and stayed was a different reason. He was a familiar, a person who isn’t a call away when you needed it but being in their presence would give you a pinch of comfort.

Maybe the only thing you can thank Atsumu for is getting to know his twin brother.

You accidentally sent a text to Osamu about you panicking about a missing file to be passed the following day and Osamu was up and ready to help you locate it. After finding it, you decided to treat him for being a life saver and he of course, was having the time of his life for the free food- it was also his favorite restaurant at that moment. During this time, you’ve got to talk more about each other. Months pass now Osamu and you were way better friends than you and his brother.

You and Osamus’ bond were the type that was just so serene, hardly any type of judgement when you’d bring up a problem, and all secrets were kept tight.

Osamu was the shoulder you can lean on, while Atsumu’s would shove your head away when you do so.

Your friendship drifted away when Atsumu stabbed your heart with the words “No.” and “I’m sorry.” You hesitated that day, to dial Osamu’s phone the way you used to, but it never happened. Your sobs muffled your voice and if you called him, he’d never understand a word that you’d say.

The opposite is that Osamu would understand everything.

Because you and Atsumu mirrored the same amount of pain.

He’d never seen his brother so- ruined. Atsumu’s thin walls didn’t shield his shouts of sorrow while Osamu withstood every bit of the torture show his brother had. Checking him on the next day, the setter was fast asleep with bags under his eyes and a red nose, clutching onto his pillow so tightly.

Osamu knew that day that the damage has been done and not a single band aid would mend the two shattered hearts.

-

Atsumu strolls to the around looking for a restaurant along with his teammates. The sun has fully set making the streets of Japan light up with how busy and crowded they were. Bokuto and Hinata were busy pointing at stands that had their favorite slabs of meat while Sakusa trails behind them with a mask, wanting to be removed from the push of people. As the eyes of the blonde land on a certain stand with multiple notes stuck onto a board, he smiles fondly. He then sees two kids running with smiles on their lips as they held each other's hand, obviously excited to explore the night.

“Come on, don’t be a wuss.” Atsumu says as you rolled your eyes and thought hard about his hand that was held out in front of you. Atsumu grunts before taking your hand in his before you could even decide properly. You followed his lead as he walked you through the sea of people. You were nervous that he had left practice to accompany you. Observing you from afar, you looked devastated, but you continued the rest of the day with a smile like nothing happened. Seeing that you looked dull talking to Karou, he pulled you away from whatever void of sadness you surrounded yourself in.

“Atsumu shouldn’t you be at practice?” You asked sighing, still with his hand in yours as you stopped by a stand.

“I should be but whatever that Karou did is obviously hurting you, you idiot.” Your eyes widened at his statement and this reaction confirmed his suspicions as anger forms inside of him. What could that boy have done to get you this upset? Did he physically hurt you? Atsumu hated how he cared- it wasn’t his business to meddle with but the frown on your lips was something he wanted to remove from you.

“Thank you.” You muttered as he buys you the same thing he ordered. He sees how you weren’t as colorless as before. The lights of the night brought saturation to your features as his eyes adored every feature of yours.

“It’s nothing.”

“Atsumu-san?” Hinata asks, tapping the boy on the shoulder while the blonde awakens from his escape.

Atsumu looks around once more, seeing that there wasn’t a trace of you, he moves on.

Like he was supposed to do in the first place.

-

“For our new assignment, why don’t we take the vice versa of your last project. Retirement is inescapable but why not find the reason they’d got into the sport. What makes it so exhilarating and unforgettable? That will be our topic this week. I’m giving you a week for interviews, photos, and articles. Video format is more suited for this task. Is that clear?” You all nodded as you wrote down the list of possible athletes to meet, jotting down an outline of some key points to remember.

“A tip for you all: look for the younger generations. It doesn’t matter to me what status the athlete stands in right now, it could be a friend or even a child. What I’m looking for the depths of the details in your research.” The professor stands making all of you bid him goodbye as he walks out of the room. You gathered your notebooks, sighing that you won’t have the time to properly rest- an exam was near right at the submission of your new task. You realized that you needed to sort out the things you were required to do before everything would pile up and get tangled in the short amount of time.

Who should I interview? God, everyone is so busy at this season. You thought. It’s true- you realized that matches were always lined up by this month. You also had classes to attend to and your mind could collapse at any given moment. You were more than worried about organizing your time properly but the feeling that you’d have several sleepless nights haunts you. You wished he could have extended the submission- though it didn’t get any better since after exams you tended to be drained from studying all night.

Going back to your apartment, you decided to put sticky notes all over your wall to help you sort out your priorities. Tomorrow would be Saturday meaning that you’ve done all the works to be passed on Monday and that you had zero meetings or classes. Saturday and Sunday would be divided to work parts, by Monday you should be up and running to work again.

You couldn’t let go of this group. It had given you countless of opportunities- even an offering to be an editor at a well-known magazine agency. You were in queue for the letter, so you decided to continue with the tasks of the group. You were thankful that you got used to the craziness of it all. The ability to multitask, to put the phone down once in a while, managing your time, those were just one of the benefits of getting used to it. The things you hated was that you barely had time for yourself. To lounge and just do nothing never met with what you were doing. You envied how some people from your group would plan some hang outs during a busy week and you always questioned how they managed to do it all without panicking.

You yawned as you felt your stomach growl at the scent of the delicious street food. Seeing that you fell short on money because the amount that was in your wallet was enough for your way home, it meant you’d have to wait to eat dinner until you came home. Letting out a groan you decided to walk your way even if you get shoved. God, you were starving and exhausted. The emotions were starting to fill you the more you moved. It didn’t help that everyone was so loud. You could hear the sound of the cackles from the drunken men in the corner, the cries of the baby that brought irritation to your eardrums and even the off-key singing of a (possibly) drunk girl at karaoke. You just wanted to cover your ears and crawl back to your bed not caring if you’d only be able to get 2 or 3 hours of sleep.

As you walked, you felt a boiling pile of liquid drip to your stomach making you let out a yelp as your clothes were drenched in the coffee stain that you despised. The liquid got to your skin making you wince at just how it impacted on your skin. You felt your eyes water as the woman tried to pat away the drink but instead made it worse because you wanted the fabric to be away from you as possible- which was the opposite of what she was doing.

“Oh my god- I'm so sorry.” She kept saying while patting your abdomen while you tried to wave her off, but she kept going making the tears flow from your eyes as you chose to walk away, covering your face at how humiliated you were. You sobbed in your hands as you bumped into someone before removing them from your face to find a bench to sit on but seeing that people were already turning their heads to look at you, you’ve had enough already.

Finally finding your bus stop, you sat down burying your face in the palm of your hands sobbing as your mind replays how you’ve made a fool out of yourself for the last time. Everything was going terribly and you didn’t know how to control it without losing your cool. Sure, you’ve managed to escape the people but the feeling is still badly glued to you.

“Is everything okay?”

Someone asks but the voice became a blur to you because you were so focused on your sobs and the unstable breathing.

“Go away.” You whispered but there was a weight added to your left side as you kept your face hidden behind your hands.

“I shouldn’t have asked.” The man says looking down before standing up to leave the bench, making you intake in a sharp exhale, relieved he left.

“Why does everything have to be so fucking difficult? How am I gonna interview a volleyball player at this state?” You rambled on thinking that guy has exited your business and was free from companion.

“I mean- we’re not close- but I’m a volleyball player?”

You wiped your eyes as your heart started to run a mile now that you’ve familiarized yourself with his voice.

Lifting your head, there in front of you was the one thing that your heart had wished to see.

“Atsumu?”

His eyes widen as his chest expands, his heart growing ten times bigger than it was while it beats like a drum on heavy metal song.

“Y/N- I didn’t know- wow.” Breathless, speechless, weak- those were the words that defined your emotions. You wanted to pass out- to act like you just mistaken him for a person but he was real and you had a hard time believing it.

“Atsumu?" God, he missed it. The way his name would fall of those taunting lips of yours. The tone in your voice leading him back to the memories that he couldn’t push away.

You had to believe it. There was no other way that your starvation can make you this delusional. You called his name like you were unsure that he was ever real- like a character your brain had developed to cope with your sorrows. You dared to touch him, maybe if you did it would be a wisp of air but you were scared that if you reached out to him, you could feel his skin and remember how you wanted it to be within your grasp all the time.

Perhaps it’s a dream but this time you’d never want to wake up if this was the only way you can be together.

“Y/N..I- how are you?” How could he manage to act so civil? Your presence shocked him like electricity in his veins, pumping his heart at an unusual speed. His voice was unsteady and low, experiencing the same thoughts like you.

It’s like he was dragged back to your last encounter. Seeing your eyes filled with so much agony and how you looked so torn from his rejection, it’s the same look that you had now. It’s like his eyes were playing a risky game with him but he couldn’t complain since he’s been wanting to see you ever since you let go.

“Well, I’m burned-out that’s for sure.” You said with a light chuckle as he sits back down, wondering if it’d be alright to be close to you.

“What’s this interview about?” He asks, fiddling with the strings of his jacket while you tore your eyes away from him because you knew the admiration for him would erupt anytime soon.

“What got athletes into the sport in the first place.” Atsumu places his finger under his chin, thinking deeply about what offer he just made.

It’d mean that he could be in the same room with you for more than the hours he spent crying to himself but why waste the chance? You needed it- heck you wouldn’t be this distraught if you weren’t so affected by it. There was a never-ending list of things to do but meeting with Atsumu wasn’t even in your list of expectations because you were over with hoping into something that takes a miracle.

But he is the miracle.

“Atsumu..I don’t want you to see me like this.” You said, looking down on your hands that were on your lap, letting your hair fall in front of you to avoid his concerned gaze.

“What do you mean?”

“I haven’t seen you in years, this is not what I planned to look like when I first see you.” Atsumu feels his heart frown at how low you spoke of yourself, but he understood. If you saw him in the state that you were in right now, he too would feel like he could’ve done or look better, even at least handle the situation without crumbling apart.

He knew you were in a troubled place of your mind but he just wonders where you could talk about why everything fell apart.

He missed the way it was casual to talk to you. Maybe an insult as a greeting, or a flick to the arm but he never expected to talk to you with his heart dropping in your hands. He just couldn’t forget the way you’d let him go that day during graduation, it’s almost like the sensation was still lingering around his palm even if he held a ball.

He just wished he said yes, only then, you’d be meant for each other.

“Do you mean it?” You asked sighing, not baring the weight of his silence. The pace of his heart quickens as he starts to worry if this was the confrontation that he held back all these years.

“The interview.” He was more than glad to do it. He was thankful that you weren’t talking about the bad memories or the circle of tension you two were in.

He looks at you while another strike was given to his heart seeing you this way. He’d do everything to bring back the color in your features.

“Of course.”

You smiled at his words as you both stand up but you felt conscious about the stain that was still stuck to your shirt making you desperately try to hide it by pulling your bag to the messed up section. Atsumu didn’t know that the person he had followed was the same person that got coffee dipped down on them. He didn’t recognize you at first because you had your hands covering your cries. He was worried for you when you ran off but when he knew it was you, he couldn’t believe if it was luck or a granted wish.

“Just wear this.” He says, handing you placing his jacket on your shoulders as your heart flutters at how he looked at you, completely filled with sincerity and the way his hand stayed on your shoulder.

“What the fuck do you want?” He asks you with a knife-like stare, purposely bumping harshly into you.

“Wow Miya, I was just walking.” You said returning the same fuel that he had.

“Then get out of my way then.”

“Thank you.” You said smiling lightly. He catches a glimpse of your smile and he feels his world light up at the sight of it.

I missed you.

“So where to?” He asks as you walk beside him just like old times. His height still intimidating you but it was still difficult to believe that this was the same Atsumu you had fallen for in high school.

“My apartment. We missed the bus so I hope it’s okay for you to wait.”

“I can always drive us there.” You’ve never whipped your head faster than this moment. You always trusted Osamu when he said that Atsumu couldn’t be a better driver than his own brother because Atsumu liked to rev up the engine like one of those scenes in a movie.

With the thought in your mind, you laughed.

Atsumu stops walking as he lets himself dwell at the sound of it.

Then there was a smile that he couldn’t contain.

“Sorry for laughing, ‘Tsumu. Never pictured you to have a car earlier than ‘Samu that’s all.” You explained as he chuckles, continuing to be beside you, a place that he finds himself to be the happiest.

“Yeah yeah I get it- I’m a little careless but not all the time y’know?” He says while he leads the way. The breeze felt comfortable now, it had a tweak of coldness but maybe it was just the atmosphere of you two.

When you walked to his car and told him your address, there was another silence but you tried to tell yourself that this was just Atsumu. Nothing to be worried about because you’ve known him for too long to act like all distant.

This is Atsumu- that's every reason that there is to feel nervous around him.

“How long have you been living there?” He asks while you started to feel just how badly you wanted to give in to sleepiness. You shifted once in a while to control yourself from falling asleep in his damn car. Every urge to just lay quiet for a while but you knew this would lead to a deep slumber.

“Ever since graduation.” You answered, annoyed that his jacket was inviting you to lay there and sleep away your stress though you were scared that once you wake up- Atsumu would be gone again.

“And you didn’t call to tell me about it?” He jokes but the chuckle that he expected never came because he knew just how awkward it’d be if you actually called just for that sole reason. Atsumu bites his lip at his failed attempt to drag the conversation on.

Then you giggled.

“I wanted to but I wouldn’t wanna bother the famous MSBY player.” You said smiling at him, proud that he continued on. You knew from Osamu of course, a single update when he had mentioned how well his restaurant had become, you also saw them in a poster once, even recognizing a few of his past opponents.

“Well, it would be a shame.”

There you are.

You finally arrived at your apartment and again you felt the slice of satisfaction as you removed your shoes and placed them on the table. You were partly thankful that your apartment was clean since you never have the time to spend a whole day in it only coming home late at night. Atsumu looks around as you prepare him a drink and a few snacks-it'd be rude not to.

Atsumu sees the photos where you won several awards for your loyalty and hardwork at your club. He sees how time passes and you grew into a version of you that he finds even more flawless then before. Your equipment and how everything was organized on your desk, he knew how much things changed because he used to see you doubt yourself every time you’d finish a paper but now you won awards because of them.

“Atsumu, is it alright if I shower real fast?” You asked while he raises a brow at you confused that you had to ask for his permission.

“Of course, Y/N- you didn’t have to ask.” He said chuckling while he sits on the couch, letting his eyes wonder around.

“I promise I’ll be back.”

“Please don’t rush yourself. Take yer time. “ He says while you smile at him before dashing to your room to gather new clothes, feeling like you’ve won a lottery with how happy you were to remove the coffee drenched top, tossing it to your laundry bin while you step into the shower enjoying the way the water decorated your skin, cleansing it from all the worries. While Atsumu scrolls on his phone to ease himself from the anxiousness. His finger would casually glide over Osamu’s phone number, to ask him what to do.

After a few minutes, you stepped out of the shower like a whole new person. You saw the way Atsumu’s eyes lit up when you walked in but you pushed the thought away. He pats the seat next to him while you grabbed your notebook and pen, ready to scribble down the questions.

“Are there any uncomfortable questions you’d want to avoid?” You asked him while he shakes his head while you took note of the possible questions.

“Is it okay for the interview to be filmed?” He nodded while you leaned onto the pillow, sighing happily at how you’ve managed to calm down from the pile of embarrassment earlier.

“Thank you for doing this, ‘Tsumu- really you don’t know how much I appreciate you for this.” You said leaning your cheek on the side of the couch as Atsumu copies your actions staring at you lovingly.

“You’re welcome, Y/N.” He says smiling while you returned to write a list of questions for him. With every time you look down on your notebook, Atsumu’s eyes never left you while his mind recalls every moment where he msised the opportunity to tell you just how beautiful you were.

Soon, you’ve fallen asleep while he lets the feeling sink in.

I’ve never wanted to hold you more than I do now.

He sighs before placing the blanket on your body while he kneels down and tucks a piece of hair behind your ear, his finger tracing your cheek.

“You’ll never know how much I missed you.” He whispers while you shifted in your sleep meeting his face. Before he stands up, he feels you reach for him while he’s left surprise at your touch.

“Stay please.” You whispered while he smiles weakly, placing a kiss on your forehead.

“I always will.”

-

The morning comes and you felt the blush creep on your cheeks remembering how easily you felt asleep. You wondered if Atsumu stayed, if he left- you couldn’t really blame him. So yawning and stretching when you woke up, you certainly didn’t expect to see Atsumu cooking you some breakfast. You couldn’t even move your legs, every part of you has gone stiff just admiring the way he moves.

“Hey, good morning.” He greets with a wave, a spatula in his hand, a bright smile tugged on his lips.

“Atsumu- oh god I’m so sorry.” You said as you went to him. You caught a whiff of what he was cooking and you swore you could’ve drooled knowing you didn’t even got the chance to eat dinner. Atsumu knew that of course so he called Osamu up in the morning to serve you the best breakfast he could ever make. He was initially supposed to make you dinner but you fell asleep before he could do it so this was his rebound.

“Idiot, it’s fine. Just sit down on the table and I’ll prepare the food.”

“Atsumu-“

“Just go, Y/N. I promise it’s okay- you deserve to rest before you work again.” You couldn’t even think properly with his words. It was so minimum but it was something you’d forget to do- rest. Hearing him remind you that sets a new feeling in your system. You did obey him though, you sat on the table as he even handed you coffee for him and you, placing the breakfast on the table. God, he was everything. You thought that after a few years, you two would completely drift apart but it seems like you were wrong for the hundredth time.

“Please don’t even think about ways to thank me, it’s nothing to me. “ He says taking the seat next to you while you place the food on his plate. You couldn’t even utter a word at how grateful you were for him and he’d be happy to get used to seeing you first thing in the morning.

“Atsumu, after breakfast can we have a run down of the questions first?” You asked him, growing more comfortable.

“Yeah sure.”

-

You sat on the couch, placing your camera on the table aligning it to the best possible angle as Atsumu sits down in front of you. You had your notebook on your lap as he praises how you looked so professional even if it was just a practice.

“Ready?” You asked while he nods with a smile as you pressed the camera to shoot so you could keep your composure, even if you struggled to.

“What does the sport mean to you?” You asked him, your eyes glimmering with the suns rays hitting it perfectly, while the words were removed from Atsumus mind. Seeing his hesitation, you decided to reassure him.

“It’s fine if you can’t answer straight away. I can always change the question if you like.” You commented, smiling at him to make sure he doesn’t feel rushed to answer. He nods, still not finding the exact same words to describe what he wanted to say.

“I’ll change the question for now.” You said while he let’s out a sigh before listening to you once again.

“What was the biggest struggle in your career?” He sends you a worried stare but his mind nearly bursts at his answer.

“Getting over you.”

You dropped your pen on the couch as Atsumu continued to speak since this was the answer his heart was sure of responding to.

“I tried to forget- I did. For every year that passes, the more fucking harder it gets to act like I didn’t love you back when you walked away.”

“Atsumu-“

“I know I said no- I was too late to realize how stupid I was to be scared of falling for you. I couldn’t let myself be the man who could love you when all this time I tried to hate you because I knew I would hurt you- and I already did.”

We get hurt a lot but it doesn’t mean I won’t come back to you.

Love grew and died during your second year at Inarizaki.

Before Atsumu, you found Karou. A boy who was a new recruit to your group whose helped you multiple times and has shared a conversation with you about your similar likes. There was this strange infatuation with him that even Osamu had to question how deep was the bite of love on you. You’ve fallen, of course. Occasionally leaving notes on his desk to just let him know how he made your day but it never worked. He would only paste the note on another persons desk like it was nothing. Not even getting the reaction you wanted, it felt too normal when it shouldn’t be. Realizing how this was just rejection in the shadows, you gave up. Obviously heart broken at the mere thought of how your chances were blown away. When Atsumu saw how gloomy you were that day, he had to show you how much you didn’t need Karou and there grew a different bond between the both of you.

And with a bond like that, you became attached to him.

It was all becoming clearer and clearer as you realized that you fell for the wrong person first.

“You’re too stupid to fall for a douche like him. “ He says kicking the rock that was in front of him.

“You’re lucky with that admirer of yours, Miya. I’ve never seen someone stick around you for so long.” You teased. It’s true the half of the twin hearthrob has gotten himself a sincere admire. It wasn’t one of his crazy fans- this was a person who genuinely cared for him and the words on every note he received would make the poor boy blush uncontrollably and you envied how he’s yet to realize that he too was falling for this unknown person.

While you two were oblivious to the slip up of the universe, it took a toll on you.

Because the notes you’d leave on Karous desk, always ended up on Atsumu’s instead.

“I wanna meet them so bad. Just to see if they actually care and it’s not a prank. They haven’t given me a note and it’s been what a month? I doubt it was ever real.”

“With the amount of effort they gave, I’m sure it was real.”

It’s real for me even if it shouldn’t be.

There wasn’t any other way then to accept the feelings that stayed on your skin. The moments where you thought that being around Atsumu would bring you stressful banters and more, it turned into butterflies that surrounded your room. You chose to deny it at first but remembering that graduation and good-byes were near, you had to tell him at some point.

And when you did, you poured your heart out and not even a single drop was caught.

“Last words before I forget your dumbass?” He taunts while you felt your sweat drip down the side of your forehead as you couldn’t control it anymore. You wondered if there was a simple word to describe just how much you adored him without turning it into a whole speech. This was it- you had to do it or else you’d end up being stuck on the feeling of loving him.

“I..like you Atsumu and I can’t say good-bye without telling you.”

Then there was the awful silence that he gave making you clutch onto your shirt, preparing you for the worst.

But by the way he looked so terrified and frozen, you knew.

“Atsumu?”

“No- I’m sorry.”

“And I don’t know what I’d do if I let you leave again.” He whispers as he leans closer to you, taking your hands in his while your ability to speak has been taken away by how gentle he was as his thumb caresses your hand and a look that looked so fragile.

He takes his hand and cups your cheek, pulling you close to him as his vulnerability increases.

“Do you feel the same too?” He was being so careful because a wrong choice of a word could make it all fall apart again and you could feel how tense he was but he holds you like a gem- something so beautiful that it’d cost him his life if he ever dropped you.

Your hand lands on the same hand that was on your cheek while Atsumu’s eyes widen remembering how you neglected to hold his hand before.

But it stayed.

Closing your eyes and melting in his touch, you spoke.

“I never stopped loving you, Atsumu.”

He lets his forehead rest on yours, a smile on his lips, who was soon to be on yours.

“Then be mine all over again.”

[exosmuttytalk]

Exols Secret Santa 2020

This is my Exols Secret Santa present for @jissoyaa​ 

I hope you had a wonderful and warm Christmas and that you enjoy my belated present!

PROFESSIONAL

Characters: Byun Baekhyun, unnamed OC.

Rating: Mature (but not a lot)

Word count: ~3000

Summary: Adapting to a new job is never easy, especially with an attractive boss criticising your every move.

As soon as the last chords of the song stopped playing, Baekhyun stormed off the stage, clutching the earpiece he’d ripped off mid live performance. You bumped into each other at the turn of a corner and that only seemed to increase his anger despite the fact that the person he was looking for was, in fact, you. His fingers wrapped around your wrist to raise your hand and he forcefully put the earpiece in your palm.

“I don’t think you have noticed, but this has been shocking me since the music started,” he explained harshly.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Maybe the wire isn’t connected properly…?” You trailed off as you started to examine the faulty piece. 

“I don’t know if it’s connected or not, that’s your job and not mine. This is a beginner’s mistake. Please, do your job.”

Despite not having raised his tone, the severity on his words made you recoil enough for him to swiftly walk away in direction to the dressing room. You were in the verge of tears when you saw two of the other members walking down the hallway in search of their own rooms. Kyungsoo gave you a sympathetic look. 

“It’s okay, those things are awful. We’ve all been shocked once or twice, at least.” 

You faked a smile in response. 

“I’m sorry in his behalf. He’s not usually like this, but it’s been an exceptionally hard time for him.”Junmyeon’s excuse for his friend didn’t really make up for the fact that the short time you had been working as a manager for Baekhyun had been, simply put, awful. Although you had already been working in the industry for quite some time and had acted as a manager temporarily for other idols, you had only been able to half-ass his demands and had been the cause of delay at least a couple of times. The pace at which they worked was way faster than what you were used to, and Baekhyun hadn’t been merciful. The stress was starting to get to you.

“Thank you both,” you straightened up and gulped your tears. “But he’s right. I haven’t been on top of my game, as you deserve. I’ll do better and everything will be better.”

“I’ll try to talk to him,” Junmyeon nodded understandingly.

......................

Water, bottled, check.

Sweetened green tea, bottled, check.

Red tea, in bags, check.

Instant ramen, check.

Fruit (strawberries), check.

Towels, hands and body, check.

Outfit cases 1, 2, 3, check.

Lapel microphone, 2, check.

Hand held microphone, 2, check.

Earpiece and batteries, 2, check.

It was the third time you went through the papers that listed everything necessary in the dressing room and the second time you stopped at that exact point to check on the item which had caused the most trouble last time. You had not yet seen Baekhyun again and had only contacted him through text messages to tell him the time he’d need to be at the venue and ask for any other requests, which he had only answered with a formal “no need, thank you”.

You were still fumbling with the earpiece when the sudden opening of the door startled you and made you drop what you in your hands between your feet and the just arrived Baekhyun. His eyes dropped down to the shattered earpiece on the floor and then slowly back up to meet yours.

“I had to wear that today.”

His fixed stare was already starting to wear off the confidence you had worked so hard to build over the last two days. You stumbled over your words until an idea popped into your mind. It was okay. You were prepared for such a scenario.

“I have a backup earpiece. In case anything happened to the first one.”

“Hmm,” Baekhyun nodded seriously, his eyes were scanning the rest of the room and came to a halt when he found the basket of assorted fruit, which displayed a hefty amount of the strawberries you had found through another member of the staff he liked. “Everything seems in order. Please, go find the stylist.”

.........................................................

You got to watch the interview the group gave from the outer part of the stage and couldn’t help but notice how different Baekhyun’s demeanor was in comparison to when he talked only to you. As it had been normal through the years the group had been on the spotlight, Baekhyun stole the spotlight with his bright smile, bubbly personality and witty comments. Polar opposite of the cold, distant and sometimes downright mean person he had been to you. It would’ve come as a lie if you told yourself you weren’t the slightest bit disappointed by this turn of events.

By the time Exo debuted you had already been working in the industry for some time and knew pretty much everything there was to know about the idol life. Still, you couldn’t help but be smitten by the presence of one particular member. That initial infatuation, luckily for you, subsided through the years and let way to a deep appreciation and admiration for the man that now was technically your boss. The same man who had motivated you to do better in your own career and who was, ultimately, the reason why you had chosen to take the plunge and apply for SM. The same man who had turned out to be…standoffish, for lack of a better term to describe him.

It definitely was a disappointing turn of events, but you were determined to be the better person and the better professional. 

As the performance unfolded, you watched Baekhyun intently; prepared in case a situation like the other day’s should arise again. But it didn’t. Everything went swimmingly and the group was all bows and smiles as they exited the stage. 

You tried to disguise the smug expression in your face when you walked up to Baekhyun and handed him a hand towel and a bottle of water before he even asked for it, but your smile grew wider when he seemed surprised to see you there and well prepared for the occasion. 

“Is there anything else I can help you with?” you asked solicitously.

“That’s all I need now, thank you.” 

“Would you maybe like to have lunch in the dressing room? The catering service seems pretty good here, better than the dry noodles, I feel.”

“Uhh…yes, I think that would be nice.”

“I’ll take care of that,” you responded before turning around to leave, crossing eyes with Junmyeon, who was showing off his best reassuring smile towards you. 

........................................

Precariously balancing the tray holding the plates of food against your hip, you knocked loudly on the door of the dressing room for the second time. Still no answer, so you pushed the door open and came into the seemingly empty room. The room offered the same neat appearance as when you left earlier in the morning. You had already started arranging the plates on the countertop when rustling came from the door at your back that lead to the bathroom.

After considering the possibilities, you tiptoed as silently as possible towards the door, hoping to get out of there as soon as possible. But it was too late. The door slid open and out came Baekhyun, one of the towels you had carefully arranged that morning wrapped against his waist and wet hair sticking out in all directions.

His eyes met yours and no one said a thing, but you were trying to calculate how likely this was to be the last straw that would finally get you fired.

“That’s a lot of food,” he said, diverting his gaze towards the food arrangement.

“I knocked,” you answered without processing his words.

“Yeah, I know.”

“But I knocked twice.”

“Yeah. I know.”

His nonchalance about the whole thing caught you off guard, your hand in the door knob as you watched him move across the room to the table, still in the towel and seemingly not caring about his partial nakedness. The spicy side dishes caught his attention first and he started eating right away. He picked one of the empty plates and handed it over to you, not much thought into the action. His eyes went back to search for you when you didn’t pick the plate. He was still chewing when he said:

“Eat up. We can’t be throwing that much food away.”

He filled up a plate of his own and sat down in one of the rotating chairs, looking at you standing there, awkwardly.

“Are you gonna turn me down?”

“No! No, no!”

You rushed to the table and filled up part of your plate. As unusual as the situation might have been, it was already two hours past your lunch time and the food looked delicious. You sat down and started eating in silence, trying hard not to brazenly look at the half naked man in front of you.

“Look, I wanted to talk to you,” he blurted before taking a gulp of water.

“Okay…”

“Junmyeon has…brought to my attention how unwelcoming I have been since we started working together.”

“I wanted to talk about it to you too,” you interjected. He seemed surprised but you didn’t back down. “I don’t want to beat around the bush anymore. I know you don’t like me. I have made mistakes, I’ll admit that. Still, if you feel I am not a good fit for the position, I’ll ask the company to reassign me with someone else.”

“I don’t think that’s necessary. It’s not your fault.”

“It’s not my fault?”

He just shrugged as a response.

“Then why are you being such an ass?” 

Your hand darted up to cover your mouth as soon as the words came out.Baekhyun just looked at you fixedly. Then, he left out a small chuckle that grew little by little until it became full blown laughter. The ridiculousness of the situation puzzled you, so you just stayed silent until his laughing fit subsided.

“He, he…he… You have some temper huh?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say that,” you eyes dropped down to your lap where you still held you plate, heat creeping up to your cheeks.

“No, no! It’s okay, really. I found it really funny. Are you going to cry!?” he slid across the floor towards you to grab your free hand.

The sweet gesture caught you off guard, but you didn’t get to pull you hand away before he let go off it first. He stood up and walked around the room, his hands clutching the hair at the back of his head; but his expression was neutral again when he sat back down on his chair.

“My previous manager had been with me since the beginning. He didn’t leave; he was fired after he had some issues with a superior. We all interceded for him, but there was no use. He was like family to me and it’s been hard adjusting.” His eyes traveled aimlessly through the room and he let out a sigh. “But it’s not your fault and you have been improving. I’m sorry for being unfair.”

He seemed genuine and you wore your heart in your sleeve. You reached towards him and grabbed his hand the same way he had tried to comfort you earlier. Mind you, your intertwined hands were resting on top of his toweled thigh, dangerously close to…

“I should get going!”

You stood up as if you had been shocked, sending the plate that sat on your thighs to the floor. Immediately after, you kneeled down, trying to pick up the mess and leave as soon as possible. Baekhyun also wanted to help, and leaned in at the precise same moment as you did. Your heads bumped into each other and the impact made you fall down on your butt.

“Oh, God, are you okay?”

As he rubbed the sore spot on his forehead, he held his hand out but miscalculated the strength he’d need to help you stand up, which made you bump into his chest and hold onto him for balance.The sequence of blunders had left you at a loss for words, but he still sported a mocking half smile as he looked at you intently. Being so close to him, you were able to smell his shower gel.

“So… do you forgive me?”

“Yes! Yes, of course,” you answered taking a step back. “I am looking forward to working with you, Baekhyun.”

“Me too,” he answered while shooting the first genuine smile you’d seen on his face.

That smile made your heart skip a beat and time seemed to stretch as you looked at each other in silence. The possibility of leaning in to kiss him crossed your mind.

“Do you think we could maybe, sometime, go out for a drink? As in, together?”

The proposal came so much out of the blue that you responded in the only way you could think of. You leaned in and kissed him.

It was short and quick. A simple peck on the lips that was enough for a spark of fun to appear in Baekhyun’s eyes, and after waiting for the approval in yours, he went back in for a second kiss. Hours or seconds could have gone by and it wouldn’t have been any different to you. As soon as his hot breath grazed your skin, all your precautions were out the window. His hands that caressed your neck and your back made you forget you were making out with someone who could finish your career off and you didn’t care. The murmured curse he let out when you pressed your body against him in a fit of boldness gave you butterflies in the stomach you hadn’t felt since you first saw him on a screen.

The door knob poking on your back made you realize he had been pulling you around the room as he kissed you. He looked at you with a serious expression despite the flush on his face and his disheveled half dry hair.

“Do you want this?” he asked with a husky voice you hadn’t heard from him before.

You only nodded in response.

“Then do me a favor and lock the door.”

Your hand slid between the door and your back, searching for the lock while never leaving Baekhyun’s eyes. He responded by slamming you against the wall to proceed attacking your neck. His lips were soft and warm against your skin, but he would nibble slightly when you least expected it; the contrast making you crazy. The blouse you were wearing had been pulled out of the waistband of your pencil skirt and his hands already explored freely the skin of your back and your belly. As he began unbuttoning the blouse, you grabbed onto the hair on the nape of his neck. He let out a malicious chuckle and introduced one of his legs between your thighs pinning you even more against the wall and creating that delicious friction you craved.

“You’re such a tease, who would’ve told,” he said with a smug expression as his hands slid under your bra to fondle your breasts.

“You don’t fall short of that either-”

The last word came out as a moan when Baekhyun leaned in to capture your right nipple between his lips. It took no time of him sucking, licking and biting for you to be a wriggly mess. His other hand, which had been occupied in your other breast glided down across your stomach to toy with the zipper that held your skirt together. Instead of taking it off, he slid his hand past the fabric of the skirt and your underwear and carefully stroked around until he found the wetness that had been pooling for quite some time by then.

“Look at you! I’ve barely kissed you but you’re already so wet.” He pulled his hand out to raise his fingers towards your open lips. “I’ll take care of that.”

The hint of mockery in his voice drove you wild and you licked your fingers with delight as he looked you on like an eagle watches its prey. Soon enough, his fingers were back where they had left and they wasted no time. Baekhyun set a relentless pace that had you panting for air in just a few minutes. You were holding onto his shoulders for leverage and left some scratches on his soft skin. His forehead was pressed against yours, eyes closed, breathing off each other. A single drop of sweat rolled down his cheek. His fingers inside you were working magic and you could feel the buildup starting to form in the lower part of your belly. Your only warning came in the form of another tug from his hair and, as soon as he heard what you were going through, he covered your mouth with his free hand and helped you ride your high.

You opened your eyes to find him still holding you against the wall, looking at you with an illegible expression on his face.

“You have beautiful eyes,” he said with a sheepish smile before letting go off you.

Despite having the door locked, you suddenly felt the urge to get everything back into place and get the hell out of there. You readjusted all your clothes and took a quick glance in the mirror to decide your hair needed to be put in a bun in order to look presentable again. When you were done, you turned around to face Baekhyun, who was sitting down again and observing your rustle.

“So will I be able to see you again soon?”

“Yeah, hmm…You’ll see me tomorrow morning. Radio show with CBX, remember? I’ll text you the reference this evening.”

A satisfied expression spread over his face as he approached the door to open it for you.

“Thank you. That’s very professional.”

___________________________

@exolssecretsanta​

[kim-miri]

HALF(have a little fun) pt. iii

→ one | two

→ Sayomi Zoldyck is the eldest child and twin sister to Illumi, of the renowned Zoldyck family of assassins. At the age of ten she’s taken away to Meteor City by her mother, Kikyo Zoldyck, unbeknownst to the rest of the family, as well as newborn Killua, and left to fend for herself. This is the story of the long-lost Zoldyck and those she becomes acquainted with, all while she just wants to have a little fun.

» part three / ?

» pairing: eventually - chrollo x oc x feat. hisoka

» warnings: drugs, blood/violence

» a/n: helloo~ this is my first write ever, and it’ll probably be a pretty long series. I’m also balancing school and a part-time job so forgive me for slow updates! If you’re reading this, thank you so much for showing interest and please leave comments below with your inputs!

» word count: 2,948

☾ iii.

Name: Sayomi Zoldyck 小夜美 | "小" is small | "夜" is night | "美" is beauty |

Hair color: White

Eye Color: Purple

Nen: Manipulator (same exact abilities as Illumi)

Abilities: Same as Illumi Zoldyck - Body Alteration, Hypnotic Spell, Corpse Control, Needle People, Katana

☾ iii. part iii: meteor city

Sayomi woke up with a start. 

Her violet eyes flew open as she gasped remembering the past events and how her mother had drugged her.

Attempting to rise from her less than comfortable position on the ground, a nasty stench made her cringe as she gaped at her new surroundings. 

Trash and dumped items made up the entirety of where she sat, as well as everything else she could see from her spot. Most of it was worn down enough to be unrecognizeable, only looking like jagged pieces of material building upon each other.

Standing up in one swift movement, Sayomi stretched out her tired limbs as she tried to grasp the situation she was in. Maybe mother threw me in the junkyard?

It wouldn’t be the first time her mother had tried to dump her somewhere, but Illumi or her father would usually come running for her before she would even have time to recognize her surroundings.

Taking a step forward to start exploring, she paused as she kicked something lying by her feet. 

The item stood out amongst the rust and filth, as it was immaculate and seemed to radiate a familiar aura. A katana?

Tilting her head curiously, Sayomi reached down and grabbed the sheathed weapon. It was indeed very clean and actually seemed brand new. 

Looking it up and down, a silver gleam caught her eye- it was an engraving left on the otherwise black covering. 

‘Sayomi Zoldyck’

A rush of adrenaline ran through her blood as she recognized her own name engraved on the sheath. But why would mother reward me after dumping me in this junkyard?

Thousands of questions and possible scenarios ran through her head, but she pushed them aside with a shake of her head. I might as well play with this to pass the time.

The 10 year old unsheathed her new weapon, getting ready to take a practice swing when a rolled up piece of paper dropped from the katana.

Unravelling the note, Sayomi read it contents without a moment to lose. 

Sayomi,

Welcome to Meteor City. 

I’m sure you recognize the name from the many stories I’ve told you and your brother about my hometown. 

And from those same stories, you should know that those who make it out of the city come back stronger than they’ve ever been before. 

My only daughter, you know how much I cherish you and wish to see you succeed. 

When the time is right, you will find your way back home and claim your rightful spot as heir of the family business.

Until then,

Mother

Meteor City. As the reality of her situation started to sink in, Sayomi found it hard to breath. Whether it was the anxiety starting to take over her brain, or the barely breathable, polluted air of Meteor City, she found herself falling to her knees, nauseous.

☾iii.

Sayomi was desperate. She had been walking alone for close to four hours before traces of civilization began to appear in the distance.

Her wounds were splitting open under the cloth bandages she wore, and dehydration sent black spots dancing across her vision. 

Sayomi remembered something from one of the stories her mother had once told them. It was that the citizens of Meteor City refrained from hostility between one another unless they were threatened first.

With this in mind, Sayomi continued on to the tents and vast pillars of smoke in front of her. 

Clutching her side, which was now bleeding through the wraps Illumi had given her, Sayomi spotted vague figures moving about within the camp.

The sweat dripping into her eyes didn’t help her already blurring vision as she squinted hard to try and identify the faint figures that grew larger as she approached them.

At last within modest range of the camp, one of the members turned to face her. 

One after another the citizens turned from their positions, analyzing the outcast that had stumbled upon their camp.

Struggling to remain upright with her wounds and burning lungs, Sayomi let out a cry of pain before falling to the ground once again, the jagged surface cutting into her ankles.

Several of the figures rushed towards the fallen 10 year old. With caring hands, one of the citizens lifted the girl into her arms, her lightweight figure not being a struggle to carry.

Sayomi looked up at the woman weakly, she was most likely in her 40s, her eyes gray and facial features dull.

At the same time, the woman stared back, seemingly trying to analyze Sayomi’s strong features. She recognized that her slanted violet eyes were far foreign to Meteor City, along with her intricate kimono and katana. How did a child of such status end up here?

Taking Sayomi to her own home within the camp, she treated Sayomi’s wounds and gave her water along with a small portion of food to eat.

The woman had introduced herself once Sayomi was back on her feet. Her name was Rin, and she had been living in Meteor City since she could remember. 

She introduced her husband and daughter as well. Their names being Shota and Ayame respectively. 

Ayame turned out to be two years older than Sayomi. She had ashy brown hair and gray eyes like her mother.

The rest of the community welcomed Sayomi with open arms, not bothering to ask where she came from or why she was here. It seemed they didn’t care.

Though Sayomi was grateful of their hospitality, she was homesick already. Missing the mansion where everything was familiar and made sense.

When night fell on her first day in Meteor City, Sayomi shut her eyes tight from her spot next to Ayame on the floor. It didn’t seem real to her. Just yesterday she had been with her family and everything had been as it always was.

Did everyone want her gone? Not just mother?

Thoughts like these ran through Sayomi’s fragile mind. All this stress at such a young age poisoned the girl’s mind, making her question the validity of those who loved her.

☾iii.

Much like Illumi back at the Zoldyck mansion, Sayomi spent most of her time in Meteor city training.

The environment, as well as occasional gang fights taught Sayomi real fighting, and not the guided sparring she would do back at home. 

Mirroring the techniques she had once seen while shadowing a senior assassin, Sayomi worked towards extending her abilities to mastering the katana.

Her needles remained as well, safely tucked away on a band she kept around her left thigh, hidden from others. They were a constant reminder of Illumi, her best friend and the only one she had her hopes left in to save her.

On another note, the family she stayed with was generous to point that she began to grow suspicious of their willingness to take care of her.

Hospitality was one thing, but she knew enough to recognize an odd-favored deal when she saw one.

Sayomi had been freeloading off the family, wearing the extra clothes they provided her, eating their food, drinking from their water supply, and even sleeping in their tent. 

But as wary as she was, she knew this was the only option she had. For now.

She had already stayed far from the city’s borders, and the only way off of the island in the first place was by boat. 

Sayomi would have to wait for the right time in order to escape the city alive.

☾iii.

6 years later

“Sayomi~” 

The sun rose over Meteor City, waking its inhabitants, and marking the start to another day.

Inside one of the many worn tents at the camp, a girl with tangled, brilliant white hair laid sprawled out on the cardboard-floors.

“Sayomi!” Ayame entered the tent once again, waking the girl to join her family for breakfast.

Sayomi groaned at the sunlight that entered the tent with Ayame’s return.

Sitting up, her hair cascaded down her shoulders and back, just barely touching the floor below her waist. 

Now 16 years old, Sayomi’s face had thinned out, no longer round and chubby, but firm and angular with more defined features. 

Her striking violet eyes and silky white hair were the only things that seemed to remain the same from when she was dumped 6 years ago. 

With a noticeable number of inches added to her legs and arms, as well as new subtle curves adorning her body, Sayomi had matured a great amount, both physically and mentally. What had once been an innocent, joyful 10 year old girl, was now approaching the end of her youth days trapped in a foreign city.

Sayomi didn’t talk about her family. Or the past for that much. 

She didn’t like to remember the feeling of waiting desperately for someone to find her. 

As a 10 year girl, she didn’t know any better than to rely on her family to come rescue her. But as those days turned into months, and the months turned into years, her hope had died miserably, being replaced by a deep sense of betrayal.

The most she had told the family about her life before Meteor City was about Killua. She had beamed proudly as she told them how similar they looked to each other. Killua. I wonder how he’s turned out to be. If he’s 6 years old now, that means he’s already started training...

But this was her life now, whether she liked it or not, and she would make the most of it even if it meant living only for herself.

“Sayomi! For the last time, waaake uppp. Breakfast is ready.” 

Yet another day in Meteor City began for Sayomi. After finishing up breakfast with Ayame and her parents, Sayomi grabbed her katana to go run through more forms on her own.

6 years with the katana, and Sayomi was almost considered proficient in the sword’s fine practice. Without a master to learn from, the majority of her techniques were either gathered from faint memories of when she was younger, or those she came up with herself.

She had also taken the risk of going into some of the gang fights using only her katana, and though she had gotten in dangerous situations to begin with, her hard work didn’t betray her. 

Standing in the piles of junk with her arms raised naturally behind her head, Sayomi took a deep breath in and out, ever so bored of the dull features at Meteor City.

☾iii.

After another day filled with meticulous training, Sayomi head back to camp, making her way to Ayame’s tent.

However, upon approaching the little green tent, she sensed within the air that something was off. 

She could feel the abnormally tense auras of those sitting inside the tent, much like those of someone caught lying. Slowing her steps towards the tent, Sayomi activated her zetsu in order to listen in to the apparent conversation going on inside.

“Yes, I’m sure that’s her full name. Sayomi Zoldyck. She’s the one we’ll give you instead of Ayame.”

It was Shota’s voice. 

His normally confident tone was replaced by one filled with a thousand concerns. 

“I assure you she’ll be here with us when you arrive tomorrow. Thank you again, sir, for accepting the replacement. Good Night.”

Could it be another gang looking for trouble? She was sure she could take them, whoever they were, but it still hurt to be referred to as ‘the replacement’. 

Sayomi shook her head out of such thoughts, realizing how panicked she was becoming over another silly gang. She made her presence visible once again, taking louder than normal footsteps as she returned into the tent for the night.

☾iii.

It was a quiet night much like usual, but everyone inside the tent could feel the discomfort that seemed to radiate around the 4 in endless circles.

Sayomi shifted in her sleep, unable to ignore the itching feeling in the back of her mind. 

The gangs here are nothing, I’ll be fine. 

She fell asleep late that night, despite being exhausted from a full day of training. A battle of worries and self-reassurance eventually died down in her mind, letting her sleep in peace.

Having fallen into a deep sleep, she had missed the sound of Ayame crying softly next to her. The older girl fell asleep facing away from Sayomi, feeling too guilty to even look at her.

“I’m so sorry, Sayomi.” Ayame whispered into the darkness. 

☾iii.

Early morning the next day, a commotion stirred through the camp.

The sound of multiple vehicles treading over glass and broken fragments awoke Sayomi, who sat up too quickly for her tired self.

Her body lurched to the side, thrown off balance by the sudden movement she had made to get up.

Groaning while she firmly held her balance with a single hand digging into the blankets pooled around her, Sayomi was confused to see that the tent was empty around her.

Rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, Sayomi slung her katana over her shoulder hastily before making her way outside, her left hand hovering over the needles strapped to her thigh.

It was still dark out when Sayomi lifted the entrance of the tent. Quite close to golden hour, but still dark enough for her to have to strain noteably in order to see.

The vehicles she had heard were parked about 50 feet from where she stood. There were 3 cars parked side by side, black sedans that looked much similar to the ones back at the estate. 

Upon her eyes’ adjustment to the dark, Sayomi could see several men dressed in black suits conversing with Shota and Rin, Ayame by their side.

She kept her guard up as she attempted to read the auras of the people standing in front of her, getting a faint feel for their emotions.

Ayame and her family were tense, worried, but Shota showed small signs of relief in his expression. The men in suits were less readable, their emotions hidden behind an experienced aura of composure.

Looks like they’re pretty experienced… But they don’t look like a gang, or like they’re even from around here.

Taking a risk, Sayomi edged closer to the group, trying to listen in on the conversation. She was partially concealed by a pile of junk, only peeking out once in a while to confirm their positions.

Her new spot was about 30 feet from the closest man, and she could now make out parts of their conversation.

An unfamiliar voice rumbled “Rest assured, she will be provided with more than she ever was here.”

Shota’s voice was next. “And will she be safe on the trip to Yorknew City?”

Yorknew City. So whoever these people were didn’t want to kill her, but take her with them to the great city of opportunities? Well, damn.

Sayomi stepped out from her position behind the pile, not caring to keep her guard up as she willingly presented herself to her soon to be captors.

Ayame gasped upon seeing Sayomi walk towards them with her hands relaxed behind her head. Her eyes shifted to her parents. They were just as surprised, having not noticed her presence earlier.

The men looked from the shocked family of 3 to the teen strolling towards their makeshift circle. She could sense them growing tense with each of her steps, deducing her identity as their target.

One of them finally broke the silence, acknowledging her presence. 

“Sayomi Zoldyck?”

Sayomi gave a flat-lipped smile in return. “Yes sir.”

The family was wading in embarrassment and horror, caught red-handed agreeing to sell Sayomi off.

The men scoffed at the brazen teen, preparing to catch her off guard with the proposal, but Sayomi spoke first.

“So, what I’m getting from this- is basically that… you had a deal with this family for whatever reason. And were going to take their daughter from them, but they pleaded with you and insisted that I could be a better replacement?”

Her deductive instincts had helped her reach the conclusion that was pretty much dead on.

The family remained still, averting their gazes from the teen in front of them, while the men nodded several times before speaking.

“Correct. Your arrogance will surely not be needed where we’re going, but I guess it’s alright as long as you’re able to back it up.”

Leaving no opening for Sayomi to respond, another one of the men spoke up. “Shall we get going then? It seems like force won’t be necessary, so we might as well move while everyone’s cooperating.”

Sayomi had only nodded, a slight skip in her step as she seized the opportunity to leave Meteor City at last. Whatever business awaited her ahead could be dealt with, and she found it in herself to smile as she faced the family that had supported her for the past 6 years.

“Shota, Rin, Ayame. I could never thank you enough for your generosity during these past years of mine. And so, with all due respect, please forget all about me and flourish in the love of your family once again.”

No matter how blunt, she had meant every word she said, and with that Sayomi turned her back to the people who had raised her up through her broken youth. 

She felt no remorse for their guilt-ridden feelings, for it was just another thing in the past.

The 3 cars took off through the rubble, Sayomi in the backseat of one of them. Her violet eyes reflected off the glass of the window beside her, reminding her of the first time she had arrived. She sat in silence as she watched the hell that had been Meteor City flash past her.

Old news.

Just like her family.

☾iii.

to be continued.

a/n: i made a taglist if anyone wants to join! :)))

[moondustaeil]

anoetic ❧ kim doyoung

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ✧☾.·:·. anoetic

⠀ ⠀⠀ about

⋅ ɢᴇɴʀᴇ : breakup au ; exes to ... ; fluff , angst , suggestive

⋅ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ : soloist!Doyoung x reader , composer!Taeyong , soloist!Taeil

⋅ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ : 15k

⋅ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ : numbered parts are current events , unnumbered parts titled as “summer sun” are flashbacks , alcoholism , suggestive content , guilt-shaming , hidden but exposed relationship , idol-dating drama , arguments , jealousy , inappropriate language , ...

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀

⠀ ⠀⠀ synopsis

⋅ The record is new, the songs that play old and the message overdue. Kim Doyoung, once your summer sun, now an empty silhouette draped in noirceur in your apartment. You’re his remedy. 

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀

⠀ ⠀⠀ part of

⋅ the neo-summer collab, hosted by @neo-cult-ure​ . With a chosen summer-titled song we write a fic about a chosen member: my song is “Summer sun” by Hooverphonic.

❧ ᴏɴᴇ : "ɪɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ, ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴡᴀꜱɴ'ᴛ ᴀɴʏ ꜱᴘᴀᴄᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ᴍᴇ." ☙

The clock-like ticking of the direction indicator resounds over the song that is playing on the car radio. It is one of the love songs that Doyoung tends to play. It’s not as lyrical as his own songs due to the repeated "baby, baby," in the intro, but he still enjoys listening to the hidden sentiment in the singer’s voice. He takes the turn rightwards and turns off his indicator as soon as the turn has been made. After doing so, he places both hands on the steering wheel as he drives into the street.

The new street welcomes him almost like he's never seen it before. The street is far from unfamiliar to his eyes though. Aside from the doubled amount of cars that drive on the other lane and the modernised apartments, things look exactly the same.

He cocks his head to the side to be able to have a broader view of things he shouldn't be looking at. Something that a lot of drivers habitually do. Just like those drivers, Doyoung sets his eyes on the different buildings and white clouds that slowly move in the same direction as the car.

Almost too distraught by the outside world, he forgets the purpose of driving in this street. Until. The apartment building where you live comes in his eye-sight, he doesn't even need to cock his head to the side to be able to see the window that belongs to your exact apartment.

Something that could resemble a smile starts to form on his lips but he parts his lips to not give in to the temptations of the shown emotion. As much as he wants to smile, there is no objective meaning to do so yet as happiness has not made its introduction in today's events.

The first available parking lot is taken up by his car, neatly parking between the white rectangular lines as he learned at his driving classes ages ago. He isn't someone who bought his licence in a pack of cereal, something that apparently happened a very long time ago, but that might only be something old people say to clarify how easy it used to be in the past. After checking each possible mirror, he turns off the motor of his vehicle.

His silver Porsche 911 Carrera S gladly forces itself to listen to the given instructions. The overly-expensive car provided Doyoung with comfort and support during the entire ride, but Doyoung is glad that soon he will be able to get out of the car and stretch his legs. Momentarily, he leans back against the leather seat to release the tensed feeling in his shoulderblades but soon realises it won't ease the nerves that he's feeling and does the opposite of sitting in a relaxed position. He hovers forward as one of his arms lays over the steering wheel. With the other, he fishes out a piece of jewellery from his pocket. On his left hand, he places a real silver ring on his pinky. A strange action compared to what most people would do in this situation.

Not until a couple of minutes after he gets out of the car, he finally collects the courage to walk up to the familiar apartment complex. But the moment he does, he can only stand in front of the common front door like someone is willing to open it before he rings the bell. To the right, his eyes endlessly read over the many names of those who have their homes in the complex. On purpose, he reads foreign names slower even though he can read them as well as he can read the ones written in Korean. He avoids the first syllable of your name: no matter if it says your name or not, for now, he opts to move on to the following names.

What now? His slow reading didn’t help him any further. In the end, he has no other option but to leave or search for your name between the many tags and ring the bell. Before he even starts with his mission, he sighs because he knows he doesn't need to search for your name on the white-coloured tags.

A lump of unstable breathing leaves his lips as he presses his index finger to the black buzzer. That action only happens after he makes sure to move further away from the camera and microphone. You probably wouldn’t open the door or even answer if you found out it was him. The buzzer starts chanting its ringtone, a sound that makes Doyoung’s heartbeat accelerate. It seems like he might have a heart attack the moment the buzzing is replaced by your voice.

With the multiple second-lasting buzzes, Doyoung freezes in his current spot. Not because he's cold without coat covering his shoulders but because many what if's start to form scenarios in his mind. What if you don't open the door because you don't live here anymore? What if you don't open the door because you are in bed with somebody new?

The first scenario can be nullified as your name still was on the little white tag, still typed in the same font as before which meant that nothing apparently changed. It gives him hope that the second scenario is as much made up out of fiction as the first one.

"Hello?" Your voice interrupts the scenarios completely, they disappear like they never were possibilities in the first place. "Who is it?" you ask again when you don't get a proper response. You don't hear a voice responding to you, neither do you see anyone, not one glimpse that reveals someone is waiting for you to open up the door.

The tone of your voice makes Doyoung cover his mouth with one of his hands: the words don't mean anything to him but hearing your voice after such a long time shoots a bullet of sentiment to his heart. It's not an effortless task for him to stay silent while you are speaking, because even when he covers his mouth with his hand, he's obligated to purse his lips invisibly.

Wordlessly, Doyoung narrates and tells himself to leave now that he still has the chance to do so. Despite knowing you're there at home, he guesses he won't be fulfilling his goal today. From his pursed lips pushes a sigh before he turns his body away from the door.

The handful of steps form a small staircase together. Doyoung easily skips them by taking one large step until he finds himself on the public walkway. Deep inside, he wants to run towards the car, but his feet don't allow him to go faster than an average walking pace.

"Doyoung!"

Before prohibiting the action to himself, his body turns towards the apartment building. Firstly, his eyes meet the common front door of the complex but his eyes are quick to notice the light movements. He sees them from the corner of his eye and immediately looks up towards the source. Your bedroom window is opened, with you standing in the opening, chanting his name to catch his attention.

His vocal cords are taken away by speechlessness. His right hand is quick to solve the problem by allowing his index finger to point towards his silver-coloured vehicle. The hand that was in his pocket is used to unlock the doors. Momentarily, he disappears on the passenger's side of the car.

The empty-handed arrival is reversed when he appears in front of the camera. In his hand is a collection of bundled wildflowers, which he tightly grips between his clenched fist. The grip never loosens, not even when he needs to hold the railing in order to safely get up the stairs.

Each step he takes seems to resemble a memory of the times he had walked these steps. The revisited memories don't tire him out despite the long time he stands still for them. Step one reminds him of the first time that he came here on his own because you granted him a key. The step in the middle that separates one floor from the other reminds him of the tiring sighs that left his lips after long workdays. The last step reminds him of the last time he walked down from them after the breakup. One by one, heavy steps and the ones he was taking now didn't vary much in weight.

Two steps. One step.

As soon as he wants to step on the unchanging floor, he almost stumbles over his clumsy feet when the door of your apartment opens. There is still a chain that separates the door from completely opening but after re-opening your door, he can fully see you in front of him.

Almost ceremonially, he holds out the flowers towards you. You're too far away to grasp the little bouquet of nature between your fingers and even after five more tiny steps, when he's right in front of you, your fingers still don't reach out for them.

"Come in," you tell Doyoung without greeting him first, your door opening as wide as it can to let in the person that you used to unofficially share this place with. Your body doesn't completely turn as you keep on checking whether Doyoung actually follows you inside, instead of trying to flee like he did when he was outside. This time Doyoung's feet allow him to follow you inside the apartment, the only time his feet halt is when he takes off his shoes in the hallway and neatly places them on the provided rack.

Your feet stop in the living room as you expect to sit there together with him rather than an inconvenient spot such as your bedroom the kitchen, not that they were untried places, but the progressive situation caused them to become inconvenient over time.

"I brought these," Doyoung says but not until after he once again holds out the little bouquet of flowers towards you, he almost didn't say anything but noticed how you didn't seem to get the hint of having to take the flowers from his hand. You look down at his hands to see what he is holding before you focus on his face again, trying to decipher the unreadable expression.

Without sharing a response, you take the bouquet from his hand and hold them between your lightly-clenched fist instead. "Thank you," you say with a small nod out of discomfort and awkwardness even though you're grateful for the little bouquet. Whether he came empty-handed or not wouldn't have mattered to you at all, perhaps him not coming at all wouldn't have mattered either. "I will put these in a vase and get you a drink. What would you like to drink?" you ask.

"Just some water," you hear Doyoung say right before you can disappear into your kitchen. Thinking you knew what he wanted to drink, you already took the steps towards the other room. Water was his standard drink: not too cold so that it wouldn't damage his vocal cords and not too warm so that he wouldn't feel nauseous. Although you expected him to say water, another drink momentarily seemed an option but you'd rather not think about that too much.

Silence fills the apartment as each of you are in a different room right now: you're in the kitchen looking for a vase and pouring Doyoung his drink while Doyoung is in the living room and can only silently look at everything. Time seems to go by slowly but you blame it on yourself for stretching some time as you are too busy mouthing possible conversation-starters to yourself. After all, appearing stupidly inarticulate in front of your ex-lover wasn't something you want to take place.

In two turns you take the objects towards the common room: first the vase with wildflowers that are placed in the middle of the table, setting you and Doyoung apart with the decoration, after that you place two glasses of water on each side of the table.

"Thanks," Doyoung says once the glass of water is placed in front of him. His hand wraps around the glass, shoving it slightly towards the end of the table. As much as he wants to gulp it down so that he doesn't need to speak for a few seconds, his fingertips can only trace over the thin ribbles of the glass without lifting it to his lips to drink.

Over the bouquet of flowers, he can see you sitting on the other side of the table but lowers his eyes to the flowers instead of continuing to look at you. He fails to notice how you look at him for a short amount of time: starting at his hair before your eyes undergo the transition from his face towards his upper body. He still looks the same as he does in the pictures that you've kept and the memories in your heart.

Doyoung looks away from the flowers, perhaps due to the visual attention even though he doesn't realise that you were looking. Firstly, he looks towards the white walls that seem the same as they were long ago even though some patches are discoloured from the sunlight that shines in on a summer day. Next, his eyes follow the individual pieces of furniture that fill the room, one by one even though some of them form a set together. Almost like a matching lingerie set, but less sexy and more personality-revealing, but why did he even make that comparison?

"You look good."

Faster than ever before, Doyoung's head turns towards you. His eyes shifting to you after you say the words and he silently hopes you were still eyeing him, but unfortunately, your head is hung low and your eyes turned away from him. Your gaze fixated on the half-empty or half-full glass of water in front of you.

Doyoung loves the remedy of sound and the remedy of silence. Truly, it doesn't cure what is going on but it's like a placebo that gives him the feeling that things are brightening up. Perhaps rather than a remedy, he still feels stunned by the words you said and he takes them a little bit too much to heart. Hopefulness fills his heart, unneeded.

"But the hair is still stupid," you seriously add. There is no need for you to look at his hair once more before stating the comment, you can clearly recall the many colours of Kim Doyoung. From his pulchritude regular hair colour at the beginning of your relationship to the strawberry pink shade, or from the soft purple locks to an intense blue shade, and up until now where his hair was regularly black. Still, you conclude you don't like the look of his hair and if you can't blame it on the colour, you blame it on the forehead-covering bangs.

The remedy of silence seems Doyoung's accustomed placebo today. He stares at you as you let the continuation of words flow from your lips, and even when you fall silent, he opts to take a second placebo. As he looks at you, the side effects seem to kick in: memories of you and him, a new record filled with old songs.

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴇʀ ꜱᴜɴ : "ʙᴜᴛ ɪ ꜱᴛɪʟʟ ʟɪᴋᴇ ʏᴏᴜ"

"Last year it was a great honour to receive the new artist of the year award. This year, it is another great honour to be here as representer of the same award."

Your pupils are trembling as your anxious eyes are staring at the fully-brightened laptop intensely. Your eyelids urge to cover your irises due to the blinding blue backdrop. Yet, every few seconds, you widely open your eyes because you don’t want to miss Doyoung’s live speech from the award show.

Through the screen, you fail to notice little details about him: either because they are morphed away by full-coverage makeup or because your eyes have no intention to work properly at this hour of the night. Yet, you can imagine those details without having to see them on his face: out of the many people he sees in a day, only you have disclosure of the miniature beauty details.

The microphone is held towards his lips by the host of the show. His own hands are too occupied, holding the award between them to present them to the audience and the camera. He expects you to be watching from home. And he's right when he knows that you stay up until midnight and even past that. You wouldn't miss seeing his performance of his new solo on stage, and surely not the glorious moment where he receives the award.

"This year brought so many powerful new artists, I was on the edge of my seat the whole time," his speech continues with the fake set of words. He looks awfully serious while saying them. A fake smile would have given away how he beforehand knew that he was the one to receive the award. How else would his name be engraved in the little statue-like award already? His fans don't think that far ahead but no one truly does, which is the reason why grand award shows sneak off with so many viewers.

It's something you wouldn't have known either if it wasn't for Doyoung telling you how award shows truly worked. Just like how he told you about idols being each other's friends, but sometimes also being the complete opposite. Whether or not they were actual friends, it didn't change the fact they weren't allowed to talk because their agencies don't agree with such things. For example, Moon Taeil, who like Doyoung is also a great vocalist, but their interactions stay behind the scenes and unposted about. Ignoring one another on stage but behind the scenes, they plan stereotypical artist hangouts in a rented restaurant.

"Doyoung, would you like to thank someone special? Who helped you to achieve this award for the second year in a row?" The host asks Doyoung who momentarily fell quiet after his imitated surprise. Doyoung can only hum as he looks around the stage before his eyes go to the right camera again, something he studied as well so that his eyes don't meet camera number three when he is supposed to look at camera two. "I would like to thank my company for allowing me to bring out the music that I want to show to my fans, with that I also want to thank my fans who hugely supported me not only now but every single day and every step down this path."

You don't feel addressed by his words unlike his many fans do, simply because even if you love his music and voice, you don't classify yourself as a fan. Admitting to being a fan of your boyfriend would be embarrassing and almost would make you sound like one of those fans that possesses of his personal belongings and phone number after sneaking into his hotel room. But you don't possess of those things because you're a "사생팬" or a "sasaeng fan" but because you are his lover, the person that he comes home to almost every night.

"And there is one more person that I want to thank," Doyoung picks up where he left off once again. The words unnecessarily make your heart beat faster out of panic: even if you trust him, there are always chances that things slip out or that he impulsively decides to share details about his personal life. Every fan of him might possibly remember the night he did a live in his bedroom with a packet of condoms on his bedside table and you hidden away in a different room. The start of a set of rumours to which he just admitted that he was someone with sexual needs but that he was being safe, so didn't need any extra criticism from media or fans. "I would like to thank Lee Taeyong, who helped to compose and produce this track!"

A belated sigh escapes from your pursed lips as your head is thrown back towards the white ceiling. Your eyes are closing but unlike before, it's not due to the bright light but in utter relief. Your palpitating heart slowly begins to replace the rapid pulsations by a regular heartbeat, the lack of stable beats causing your heart to skip a few before things become normal again.

Your pursed lips loosen until they begin to part slowly, allowing a soft laugh of disbelief to leave your lips. "Fuck," you mutter with a deep breath that holds back all of the stress that you bottled up in a matter of seconds. As you tilt your head again towards the laptop screen, your eyes automatically open to see the bright colours surrounding your lover. Doyoung bows shortly to the host before he does the same to the people in the crowd, receiving a standing ovation and an endless tune of unmatched claps.

Even you from home, can't help but slowly start clapping both of your hands together. An inaudible applause of pride because even if you knew he would win for over a week, it doesn't stop you from boasting his self-confidence even when he doesn't see it. "Fuck you, Kim Doyoung," you scold silently as you now feel your calm heartbeat again, the shock from earlier escaping through the gaps of the closed windows to flow along with the nightly breeze.

The shining star of the evening disappears from the stage, the previously bright background suddenly wasn't as bright anymore. Artists that follow after Doyoung don't follow your recognition. You're biased by no other than your lover and everyone else seems non-existent in your world. Without an interest in the others, you close your laptop and push it further away from you.

Only your summer sun, Kim Doyoung.

⋅ ⋅ ⋅

A black tailored jacket is dropped onto the single leather coated armchair that's specifically standing in the living room for lonely evening reads. The piece of furniture is unseated in so it might as well get accompanied by the expensive piece of clothing that hung over Doyoung's upper body earlier that night.

The blackened screen of the large television reflects Doyoung's full body like a mirror. The reflection reveals his tired silhouette with the help of the only source of light, the table lamp somewhere in the corner. He looks at his own reflection: seeing the white cuffed dress-shirt that stands out rather than the rest of the black-coloured outfit. He turns away from his tired appearance and lunches his body over the low coffee table. The tired expression is replaced by a small smile when his eyes immediately meet the little object he was looking for, his ring. The piece of jewellery is laying on top of some magazines that he starred in or covered on, but only the silver band catches his attention.

Between his thumb and index finger, he holds the ring with a light grip. The glacial material rests between his fingers effortlessly and he can't help but observe its little details. The medium band that is just the right in-between of thick and thin, the black engraved decorations that add meaning to the ring. He tightens the grip on the ring as he slides it around his pinky. Right where it belongs. Habitually, he takes it off before he leaves the apartment for a public appearance. Ceremonially, he puts it on the second he returns home so that he can make his appearance as human and lover. As soon as the ring is found around his finger, he spreads out his fingers. On the side of his hand is a little cut due to a fan that wanted a bit too much attention, but only the ring receives his full attention.

His back straightens painfully but doesn't prevent his shoulders from slumping forward in tiredness. It's a long-term consequence from the many hours he spends away from his comfortable home. Hotel beds aren't quite as comfortable, studio chairs are as stiff as high-school desks, the backseat of the car can be compared to the armchair in the living room. Nothing compares to the remedy of home where he can spend endless hours with you, in comfort.

"You're not coming to bed tonight?"

Despite being able to see your reflection through the black tv-screen, Doyoung turns his body towards the sound of your voice. He can't stop himself from smiling even before he sees you. When you finally come in his eyesight, that smile widens even more. Unconsciously, he adjusts the ring on his pinky with his thumb before dropping his hand next to his body.  

"I am," he responds shortly. His sock-clad feet slowly step towards you, creating soundless suspense due to the darkness of the room around the two of you. "I was just taking my ring, you know I don't like not wearing it," he hums out in a softer voice as he gets closer to you.

You take the last step towards him and smile when you see that he has a wide but relieved smile on his lips. "I know, I was just waiting for you to come to bed," you say in a soft voice as you wrap your arms around his body to properly welcome him back home. The embrace starts off light but soon Doyoung tightly wraps you with a layer of thick love his arms tightly holding you in place so that he can decide when there's been given enough love.

"Let me tuck you in then," Doyoung playfully comments to your words but he appreciates that you waited for hours even if you might have drifted off a few times. You laugh silently at the words, slapping your hand over his shirt-covered shoulder before resting your head on the body part. "How many times did you fall asleep during my speech?"

The second laugh you let out is louder than before, mostly because of how well he knows you: after all, no one else would be able to tell you accomplished the unsaid goal of falling asleep during his speeches a few times, and no one would even know you watched award shows. It was obvious that no one would be able to tell, simply because only a handful of people knew about your existence in Doyoung's life. And less than a handful of people knew about Doyoung's existence in your standard life. Just the way it was supposed to be. It's better if you lay low.

"None," you say as you press a few tired kisses to the side of his neck, thanking him for the service as he starts carrying you towards your shared bedroom. From afar it could look like a gesture of love but at this hour, neither of you were in need for intimacy to level up. "I nearly had a heart attack when you started to thank 'someone special'" you quote.

This time it's Doyoung's laugh that vocalises through the apartment hallway, fading out as the two of you get to the living room and separate the two locations by closing the door. "Seems like I can make your heartbeat fast even after such a long time," he proudly states. You are put down on your side of the bed for Doyoung to rid himself of the uncomfortable suit. The formal outfit gets replaced by nothing but his comfortable sweatpants and an oversized black t-shirt.

"Yeah, you're a little shit, that's all I have to say," you declare. While he's changing, you lay your head on the pillow and watch each detailed movement he makes until the moment his body is laid to rest next to yours. "I thought I was your lover!" he protests against your words, trying his best to make it sound like he's not as tired as he truly feels. You know better than that and see through the playful facade, facing your tired boyfriend. "You're my summer sun."

The words are left responseless but they cause a white-coloured cloud of love to dwindle down upon your exhausted bodies. Doyoung presses a delicate kiss to your cheek to wish you a goodnight sleep before his arms once more find themselves around your body.

A symbolic lullaby later, the remedy of the dark takes over. Two exhausted bodies laying in each other's embrace until the late morning calls out for attention.

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴇʀ ꜱᴜɴ : "ᴏᴜʀ ᴍᴀʀᴠᴇʟʟᴏᴜꜱ ᴍᴇᴍᴏʀɪᴇꜱ, ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ ᴏᴠᴇʀ ᴍᴇ" 

"Something effable," Doyoung requests. While his fingers are placed on the tile-resembling keyboard keys, your fingers are circled around the poetry book. Today's reading recommendation is no other than Rupi Kaur's "the sun and her flowers." You hum as your damp fingertips caress over the poem on page two hundred sixteen.

The family-related poem wouldn't be seen as effable to your boyfriend, thus your eyes travel to page two hundred seventeen: first over the fine-line illustration of a unibrow before the ode catches your attention. You place the three fingers that separate your thumb from your pinky at the gutter of the book and hold it slightly higher for Doyoung to see. "Effable enough?" You question.

"I will know if you read it to me," Doyoung responds, one hand making its escape from the white keys without leaving his fingerprint. Instead, his fingers meet with the virgin-white fibreglass. Due to the warmth of the water that fills it, the material doesn't seem as cold as it usually does, but it might just be your presence that warms up his body until his fingertips. His fingers halt as he smiles, letting time stop because the sound of your wonderful laugh fills the bathroom.

"Why would I read it to you, you didn't want to join me in the bath so I don't want to read it to you either," you teasingly protest. The book sinking more towards the surface but there's enough distance for the bottom edge to stay unembellished from water. This time it is Doyoung who fills the bathroom with his vocal sounds, just like his songs, his laugh was like a melody even if it made him sputter like an old water faucet. "I had a shower this morning and I promised to send lyrics to Taeil, Jaehyun and Haechan tonight," Doyoung sighs. After coming home, he regrets still having leftover work on his plate.

Due to the self-set deadline of the lyrics, Doyoung is sat on the floor in the bathroom whilst you take a bath. Though for once, work doesn't seem as demanding and he has hope that the lyrics will be a product of the current circumstances. Almost like a scene in a French film, the scenery is aesthetically pleasing: burning candles on the edge of the tub, dimmed lights to set a romantic mood, a book in your hands, and your beauty. Not just beauty as he would call you beautiful: the beauty in your smile, the beauty that rests in your fingertips, the beauty that coats your pure heart. Ensorcell, to enchant or fascinate someone. And yes, your beauty fascinates Kim Doyoung.

"What do I get in return if I read it to you?" You challenge. Everything in life is a give and take, but that doesn't mean you want the unreachable in return for reading a finger-countable-lined piece of poetry. "Some old-story lyrics about you, the cliché kind," Doyoung presents to you as he motions to his right hand that's still placed upon the keyboard. In consideration, you let out a hum "seems like a gift I have received a few times already, don't you have anything better to offer me?"

Unsatisfied by the unsealed deal, Doyoung puts up his thinking face. His facial expression depicted with his eyes that look upwards and his upper teeth that lightly scrape over his lower lip. "What if you just don't write lyrics today? If we go to bed early, you can finish them tomorrow morning," you suggest. It's a tempting offer that Doyoung badly wants to take, he shifts his eyes to you as though his final answer will be written over your cheeks. "That's not fair: your poem is less than half a page long and I have to stop working all night just to listen to it?"

"I stay up all night to listen to your speeches too," you playfully backlash against the words he says. You can't deny that watching him work makes you feel either way proud but also desolated on some moments.

"It's just one evening, summer sun," is all you need to say before Doyoung gives in and gives up his work for tonight. "Only if you'll let me play what I have so far as well," the deal continues before you can seal it with a kiss. Once more: life is a give and take. In agreement, you nod your head.

"Now read me the poem, dearest," before the deal is sealed, Doyoung urges you to read the poem that you've kept hidden under your water-stained hand. You doubt if the page will ever desiccate without the appearance of vein-like crumples. "Here goes something effable."

"Even if they've been separated, they'll end up together. You can't keep lovers apart, no matter how much I pluck and pull them. My eyebrows always find their way back to each other." You read out almost ceremonially even if it gets hard not to burst out laughing at the unexpected twist of the poetry. After reading the short lines, you close the book and toss it towards the floor. "That was your effable poem."

Among the numerous variations in Doyoung's laugh, there is a serious style issue in the "haha," that sarcastically leaves his lips. Yet, after the sarcastic and almost spoken laugh, a roar of laughter escapes his mouth.

You turn your body sideways slightly to look at your summer sun, unable to stop the upturn of the corners of your mouth when you see him laugh. The way he uses not only his mouth but also his cheeks and eyes to laugh makes it only more genuine and dazzling. Your hand reaches for his that is still rested on the edge of the tub, intertwining your fingers during the moment of exuberance.

The laughter slowly fades out after floating like a cloud in the sky, tranquillity slowly dawning over the room like morning dew on roses. Doyoung's gentle fingerpads stroke over the back of your hand lightly, ignoring the hindering from his dry skin that tries to smooth your wet one. "Do you want me to listen to your song now?" you ask Doyoung, leaning down to press an emotive kiss to his hand.

"I thought you wanted an evening without work-related things?" Doyoung questions as he looks towards you, his free hand moving to remove the keyboard from his lifted knees. A quick reflex of your hand causes it to land on the keyboard to hold it into place "No, I would like to hear what you wrote so far, if not, just play me the tune."

"My beloved, y/n. I'm not going to play it yet, you were right and I want to spend an evening alone with you, without my music."

As much as it pretty much breaks the deal you never managed to seal with a kiss, you nod your head in consensus. One out of three hundred sixty-five nights in a year isn't a lot, especially not when it is about Doyoung not working on his musical career. That one night of not working won't make his agency withhold a day's worth of money.

"Hm, I like the sound of that," you admit to him. Your hand finds his again in a gentle embrace, once more intertwining your fingertips for everlasting contact. "As do I," he responds with a soft smile, lightly tugging at your wrist to draw you closer to him. Halfway the small margin your lips meet for a kiss.

His lips felt soft against your mouth, the numbing feeling only making the sincerely intimate kiss more addictive. A war of tugging is created when your hand tugs at his to slender the distance between the two of you, causing his yet dry hand to sink into the warm water together with yours. As the kiss continues, your fingertips explore one another in the pool of wetness: whilst your thumb and index finger find the silver band around his pinky, his thumb and index finger messily measure your ring finger.

⋅ ⋅ ⋅

The white fluffed bedding resembles what you imagine that it would look like in heaven: an unexisting property with nothing but softness and white-coloured ornaments scattered around messily. Yet, there is something that distinguishes heaven from your bedroom: in heaven, you hope to lie on a mellow white-cloud instead of the wooden floor of your shared bedroom.

If you were to associate white with some self-chosen words or feelings, you'd associate it with: peace, cleansing, calm, protection, peace, and of course purity. And if you were to associate your summer sun with a colour: it would be lilac. Doyoung endlessly reminds you of strongly-scented lavender against white bricks, the colour of an aesthetically pleasing sky, a brown-paper wrapped bouquet of lilac and white coloured wildflowers. You don't bother finding out which colour you are, for Doyoung, you'd be any hue from the Pantone colour book.

The pad of your index finger strokes over Doyoung's spine, caressing the heated skin delicately. The idiomatic expression "sending shivers down someone's spine," would be of excellent use in this situation as Doyoung's back arches momentarily at your small gesture.

Doyoung turns his head towards you, a soft smile displaying on his lips as he sees you in nothing but purity. Even though his lips are slightly parted from one another, no words fall from them like a waterfall. You prop up your body on your left elbow, allowing another body part of yours to go numb just as every part of the left half of your body. The numb tingles equal painlessness even though your bones only age by laying on the hard wooden floor.

"Do you think we will be like the unibrow from the poem?" Doyoung asks you, grasping your hand that was on his back before you manage to lay it to rest at your side. He intertwines your fingers for what seems like the first time, even though the time your fingers have been separated from one another is shorter than the time they've been symbolically glued together. "What do you mean?" you ask.

Your thumb endlessly rotates over the knuckle of his index finger, applying the slightest bit of pressure which barely makes it feel like the touch of a feather, so light. But the circular movent pauses when you hear the question. Which unibrow?

"The poem from the book you were reading earlier," Doyoung says in a softer tone, adoring the way you look confused even though you had been the one reading the poetry to him, so you better than anyone, should know what had been fonted down on the page. "Even if they've been separated, they'll end up together," Doyoung quotes faultlessly.

"Ah." You calmly breathe out as the memories come to your visual memory: not only the illustration underneath the poem but also the expression on Doyoung's face as you read the second half of the poem. Due to his quotation and the return of the memories, you forget the initial question he asked.

He leans closer to you as he sees the reflection of himself disappearing into your eyes, the universe forgotten by the termination of time. You find yourself in the midsts of the spinning earth but barely realise you stand still in the centre.

"Did you hear my question?" the warm breath dampens your face before you progress the words. His face is close enough to yours to make use of his five senses: your natural scent, the minuscule facial details, the almost peachy-soft skin of your cheeks, your calmed breathing pattern. "Hm?" you hum out silently.

"Do you think we will be like the unibrow of the poetry book?" Doyoung is obligated to question once more since you had been too lost in your lover's memory lane to hear it. This time you almost snort at the words, but it sounds more like an inward laugh. Unibrow still is an unusual word, especially knowing Doyoung is referring to the first two lines where lovers are the subject of affection rather than the hairs that grow above your eyes.

"Do you mean that we will always end up together despite being separated?" You ask in return although you're sure that's exactly what he means. Your already confirmed question just gets extra validation when Doyoung nods his head "that you can keep lovers apart," he finishes the next line of the poem with different wordings but effortlessly puts the same meaning into them.

Unibrow.

"I think no matter how much people pluck, it won't stop us from blooming towards one another," you state in a soft voice. Your finger motions seem to resemble a pair of scissors, cutting off the blooming flowers which you'd like to name Doyoung and y/n. Cutting the flowers with the unmechanical pair of scissors is something you don't plan on doing, thinking about it already makes some petals wither.

Though as you imagined earlier, Doyoung is like lilac lavender, which doesn't let its petals wither, unlike the flower that you are. Seemingly an omen but you don't let the ode write its lyrical ending for your relationship yet.

"Will I still be your summer sun in Winter?" the endless questionnaire of Doyoung drags on longer than needed. Presumably, because Doyoung wants to hear your exclamation of love and affection but the effect is reversed. The questions only effectuate insecurity and mayhaps sadness. In response, you simply hum to brush off the subject.

You love Kim Dongyoung. Your one and only summer sun: distanced by the high sky but close enough to shine his rays down upon your existence. No matter where you go in life: the sun will be there, even if each night it would die for the moon, it was out of love. Whether you walked between the bright-coloured scenery in the park or sat in your leather reading-armchair with the curtains closed. The sun was always present.

A cloud. You sigh. Symbolical to the wind that allows the cloud to float in front of the sun. You are a cloud.

The made comparisons are endless. Panic rises from the pit in your stomach, all the way towards your awaiting heart. Heartsickness goes along the agony of mind, and you can't help but isolate the thoughts from your summer sun. Your face glows as you smile affectionately at Doyoung and your fingertips go along the circle of life again by stroking over the back of his hand.

"You'll be my summer sun, for an eviternity,"

❧ ᴛᴡᴏ : "ɪ ᴛᴏᴏᴋ ᴀ ᴘʟᴀᴄᴇ ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜꜱᴇ ᴏꜰ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ꜰᴇᴇʟɪɴɢꜱ" ☙

A new record filled with old songs.

The record malfunctions. Merely halfway through one of Doyoung's favourite love stories, it starts to falter. The remaining memory-filled lyrics don't sound the same. The distortion makes it sound unpleasant.

The last audible lyric replays itself until the message is overdue: "you'll be my summer sun, for an eviternity."

The timeless music and unforgettable lyrics get replaced by memories that grow vague over time. One of the reasons why Doyoung prefers to recall memories like they are love songs: he can buy new records endlessly, no matter how old the songs are. Lyrics stay the same, memories change.

If memories were comparable, he'd compare them to the cover art of a record. The lyrics and music are the most essential but cover art can't be ignored. On good days, he can adjust the brightness. On bad days, he completely drags down the saturation until there's nothing but a monochrome illustration left.

On the cover art are never-changing elements: a shining sun, grey-ish clouds, a white wall, lilac-coloured lavender. They all play the starring role, no matter the filter that coats them. Those four reoccurring elements remind him of you, and the relationship.

The music is discontinued when he hears a voice interrupting another replay of the lyric. Even if the music is gone, he doesn't hear what the voice is trying to say. It's only one word, brought to his ears in a worried tone.

On the other side of the table, you are the person that calls out his name endlessly. Almost a handful of times that you tried to reach him in the past minutes, and even though he's opposite of you, he seems far away. Far from reality and in his own universe.

You can see it in the unfocused eyes. The brown irises seem to be staring at you without actually seeing you. It's one of the few signals that he is only present in his own world: a world that you don't see, but surely are a part of even though you aren't aware of it. Seeing him like that worries you, you can't even wonder about the images that layer in front of his sight.

"Doyoung," you call out his name once more. You have no other option but to chant his name until he returns back to the real world. It's not the first time to see Doyoung like this, something that you could label as unfortunately or fortunately. Which of the two options it is and which memories are connected to it, are things that you hold yourself back from. You would rather not let those things haunt your mind.

The effect of your chant is that lifeless human Doyoung finally makes the slightest movement. His head stiffly tilts to the side, the movement of his neck seems unnatural and painful. Yet, he doesn't show any signs of discomfort: his lips are pursed into a tight line, and his unfocused eyes are still aimed at you.

You sigh deeply at the barely visible change. "Doyoung!" You chant louder. You bet it's loud enough for the apartment next to yours to complain by banging on the walls, but luckily the hardworking couple from next door isn't home to show their protests.

Your loud exclamation seems to put a halt on Doyoung's reverie. It's not noticeable until his eyes seem to drift away from their aiming point for the first time in minutes. The imprecise staring transitions to exploring eyes before he targets them on you. He hums, which is barely audible as the haze had its effect on his vocal cords. The remains still glue onto him.

"You were daydreaming," you mention without him questioning about it. You took the hum as a sign that he was slowly getting ready to speak, and you're too uncomfortable to let the silence last much longer. "Oh," he shortly responds to your words. Though it doesn't make him realise why you called out his name, or whether it was actually you. He feels betrayed by himself and it seems like no one is willing to tell him the truth.

With a grunt out of discomfort, he moves his hand away from the glass of water. His fingertips are painfully sore from the endless twitching between the ribbles of the glass. His hand moves to his face, rubbing the haze from his facial features. Yet, the haze is like a layer of primer that seeps into his pores. Whether or not it's noticeable, it's still present, hidden behind a new layer.

Doyoung's word of realisation causes silence to fill the room once more. It's not a word that you have a response to, and you don't want to ask your ex-lover about the contents of his daydream.  But you can't turn the daydream into an excuse for not saying anything, still, it's what you opt to do.

Your eyes leave the visage of the black silhouette on the other side of the table. You cast them towards the wildflowers that you've been gifted by the person behind the silhouette. When you don't look at him, he looks at you. Doyoung maintains the one-sided eye contact with you. His eyes observing you in silence, trying to find melancholy in your body language.

Melancholy. The defined emotion that he looks for in your body language surprises him, but his expressionless face won't show the self-surprise. Millions of questions could tell him the answer to how you feel, but he doesn't ask any of them. He simply longs to see melancholy and spoken words won't satisfy the lust.

The way you avoid eye-contact could be a first signal of melancholy. Your silence could be the second. The monochrome but mollitious furniture could be third on the list of signals. Whether or not they are actually symptoms, Doyoung makes himself believe that they are. Just like he makes himself believe that you want him back.

⋅ ⋅ ⋅

"How have you been?"

Doyoung's question is like an excerpt from a slow-burn book that you will never read. Like the cliché line from a romantic film where the characters end their relationship halfway through but still end up together before the closing credits. But this isn't a slow-burn book or a cliché film. If anything: the closing credits of your relationship have been shown, the last page has been turned and the screen has gone black.

"How have I been?" You question as you look up from your own glass of water, but you still cast your eyes far away from Doyoung's so that you don't have to look into them. Doyoung's eyes tears from your face the moment your head moves, whether you plan to look at him or not. When he looks at you, you don't look at him. When you look at him, he doesn't look at you. Now that is a cliché, seen in films where people are forbidden to love one another. Perhaps you've both forbidden yourselves even though you try to look for love in the other's visage.

Doyoung hums lowly at your question "how you've been," he repeats his words. You wish your question would have given you some time, but the few extra seconds don't automatically form an answer. You should have been prepared for a question like that, but Doyoung coming over unannounced left you unprepared for everything. Even for a simple question like that, ex-lovers needed preparation. If there was an ex-lover who didn't need time for that question, it was because they were genuinely happy or able to brag. It's the type of question you answer with an untrue story and a fake smile. But how can you tell a story so untrue without a fakely realistic plot?

"I could tell how I've been first, if you want me to," Doyoung desperately suggests. You wish he would tell you that you didn't need to answer his question if you didn't want to. But instead, Doyoung who seems desperate to speak decided to take over from you before you made a blunder.

You simply nod. Despite realising that you don't want to lie, you allow Doyoung to go first. The sudden realisation of not wanting to lie is built up out of the reality that you should be scolding him for showing up unannounced, so he probably had more to tell you than you had to tell him. And the desperation in his voice almost indicated that he had an entire storybook ready to read. But nothing was less true than that.

"I've been good," are the only words that leave his lips. Not even sixty seconds later, you conclude that it's the only thing he has to say. The waterfall of words you expected, doesn't flow out. His lips are pursed into a stiff line to hold himself from saying anything more.

You want to scoff at his short sentence, one that isn't even long enough to start a chapter with. Yet, you keep your manners and just nod as a sign you accept the words. "You've been good?" You ask him for a continuation without using those defined words, but Doyoung avoids the hint and just nods his head.

Doyoung lowers his eyes towards his lap. Under the small table and on his lap, his two hands come together. His fingertips nervously fumble with one of his treasured objects, his ring. The silver band that belonged on his pinky, moves from finger to finger until it's between his thumb and index finger. Brown eyes follow the movements of the ring and the remains of the coldness as it moves to another finger.

"Have you sold out your voice?"

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴇʀ ꜱᴜɴ : "ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʜɪᴄᴋ ᴡᴀʟʟ ɴᴀᴍᴇᴅ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴄʀᴜꜱʜᴇꜱ ᴍᴇ ᴅᴏᴡɴ"

Sextilis.

The original name of the last summer month. A name given by the Roman calendars before the months January and February originated. Later Sextilis was renamed Augustus to honour the first emperor of Rome, Caesar Augustus.

What August weather typically looks like is hard to define. But at a glance, it's noticeable that hurricane activity increases, average temperatures turn cooler, and the length of daylight decreases. On rare occasions, early-August snow makes its appearance, and that fact can ring a bell to the childhood film: Nanny McPhee.

00 : 34 : 50 there'll be snow in August before that one's there when you need her

It doesn't snow. But it's August. And the timestamp of the film implies what time it was when Doyoung made his appearance in your shared apartment last night.  Now, a little over eleven hours later, Doyoung is found on his soft blanket. His exhausted body wrapped in the white sheets like it's a layer of snow that covers the ground.

Whilst Doyoung finds himself asleep in a bed of snow-coloured sheets and pillows, you find yourself walking through the increased hurricane-like emotions. Your facial expression is as dark as the skies before a hurricane, yet, it's the calm before the storm.

You are still kind enough to prepare breakfast for your summer sun. On the tray you prepared is the one thing he needs the most, and the things he will dismiss. Toast neatly placed on a white plate, a Dafalgan that is effervescing in a half-empty glass of water, the silver band that connects him to you. The filled tray is what you hold in your hands when you go to the bedroom, stopping you from starting a rant the moment you walk in.

At first glance, your eyes see Doyoung peacefully asleep between empty bed-space, right in the middle like he's taking the throne. He looks like a God. Turn it around and you have Dog, which is exactly what his late-night disappearances imply. What he does at night is unknown to you. And when you reek the swallowed liquor on his tastebuds, you don't even want to know.

"Doyoung, it's past eleven." You announce. Your voice is soft, quiet before the volume increases with each time that you need to repeat the words. You don't know why you don't immediately start shouting out his name. You can almost compare it to a teacher who willingly explains the same chemical formula over and over again. Until the chemical substances provoke a chemical reaction.

Doyoung can only hum tiredly in response. He's lost in the tunnel of sleep and your voice is a little bit too far away. He's not even prepared to see the daylight, even though he knows he has to. "What time is it?" he asks.

"Past eleven. Almost noon," you address. It takes a glance at the alarm clock for you to see what time it exactly is, but Doyoung is too tired to hear the one-minute intervals. So you shorten your words enough for him to understand.

Your footsteps exceed the line that separates the bedroom from the hallway. The wooden floor is incognito from the many expensive pieces of clothes that are scattered along. It looks messy and yet the clothes are patterned towards the bed. You take the same route as the clothes lead you in, stepping over them as there is barely room for your feet to stand on the wood.

After stepping on at least two different clothing items, you reach Doyoung's side of the bed. "I brought you breakfast," you comment. Your hand pulls from the tray, trying to shove some meaningless items from the bedside table so that you can place the tray on it. That way, an empty wine bottle and some notebooks fall to the floor and the tray takes their place.

"Didn't you say it's almost noon?" Doyoung mumbles. He turns his worn-off body on his side to face the bedside table or you, but his eyes are still tightly pressed shut. At least his brain seems to connect the dots between you bringing breakfast but telling him it's almost noon.

You hum. "It is. Only nine minutes before it's noon," you say. Part of you feels happy that Doyoung is capable of using his brain, but the other half just wishes that this situation wouldn't exist. It's far from uncommon, a little too common, something that happens too often. Even though you don't know if the unknown events are similar to the others, the morning after is a replay of an old song.

"Then why are you bringing me breakfast?" Finally, his words start making sense, but you hoped for words that made you feel like you received a bouquet of flowers. Some gratefulness for nearly serving Doyoung would be appreciated, even if it only was a mumbled: "thank you,". It could be effortlessly said compared to something that sounded like what you did wasn't enough. "Because it's not noon yet."

"Bullshit," Doyoung objects to your previous words. At least he knows it's bullshit but on the other hand, he would be fuming if the actual reason slips past your lips. "You can eat toast as lunch too, you don't need to eat beef daily, Dongyoung," you say in a gentle tone. Still, the way his real name is mentioned, makes it sound more strict and serious.

"Why? Why are you feeding me lies?"

Doyoung's bare body feels hot against the snow-coloured sheets, his blood boiling out of anger or because of the liquor remains in his blood. His brown eyes are opened and intensely staring into yours. He demands an answer. An honest answer that can make his blood boil even more. It almost appears like he is purposely trying to make you say hurtful words. If he gets hurt by them, he has the chance to take off his stress on you by anger. Or so, it seems.

"You got drunk. If you eat lunch now, you'll throw up and I will be the one to clean it all up!" You say, your voice increasing as you speak. Yet, you still sound relatively calm. Like earlier: you're like the substances that eventually provoke a chemical reaction. The toxic level of concern is greater than a small number and lower than a high number. Yet to increase.

"That's not what I'm asking," Doyoung states. He sits up on the bed, grasping every piece of clothing that has been thrown close to his side of the bed last night. Unfortunately for him, his socks are the last piece of clothing he took off. His dress-shirt is near the door, where he had almost torn it off. "I'm asking you why you're lying to me."

Out of annoyance, you press your fist down upon your thumb until you hear the sound. A sound that is heard when people crack their hands before a fight. A physical fight that you're not going to have. But it has the same effect on you. Even if you want to slap him across the face, you don't. Your fights are fought with harsh words, threats to break promises and eventual silence.

"I lied about the breakfast because I didn't want to fight. I don't like fighting with you but you apparently do! All you do is nitpick, closely observe everything so that you can point out my mistakes and then use them against me."

Ah, those words. The rant that had been stuck in your throat for days. The rant you hadn't coughed up because you weren't sure if medicine could cure the cold that followed. The consequences were unpredictable, just as unpredictable as to when the symptoms would finally turn into the sickness. Today, you coughed it up.

"I go out so much so that I don't have to be around you so much."

⋅ ⋅ ⋅

"Is that truly what you think of me?" You question Doyoung. The room is empty but you still dedicate the words to your summer sun. He made his appearance without showing his silhouette. Exposure by the folded tray that rests against the kitchen tiles and the tableware laid to wash in the sink.

Unlike the high notes that he sings, his footsteps had been so low and almost inaudible. It leaves you in the dark as you don't know how long it's been since he dropped his breakfast utilities in the kitchen. Perhaps it's your fault for not hearing him. Out of anger, you refused to acknowledge his presence and focused on 'me-time'.

Stood against the kitchen counter, you realise he's been there when you failed to notice. The mess he leaves is something that typifies the Doyoung you recently got to know. You try not to think of the evolution, because it could have been you who changed. You try to ignore your initial basic-need for water and opt to clean up the mess. It's not something you do out of love, but you still do it.

"What?" Doyoung's confused voice chimes in. His low-sounding footsteps make an appearance, starting at the bedroom door but they move towards the kitchen. The footsteps halt at the doorframe, where he stands at a safe distance. Ready to either converse or flee when the argument ignites. "You mean what I said earlier?"

"That you go out so much so that you don't have to come home to me," you paraphrase the words. It nearly feels like you are saying the words to Doyoung rather than quoting what he said to you earlier. After saying the words, you swallow the bitter feeling down with saliva.

"Oh, that," is the first response you receive back. Because you're so busy to get the symbolical bitter feeling off of the tip of your tongue, you don't hear the dry words that leave his lips. "I had a tough day and took it out on you, I'm sorry," he excuses himself. Doyoung is a storyteller, but you willingly take the words. Perhaps this is the one matter you do out of love.

You nod. You have no affair with tough days but fall for the temptation of an apology. "Sorry for saying those things," Doyoung apologises again before you have the chance to ask more questions. Not that you have many, just one: 'why?'

"Just know that I didn't mean anything I said, you have to trust me there," he adds. The more words he adds to the explanation, the fewer questions that remain for you to ask. Though it's known that liars generously overshare details, but you're not focussed on the convoluted sentence structure within the shared details.

Your head lightly moves up and down in a nodding motion, responding to his words. Even though a lie usually is told one-way, Doyoung still feels the need to hear a clear response from your mouth. "y/n, answer me. Do you trust me?"

There is a one-second gap between Doyoung's question and your answer. Something that could be seen as hesitation, but you hope Doyoung doesn't dig that far into details. "I trust you," you answer his demand after the slow-passing second.

Speedingly slow, Doyoung's footsteps approach you. Time doesn't consist out of seconds, it seems like footsteps replace the ticking instead. The preventive safe di

So fast, yet, so slow. Doyoung's footsteps approach you. Time no longer consist out of ticking seconds, replaced by the sound of Doyoung's footsteps. The preventive safe distance decreases with each step he takes towards you, each hesitating yet straightforward step. You swallow thickly as you anticipate his arrival. One step. Two steps. Three steps. Four steps.

Unexpectedly, a pair of hands brush over your shoulders. Even if you anticipated the arrival of Doyoung, the sudden touch makes you raise your shoulders quickly. "It's just me," Doyoung states. His fingertips slowly start kneading your tense shoulders until your shoulders give in. With your shoulders hunched forward, you also let your head hang momentarily. The weight of the fight is lifted off of your shoulders, but not after a numbing fall.

August snow. Right now, it's rain, it seems.

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴇʀ ꜱᴜɴ : "ɪ ᴄʀᴜꜱʜ ᴅᴏᴡɴ ᴅᴜᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ʜɪɢʜ ᴡᴀʟʟ ɴᴀᴍᴇᴅ ʀᴇᴀʟɪᴛʏ"

Doyoung draws your attention to him with his eyes. Your own eyes ignore the reflection of the room in his eyes so that you can focus on what he's trying to tell you. You are able to decode the wordless message and translate the eye-contact into words: he wants you to follow him. As a response, you nod your head, not breaking the eye-contact.

As Doyoung walks past the circle of people and up the first few steps of the staircase, you do too in relay. You follow approximately four steps after him: enough for people to not suspect a thing, enough for you to continuously see his moving silhouette. Because you don't lose sight of him, it's easy to follow without having to check different possible directions.

In Doyoung's shadow, you shine. Taeyong's eyes fall on your distanced silhouette momentarily, not breaking the one-sided eye contact until you're out of sight. His eyes lower again and his body turns to his friend and fellow musician, Moon Taeil. "Do you know where y/n went?" He inquires. Taeil, who had been following almost every movement out of boredom, shakes his head. "Perhaps the bathroom, I thought she said something along the lines of that."

The subject "Doyoung," is one Taeyong doesn't ask questions about. First of all, because he hadn't seen Doyoung leaving the party behind. Second, because he wasn't suspicious or curious about his friend's whereabouts.

Stuffed far away in a corner, a place where Taeyong's eyes don't reach, are you and Doyoung. Doyoung arrives first and is casually leaning against the wall until your four-steps gap has been closed. Hearing your light footsteps, Doyoung silently counts the seconds until you come in his sight. His mouth not opening until all steps have been taken.

"Why did I have to come here?" You ask. Your voice is loud and clear, despite the music that almost interrupts you with each word that leaves your lips. A party is not a good place for a talk, but you're as far away from the music as you can, just as far as you are from humanity. Though, your summer sun is also human. "Is something wrong?"

Doyoung shakes his head. He responds to the latter question first, simply because he knows that you get nervous if you wouldn't get an answer to the question. "Don't worry, nothing is wrong," he says in a calming tone, but adjusts his volume halfway through the sentence. His calming voice isn't audible over the music.

"Then why are we here?"

Your curiosity provokes Doyoung to let out a small chuckle. You see the chuckle falling from his lips by the way his lip corners are tugged upwards and the change in his eyes. Though the sound itself is inaudible even if you can imagine what it would sound like. "I just wanted you to come here for a bit," he explains loudly over the sound of the music. "I haven't even been able to lay eyes on you for the past hours, let alone hold your hand."

You smile. Despite the voice not sounding so gentle, you know he means it. It's all due to the music that the words and the hue of them don't match as they should. "You want some alone-time?" You question. Doyoung greedily nods in response to your words, not wasting his vocal cords to just say one simple word.

Before your response is chanted, his arms are found around your engulfed body. One of his hands is resting on your lower back, as is the other until it removes from the mirrored spot towards your waist. Doyoung turns his head back, checking whether someone had found the unlead way to the hidden corner where you were. "Just for a few minutes," he tells you seriously after he turns his head to face you again.

Wordlessly, like before, you use your eyes to answer his question. You're aware that you shouldn't be here. The ring isn't on Doyoung's pinky, almost meaning that you're not his lover until the silver band is found around his finger again. Even though you're not his girlfriend now, you still comply with his words. The hidden thrill.

It's like an aphrodisiac, mixed with Pandora's box effect. For the first, and perhaps last time that evening, his lips contact yours. Sensually-coloured fireworks explode in the form of music, numbing all of your senses but the tingles in the pit of your stomach and the softness of his lips against yours.

The soft kiss is soon changed as Doyoung deepens the kiss. It doesn't take long for you to get used to the fiery aggressiveness of his kisses, after all, you enjoy the reasoning behind those kinds of kisses. His fingertips tighten around your flesh, grabbing your clothed waist until the localised skin discolours lightly due to the applied pressure.

"I don't think we should risk this, Dongyoung," you mumble against his parted lips. Your lips almost melt against his again, the inviting warmth making you shape your lips the same way he does. The mumbles disappear between the unheated gaps of air.

The sensuality boils in the pit of your stomach, rising up to your heart as Doyoung's tongue traces over your lips. Mapping every inch of your lips by tracing along the shape slowly, savouring the taste of liquor combined with the taste of you. Strategic touches went from your clothed waist to your bare waist, his fingertips slipping under the shirt to lightly caress over the skin. "Why?" He asks. As his words echo over the music, his five fingertips now grip onto your bare skin. "Tell me why and I'll stop."

Air leaves your lips as they part a bit more, unshaped for any prepared word or sentence. The shape changes as you try to configure the words that should be used in response. "Because," you start slowly, breathing deeply after the word leaves your lips. Seconds after the first word, the others follow. "I don't want to get caught and get us into trouble."

The words put a halt on the aphrodisiac that had been building up at a rapid pace. Your request can only make Doyoung comply, realising that without either of you knowing, someone could have seen the momentum of love. One last time, Doyoung's lips play with yours in a gentle kiss, a wordless goodbye for the upcoming hours of separation.

"We should continue this later," Doyoung says as he pulls away. His eyes reveal the hunger he feels in the depths of his body, drowning in lust for pleasure and you. When you hum in agreement, his eyes only intensify according to the peaked feelings in his body.

You reach for his hand, gently holding it in yours. The pads of your fingertip circle around each finger until you reach his pinky. Your fingertips don't spiral over the smallest finger, instead, they trace over the spot that would usually carry the silver band. Perhaps you're not his lover tonight, but, …

"Sounds like you should take me to your place, summer sun."

⋅ ⋅ ⋅

Doyoung pushes his glass upon the sink, pushing away the skin products that take their limited space there. He barely hears the can with shaving dream falling to the tiled floor, so he surely doesn't hear the plastic pump bottle of handsoap dropping to the floor.

The liquor is like a whirlpool in the glass. It almost spills past the edges but luckily the sea of alcohol slowly calms down after being let go of. Doyoung stares at the amber-coloured liquid, his eyes following the whirlpool until it completely stills within the glass. When it finally stills, his eyes tear away from it.

"Shower," he tells himself quietly. It's more like a self-reminder than a command. Even though the hot water is running, he fails to notice the starting smog in the room, thus forgets that the shower water is already running. His tired limbs start taking off remains of clothing but only one item is removed from his body: his underwear.

When his brain wraps itself around the thought of his underwear, he is capable of thinking back about last night. Simply because his underwear was the last remaining piece of clothing on his skin before a drunken night of pleasure with you. He briefly recalls the flavour of liquor on your lips, even though he was the one to spread that flavour. The feeling of your soft-skinned body against his, even though he treated it far from soft.

As water flows, so do his thoughts. His thoughts are like an uncontrolled stream of water, whilst the shower-head can easily control the flow. It's an endless stream: as shower water continues running, so do his thoughts. The shower is forgotten as he listens to his thoughts and memories, trying to relive them in the order that they happened. Did he see Taeyong flirting with you after he sensually kissed you? Did he kiss you sensually after Taeyong flirted with you?

The relived memories of Teayong bring fog to his mind, clouding all other memories. Out of nowhere, he starts comparing himself to his friend: is Taeyong as wealthy as he is? Does Taeyong have as many songs under his belt as he has? Can Taeyong please someone as he does? Is Teayong as beautiful as he is?

In particular, the last question seems to haunt his mind. It's something he can easily observe by comparing Taeyong's godly-given looks to his own. Just like the artwork "김서림" or "Fogged Mirror" by Uesong Lee, his own mirror above the sink is heavily fogged.

Cloudy. That's what the mirror looks like, and the one word that could describe what the weather was like up in his brain. Memories that he could recall seconds ago are replaced by grey clouds that only provoke him to compare himself to one of his friends.

He tilts his head upwards confidently, the way of being disappearing as fast as it came. His reflection is clouded with fog, almost like the summer sun that gets covered by a thick layer of clouds. Faintly, he can make out the colour of his hair and skin, but not more than those blurry visuals.

With his flat hand, he wipes over the mirror to see a distorted version of himself. The lack of usual scraping sound is what takes his attention, keeping his hand pressed on the reflective glass. He wipes once more, only hearing the almost-squeaking sound rather than the scraping.

His eyes meet the circumjacent parts around his hand. Many scratches left behind on the glass and his hand that seems to smooth over the scratches rather than adding more. His ring. The culprit. His finger is not dressed-up by the silver band, neither is the mirror tortured with a new scratch. Why wasn't it around his finger? After twelve hours of being home with you, the connecting ring still wasn't around his pinky.

"Doyoung, are you almost done?!"

Your voice hides panic but it doesn't stop you from sounding frantic even from the other side of the door. The look on your face is almost predictable, but still at a level that's never seen before. The electronic device is tightly engulfed in your hands, squeezing so hard that your warmth radiates to the device.

"I'm almost done, why?" His voice sounds just as frantic as yours does. His fogged mind now filled with panic after the imagination of you seeing the ring somewhere laying around. If you found out he slept with you without wearing his ring or even spent almost twenty-four hours without ring, you would be mad. Would you?

Both of you swallow thickly at the same time, something inaudible to the person on the other side of the door. "Just come out, Doyoung!" You say louder, angrier. As a response, Doyoung tries his best to clean up the bathroom as fast as he can. The untaken shower is still warm when the water gets turned off, the fallen bottles are brought back to their original spots. And the glass of alcohol is back in Doyoung's left hand.

Out of the hamper, are taken some old clothes that should have gotten washed rather than worn again. But the clothes still find their way around Doyoung's skin, covering up his bare body with his own scent. On the clothes, he can smell alcohol, sweat, his cologne: dirty but nothing unusual. It's the scent of him.

Once dressed and provided with the glass of alcohol, he opens the bathroom door. When you're not standing in front of the door as he expected, his footsteps hunt through the apartment in search for you.

The living room is the place where he looks for you first, and the place where his hunt stops. After eyeing you, his gaze drifts to the ring that is on the coffee table, neatly laying where it usually waits for Doyoung's arrival. Unlike other days, the piece of jewellery looks lonely.

"What's wrong?" Doyoung inquires. Your tense figure provokes him to do the same. His shoulders straight and his finger fumbling with one another, unknowingly he imitates the signs of stress you show.

"You would know if you checked your phone," you announce. Your own phone is tightly clutched between your fingertips and if you unlock it, you'd be faced with the consequences of stupidity. "I will look for my phone," Doyoung offers as his eyes wildly dart around. His phone isn't on the coffee table like his ring is, neither is it laying on the dinner table.

"Just leave it, I'll read it to you instead!" You huff. Are you angry? Or displeased? The many underlying hues in your voice makes Doyoung wonder what emotion it specifically is, and what he should do to result in the concept of positive emotion.

"Soloist Kim Doyoung admits to dating after a surfaced picture of the couple kissing and leaving a party together."

The headliner that is worded in many different ways on even more different gossip pages. More articles are written about the discovery than over the fact that idols should be allowed to date and find happiness with whoever they fancy. Twelve hours later than the occurrences of the kiss and the pictured flee, you went from unknown to identified.

You don't need to read any of the articles to understand what they consist of, the title says it all. Neither do you need to see the reactions of others, you already know the results. People will invade your privacy, see you less as a person and more as Doyoung's shadow, spread hate-filled words about you wherever they go.

"And, what do you think of that, hm?" You loudly question your lover. Doyoung is awfully quiet, even more, quiet than he is in his sleep, but that doesn't mean he's as peaceful as he is during his resting time. The little signs that he imitated before are now individual signs of stress: plucking his nails and then rubbing his fingertips together to soothe the pain. "What do you think of that? Is that why you badly wanted some 'alone-time' with me!?"

Last night's numbing music now remind you of camera flashes, it's a sound that endlessly repeats in your mind. It starts with one camera flash but suddenly your ears are overwhelmed with the imaginary sound of cameras flashing around you.

You're pulled away from your thoughts when you hear a loud slam. When your eyes find focus, you see Doyoung's fist against the wall, painfully crumbling down the wall after the harsh contact between the materials and his bone-filled body. "Shit!" He loudly curses.

"One reason which is love, that made me promise to keep us together. But as I grow taller, I crush down due to the high wall named 'reality'"

❧ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ : "ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴘʟᴀᴄᴇ ᴡᴀꜱ ɢᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ ꜱᴍᴀʟʟᴇʀ ꜱᴏ ɪ ɢᴏᴛ ꜱᴄᴀʀᴇᴅ" ☙

"Have you sold out your voice?"

Doyoung's eyes tear away from the silver band that he's toying with between his fingers. First, his eyes meet the wildflowers before he looks at your sitting figure on the other side of the table. Out of shock, his fingertips momentarily halt their actions, as well as the ring, ends up being held between his thumb and index finger.

Memories invade the other thoughts once more: memories of breaking points in your relationship. Multiple factors caused the breaking point to approach sooner than expected. His addiction to alcoholic beverages, the hidden and yet exposed relationship, jealousy, the lack of time. Were those valid reasons to end the love song early? Maybe not, but it still happened.

It still happened. His vision starts to portray the day the love song ended tragically, he can already hear the passage that is usually called the intro. It opens the movement or a separate piece, preceding the theme or lyrics. The intro abruptly stops when a different sound is heard.

The sound of something dropping onto the wooden floor stops the ticking of the clock against the wall. Time seems to stand still and yet the object hits the floor before the fragment is paused. Doyoung's fingertips don't intervene: the silver band falls from his fingertips and onto the floor.

If only that sound had been included in the conclusion of the song, it would have completed the song structure perfectly. A tragic downfall before all ended, the music fading out sadly once the ring had been fallen. Though the song has been written, and this only belongs to a badly-written sequel.

Doyoung's eyes are quick to follow the untrammelled movements of the ring, eyeing the trail it could take before it barrels past his eyesight. He bends over his body slightly, reaching a little further so that his fingertips reach the floor. The ring comes to a halt, throwing itself down after one more ceremonial twirl. To pick it up, he allows his thumb to assist his index finger, holding it between his digits before he brings it up.

Your eyes intensely stare at the silver band between his fingertips, your eyes feasting on trying to recognise the familiar object. After scrutinising the object from a distance, realisation hits you like a brick. The ring. The ring that was an unspoken promise of your relationship, the almost cursed object was in your apartment, held by your faded summer sun.

Doyoung notices how your investigating gaze changes to an expression of shock. His eyes never leave yours, they stay focused on you, even when he straightens his body again and straightly sits on his chair. The moment, he's properly seated again, your body indicates that you want to get up.

Despite your body preparing itself to stand up, you stay seated. "Why are you here?" You question him. The shocked expression on your face transitions into something much darker. It's not anger, neither is it confusion. Your expression displays disapprobation, disapprobation towards his presence.

It's not you who stands up from the chair as your body tells you to do, it's Doyoung who takes initiative and straightens his posture after standing up. He doesn't respond to your question with words, but seeing the silver band that suddenly is around his pinky, the answer to the question is almost screamed out.

Just a few mere seconds after Doyoung gets up from his chair, he's already standing on the other side of the table. The side where your tensed body is seated on a chair, the side that he was able to see when he stared ahead of him, the side that allowed you to look at him. He takes in your appearance briefly: your tensed shoulders that you keep raised by your arms that lean upon the table, your gaze that is fixated to the current empty chair on the other side of the table.

To receive your attention, Doyoung wraps his hand around your upper arm, tugging at it lightly so that you would shift your gaze and body towards him. Though, your body is tense, barely moving despite his light tugs.

The second tug on your arm causes you to finally interact, stopping the ignorance because you want answers. You shift your attention to him by pulling your arm out of his grip as you stand up from the chair. You turn your body to face his and look at him with the same dark expression. "Why?! Why are you here?!"

You wait for an answer. Not longer than a few seconds before you run out of patience. It's not the first time your question is left unanswered, and for once, you're not willing to take silence as an answer. If he's here to apologise, then you want to hear it from his lips. If he's here to talk, you want to hear it coming from his mouth. If he's here because he 'accidentally' passed by, you want to hear the words coming from his vocal cords.

Your question only leaves Doyoung to look down, his lips sealed like there's a secret on the tip of his tongue. All of the questions you ever asked him are left unanswered, and this one might finish that list. Even if you say you're not willing to receive silence, you let it happen. "Leave, if you have nothing to say," you mumble before pushing your body past his. Your feet are lost within the own space of your apartment: are you heading to the door? Fleeing towards your bedroom? You don't even know.

Doyoung's feet follow your hesitating footsteps. Slowly and almost inaudible as you're standing still, so there's no need to rush. He halts his own feet a step behind the line where yours are perfectly aligned. Without being granted permission, his hands are placed on your shoulders before lowering towards your waist. Engulfing you in his arms.

The embrace lasts no longer than two seconds. Your body turns towards his again, breaking the physical contact. You want to step away from him again, flee towards a location that you have yet to figure out. You almost do, but Doyoung is fast to hold you back from doing so.

His flat hands place against both your cheeks, his fingers slowly curving in the form that your face is shaped in. Sometimes his thumb twitches, which is seen as a gentle caress over your facial structure. "Look at me, my beloved," he whispers, his lips barely moving but they're parted as a signal he just spoke.

And you do.

Tear-filled eyes stare into his. You look past the reflection of yourself, staring into the black-coloured pupils of Doyoung's eyes. Compared to your rheumy-looking eyes, his eyes are filled with much more sentiment. The wet layer on his eyes makes them shine, shine like the summer sun. Summer sun, a name you would affectionately call Kim Dongyoung.

Doyoung rests his forehead against the side of your face delicately. "I'm sorry," is all that leaves his lips the moment he feels your skin against his. As much as he wants the moment to last, his feelings start to run ahead of his actions.

A first kiss is placed on your cheek, but it doesn't stop there. It rarely does. His lips are quick to return homewards to yours. It's a gentle brush that indicates what both of you have been missing out on.

With your lips connected, a kiss is indicated. It doesn't start with a gentle peck, the kiss is deepened before it properly started. Doyoung's hands are lightly wrapped around your throat and jaw whilst your hands steadily grip onto his shirt.

With each short breath in between the kisses, they evolve towards something much more emotionally charged. Many feelings pour from mouth to mouth: lust, sadness, anger, desire. Love bubbles in the pit of your stomach but you can't taste its flavour upon Doyoung's lips.

"Summer sun," you mumble against his lips before you can stop yourself. The affectionate nickname making Doyoung's fingertips tighten around your throat, tugging a strand of hair along in the process. The feeling stimulates a quiet moan to slip from your opened lips.

Doyoung's tongue grazes between your upper and lower lip slowly, begging for permission to be a part of you. Your parted lips grant him wordless access to which he wastes no time to explore your mouth.

The amorous kiss allows you to feel the warmth behind Doyoung's parted lips, just as he feels the inviting warmth behind your lips. His tongue finds yours in an overlapping moment: what used to be a battle is now two puzzle pieces being perfectly aligned. As his tongue curves, yours does too around his. The heat becoming the glue that keeps the two of you together until each unidentified spot has been explored.

One hand moves away from your throat, trailing upwards to the back of your head. You're effortlessly pulled closer against Doyoung's body, causing his lips to press harder against yours during the kiss. You're left breathless, but Doyoung uses his last breath to give you a belated answer.

"I'm here because I want you back. You're my remedy."

[lihikainanea]

I got exhausted just putting my summer cloths to the front of my cloths and winter/Fall cloths to the back. It would be much better if I had a rotating closet. I bet Bill at one point had a rotating Closet or got one for Tiger because between him buying her cute things he sees that he can't resist and her buying things once in awhile their closet could fill quickly. And throwing things out seems such a waste.

I love this because I have so many conflicting thoughts--on the one hand, I feel like Bill's inherent Swedishness means he has 8 articles of carefully chosen clothing, 2 jackets, one coat, and precisely 3 pairs of shoes. That's it. That's his whole wardrobe. Maybe two belts but he only ever wears one. And tiger laughs, because she has never seen anyone own such a minimal amount of clothing but always look so fantastic. Most of what he wears on red carpets is borrowed, Bill doesn't really own a suit otherwise. And meanwhile, tiger's drawers and closets are all bursting with clothes and every once in awhile he'll hear her excited squeal because she found a shirt that she had totally forgotten she had.

But on the other hand, I recognize that Bill is Hollywood and frequently gets gifts or in general has a large wardrobe because he has to. And tiger still laughs, because he has 27 shirts that all look the exact same. His wardrobe is white, grey and black--with the odd burnt orange or forest green in there, a nice cognac brown. And his wardrobe is extensive--extensive enough for him to have a rotating closet that is impeccably organized, but all of it just looks....identical.

But I think the more likely scenario is that Bill is just growing a little tired of all of his drawers and every single closet real estate being taken over with tiger's bomb of a wardrobe. Tiger isn't the most organized person in the world just because she doesn't really value minutiae, it's not about the details with her. She's all abut the crumple-and-stuff method and Bill carefully steams, hangs up, or pristinely folds his clothes and categories them so he can always find exactly what he's looking for. The master bedroom has a walk-in closet and his clothes take up a modest 1/4 of it, and tiger's mess is the other 3/4. It slowly drives him insane.

So maybe one day when tiger is away on a business trip for a little bit, maybe Bill has some work done. The closet in the master bedroom and the spare bedroom share a wall and hell, the spare bedroom doesn't need a closet. So he gets a crew in, they knock down some walls, install some ambient lighting, install some shelves, a few rotating racks and some accessory compartments. And this? This is Bill's heaven. He spends the next few days meticulously organizing her wardrobe--washing everything, steaming it, hanging it up, categorizing it. He gets rid of all her socks that don't match until he realizes it's literally all of her socks so he gets her some new ones--and they go in a drawer separated with small compartments for each pair. He lays her jewelry out on the velvet-lined drawers in the accessories corner. He hangs her clothes according to season, and then according to colour. Business on one rotating rack, casual on the other. He takes his time, plays some soft jazz, and just gets high off the organization. He's immensely proud of his work.

And when tiger gets home, her Big Dude is practically bouncing on his heels as he grabs her hand.

"I have a surprise for you," he says, kissing her sweetly and then pulling her to the bedroom. He places his hands over her eyes.

"No peeking," he instructs. And then he walks her forward into the new space, and moves his hands.

"Ta-da!"

Tiger's eyes go wide, and she pauses.

"Holy fuck," she says, "What about the other closet?"

"No need for it," he shrugs, "There's drawers there."

She takes a few steps in, her fingers tracing over her clothes, and she jumps a mile when he presses the button on the rotating rack.

"It spins!" he says giddily.

"Did you do this?" she asks with a smile, "Organize this whole thing?"

He nods.

"So I can yell at you when I can't find something then?" she smirks, "There was an order in my chaos."

"No there wasn't and we both know it," he points accusingly at her. She steps forward and kisses the tip of his finger.

"Walk me through the method bud," she says, "What's going on here?"

"This rack is business," he motions to the rack in front of her, "To the right is spring and summer, and then the coloured divider and that's fall and winter. It's categorized by colour."

She nods.

"And over here," he motions to the other rack, "Is casual wear. Same system of separation and also divided by colour."

He walks her over to a system of drawers.

"Underwear and socks are the drawers on the left. Accessories are on the right," he says.

"Shoes?" she asks.

"Where would you want them to be?" he asks, but he rolls his eyes at her clueless look, "In the stand up compartment beside the socks, tiger."

She opens it and lets out a low whistle--all of her shoes are lined up and separated into sneakers, flats, and heels. But as she closes the door, something catches her eye. A small area in the corner, a silk red sheet draped from the ceiling to the floor to hide the area.

"And over there?" she asks. Bill grins mischievously, heading over to it.

"Over here," he says, and he whips back the curtain, "Is the naughty corner."

And all of her sets of lingerie, perfectly hung up on hangers with their stockings and corsets, line a small rack. Tiger spots a few new sets that she definitely didn't buy before she left, and Bill blushes a little. He's not about to tell her he had a raging hard on when organizing this section, picturing her in every single one of the outfits he was hanging up.

"Thank you Billy, I love it," she says with a sweet kiss.

"You're not mad?" he asks, and she shakes her head.

"Just impressed," she smirks, "Tell you what, though. You deserve something for this hard work. I'm going to go shower, but why don't you pick something out from the naughty area and put it in the bathroom?"

He nods enthusiastically, and with another kiss, she heads to freshen up. Sure enough when she steps out of the shower he placed his favourite set--definitely the Merida one--and tiger is also amused that he left a tube of her darkest, blood red lipstick on top of the set--his favourite.

[tiffdawg]

Full Sabacc | A Din Djarin x Reader Fic

Gif: @bestintheparsec​

Pairing: Din Djarin/ The Mandalorian x Reader (no y/n)

Word Count: 4.0k

Rating: E | Warnings: NSFW -  explicit smut, dirty talk, mild cursing. 18+ only.

A/N: A game of sabacc turns into soft, steamy, sexy fun with Din Djarin. This is basically one long self-indulgent strip tease. Forgive me, but it’s my birthday and I wanted to treat y’all to something fun 🖤Enjoy!

Read on AO3

My Masterlist

... . ...

Full Sabacc

Din’s gaze was momentarily transfixed on the blur of starlight curving around the transparisteel window as the Razor Crest tore through hyperspace. It’d been a long day and he was tired, but he couldn’t rest. Not yet. Adrenaline still coursed through his veins from the day’s action, making him restless. He’d finally tracked down the last bounty of the three pucks Karga had given him a few weeks prior. He had to put fuel in the Crest somehow, and this was the best way he knew how, despite other matters that needed his attention. Thankfully, the Trandoshan was in carbonite, though not for lack of a fight, and the autopilot was set for Nevarro.

He’d been cycling through starmaps, looking for the smallest hint of a lead as to where he might continue searching for his foundling’s people, but had allowed the blue streaks of hyperspace to distract him from his seemingly futile task. Instead he was thinking of the little foundling, sleeping soundly in his carrier down in the hull, and, in spite of his best efforts, you.

He’d brought you on as crew to help with bounties and keep the ship flying almost a year ago. He needed to focus more on finding the mysterious Jedi and after watching you fight off a couple of thugs who’d mistakenly thought you’d be an easy target, he figured you’d do, at least temporarily. You were strong and capable, and he’d needed the help, but you’d surprised him when you fell in love with the kid and took on Din’s burdens as your own, steadfastly determined to help him in any way you could. A temporary agreement quickly became permanent, and the past few months of crisscrossing the Outer Rim with you and the baby had brought Din a strange but not unwelcome sense of contentment. Something he’d never had as far as he could remember in his adult life.

You quietly reentered the cockpit, having previously left to check on the sleeping toddler and search for food, and reclaimed your seat next to him.

“How much longer?” you asked with a sigh.

“About fifteen minutes less than the last time you asked,” he retorted.

The three of you had spent the majority of the past week within the confines of the Crest, with only brief respites outside the ship when you made planetfall to track a bounty or hurriedly pick up supplies. His most recent jobs had taken you to planets that were less than hospitable, not that you seemed to mind that fact. You were feisty, a bit rough around the edges, and could handle yourself in dangerous situations. Still, he was sympathetic to your frustration. Even the kid was growing restless.

For a moment, he let his mind wander again as he contemplated the starlight before him. He let himself entertain the idea of taking you and his foundling somewhere nice for a few days. He imagined the two of you happy and free somewhere warm with a bright sun shining down on rolling green fields and a sparkling lake far from the chaos that plagued the rest of the galaxy, that seemed intent to follow him everywhere.

With a few swift movements, he double-checked the autopilot and turned to face you, wanting to voice his newfound desire, but the words died on his tongue. He had no idea how to suggest something like that to you. You were just supposed to be his working partner, his friend at best. It didn’t matter if he was starting to consider you so much more than that.

Instead, he said nothing, his head dropping to the stack of cards you shuffled idly in your hands.

“I know how we can pass the time,” you suggested, following his gaze. “It’ll be more fun than staring into hyperspace all night.”

“I don’t do that.”

“You do, but it’s okay. It’s endearing, Mando,” you said with a light laugh. Before he had time to process what your words, you leaned towards him in your seat, a mischievous smirk playing at the corners of your lips. “Do you know how to play sabacc?”

 “I’ve been in enough cantinas to know how to play sabacc,” he answered dryly. “I just choose not to.”

You slump back in your seat. “You don’t like playing?” you asked, looking down at the cards, toying with an already bent corner on one, and sounding rather defeated. He was surprised – usually you’d put up more of a fight.

“Never interested me.”

“I know how we can make it interesting.” Your eyes met his again with a newfound blaze. That was the spark he’d been looking for, but he knew instantly that he was going to regret it.

“You’re not suggesting what I think you are,” he deadpanned, his voice even and modulated. Underneath, he felt differently. You gave him a short, playful nod as if hoping to encourage him, beaming at him from across the cockpit, and he felt his resolve crumble. Even if you didn’t realize it, that smile could get him to do anything.

You took his silence as an opening to convince him, and to your credit, it was a fair argument.

“C’mon, what’ve you got to lose? I’m in a tunic, trousers, and a jacket. You’re wearing full body armor and 5,000 layers, Mandalorian.”

You pronounced his title as if daring him to agree.

Din was never one to resist a challenge. 

… . … 

As it turned out, you were pretty good at sabacc.

Damn good.

That was fast becoming a problem for Din Djarin.

He had yet another shitty hand of cards. At best, he had 18 points. If he played what he currently held in his now ungloved hands, you’d probably beat him. If he drew another card, he’d almost certainly bomb out and you’d still beat him. Again. 

At that point, he was down to his helmet and base layers. He’d lost every other piece of Beskar along with his gloves, boots, belt and holsters, cape and outer coverings. You’d seen him in various stages of undress before – not only do you share rather close living quarters but you’d patched up his more serious injuries on a number of occasions – however, this was easily the least amount of clothing he’d ever worn in front of you, even if he was still essentially covered from head to toe.

Of course, you were still wearing almost everything you’d had on at the start of the game. Only your boots and jacket were missing. Hell, you still had your socks. You grinned wickedly at him from your perch on the co-pilot’s seat and he knew you had another good hand. He’d suspect you of cheating somehow, but he’d been watching you closely, and, to be quite honest, he knew you better than that. 

You showed him your cards and he groaned. 

Pretty soon he’d be in nothing but his gods-forsaken helmet. Not that he hadn’t imagined that exact scenario before – although this definitely was not the time nor place to entertain those kinds of thoughts. Not when he felt so exposed.

Din wasn’t sure how he let this game get away from him. He’d completely lost control of the situation, and he wasn’t getting much in return.

Except that he was, in a way. He supposed he’d let this happen. Din could’ve tapped out of the game at any point and you would’ve obliged him. But it was sort of…exciting. He got to choose what to reveal to you, what part of him to bare next, all under the guise of a game. There was no pressure, no expectations, and he reveled in the way you carefully appraised him every time another layer was removed.

You quirked a brow at him, still waiting for him to indulge you for your latest victory. He shucked off his last protective layer, leaving him in nothing but his trousers and undershirt, and it was easily the least dressed he’d ever been around anyone. Even when he had participated in brief sexual encounters in the past, he’d never removed so much as a piece of Beskar. Yet there he was sitting in front of you wearing next to nothing and he wasn’t entirely uncomfortable. 

No, he liked the look in your eyes as you took in his form, finally seeing the outline of a human body beneath the armor. He probably liked it too much.

Until you met his eyes behind the visor again and he saw a glimmer of uncertainty cloud your lusty gaze that looked entirely foreign on you.

“We should stop,” you said, breaking the silence.

“Why stop now? You’ve been kicking my ass so far.”

You considered his words, chewing on your bottom lip in a way he found much too enticing.

“Deal,” he commanded and for some reason you listened. You hardly ever listened to him without at least some snarky comment. He examined his cards and stifled a sigh. He made his best play, anticipating another loss.

You revealed your cards and – he won.

You bombed out on the next round and lost the one after that, playing a meager 15 points worth of cards. Consequently, you’ve lost both of your socks and your thigh holster and the two of you are suddenly on much more even footing.

You dealt another round without so much as looking at him and he couldn’t help but notice the tension in your movement, in your whole body.

He won that round too, but he was studying you closely now. You were lying to him; that wasn’t your best play.

“Bout time you won a few rounds” you said, having noticed him watching you. He heard the hesitation in your voice where no one else would’ve noticed it.

You shifted in your seat and your hands moved to the hem of your tunic. For a brief moment your eyes flick up to meet his just as you're about to lift the garment up and off your body. Acting on reflex, he grabbed your wrist to stop you.

“I want to see the rest of your cards first,” he demanded.

“Okay, you’re definitely the only man in the galaxy to ever say that after winning a round of strip sabacc,” you said rolling your eyes.

He released you from his grip and reached for your unused cards. This time you tried to stop him, but he was stronger than you and broke free easily, still always careful not to hurt you. A quick glance at your cards told him you had a better hand.

A much better hand.

Full sabacc.

You weren’t so stupid that you couldn’t count to 23. You’d lost on purpose.

“Why did you do that?” he asked accusingly.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about” you deflected weakly and started to gather up the strewn about cards, no longer meeting his stare.

But he wasn’t going to let this go. “You’re the most competitive person I know. Why’d you lose on purpose? I don’t understand,” he prompted, seeking some sort of explanation.

“Because I-” You stumbled over your words uncharacteristically, “I didn’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

His head tilted to one side, a silent plea for clarification that he knew you’d understand.

“Look, I honestly didn’t expect you to be that terrible at sabacc. No offense,” you said with an apologetic look. “I didn’t think I’d get you down to next to nothing that fast. Not with how much you wear – which is a little ridiculous by the way. Also, no offense.” He rolled his eyes at you behind the helmet and somehow you sensed that too, offering him a small huff of a laugh and the ghost of a smile. “I just didn’t want you to be uncomfortable” you repeated after a moment, and your care for him made him bold.

“I hate sabacc. I’m fucking horrible at it,” he started, “But I liked losing to you.”

Your eyes locked onto his behind the visor, your lips parting slightly at his words. “Really?” you asked with more than a hint of disbelief.

He hummed noncommittally and then let his helmet tilt downwards a bit more obviously than normal as his gaze trailed over your body. You seemed to come alive under his stare, body arching toward him and the unsteady rise and fall of your chest quickening.

“I liked winning,” you said, grinning at him.

“I know you did. But you still owe me something.”

You rose from your seat and closed the distance between the two of you, standing in between Din’s parted legs with a steading hand on his shoulder. He looked up at you from behind the visor, waiting for you to make your next move.

“You did win the last round,” you said, pretending to consider his suggestion as you took one of his hands in your own and brought it to the hem of your tunic. “Maybe you could help me.”

He didn’t win the last round, not even close. You’d had a full sabacc and yet here you were offering yourself to him as a reward. 

Din stood to his full height, practically chest to chest with you, and tentatively lifted your tunic, slowly revealing the smooth skin of your stomach, the soft curves of your hips, the gentle slopes of your shoulders. Only a thin breast band remained to protect your modesty, though it did little to hide the swell of your breasts or your peaked nipples from him. He dropped your shirt onto the pile of long forgotten clothing items that seemed to be growing by the minute. He let his fingers skirt over your sides as he brought his hands back down to settle on your hips, suddenly overcome with the need to hold you in place. He was just barely touching you, but the feel of your skin burned through him, emanating from his fingertips and settling deep in his belly.

But what was he supposed to do now?

You’d always flirted with him much more boldly than he did with you, and he’d assumed that was just part of your personality. You were naturally confident and more than a little coquettish. When he did dare to flirt back, he always took his cues from you. He also stuck to easy truths: your effortless fighting technique, the practiced way you cleaned a blaster, your sharp wit and cunning mind. And even though you couldn’t see past his dark visor, you always caught him staring at you. Always offered a shy, knowing smile in response while never expecting much of anything from him in return.

But now you were staring up at him eagerly.

This was already the most intimate situation he’d ever been in – sexual or otherwise. Never before in his somewhat limited experience, had it ever felt like this before. The air between you was charged, practically volatile, and it felt like it would implode at any minute.

“Your move, Mando,” you prompted, your voice barely more than a whisper.

He let out a sigh he didn’t know he was holding. Even now you were letting him dictate the terms, still making sure he felt comfortable, and your encouragement was all he needed. “Turn around. Close your eyes.”

As soon as you did what he told you, he disengaged the locking mechanism on his helmet. Quickly slipping off his undershirt, he replaced his helmet before reaching out to you again. You let him turn you around with a light touch ghosting over your shoulder.

“You can look.”

Your eyes fluttered open and darted across his body. Instinctively, your hand stretched out towards his bare torso, retracting hesitantly halfway before he took the initiative. Taking your hand in his, he planted your palm to his chest, his own resting firmly over yours. The tightness in his chest dissipated under your touch, aided by the soft smile gracing your lips. Until you glanced up at him and thought he saw a hint of sadness cross your face. There was one layer that couldn’t come off.

Not yet.

He filed that thought away for later. He could only process so much in one night.

“I can’t-”

“I know.”

“I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be. This is more than enough. I promise.” You smiled again and he tried to believe you. He tried not to dwell on it as you leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on his chest. His heart threatened to beat out of his ribs, and he was sure you could feel it. “Is this okay?” 

“Yes,” he choked out and you kissed him again, lower this time as your focus shifted to the button of his trousers.

“And this?” You asked looking up at him with dark, shining eyes. He nodded and you pushed his pants down his legs, bending to help him step out of them. As you stood to your full height again, your fingertips brushed lightly against his calves and thighs, scorching his skin and sending a shock of arousal to his already throbbing erection. You noticed his hardness, hardly concealed by his briefs, as you moved up his body.

“Aren’t you glad I suggested sabacc?” you asked coyly.

He wished you could see the smile behind his helmet. “Yeah, but I think you’re a little overdressed.”

“Care to help me?” You wrapped your hands around his and brought them to your chest, encouraging him to palm your still covered breasts. He enthusiastically helped you remove the offending article, tossing it carelessly aside, and his hands wandered lower, taking your trousers off as well as your panties in one quick movement.

“Hey!” you giggled, wrapping your arms around his neck to balance yourself. “That’s cheating.”

“You cheated first,” he answered with a laugh of his own. He held you to him, delighting in the sensation of your skin, the feeling of your body pressed flush against his. Determined to touch every inch of your body, his hands moved on their own accord, dropping to knead the pliant muscle of your backside.

“I knew you were staring at my ass all this time,” you teased, trailing your hands down to the waistband of his briefs.

“I was hoping you hadn’t noticed.” He supposed there were some things the helmet couldn’t hide. His fingers slid past the swell of your ass cheeks, dipping into the wetness he found at the apex of your thighs.

“Oh,” you moaned breathily, “I’m not complaining.” Your hand slipped into his briefs and freed his cock, pumping it experimentally. 

“Fuck,” he cursed. You’d hardly done anything, and he was already faltering on the edge. Except that wasn’t quite true. You’d seen, touched, and explored more of his body than anyone ever before. It was all so much and yet he wanted so much more. He wanted you, only you, and he wanted to give himself over to you completely. But for now, your lips kissing and sucking on his pulse point on his exposed neck brought him back to the present moment. Back to the fact that if you kept stroking him the way you were, with just enough pressure on the base of his cock and a teasing swirl across the head, this would be over before it really started. “Fuck, I’m not gonna-”

“Me either. Take these off, please” you begged, tugging at his briefs. “Need you now, Mando.”

He discarded the last layer of clothing separating the two of you and you walked him backwards, pushing him down when the backs of his knees hit the captain’s chair so that you could climb onto his lap, straddling his hips. With a gentle hand on your lower back, he pulled you closer, guiding you as you sank down on his cock. Your pussy wrapped around him perfectly, enveloping him with your velvety walls.

“You feel so good. I didn’t know this could feel so good,” he said, the vocoder unable to mask the arousal in his voice. Something in the warm smile you gave him told him that you knew he was mumbling on about more than the exquisite clench of your cunt around him, that he actually meant that being with you, having you in his life, felt so good.

“I know. You make me feel good too. So fucking good.” You sighed as you slowly started to move up and down his length, taking him a bit further every time you lowered yourself, “Just- just tell me what you need. Wanna make you feel so- so good, Mando.”

“More,” he responded without clarifying. It didn’t matter – you already knew what he needed. You quickened your pace and all he could do was sit there and watch; he needed to commit this – the blissed-out look on your face, the bounce of your pert tits, the slick coating your thighs and dripping down his cock – to memory. Just in case.

A particularly heady mewl fell from your lips and he snapped back into the moment, realizing he was getting lost in his own thoughts when all he really wanted to do was make you feel just as good. Wrapping an arm around you tightly, he pulled you against his chest. He wanted your flushed body against his; he didn’t want any space between the two of you. With his other hand, he swiped his thumb against your clit, eliciting a wanton moan from you that went straight to his cock.

“You like that?” he asked through gritted teeth, teasing you.

“Fuck! Gods, yes, Mando,” you panted, nails digging into the skin on his shoulders, “Please don’t stop.”

“Don’t worry, cyar’ika. I’ve got you. Always gonna take care of you.” He tightened the circles he was drawing around your sensitive bud and held you steady as he thrusted upwards when you stilled above him.

“I’m gonna- Fuck, Mando, I’m gonna-” You gasped for breath, unable to even finish your sentence.

“I know. Can feel it. So fucking tight around me. You feel so good.” 

He started pounding into you, pulling you down hard on his cock, and you shattered around him, practically convulsing in his arms as he fucked you through your orgasm. When you finally slumped against him, you wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders and buried your face in his neck, holding on as if your life depended on it. You kissed his sweat-slicked skin, murmuring meaningless obscenities as you came down from your high.

“Mando,” you uttered breathlessly, “Cum for me.”

Your gentle demand pushed him over the edge and into the abyss. With a few more errant thrusts, he found the release he so desperately needed, filling you with his seed. A warm, sated feeling washed over him and he let his eyes fall shut behind the visor as he struggled to catch his breath. He didn’t dare move, and neither did you. The two of you clung to each other in the afterglow, letting the stolen moment stretch on for as long as possible.

“Why didn’t we do that sooner?” you asked, finally breaking the silence. 

“I don’t know,” he replied, half truthfully. You both knew what had kept you from seeking each other out for so long. He absentmindedly started rubbing a soothing hand along your back, tracing every vertebra and sending a shiver of pleasure down your spine. 

“Well, I definitely should’ve broken out the sabacc cards a long time ago.” He felt you smile against his neck and a breathy laugh escaped him. “But more importantly, when can we do it again?”

“Give me a minute, cyar’ika,” he chastised playfully, feeling the quiet laughter that shook your body more than he heard it. “But that reminds me,” Din started slowly, “Have you ever been to Dantooine?”

... . ...

Thanks for reading!

[yayeetsonny]

“I’m sorry, What?”~ USWNT x Baby Reader

Prompt: Team finds out Baby R has a girlfriend.

Requested by: @rainbowpants27​

I know you requested this ages ago, sorry about the wait!

No ones PRO//

The players on the USWNT were some of the best in the world, there was no doubt about that. On the field they were a force to be reckon with and when doing interviews or press conferences they made sure to maintain a certain degree of professionalism. Off the field and away from flashing cameras and microphones was a different story…

Their fanbase often knows just how crazy they can be and they often exhibit “crackhead” behavior. The age range of the team is from 36 to the youngest at 17. When it comes to their young teammates they get extremely protective and sometimes a little nosy. One such example of this was the day they found out their youngest teammate Y/N L/N had a girlfriend that she hid from them for an entire year.

Alyssa PRO//

I was heading down to the bus because we had practice soon and they told all of us to start boarding. When I got there I noticed that almost everyone was there, everyone except the youngest Y/N.

“Hey, guys?”

“Yeah Lys?”

“Where’s Y/N?”

Everyone stopped talking and began looking around for her but when they realized she was no where to be found they started to worry.

“Has anyone seen her today?”

“Yeah, just before I left our room.” Abby said

“Was she okay when you left?” Tierna asked worriedly

“Yeah, she said she’d be down in a sec and to not wait for her.”

“How long ago was that?”

“10 minutes?”

“We have to leave in 5, I’m going to look for her.” I said throwing my stuff on the bus, getting the card to her room and sprinting back into the hotel.

 I made it to the floor our rooms were on and used the key card Abby had given me to open the door. When I did I heard Y/N talking quietly to someone, she didn’t seem to know I was there but what I heard her say next had me extremely worried.

“No, I can’t tell the team.”

The was a pause before she spoke again.

“Because they’ll freak out and get all protective.”

Another even longer pause.

“I just… I can’t. I- ”

“Y/N?” I decided to interrupt and make my presence known.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard me and she looked like a deer caught in the headlights.

“I gotta go, sorry!” She rushed out before quickly hanging up on the other person.

“Hey Alyssa! What’s up?”

“I just came up here to see if you were okay since we have to leave in 5 minutes and Abby said you told her you’d be down over 10 minutes ago.”

“Oh, yeah sorry about that. I just had to make a quick phone call.”

“To who?” I asked as we started running to the elevators to get back down to the bus.

“Just a friend.” She said a little too quickly

I Just nodded in acknowledgement as we made it down just in time and got on the bus.

“Jesus, there you guys are. What took so long? We almost left without you.” Alex said from her seat next to Kelley.

“Just got caught up on the phone.” Y/N replied

I could tell she was nervous and so could everyone else, she was avoiding eye contact and fidgeting quite a lot.

“Everything okay?” Christen asked concerned

“Huh? Oh, yeah. Everything is fine.”

We all let it go after that but I knew everyone was still sending worried glances her way. I needed to tell the others about the conversation I overheard and we would need to find a way to get her to tell us what was going on. Normally I would stay out of things and mind my business but when it concerned our youngest player, someone who I considered a little sister to me those rules were null and void. I knew the rest of the team felt the same, the older players even more so. 

We got to the practice facility after a short ride and after getting off and going to the locker room to deposit my stuff I went out onto the field and joined the circle of players that had gathered in the middle. 

“Are you guys worried about Y/N too or is that just me?” Abby asked

Everyone said that they too were worried and began talking about what could possibly be going on, some imagining some really bad scenarios and others reminding everyone that she was a nervous kid and that whatever it was, was probably not as bad as they were thinking. I had stayed quiet for the most part but finally decided to tell everyone what I heard earlier.

“Guys wait. Okay so before I tell you what I am going to, I need everyone to take a deep breath and let me finish talking before asking questions, okay?”

They all agreed and then I told them about what I overheard her say on the phone.

“And you’re sure she said “I can’t tell the team.”?” Mal asked

“Yes positive.”

“And you absolutely sure she said we’d “Freak out. And get all protective?” She said those exact words?” Alex asked

“Yes, guys I swear that’s word for word what she said to whoever was on the other line.”

“Well now I’m even more concerned.” Tobin said 

We all knew that sometimes when something bad was happening or she was in trouble at school she didn’t tell us right away. Her home life wasn’t the greatest so our reasons for concern that she was keeping something from us were understandable. 

“Okay, everyone listen up.” Carli said, using her “Captain voice”

“I know you’re all worried, and so am I but we have to let her come to us and we can not… I repeat can. Not. Jump to conclusions. Understood?”

We all agreed and went about our usual practice routines. Y/N emerged for the locker room shortly after Carli finished talking and joined the circle on the field.

“What did I miss, guys?” She said completely oblivious to what we had been talking about.

“Not much kid, just asking anyone if they had seen my shin guards.” Carli said, ruffling her hair.

“Come on, kid, come do some passing drills with me.” Alex said whisking her away.

We continued on through practice and the younger players were goofing around with Y/N when given the chance, she seemed more at ease than before. When we finished and headed back to the hotel we all decided to do a game night in Abby and Y/N’s room. 

After much convincing Vlatko and the other coaching staff agreed to let us order pizza and eat other junk foods. “but this counts as your cheat day for this week.” He told us and we agreed that, that was a fair sacrifice to make. We ordered a bunch of pizzas and sent Megan, Becky and Allie on a snack run. When they returned that brought with them everyones favorites, ranging from candy, chocolate and ice cream to different kinds. Of chips and cookies. The hotel staff probably thought we were having a party and regret letting 23 teenagers/childlike adults into their hotel. 

We played all of the stereotypical party games such as spin the bottle, truth or dare, never have I ever and so on. We also split into different groups to play cards or board games, making bets on who would win or lose the most and some also took to playing Mario kart and other games on the Nintendo Switch Tobin brought along. All in all it was pretty fun night but I could help but still worry and wonder about Y/N. I noticed that while she was having a lot of fun, she was also spending a significant amount of time looking at her phone, sometimes she would get this really big cheesy grin on her face and other times she would look slightly worried or anxious, it was slightly confusing and I could tell Ali and Ashlyn had caught onto it too.

Things took a turn however when Lindsey noticed Y/N lost in her phone and she snatched it out of her hand. 

“Hey! Give that back!”

“Who are you talking to that’s more important than us?”

“No one. Just give me back my phone.”

“No, don’t think I will.” She said while laughing, getting up to run away.

“Lindsey! Give it back!”

Y/N got up and jumped on her back trying to wrestle it out of her hands. At first we thought it was funny but when we saw that Y/N was actually upset we started to try to get them to break it up.

“Guys, stop it!”

“Then tell Lindsey to give me back my phone!”

“I just wanna know who you’re talking to!”

“None of your fucking business Horan!”

Becky, myself, Julie and Tobin all stood in between them as Alex, Christen, Mal and Rose pulled Y/N away and Crystal, Emily, Jessica, and Megan did the same for Lindsey. Everyone else just stood and waited.

“Everyone needs to settle down. Now.” Carli said leaving no room for anyone to argue.

“Okay but she fucking- ”

“Hey watch your mouth.” Alex chided 

“No! She took my phone and I want it back.”

“Y/N, calm down. Take a deep breath.” Christen said

She and the others were still holding Y/N back, Alex had a firm grip on her waist so she couldn’t go anywhere and everyone else stood in front of her, trying to block her from seeing Lindsey. Jessica and that group were doing the same on the other side of the room.

“Lindsey, give her back her phone.” I said sternly

“Why? You were the one who told us about her weird phone call and you know she’s been being weird and secretive all day.”

“What are you talking about?” Y/N asked

“Oh, so you weren’t having some super secret phone call earlier with someone?”

“I mean… I wouldn’t say it was “super secretive.” How much of that did you hear Lys?”

“Just the part where you said you “can’t tell the team.” And that we’d “Freak out and get all protective.”

A look of realization took over her face and she slowly pushed her way out of Alex’s grip and passed the group of people to get to Lindsey.

“Please give me my phone. I’ll tell you guys the truth.” She said

Lindsey complied and when Y/N had her phone again she took a deep breath and said 

“Okay now before I go any further I want you all to know that I am okay and nothing bad is going on. I promise. I also would appreciate if you waited to ask you questions until after I’m finished talking.”

We all nodded in agreement and she began ti tell us what that phone call was really about.

“Okay, I have a girlfriend. Now you guys didn’t know about it because I hid it from everyone except my really close friend back home and some of my cousins. We’ve been dating for the past year and I said I couldn’t tell you guys because I know you’ll go crazy and want to have the talk with her.”

There was a beat of silence before Kelley was the first to speak.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I have a girlfriend.” she repeated

“Our baby has a girlfriend! Holy shit!”

After her outburst several other people began talking over each other.

“No way! Dude what the heck?”

“How did you guys meet?”

“Did you ever plan to tell us?!”

“Can we see pictures?”

Y/N PRO//

“Okay, Okay! Guys, take it easy. Let her breath.” Alex said coming up to hug me from behind.

“To answer you questions, Yes it’s true. We meet at one of my school soccer games, yes I was planning to tell you eventually and yes you can see pictures.”

“You know, you don’t have to let us in on your relationship just yet. If you’re not ready that’s okay.” Ashyln said

“No, it’s okay. I was talking to my girlfriend today and she was wanting me to finally tell you guys and I knew she was right but I wasn’t sure how and I was nervous because of that. But I’m okay now.”

“Only if you’re sure.”

“I am.”

I ended up telling them everything from the day we met, to how long it took for us to start dating, who kissed who first and everything in between. I felt relieved that they now knew about my relationship and was glad not to have to hide it anymore.

“Can we get a name?” Sonnett asked

“Yeah, who is this lucky lady?” Mal joined in, everyone else following

“Her name is Y/GF/N.”

“Oooo. I love her already.” Julie said giggling.

“The real important question is... how is she in bed?”

“Okay, nope! absolutely not!” Ali said slapping Sonnett upside the head

“What?! Curious minds would like to know.”

“For both your guy’s sake, you better tell me you aren’t having sex yet.” Alex said sternly

I was beet red now and the younger players were laughing at me and teasing me while the older ones looked ready to kill.

“No, no we haven’t had sex.”

Several of them let out big sighs of relief while the others looked disappointed.

“Well, when you do, I want an in detail account of everything.” Sonnet said, dodging another head slap, this time from Julie

“Emily!”

“What’s the big deal?”

“The big deal is, she’s far too young for that.” Alex said pulling me into her and covering my head

“I’m turning 18 next month!” I said indignantly

“Doesn’t matter, you’re still a baby.”

“Well once she’s 18 she’s, technically...”

“No.” All the veterans of the team said at the same time.

“Sorry kid, guess you’ll be a virgin for your whole life.”

“Damn right she will.” Julie said.

“Guyssss” I whined.

“Aw, we’re only kidding kiddo. You’ll only have to a virgin until you’re 30.” Ali said laughing when I pouted at her.

We decided to send a group selfie to her to tell her that the team knew and the text I sent along with it read “Surprise! You have 22 “moms” and sisters dying to meet you! They love you already!”

She responded quickly by saying

“I’ll prepare myself for the talk then haha. Tell them I can’t wait and I hope we meet soon! I love you!”

I spent the rest of the night showing the girls our best (and worst) pictures together, silly videos we took and just overall gushing about my lady. I was a little worried they would ambush her when they met her in person but I also knew that they were all super happy for me and excited to meet the girl I love.

//

Sorry for any mistakes, mostly unedited.

-N

[wakaoujisenhime]

Hi! Can I ask scenario about Rakuzan manager? Rakuzan (and Akashi) female fans attacked her, but Rakuzan team protect her.

A/N: I’m writing this while imagining Rakuzan’s fans to be those typical hardcore ones you sometimes see on SNS, and oh boy... (☉_☉) Also, I hope you don’t mind that I changed the concept of attacking the manager a little bit and made it go into the direction of bullying. 👀  Now, I know that Mayuzumi isn’t really visible in the image below, but this was the only one I found that fit the description of them looking intimidating, so sorry for that (っ◞‸◟c) hope you enjoy it nonetheless! ♡  

Tags: Rakuzan x reader ✅  SFW ✅  friendship/camaraderie ✅  slight fluff ✅

━━━━☆ ━━━━☆ ━━━━☆

A capable manager - Rakuzan x reader

Being Rakuzan’s manager wasn’t an easy task. Not only were you burdened with the team’s immense success and reputation, but also with five problematic personalities who also happened to be the club’s representatives.

It took you quite some time and effort to get to know them, and have them trust you enough with their personal training regimen, let alone their private affairs and problems. However, you still managed to overcome all these difficulties and became quite close with the five young basketball players. The more you interacted with them, the more you realized just how helpful and pleasant their company actually was, especially Akashi’s.

He was quite notorious for his perfectionism and for the way he treated his teammates. In the beginning, you were also treated as one of his minions. Still, after you spoke up about how he might lose the entire team if he continued behaving like that, Akashi luckily listened to you and decided to pick a new approach. You expected him to change himself, but instead, he went ahead and recruited people who were actually able to keep up with his antics. It frustrated you a little to see just how incorrigible he was, but the fact that the captain was sticking to his ideals impressed you quite a bit.

The team respected you very much. You had joined them the moment you enrolled in Rakuzan high and always made sure to give it your all, no matter what. Naturally, you made the members and their wellbeing your first priority, so whenever someone decided to disrupt the harmony of the team, you were always the one to protect and upkeep it. This was one amongst many other reasons the club members adored and looked up to you. It was really fortunate that you had earned such a status, it made many tasks less difficult to fulfill since you knew these boys on a personal level, but not every problem was that easily overcome.

Rakuzan’s fans were one example.

They would always cheer while the entire squad entered the gym and went to the benches to discuss the plan for the game, but you couldn’t help and overhear some comments that were addressed to you.

Is that their manager?

Yeah supposedly...

What the hell, she doesn’t even look like she knows what this sport is about!

Totally! Just look at her!

You’d try and ignore them as good as you could, but the fact that your back was literally facing the stands didn’t help out at all.

“(Y/N)-chan, is everything alright?“

Reo always had a knack of noticing when something was bothering you, and he’d always make sure to ask you about it so that he could figure out a way to help you out somehow. You appreciated the gesture, of course, but what you wanted to avoid the most right now was distracting them from the upcoming match, so you brushed it off, put on your typical fake smile, and nodded firmly.

“Yes, no problems here!”

Luckily he knew that one of the things you hated most was when people pestered you about something you didn’t want to talk about, there were times when you welcomed it, but now wasn’t one of them. Pushing your slightly hurt feelings aside, you gave the five players a quick rundown on their enemies’ playstyle and preferred modus operandi.

While they were out there scoring one point after the other, your concentration was disturbed multiple times by the permanent gossiping of the fans, who had now moved on to questioning your strategic abilities, claiming that some of the boys weren’t in their top form today and who was to blame for this? You, of course. In an attempt to block their constant chatter out, you closed your eyes for a moment. The coach, who noticed your short moment of frustration, asked you the same question as your black-haired friend, and the moment you opened your mouth to answer with the exact same words as before, something light hit your shoulderblade, startling the both of you in the process.

“Oops, sorry, my friend pushed me, I didn’t mean to throw that at you!“

Another forced smile and a slight shake of your head were your answer to the obviously fake-sounding ‘apology’ you’d just received. With a disappointed and slightly annoyed face, Shirogane picked the paper ball up from the ground and looked at it with disgust.

“(Y/N)...maybe we shoul-“

“It’s ok coach, I’m fine so please don’t mind this.“, you said as you bit your lower lip in frustration, “Let us continue observing the match...and please don’t mention this to the others...them not playing at their full concentration because of something as trivial as this, is the last thing I want right now.“

His dark eyes rested on you for a short while, but he soon averted them and continued watching the young men play. So did you, but what just happened still lingered in your mind.

It was quite frustrating to see that some people let their jealousy distort them to such an extent that they would start harassing you just because of your position, gender, or whatever other reason they might have. All they saw was the way you entered the gym alongside the boys, talked to them, gave them drinks and towels, and that’s when they start to think that this is all you do. You were quite disheartened that people with such limited views on things were supposed to represent your clubs’ fanbase, but that’s just how things were.

While you were lost in your thoughts, your teammates were out on the field completely dominating the game (as always), but some of them had noticed what went down a short while ago, and they didn’t like that at all.

The halftime whistle is what brought you back to reality. Typically, it was you who provided the players with drinks and towels, but this time the coach had assigned this minor task to one of the underclassmen. He thought that he might help you out with it, but he only made all of it worse.

Oh my god, do you see that?

She calls herself the manager, but can’t even do her tasks right.

Pathetic, ‘ain it?

Just as you were about to sit up and speak your mind, someone placed a towel on top of your head and patted it. You didn’t feel the need to look up, since such a massive palm could’ve only belonged to one particular player. Instead, you just looked at the ones that had surrounded you. 

“Alright then, what’s your next brilliant plan manager?“ asked Kotaro with his typically loud voice. 

The others joined him and began talking about different and pretty much trivial stuff they usually avoided, making it plainly evident that their main objective was to distract you from the spiteful comments of the spectators.

You had to admit that the kind words they occasionally mixed in were indeed making you feel better, and after a while, you had succeeded in forgetting about it for the time being...you had a team to manage after all.

After a short while, the referee announced that the game would resume shortly and warned both teams to wrap the talk up. With an encouraging smile, you motivated each of them to keep up the marvelous play, have fun but also be cautious of possible tricks from the opponents. When Akashi’s turn came up, you simply smiled at him, unsure whether to try your luck with motivating this seemingly invincible player or not, but before that happened, he spoke up first.

“(Y/N) I know what happened.” 

His statement threw you off quite a bit, but there was no time for you to question its meaning since the time to get back on the field drew near.

“I know it’s frustrating and painful to hear something like that, but you shouldn’t mind such useless comments from commoners like them. You should ask yourself on which basis they are actually making all of these assumptions about you. Do they know how much effort you’re actually putting into our team? Have they seen just how late you always stay behind just to make sure that everyone leaves? Are they aware of the amount of knowledge you needed to obtain before you could even give us tips on how to play? The answer is always no, so make sure to keep that in mind.”

“Sei-chan, it’s time.“, whispered Reo as he gently caressed your back, flashed you a quick smile, and entered the court. Said man barely nodded and placed his own slender hand reassuringly on your left shoulder.

“You’re doing a perfect job as manager (Y/N)...thank you.“

And with that, he left you standing there, blushing lightly at his sudden and unexpected compliment. Hearing something so reassuring as that coming from such a capable person like Akashi puts you instantly at ease.

H-He’s right...what am I even doing at a time like this? Doubting myself while my team’s out, there is really not suitable for my title. 

Alright (Y/N)! Get yourself together and watch them play, that’s the least you could do at the moment.

While you were hyping yourself up, you failed to notice a peculiar group amongst the other spectators that were looking at you with malicious intent...

——

After the game finished, you congratulated your five boys for the expected victory and promised to wait for them at the main entrance, so that you could invite them to a small celebratory meal.

You checked your phone for any possible missed calls or messages when suddenly someone slapped it away from your hand.

“What the hell w-“

“Shut up, you damn witch!“

As you looked at the group of girls standing in front of you, you frowned, wondering just who they actually were and what kind of problem they had with you that they needed to throw insults at you as well as damage one of your most valuable possessions. Upon closer look, you noticed that they wore some kind of fanmade shirts which had Akashi’s face plastered all over them.

So these are his fangirls..?

One of them stepped up to you and grabbed your jersey’s collar, almost scratching your neck with her absurdly long fake nails.

“We are very busy women, so make sure to listen up, missy?”

You scoffed and tried to pull her hand away from you as quickly as you could, and when you finally succeeded, you proceeded to pick your phone up from the ground.

“Hey, are you even listening?“ asked another one whose entire face resembled that of a clown, that’s how much makeup she had randomly put on. 

You stifled your laugh before answering: “No, I’m not really listening to you, since you appear to have quite enough time to come out and trash-talk me, despite being so busy, as you claim.“

The smug grin that adorned your face wasn’t well-received by them, and just as they opened their mouth again, a familiar calm voice called out your name, stopping them in their tracks.

A tall, grey-haired young man approached the group and stood there with his hands in his jacket’s pocket, his eyes entirely focused on you alone, completely disregarding the others.

“So, that’s where you were (Y/N)!”

“We’ve been looking for you manager!“

Two arms wrapped around your shoulder from each side, and as you looked up to see who the owners were, you couldn’t help but smile. 

Kotaro and Nebuya...

“W-What is Sir Akashi’s team doing here?“

“I-I don’t know..“

“Weren’t t-they supposed to be at the aftermatch meeting?“

As if on cue, Reo joined Mayuzumi and flicked his hair back dramatically.

“Oh, sweetie...it seems like you not only have no clue on how to properly put your makeup on, but also have no idea of what we’re doing.”

She was about to retort something, but a certain man’s voice stopped her.

“The manager is an essential part of these meetings.“

You turned your head and saw your team’s captain picking your phone up from the ground. Both arms that rested on your shoulders released you so that Akashi could take the item, the captain was about to hand to you, back. He gave you a warm smile that instantly darkened, the moment he looked at the women who had now been surrounded by his entire basketball team. His eyes looked at each and every single one of them, and he quickly caught up that they were his fans.

Well...isn’t that convenient.

With a firm nod of his head, he signalized the other four to leave; you, on the other hand, stayed behind. If there was something you knew about this young man, then the fact that he’d always speak to you if he needed something.

“S-Sir Akashi! It’s such an honor to personally meet you!“

“We’ve been your fans for so long an-“

“Silence.“ he hissed. That cold demeanor was something his ‘fans’ had no idea existed, but you as the manager had known about it since day one. He took another look at all of them and sighed.

“Listen up. I don’t care if you are my fans or not, I couldn’t care less that you’re cheering me on or if you’re working multiple jobs so that you can afford tickets for all of my games. I have no need for such useless gestures...what I need is results: clear, flawless, and indisputable results. People like you cannot give me that, but this woman right here..“ he took a short break to point at you “..she can, and she does. If you have any problem with the fact that she has earned this position by hard work, pure dedication, and conviction, then that means that you also have a problem with Rakuzan’s success so far. How else do you think are we able to be that victorious? Don’t tell me you thought that it all depended on talent?“

All of them just cluelessly looked at each other, trying to figure the answer out, but before they could even begin thinking about it, Akashi just continued with his speech.

“There is indeed a part of basketball where you just have to rely on talent alone, but it’s mostly strategy and the team’s combined power. And how do you think are we able to achieve that without a capable manager like her?“

They were left completely speechless, and without even waiting for their answer, the young man just gently took you by the wrist and began walking away. You couldn’t deny the fact that your situation was very much the same as theirs, you were confused yet impressed by the way he had stood up for you, he even went as far as to insult his own fans. The happiness you felt at that moment was a little inappropriate, but considering the hassling you went through today, it was a good payback.

And like that, the two of you joined the other four and began walking toward the restaurant, where you promised to celebrate their victory at today’s match.

[dudeandduchess]

Sanemi x F!S/O: Deliberate (Modern/Roommate AU, Slight NSFW Scenario)

Summary: Sanemi and (Y/n) are roommates; nothing really eye-catching with that fact, unless mutual emotions are thrown into the mix. One conversation leads to Sanemi getting jealous and, finally, being done hiding his own feelings after so long. Word Count: 1995

Warnings: There will be a kabedon in here somewhere, Language, Sexy Themes

***

“(Y/n)!” Sanemi bellowed from somewhere in the apartment, sounding so frustrated and at wit’s end as he stomped out of the laundry room with a bunch of knit sweaters bundled up in his arms. He wouldn’t have thrown a fit if they were his but, the fact remained, they weren’t— and they had been about to get washed in the washer.

Lazily, the aforementioned woman peeled her eyes off of the TV screen, pausing her series as she sat up on the couch. She then sat in wait, fully expecting her roommate to come barging into the living room at any given moment.

He didn’t fail her, however, as the silver-haired man came bounding into the sizeable room— shooting her an incredulous look, before lifting her sweaters up to bring her attention to them. “Were you going to wash these in the washer?”

(Y/n) made a face at her roommate, as if to say ‘duh’, then piped up, “That’s what the washer is for, isn’t it?”

Sanemi’s eyes widened at that, his jaw tightening when he gritted his teeth; all in an effort to keep himself from insulting her. He didn’t really hold her ineptness with house chores against her; after all, she had grown up in a well-to-do family— so that meant that she didn’t have to do any chores whatsoever. And if she had done them, she was only required to do the bare minimum, like wash plates or sweep the floor; at least, that’s what he had found out from her mother when the woman came to visit.

What he didn’t like was that she always let her laziness take the forefront of things, even though it meant ruining so many things that could have lasted a long time. Just like those old shirts that she had been about to throw away, all because she had been too lazy to sew the tiny holes in the armpits.

In the end, he couldn’t resist seeing so many— almost unworn— shirts go to waste, so he had painstakingly sewn them on his day off.

And, he would never admit it, but her grateful smile— and the hug that she’d given him— had been well worth wasting his Saturday morning.

“You have to handwash all of these.” He sounded exasperated, even to his own ears. And it also showed in the way that his hands tightened into fists around the soft material of her sweaters.

“Where, though? We don’t exactly have a handwashing area, do we?” (Y/n) answered cattily, picking up her iced coffee cup from the table and shaking it right at Sanemi— all with a mocking look on her face. “Take a sip of this and chill, why don’t you? You’ll get wrinkles that way.”

Instead of replying immediately, however, the silver-haired man gritted his teeth even tighter and closed his eyes— inhaling deeply, as he tried to let go of his need to shut her up. When he opened his eyes, he was considerably calmer. “Come with me, I’ll show you.”

With a nonchalant shrug, (Y/n) followed him out of the living room and down to the bathroom— taking dainty sips of her iced coffee all the while.

Once they were there, Sanemi made quick work of dumping her sweaters in, and filling the tub a quarter-way with water. Meanwhile, (Y/n) stood in the doorway, watching Sanemi’s pert ass in the air as he bent over and got a fresh packet of detergent from under the sink.

She found herself reaching out, about to grab a handful of his ass, when Sanemi straightened himself up and walked back to the tub. He then knelt down by the edge of it, unscrewing the cap on the plastic packaging and pouring an ample amount into the water.

He then took one of her wet sweaters, dipping it back in the soapy solution, before scrubbing the neckline together— careful not to stretch the material out too much.

All the while, (Y/n) took another sip of her iced coffee, and wandered further into the bathroom. She then perched herself on the other end of the tub, crossing one leg over the other as she leaned back against the wall.

“You know I could do that, right?” She mused coyly, finishing the rest of her drink before tossing it seamlessly into the trash bin at the other end of the room.

Sanemi paused in his actions, looking down at his hands before resuming scrubbing— if only to cover up the fact that he’d just realized that she could have done it by herself. His gaze then flitted over to (Y/n) tracing the columns of her bare legs, and lingering on her thighs, before going back to the task at hand.

It wouldn’t do him any good to get a boner at that moment; in fact, it would only spell disaster for him, as she would never let him live it down.

“I don’t trust you to do it properly.”

“They’re my sweaters, though,” She answered cheekily, biting back a grin when she saw Sanemi pause once more. He then resumed what he was doing, making quick work of scrubbing the material between his hands, before bundling the thing up so he could wring it.

However, before he could even twist the excess water out, (Y/n) grabbed the sweater out of his hands and wrung it out herself; bundling it up nicely, before setting it down on the lip of the tub.

The young man couldn’t help but be impressed with that, as she hadn’t forgotten how he’d taught her to properly wring water out of clothes. He didn’t comment on it though, choosing instead to grab a white sweater from the pile.

“What did you spill on this?” Sanemi’s upper lip curled as he held up the front of the shirt, eyeing the blue spot that spilled down the chest with blatant distaste. “And why didn’t you soak it as soon as you got home?”

“Giyuu said that it would come out even if I didn’t soak it,” She answered with a shrug, placing both of her feet down on the floor as she leaned forward, all to make a move to grab the sweater from her roommate. “It’s just a bit of juice, from when we went to the amusement park together.”

Even though he didn’t want to, Sanemi still found himself narrowing his eyes at the very mention of his co-teacher. He had made the mistake of introducing (Y/n) to Tomioka, on one of the days when he’d forgotten his bento at home, and she had taken an instant liking to the sullen PE teacher.

It wasn’t exactly a secret that they spent so much time together on their days off, but the secret was that Sanemi always felt jealousy rear its ugly head within him— whenever she so much as mentioned the other man.

He thought he was being so smooth with keeping his feelings a secret, but (Y/n) had always picked up on his sudden curtness whenever she talked about Giyuu— and she wasn’t above dangling him in front of Sanemi like bait, if it meant that he would crack first in their little game of cat and mouse.

Because she might have played dumb most of the time, but she had known way long ago— a month after she had moved in with him, to be exact— what he wanted with her; and she wanted the same with him.

Besides, no man who didn’t have romantic feelings for a woman would hand wash her clothes for her— nor would any other man visibly bristle at the mention of another man, unless they liked the person speaking.

She would be damned, however, if she gave in and admitted her feelings first.

“That explains why I never saw it, because I went home late that day,” Sanemi uttered smoothly, not once faltering as he tried to scrub out the stain on the white sweater.

“Oh?” (Y/n)’s eyes narrowed at the man, her lips pursing together briefly before she forced them into a neutral look. “Did you have a date?”

“Yeah. With that woman from the book shop.” The young man covertly glanced up at (Y/n), watching her legs cross themselves once more— which had his cock stirring within his sweatpants. He willed it away, yet the more he took the view of her legs in, the harder he got.

Thankfully, he was saved by the faint buzzing of the washer in the laundry room— indicating that the load he’d put in was already done. So, he dropped the sweater in the tub, blatantly ignoring (Y/n) as he made a beeline for the sink.

He washed his hands then, licking his suddenly dry lips as he kept his crotch pressed against the countertop— if only to hide his erection from (Y/n)’s shrewd gaze.

Unfortunately for him, the young woman had already seen what he was trying to hide— and had already risen from her perch on the tub; moving to stand behind him, smirking at him from her reflection in the mirror.

“Fond memory, Nemi?” (Y/n) teased softly, sauntering up against him and gently blowing on the back of his ear— which had Sanemi suppressing a shiver. “Or did you see something you like?”

Once he had turned the faucet off, Sanemi boldly turned around— not even bothering to hide his erection anymore— and pressed his front up against (Y/n)’s. Surprise took over her expression at that, making her step back the more that Sanemi stepped towards her— until her back was flush with the wall, and his cock was pressed flush against her abdomen.

Before she could escape from being pinned, however, Sanemi caged her in place with both of his arms against the wall— getting so close to her that their noses were touching, and if she dared to even move her face, his lips would be flush against hers.

“You think you’re being fucking cute, huh?” Sanemi whispered against her lips, sounding so calm and confident despite his heart hammering inside his chest. “Deliberately teasing me… all the fucking time.”

(Y/n)’s eyes widened at the blatant accusation, not even daring to open her mouth for a rebuttal— as she knew that she had already been caught. Her lips parted slightly, tingling when it touched Sanemi’s plump ones that still hovered above hers.

Sanemi smirked against (Y/n)’s lips, feeling so in control as he pressed his hips flush against hers— rubbing his cock against her, and reveling in the quiet sound of her gasp. “You’re just begging to be fucked, aren’t you?”

Silence passed between the couple— tense and thick, wrapping around them and making the air feel so charged around them. However, despite the heady feeling of having Sanemi grinding against her, (Y/n) struggled to regain the upper hand in their little exchange.

Because she refused to play right into his hands. Not after she’d worked so hard to get them to that point.

Slowly, her hands drifted up his shirt— trailing beneath the soft material and caressing his defined torso as best as she could in their position. “Are you going to fuck me, then? Or do I have to ask Giyuu to do it again?”

The heat in Sanemi’s eyes flared up at her words, as his lips briefly pulled down into a scowl, before he slammed his lips against hers— out of sheer frustration and jealousy. He took her mouth with abandon, roughly biting down on her bottom lip and sucking it into his mouth, before giving it a harsh nip with his teeth. “Fuck if he’s ever gonna touch you again.”

[thebluelemontree]

What was Littlefinger thinking when he kissed Sansa after they built the snow castle? Did he plan for Lysa to see? I don't understand what his plan was, it seems like a big gamble to make hoping she'd see, then disposing of her.

I think it's a mistake to assume everything Littlefinger does is planned to a T. He is highly intelligent. He does have a rough sketch of some long-term goals, and he can logically follow through on each progressive step, but he is mostly a great opportunist and highly adaptable. There is another side to him, though. His ego and selfishness can also make him downright impulsive and reckless at times. It could be enjoying the thrill of taunting his enemies unawares with hints of his guilt or crossing moral boundaries to indulge his whims without a thought to the consequence. He doesn't seem to think there is any possible consequence that he can't manage since he boasts that he "thrives in chaos." 

Petyr just kissed her because he wanted to. From the start of their interaction, his thoughts are made known by the lascivious way he asks if he can "come into her castle." Stepping into the snow castle scene was stepping into his fantasy: a beautiful, vulnerable ingenue in need of his help. A highborn trophy girlfriend/protege that he can mold and guide in building something together. He's trying to create an invaluable and intimate connection by offering his knowledge and experience to give her her heart's desire. This is a remade Winterfell with Petyr and Catelyn 2.0 at the helm. With his Stark and Tully enemies wiped out, its a symbol that he won, and they lost. He can now claim what he feels should have been his all along. It's the ultimate boner, so he felt emboldened to top it off with an embrace.    

"I told you that nothing could please me more than to help you with your castle. I fear that was a lie as well. Something else would please me more." He stepped closer. "This."

This reads more like an impulsive escalation to their relationship, an urge he feebly tried to suppress, but is going to indulge in now anyway. He can't seem to maintain the guise of father and daughter that he insisted upon as the safest and most believable cover story. It's a reckless transgression out in the open for anyone to see, but he couldn't be bothered to care about that when he's drunk on the scene’s potency. Sansa even says he sounds like Marillion when he was drunk and forcing himself on her at the wedding.  

So how did he get from here to killing Lysa if none of this was planned? Here's how it went down:

Petyr has been away from the Eyrie for some time, visiting with characters that will eventually become his allies. As a result, Lysa is a very lonely newlywed bride, which will add more fuel to her insecurities and anxieties. Because Sansa resembles Catelyn so much, this already has Lysa on-edge where her husband is concerned. Petyr is not the only one either. Lysa is extremely possessive of men she covets, and she is easily threatened and angered by younger females. Sansa notes Lysa was displeased by the attention Marillion focused on her and that her aunt has dismissed servants who complained of being sexually assaulted by the bard. On some level, Lysa is itching for a final confrontation and permanent solution to the Sansa problem. She can't stand her niece's presence even though its what Petyr wants, so she tries to diminish Sansa's power and allure by making her dye her hair and betrothing her to her son. These things give Lysa only a fleeting sense of control and security. It's no good. Within a few lines scattered throughout this chapter, GRRM has set Lysa up to be a hairsbreadth away from snapping.     

Lysa saw Sansa playing alone in the snow from her balcony, so she knows her niece's location. She leaves, and a bit more time passes with Sansa trying to build her snow castle. Then Petyr arrives on the scene. He has just come back from the Vale below, but Sansa had not heard any news of his arrival from the servants. This tells us his return to the Eyrie was unexpected, unannounced, and probably happened not long before the scene began. It also tells us the first thing he probably did was seek Sansa out, not his anxiously awaiting wife upstairs. Or if he was on his way to Lysa, he allowed himself to be sidetracked.  

So Lysa is probably told that her husband is home, but he hasn't come to her for a celebratory reunion as she would expect. After he fails to show up in a reasonable amount of time, where would her possessive, jealous mind tell her to look for him? The garden. We know Lysa saw the kiss because she says so, but Sansa never saw Lysa watching her and Petyr. The only reason she forgets Lysa left the balcony before is that she's horrified at Petyr's behavior and frantically tries to remind him that infidelity is wrong. And maybe there was some small hope that her aunt had seen the assault and would use her power to protect her, as at least a decent aunt would. It must have happened very quickly that Lysa saw the kiss and left in a rage. While she is off-page, it seems that she had herself a good cry, hit the wine pretty hard, and plotted with Marillion to have the little bitch brought to the High Hall later that afternoon.

In the High Hall, Lysa accuses Sansa of being a liar and a homewrecker, then tries to murder her. Petyr shows up by way of a passage behind the dais before she can. This may seem like the timing is too perfect for it not to be staged; however, it makes sense that he arrives how and when he does. Petyr would have more than enough reason to think that his wife is up to something not good.  Sansa tells us the High Hall had not been in use since they arrived, so already, it's odd that Lysa is using it outside of holding court. Major alarm bells would go off because that's where the moon door is, and Lysa has ordered the guards to keep anyone from coming in. She doesn't even trust the guards not to intervene once the screaming starts, because she has Marillion bar the doors from the inside. Who is the captain of those guards? Lothor Brune, Petyr's man, and the guy charged with watching over Sansa. He’s well-acquainted with what kind of scumbag Marillion is. These are his men at the door trying to get in. All Petyr needs is for a quick-thinking guard or Lothor Brune himself to inform him of what Lysa has done. He then can rush in through the back way to save time.   

Of course, it doesn't seem like Petyr ever intended to stay married to Lysa for very long. The marriage was merely a stepping stone, and he would have eventually devised some way to be rid of her after securing his own position of power in the Vale. Hence why he has been amassing allies among the nobles and why he got Lysa to appoint him Lord Protector of the Vale soon after they married. Lysa unknowingly hastened her own demise when she started spouting off about poisoning Jon Arryn in front of Sansa and Marillion. Lysa isn't merely an easily manipulated delusional woman in love anymore. She's an unstable loose cannon now. He can no longer trust her to keep her mouth shut or follow through on any plans reliably. He can't even trust her not to kill his most valuable possession. Lysa has outlived her usefulness, Petyr already has everything he needs from her legally, and now she's become a liability. Out the moon door, she goes. Marillion gets framed for it. Problem solved, stories are straight, and witnesses neatly wrapped up.  

If Petyr hasn't been in the Eyrie for several days, you can see how unlikely (if not impossible) it would be for Petyr to plan for Lysa to be in that exact place at that exact time when he could not have foreseen that Sansa would be in the garden in the first place. Even if he saw Lysa watching them and decided to use the opportunity to kiss Sansa in her view, why is this necessary or even practical? Sansa may have been seconds away from being thrown to her death. There is no way he could have orchestrated this with such precision that she was actually in no real danger. 

I would say the idea of framing Marillion for Lysa's eventual untimely death was something Petyr already had simmering in his mind. The Vale nobles hated the singer, they hated the way Lysa showered him with unseemly gifts, and they've wanted to see him gone a long time. No one is going to care if he meets his end in a sky cell. Lysa herself is also extremely unpopular with the nobles for many reasons.  No one is going to miss her or her disastrous reign that much, either. I think Petyr could have worked out any number of scenarios that Marillion could kill Lysa in a fit of jealousy since they were known to be inappropriately close. The circumstances that GRRM built-up make the execution of that plan become an immediate necessity and very plausible all on its own.