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vettelsvee · 4 months ago

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GOODBYES ARE BITTERSWEET | Sebastian Vettel ✩₊˚.⋆ PART 1: I'LL SEE YOUR FACE AGAIN [NEXT PART]

goodbyes are bittersweet masterlist f1 masterlist | ao3 | requests or let's talk!

rb sebastian vettel x gf!reader

word count: 4095

summary: seb's gf finds out she's pregnant, and she decides that hiding her pregnancy is the best she could do due to seb's career

warnings: pregnancy, mentions of cheating, curse words, angst, fighting. set on may 2013. for a bit of background: reader and seb have been friends since they were literal babies, but growing up their feelings changed and started dating on 2006.

a/n: this is actually the first chapter of the very first series, Infinity, i posted here! i had to cancel it because i had some problems with wattpad people telling me through indirects i copied their work and i got very, very unmotivated with this story i absolutely love (when actually this was a draft I had of a tom holland fic back in 2017 lol), but i'd love to post the following parts if you like this one! feedback is appreciated, as well as reblogs <3

You pulled the flush and got up, being careful not to get dizzy. You took some paper and wiped the corners of your mouth to remove any possible traces of vomit. You headed to the sink automatically, quickly pulling out the toothbrush you’ve gotten used to carrying since nausea became part of your daily routine. You really tried to get rid of the acidity in your throat and the bad taste in your mouth, but as you expected, and knowing you've been experiencing this more times than you'd like in the past month and a half, it was impossible.

"Y/N, are you still there? Are you okay?" Britta's voice, accompanied by a few knocks on the door, snapped you out of your trance. You startled and forced yourself to answer, even though it was the last thing you feel like doing.

"Yes, I’m coming. Just a sec!"

"Don’t take too long," she replied. "Not that I don’t want you to take your time, but Seb is worried."

Panic-stricken, you suppressed a laugh that almost escaped.

If only he knew what you were about to do…

"Don’t worry, I’ll be right out," you answered.

You stared at yourself in the mirror, contemplating your own reflection longer than you’d like. Minutes passed, and you almost completely lost track of time, aware that you needed to put an end to the intrusive thought that was telling you that what you were about to do was, wrong but inevitably the best thing.

You were going to break away from everything you’ve wanted since you were a child just because things hadn't turned out "right." Seb was at the peak of his professional career, constantly surpassing himself in every race, making history, while you remained stuck in your hometown, working at a bar, dealing with drunks and immature kids pretending to be adults daily, because you didn’t have the luck, or perhaps the financial means, to study what you had dreamed of since you were a child who just wanted to make music.

You leaned on the sink, feeling the cold starting to penetrate your body. A great tremor shook you, and it became increasingly difficult to stay on your feet. Your eyes filled with tears as you confronted the reality of what you were about to do, of the decision you'd made.

Since your boyfriend began not only achieving his dreams but making a name for himself, you thought you didn’t deserve him because you were heading in the opposite direction. Now that you’ve gotten pregnant by him, possibly because the birth control pills you were taking failed for some unknown reason, you felt like this even more.

Despite the love you still felt and possibly always will feel for Sebastian, since you took the pregnancy test with Hanna at one of the most secluded malls in Heppenheim, you knew that letting him know he was going to be a father was never part of your plans.

"Come on, Y/N…" you told yourself, still staring at your reflection. "This is for Seb. You're doing this for him and his career."

You took a deep breath a couple more times, feeling the knot in your throat choking you. You looked at the girl full of insecurities you were one more time. Her eyes reflected doubt and, above all, fear, and you sadly sensed that it will continue to be this way from now on.

Trying to control yourself, you slowly opened the bathroom door, as if wanting to torture yourself. Britta was sitting in one of the chairs, reviewing something in a notebook until you closed the door a bit harder than you meant to.

"Are you really okay?" she asked again, giving you an uncertain look. "I've been hearing you vomit for several weeks now. Don’t you think you should go to the doctor?"

The knot in your throat seemed to tighten even more. See a doctor… Of course you’d been to the doctor! Four weeks and, as of today, four days pregnant was the answer, but no one beyond your parents and your best friend could know.

"Yes, I’m fine," you replied quickly, trying to fake your answer as best as you could. "Don’t worry. It’s probably just a bit of stress," you added, praying she believed you. "I haven't had time to see a doctor, but I assure you, with all my heart, that everything is fine."

And that's why you're leaving the love of your life today.

Britta seemed to hesitate for a moment. Her lips remained slightly open, as if she wanted to say something. Her look gave you the feeling that she didn't quite believe what you were saying.

"Whatever you say, Y/N," she finally said, standing up from her seat. "But seriously, if you need to talk or anything, I’m here for you."

"I know."

"Well, seeing that you're as calm as a lake, we’d better hurry up," she told you. "The last free practice session is about to start, and Seb is probably worried why we haven’t come back yet."

You prepared to leave the room with her. You were more than sure to go with her, but as you were almost out the room, you realize it was now or never.

You stopped before going from the driver’s room to the garage, watching Britta hurry down the stairs, probably aware that you were running late even though there were still about forty-five minutes before the session started.

"Wait, Britta. Just a sec!"

You were convinced your shout from the top of the stairs was heard by more people than you’d like. You wished you could turn invisible as you saw some eyes on you, including Britta’s, which made it hard to speak, and not to mention the variety of emotions you were feeling inside you.

You needed to calm down and act a bit better, or everything you’d been mulling over will end up falling apart.

"I’d like to talk to Seb… alone," you finally said.

"Y/N Y/L/N," she said your name much more seriously now. "You’ve told me that everything is fine, but… are you sure it really is? Are you sure nothing’s wrong?"

No, everything is wrong, and yes, more things are happening than I’d like.

You knew you could trust Britta completely. You were sure that if you told her the news before you did to Seb, she wouldn’t say anything, at least not right away. You wanted to do it; in fact, you’d love to do it because she was like a second mother to you, but you knew you couldn't because, once you left, there’s a really high chance she might end up telling him everything in a moment of weakness.

"Yes, yes, I’m fine. It’s nothing serious, don’t worry," you replied with a sigh, trying to console the PR woman and yourself. "I just need to talk to him about… well, a minor issue."

"Of course. Go get him, I’ll wait here. He’s probably talking to Rocky or Horner about who knows what. He hasn’t gone far, especially considering how eager he was to see you."

"Can you get him for me?" you let it out casually.

You ignored her last comment because now, your nerves were eating you alive. Britta seemed to notice your anxiety, so you were grateful she ignored it and acted as if nothing is wrong.

You sighed in relief when you saw her nod, and you couldn't stop thanking her out loud for what she just did for you.

"Lie down on the physio’s couch and try to rest a bit, you look a bit pale," she insisted. Reluctantly, and after repeating it a couple more times, you finally listened to her. "Seb will be here soon. You know he’ll drop everything when it comes to you."

And it was true. Once she left, you remained lying down, drawing small shapes on your stomach with your index finger. As you whispered things to what would supposedly be your child, a whirlwind of varied thoughts flooded your mind.

A small pressure settled in your chest as you became aware that the idea of breaking up with Sebastian was becoming a reality. You didn't want to face it and largely refused to, but you knew that for both of you, especially him, it was actually the best.

Hiding the truth from the guy you’d loved longer than you’d like to admit is exactly the opposite of what you should do, but because he was the most important person in your life, and you knew him almost as well as yourself, you knew he'd have time to play moms and dads in real life.

This year, the only thing he should focus on was winning his fourth Formula 1 World Championship, not learning how to change diapers or feed a baby.

Your thoughts vanished when the door opened abruptly, startling you. Seb appeared with his suit hanging at his waist, hair completely tousled, and a face revealing worry matching the situation you haven’t told him about yet.

"Sunshine! Britta told me you’re not well. What happened? Do you want to go to the doctor? I don’t care about missing the free practice: you’re the most important thing."

The German quickly took your cheeks in his hands. You hadn’t even sat up, and he was already trying to warm your face with his palms, moving it from side to side and examining you as if he was a doctor with the solution to your problems.

"I’m fine, love, relax," you said, breaking free from his grip.

"I know you better than I’d like, Y/N. You’re pale," he pointed out. "You rarely get pale. The last time I saw you like this was when the police chased us after they caught you doing an illegal concert in the school square."

Your anxiety grew more at his perception. You couldn't hide the lie you concocted with Hanna for much longer.

"Seb, really, I’m fine," you insisted, swallowing hard as you tried to find the right words.

He didn't seem to agree with your answer once again, and he didn't seem willing to let it go easily.

For a moment, you were tempted to tell him the truth, especially when you noticed his eyes fixed on you, not intending to look away until he found out what you really wanted to say… As if he wants to know that he was going to be a father next January if your gynecologist’s calculations and the latest technology were correct.

You mustered the courage to look him in the eyes. His concern overwhelmed you completely. When he made a move to hug you and you fell into his arms, you knew you couldn't keep dodging the truth.

"Seb…" you started to say, slowly pulling away from him, "the truth is that... well, there's something wrong."

He clenched his jaw and got very serious.

"Tell me, Y/N. Whatever it is, you know you can tell me."

"I know, love. I want to tell you everything, but…" you began calmly, your voice breaking. "This is different, and it’s going to be a bit difficult."

"What do you mean by different and difficult? Y/N, what’s going on?"

Your hands fidgeted nervously as you tried to find the best way to cause him the least harm possible. You noticed that the German's nervous and worried tone had dissipated, and now it was anger that seemed to be consuming him.

"I want to tell you, but I don’t know how to do it without hurting you," you admitted in a whisper.

There it was, you had let it slip.

You didn’t know what else to say, so you decided to wait for Sebastian’s response. Anguish had taken hold of him, and you knew he was waiting for your words as much as you were waiting for his.

His behavior wasn’t helping you; on the contrary, the feeling of guilt was consuming you, as you had foreseen, but there was no turning back now.

It was impossible for you to even think coherently enough to say something that made sense.

You watched as your boyfriend’s gaze turned into pure pain, a pleading search for answers that you didn’t dare to give him.

"Seb…" you spoke again, struggling to maintain your composure and reaching for his hand at the same time. "I need you to listen to me, please."

"I just want you to tell me the truth, Y/N," he called you by your full name. That was the indicator that things weren’t going well and wouldn’t be again. "Whatever it is, I’ll be able to deal with it."

"I don’t want us to be together anymore," you declared. "I’m not in love with you anymore. I haven’t been for about a month or so."

The silence that flooded the room after your false confession was too uncomfortable. His eyes filled with tears; yours did too, but for a different reason than his.

He thought you had stopped loving him when, in fact, you loved him more than ever, especially now.

"Why are you telling me this? Why, Y/N?" he wanted to know. "I thought we were great… I really believed we were better than ever."

"I don’t know, Seb," you murmured between sobs, trying to hide your face so he wouldn’t see how truly affected you were. "There are… there are couples that stop loving each other, and that’s what I think has happened with me. With us."

"What can I do to make you fall in love with me again? I can’t lose you. I can’t lose the sunshine of my life, not when we promised each other a life together."

"You can’t do anything, Seb, and I’m really sorry," you falsely admitted with sadness, trying not to succumb to his desperate plea.

"Sometimes things stop being what they were in the beginning, and, well… ours is no longer what it used to be."

"Of course, it’s not what it used to be! Everything was getting better until you decided to drop this on me, Y/N!" Sebastian yelled at you.

"I was even going to ask you if you wanted us to get…"

"And that’s why I feel it’s better if we move on, but each on our own path!" you interrupted with another shout.

It’s not real, Y/N. Everything you’re saying is a lie.

You inhaled and exhaled more times than you would have liked, but it felt necessary. This charade to try to make Seb’s life a little better was not only costing you your relationship but also your mental health in the long run.

"Is there someone else, Y/N?"

Vettel's voice denoted anger. Rage consumed him at the possibility that there was an answer he didn’t want to hear. His fists, clenched tightly and turning his knuckles white, were proof of it.

"No, not exactly."

And once again, the camouflaged truth.

"What are you saying?" he spat at you, getting closer and closer, consumed by anguish.

"I mean not exactly, but… yes. There is someone else, Seb," you admitted.

The shouts, full of reproaches, insults, and slurs, flooded the room.

You tried to turn a deaf ear. You thought this was all part of a performance and tried to convince yourself that in the future, everything would be fine when you knew it would be the opposite.

"How could you do this to me, Y/N?! How could you cheat on me after almost seven fucking years together?!" Sebastian shouted, taking out his anger on a vase on his desk, throwing it to the ground, spilling the water and the flowers he had given you just a day ago.

"We’ve been through so many things together. We’ve grown up together and fulfilled our dreams together, and now you’re leaving me for some guy you must have slept with on a whim?!"

"Do you think this is easy for me, Sebastian?" you replied, your words true for once. "Stop lying, okay? The only person who has fulfilled their dreams here is you," you said, showing your disagreement on that topic that you knew hurt you and that he had mentioned to hurt you. "While you’ve been living your life as a driver and being the center of attention, I’ve kept working in the same disgusting bar full of creepy old men I’ve been working at since I finished high school," you shouted, furious. You knew this kind of stress wasn’t good for the baby, but right now you didn’t care. "I’ve been saving as much as I could to build a prosperous future even though my salary was a pittance, composing songs and singing them with the hope that they’ll reach someone someday and not be forgotten."

"I’ve told you a million times that you don’t need to work in that fucking bar full of drunk old men who fuck you with their eyes to have a good life," he protested, now much calmer. "With what they pay me we can live comfortably. It's more than enough for both of us."

"I know," you responded calmly, though you were on the verge of an anxiety attack, "but I also know that I can achieve things on my own without anyone’s help."

The blonde let out an ironic laugh. Immediately, he crossed his arms, lifted his head, and looked at you.

"You’ve always been too stubborn, Y/N. Now I see what your future expectations are. After all, I understand: if you never got into the Berlin Art Academy on your own, and you’re still working at the same place after so long…"

You stood still, not knowing what to say or do because you knew exactly what he meant with every word that came out of his mouth. It felt like your feet were cemented to the ground; his words continuously hitting you, wanting to hurt you more and more.

"How dare you to say that to me?"

If you were already shaken and almost broken after this whole conversation, now you were completely sunk. Seeing your reaction, tears streaming down your cheeks non-stop, he seemed to regret it.

Quickly, he approached you, opening his arms intending for you to bury yourself in them. You, as stubborn as he said you were, refused not only the hug but any physical and non-physical contact he wanted to have with you.

"Y/N, I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to say that," yes, that was clear, but it had already been said, and the damage was done. "I was wrong. Please forgive me."

No matter how much he kept talking, trying to apologize and make amends, there was nothing else to do.

Without saying anything else, you began to gather all your belongings from the driver’s room of who could now be considered your ex-boyfriend. You didn’t want to do it; you didn’t want to start the zero-contact phase with the boy you had loved since you were ten years old, the one who had loved you like no one ever had before and like no one ever would.

You were saying goodbye to the father of your child to venture into raising her alone so he could pursue his dream in peace and achieve all the successes he so longed for.

“What are you doing, Y/N?”

“Packing. I’m leaving.”

Your eyes were fixed on the floor, your hands fumbling with the few belongings left to pack in the small backpack you usually took to the paddock. Now, you would have to return to your hotel room and quickly pack everything into the suitcase, rush to the airport, and pray you didn’t miss the flight.

“What do you mean, you’re leaving?” the blonde frowned, incredulous. “It’s Friday, Y/N, we have the whole weekend ahead of us.”

“Well, from now on, you’ll have all the weekends to yourself,” you shook your head, unable to bear his comments trying to make you stay. “From now on, you won’t have me here on weekends, nor in your life. I’m leaving your life, and I’m not coming back,” you repeated, emphasizing the finality of your words.

Vettel was speechless at your declaration. He kept shaking his head, approaching you, trying to take your belongings, but you stopped him.

No matter how much you wanted to, you weren’t going to stay.

“What do you mean by ‘leaving my life and not coming back’?”

“It means I’m going back to Heppenheim, Sebastian,” you turned to him, trying to maintain composure. “I’m going back, you’ll also end up going back even though we live… you live in Switzerland,” you immediately corrected yourself, “but I hope we never see each other again.”

The firmness behind your words scared you. Everything was a lie that, as the conversation progressed, had grown until you doubted what was real and what wasn’t.

“I really hope you achieve everything you are working hard for,” you continued, insisting to yourself not to break down right there. “I hope you win the championship this year and get the four consecutive ones you’ve wanted for. You, more than anyone, deserve all of it, and I know you’re capable of that and much more.”

You said nothing more because you had stopped being strong. You left, without looking back, the room where you had spent much more time than imaginable, and one of the many places that made up the story starring Sebastian Vettel and you.

You carefully descended the stairs. You walked with a false sense of security through the RedBull garage, dodging any questions about why you were crying, where you were going, and if you had argued with the team’s golden boy, including the endless questions from Britta Roeske that you were trying to ignore at all costs.

You felt curious eyes following you wherever you went, but you didn’t care in the slightest. It was all done.

Now, it was just you and the little pea, or whatever size the baby was.

“Y/N, wait!”

Sebastian’s desperate shouts echoed behind you, getting closer.

You stopped dead, clutching the only strap of the backpack hanging over your shoulder. You slowly turned toward the direction the voices seemed to be coming from and saw the driver running to you, almost choking, as he wiped tears from his cheeks and even those still falling from his eyes.

“I love you, Y/N.”

His voice was choked, and his hands acted on their own. Still, it didn’t stop him from taking your face in his hands and pulling you into a kiss that unleashed a whirlwind of emotions, where you tasted each other’s tears as you had done many times in your relationship. Where you silently said millions of I love yous that only you and he knew perfectly.

“Please, don’t go, sunshine,” the German expressed. “Whatever it is, we can work on it, but please, don’t let us end.”

“I love you too, Seb, but there’s someone else.”

You finally confessed… not in the most ideal way, but in the right one, especially considering what your goal was after all this trail of lies.

“There’s a new person in my life, and I’m afraid to say that no matter how much I love you, I love them more than I love you, and I always will,” you continued, knowing that every word you were saying about your baby was true. “I love you, Sebastian Vettel, and I’ll never stop loving you, but that person is my main priority right now.”

“Have you been unfaithful?”

Sometimes silence is worth more than a thousand words. In this case, it was the exact opposite.

You stood in front of him for a few seconds, debating internally whether to answer or leave as calmly as possible, without attracting more attention than you already had. You decided on the latter because you couldn’t speak, and the tears wouldn’t let you see clearly; not to mention your judgment was so clouded that you couldn’t think clearly about the next step to end this nightmare.

You finally directed one last look at Seb; whispered that you loved him and always would, even though it was over between you.

All it took was for you to lower your head, turn around, and continue walking, fighting not to look back, to realize that you had made the biggest mistake of your life and would never, for anything in the world, be able to forgive yourself.

And you knew perfectly well that Seb wouldn’t either.

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winterzsurprise · 2 months ago

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Change My Mind [3]

Pairing: BTS x reader

SUMMARY: As a make-up artist, you were expected to glamorize your clients with brushes and products that cost a week-worth of food, not to befriend them outside of work, let alone have them save you from dates yet here you are five years later as one of their closest confidants.

Being a stylist of the world's biggest boyband is no easy feat, someone is doing flips, someone can't stay still and one's asleep but its fine, you can work around their chaos but then one day, you find out they're all your soulmates, a whole different can of chaos you don't think you can handle.

Tags: Soulmates AU, Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Not Beta Read, Slow Build, Polyamory, Attempts at Humor

Words: 8.8k

ao3 is down so I'll update it first here. Chapter got delayed since this wasn't originally part of the roster. its currently 1am so there will be mistakes I missed but that's for future Winter's problem.

edit: please comment if you want to be added to the tag list :DD

<<<Prev || MASTERLIST || Next>>>

__________

For a guy with his heart on his sleeves and his emotions displayed so loudly on his face like neon signs with gigantic arrows, Taehyung is an enigma.

It didn’t help that he had experience in acting, if anything it made it harder to understand him.

One moment he's supportive of your quest for a perfect husband then another, he's raging with a jealousy even the power of the thousand burning suns couldn't replicate. Even when Guwon has long disappeared, Taehyung didn't stop from hanging off of your arm when the three of you had entered your home.

In the short time they had stayed over, he made sure he was somehow close to you or having you within his sight while Jimin returned to being the sweet boy he had always presented himself as but the glint of something dark in his eyes never disappeared.

But it didn't make any sense. All of their behaviors, even Jimin, is confusing.

Taehyung had introduced a date to the group before, and had hooked up with a few people from the after-parties if the others’ words were anything to go by. Jimin is the same, although he took every chance to flirt with you at any time and everywhere, you always thought it was him being his playful self. But after last night?

You don't know.

And you hate not knowing.

To find out that Jin still liked you was shocking already, then comes this new realization—along with the impacts of Jungkook’s confession—to knock you off of your feet. You thought he had moved on like he had said years before, but last night's conversation had told you otherwise.

“That's the tenth time I've heard you sigh just this hour alone and we're only drinking coffee, what’s wrong?”

Your head shot up to meet the concerned gaze of the oldest make-up artist. Jihae is one of the original staff back from 2013, the woman who had picked you up when you tripped in front of the BigHit building crying with your bag spilled out, having been given a low grade in one of your subjects.

They were lacking in staff back then, urgently searching for another body to help with the debut look and when she saw your cosmetic bag, she tugged you inside and told you to agree with whatever they were going to ask.

Stunned, you followed the woman without question.

A month later, you dropped out of the nursing course your mother had insisted you take and pursued cosmetology.

Many times have you looked back at the memory and grimaced. It could've gone wrong, she might've been leading you into a trafficking ring but nonetheless, you're glad you had accepted it.

All because Jihae had seen you with mascara-stained tears and somehow deemed you skilled enough for the job. Up until today, you still wonder what she had seen in an emotional teenager who had comically tripped face-first in the company’s front yard, mascara running down her face and thought: ‘She’d be a good addition’.

Whatever it is, you're thankful.

“Hey, you still with us?”

Snapping out of your trance, you wearily smiled at her. “Yes I am, unnie. Just frustrated about something...”

At this, multiple heads turned to you, their stares a varying mix of curiosity and teasing. Suddenly reminded of the group lunch Jihae had proposed that day, a bonding exercise for the entire make-up artists roster, for better teamwork, she had said and internally facepalmed. You had forgotten that it wasn't just your friends sitting on the table with you and you had just aired your problem out in the open for them to hear.

Fuck Kim Taehyung and his confusing attitude. You should beat his ass next time you see him for being the catalyst to the dilemma haunting your mind.

Leaning closer to you, Nabi—another friend of yours—crossed her arms and flashed a shit-eating grin.

“Is it boy problems?”

Instantly, the table explodes into chatters, all of their questions drowning each other.

“Which one of them?”

“Did someone from Bangtan confess to you, unnie?”

“Is it Hoseok? Please say it is! I have a bet with someone from the styling department.”

“Was it Taehyung? I always thought he had a crush on you for a whi—”

“It's not any of them, please we're just friends.” You interjected before they dig further and find truth in their questions. “It's a different guy I've had two dates with.”

Never had you sounded more unsure of yourself until now and you had wished nobody had noticed. But one look around the table says differently. Your friends’ eyes glinted, all of them telling you that this discussion was far from over and you find yourself already dreading opening the groupchat once you're home. But unlike them, someone wasn't satisfied with your answer and crossed her arms from the other end of the table.

“Why so dismissive, unnie? We're all friends here, no need to be so defensive.”

Immediately, the ones closest to her snapped their heads at her with a scandalized look. Alexa was a new recruit, A half-Korean and half-Chinese who lived in the States for a better half of her life, had just joined the week before the first leg when one of the crew went into labor and had recommended her cousin as her last minute replacement until she could return.

In the short time she had been in the company, there had been whispers and none of them were positive. Rumors of an unhealthy obsession hidden beneath the skillfully applied make-up that granted her a younger and cuter appearance, hushed stories of their encounters where she'd reveal her soulmate mark—inked initials, and written on her wrist is a K.S.J, something she boasted around with a smug look, as if to imply something you refuse to entertain.

It was absurd.

Seokjin was untethered, if he got a soulmate mark out in the open, he would've screamed it on top of the world. Delighted and in cloud nine at the thought of having someone destined for him. Not to mention, it meant that he didn't need to go through any of the shit you've gone through, going through dates after dates looking for someone better to settle down with only to be met with constant disappointment at the end of the day.

(You'd also be the first to know. He would've ran to you and asked if you manifested a mark too, but for your sanity, you pushed the thought at the back of your head as soon as it came.)

To say, to imply that Seokjin’s soulmate is the kid on the side of the table, it almost made you grimace.

“Hey Alexa, I know you're just new and a foreigner but that doesn't mean we'd let you disrespect your seniors!” Minhyuk, someone who had quickly wormed into your friend group last year, had jumped to your defense.

Alexa scoffed. “I'm just saying, no need to be so secretive, unnie. Everyone in this table knows how close Bangtan is to you. Everyone is wondering if you've at least dated one of them.”

“Hey Alexa, that's a bit…”

“Why are you guys looking at me like that? I'm just saying what you're all thinking,” She looks back at you. “I've seen how they look at you, surely you've at least had a fling with someone.”

Your brows shot up, incredulous and shocked by her audacity but before you could bite back, Minhyuk stood abruptly, face darkened with pure unadulterated anger.

“Oh this—” Nabi and you were quick to tug him back down to sit.

At the commotion, everyone in the cafeteria shifted their attention to your table, inquisitive and curious of what might've set off the resident social butterfly, someone who everyone knows the name of and has been at the end of his constant kindness.

Minhyuk is a passionate soul, especially towards his job and friends. Having been kicked out for being himself, he turned to the very skill that had his father screaming expletives at him. Recommended by Jihae, who had been visiting a nearby friend at the time and was passing by his street, had found him crying in the rain, outside the gate of his family house. She had taken him home and the rest was history.

There's never been a time when you've all hung out, five emptied bottles of Sojus later, where he wouldn't be crying, thankful for the chance your eldest had given him before turning to you, sobbing loudly and hugging you and the rest of the group in a tight grip. Heart full of gratefulness for his new found family.

So there was no shock that he had been the first one to jump at the first sign of aggression towards your group.

“Everyone is looking, hyuk. Let's calm down.” Nabi whispered to him, eyes cautious and Minhyuk grunted.

“She's lucky we're in public, I would've torn her down for that comment.”

At the end of the table, Alexa scoffed, incredulous. “Are you seriously mad that I'm saying my opinion? Is it a crime to express their own opinion these days?”

“Not when it's as rude as yours.”

Jihae sighs. “Calm down the both of you. Remember that you're working right now.”

You didn't doubt that everyone in the company has speculated about your relationship with Bangtan. It's hard not to when the maknaes hang onto your words and comfortably play around with you, especially not when you have dinner at their dorm every other week so you didn't blame the newbie for being curious.

That's what you would've felt if she hadn't been going around planting ideas into people's heads that she might be Jin’s soulmate like the delusional slug she is.

You had half a mind to loosen your grip on Minhyuk and let him wipe the floor with her unnecessarily expensive work clothes.

Shrugging both your and Nabi’s arms from his, Minhyuk stands up again only to walk away from the table. Instantly, the rest of your group follows him as he marches through the gathered crowd in the cafeteria and in front of the closed elevator.

You trailed behind him, waiting for his eventual frustrated explosion as he always does after an encounter with Alexa since she was hired. Once you were all far enough, hidden away from the prying eyes of the public, he threw his head back and let out a loud, exasperated groan.

“That girl I fucking swear!” He growled as combed his long hair back. “Why did we even let her continue working after the tour?! We could've just found a better alternative, she's getting into my fucking nerves!”

Nabi sighed. “It's not like we have a final say in this, hyuk. Whether you like it or not, we'll be stuck with her until Hyuna comes back.”

“God,” He groaned. “You should've let me hit her once! I'm so tired of hearing her bullshit! Surely, you've heard the lie she's spreading around right?!”

“Like Nabi has said, we can't do anything unless it starts to hurt the reputation of the idol. She's smart for not saying it outright and somehow containing it within the styling departments.” Jihae responds with a defeated shake of her head.

The answer didn't satisfy Minhyuk, who then turned to you with a pout and wide puppy eyes before promptly stomping over and taking both your hands in his.

“Surely you can pull some strings, noona? Tattle off to Namjoon hyung or Seokjin hyung, surely one of them would do something, right?”

You almost considered his suggestion. Alexa had been grating your gears ever since she arrived to replace Hyuna. You had excused her lack of cooperation with the team for being a newbie and clumsy mistakes of haphazardly leaving her items everywhere for the stress of the new environment she was suddenly put in. But for her to go around implying Seokjin is her soulmate is another can of worms you didn't even want to open.

The mere thought of her existing on the same floor as Seokjin invokes an unsettling feeling in the pit of your stomach.

But unfortunately, even if you had tattled to Namjoon about her, nothing would happen since it's not too drastic of an event to fire someone over for. It's also just not a good idea overall. The tour is set next Wednesday and while Alexa doesn't cooperate with most of the team, she unfortunately got the skill to back her up. Her skills nearly compensate for her rude personality.

Almost.

“They won't fire someone over a small argument, Hyuk. Just suck it in until Hyuna returns.”

“Which will be in December after Japan,” He mulls it over before shaking his head. “Yeah no, I don't think I can tolerate her nasty ass that long.”

The elevator opens—Jihae had called it the moment they've arrived, bless her—and everyone piles in. It was a quick ride, the stylists being on the floor below the cafeteria. In a flash the metal doors parts opened and you all walked out. But before you could follow your friends back into your department, your phone vibrated from your pocket.

Slowing down, you pulled the device out and looked at who's texting you.

[13:02] Hobi: can ask you a favor [13:02] Hobi: just an itsy bitsy favor 🤏🤏 [13:02] Hobi: I promise it's harmless😁

There's also a text from Guwon not too long ago. Something you missed while you were lost in your thoughts earlier.

[12:30] Guwon: Eat your lunch soon! [13:03] You: hi sorry late reply, I was having lunch with my co-workers, couldn’t use my phone during. [13:03] You: I hope your lunch was good😁

You grimaced at how robotic your reply sounded before returning to Hoseok who had sent another text.

[13:03] Hobi: don't leave me on seen please😢 [13:03] Hobi: noona noona noona noona noona [13:04] You: hoba hoba hoba hoba hoba [13:04] Hobi: YAY [13:04] You: how can I help you? [13:05] Hobi: can you deliver lunch to hyung?😁 [13:05] Hobi: I would do it myself but I'm currently helping Seokjin hyung and Namjoon with the dance [13:06] Hobi: and we both know Yoongi hyung wouldn't eat on time if I do it [13:06] Hobi: can you do it for me?🥺 [13:06] You: sure, you guys still in the dance practice room? [13:07] Hobi: ur a life saver [13:07] Hobi: an angel in disguise [13:07] Hobi: but yes😁 [13:08] Hobi: just knock on the door when you're here😁

“Y/N?” Jihae asks and you look back up to see your group waiting for you.

“Who is it?” Nabi adds.

“Better be news of Alexa getting fired. If not, I don't want to hear it.” Minhyuk says as he crosses his arms. You shook your head and he threw his hands up in frustration.

“Got asked to help with something but I'll be back in a moment.”

With a brief goodbye, you turned back to the elevator and directed yourself to the floor where the dance practice rooms are at.

The walking distance from the elevator is not too far from the dance room but seeing five familiar teenage boys speaking in hushed whispers and hitting each other's arms in front of the vending machine just a feet away from the door easily distracted you.

If they had been crowding around the machine, you would've thought they were fighting over the last snack but instead they were all facing the same direction as your destination.

Sneaking up to the five giants, you're slowly introduced to the dilemma they were hitting and pushing each other for.

“You're the oldest, you should go and knock!”

“Just because I'm the oldest doesn't mean I should always be the first! Why are you even ordering me around?! Go ask Huening Kai instead!”

“Why me? I can't talk in Korean, I-I’m foreigner.”

“Oh don't you pull that shit on us. How are you only a foreigner when it matters?!”

“What are we talking about?”

Three shrill screams pierced through the air as the five of them jumped back, awkwardly long bodies falling against and clutching onto each other for dear life, all of them huddling onto the next body for protection. But once they recognize you, Yeonjun immediately regains composure and breaks off from the cluster to stomp over to you with his bottom lip jut out as he dramatically latches onto your arm.

“Noonaa, why would you scare us like that?!”

When you first met Yeonjun, he was standing in front of the cafeteria bar in front of the exhausted cashier and the long irritated line of workers, peering up onto the menu before looking down to count his money. He looked like a little kid lost in the sea of busy adults, painfully alone and helpless as the hungry customers behind him began to complain loudly.

He had been holding up the line as he recounted his change once more, hoping he had miscounted and that he could afford what he was eyeing. Seeing his hopeful expression crumble into defeat was enough to make you approach him and buy him lunch.

Yoongi had teased you when he found you being trailed by another kid, saying you were collecting every doe eyed kid in the company and becoming their reliable older sister. Especially when his soulmates began to follow his footsteps.

“What were you guys doing? Fighting against who gets the last chip?”

Beomgyu then ran to wrap his arms around yours, the sweetest and most innocent smile plastered on his face as the two boys began to walk you forward, the destination? The dance studio.

“You know that we love you right, noona?”

Why these kids are genuinely intimidated by your sweet Hoba is beyond you. The man screams and flinches at the smallest of bugs daring to exist two feet away from him. Still, you entertained them with a raise of an eyebrow and Yeonjun continued.

“Our favorite make-up noona, the greatest sister figure we have ever had, my savior and my salvation, our dearest credit—”

“Okay, what do you guys want?”

You all stopped in front of the dance room door. IDOL was blasting on the other side of the wall, the floor vibrating with the beat. Although muffled, you could pick up the sound of shoes squeaking against the floor and heavy footsteps accompanying the song.

“Could you pretty please knock on the door?” Beomgyu asks, pleading and also hopeful and the rest of his brothers chimed from behind you with their own versions of the request which ended up sounding like a bunch of warbled words.

“Couldn't you have done that yourselves?”

“But they're busy and J-Hope sunbae is scary.” Taehyun quietly adds behind you.

“Hoba? He's the sweetest though?”

“Okay, let's not lie to ourselves now,” Huening Kai shoots back before motioning to the door. “Just… knock and we'll handle it from there. We promise!”

“Cross our hearts.” Taehyun says, drawing a cross over his chest. The other four follow.

Dance teacher Hoseok to you is a hoax. You've never been subjected to his intense scrutiny and harsh perfectionist side, always managing to slip past or only being able to meet him outside of the workplace where he'd be far relaxed and cheerful.

Sure there's been plenty of photographic and recorded evidence posted in the group chat but you still find it hard to believe he's more frightening than the bugs that scare him off the room.

“He's not that scary, guys.”

Taehyun scoffs. “Easy for you to say.”

“Crush privileges.” Soobin quietly adds.

“What—”

The door swings open before you could ask what he meant and Jungkook steps out of the room.

In a span of a second, the memories of his drunken confession flashed before your eyes. From the moment he had entered your home with bags of snacks to the way his voice had sounded, hushed and shaky, when he asked you for a kiss.

Seeing him again outside the concert where Namjoon and Yoongi had made sure there were no contacts between the two of you, evoked a weird sense of longing within you. Having absolutely no contact with Jungkook for two days had you missing and recollecting your past memories with him. In the short amount of time you've been away, you wondered about many things.

From something as headache-inducing variations of hows and whys questioning his attraction to you to something more simple and short like ‘how is he feeling right now?’.

It was a dumb question with an obvious answer yet you wanted to know. Curiosity and anxiety clawing at your chest.

Is your friendship still okay?

Did rejecting someone this time finally ruin your entire dynamic with the group?

Should you have chosen someone like your sister had told you to do?

They have plagued your mind and haunted you in your waking days yet the moment you finally see him, your mouth dries up and your voice dies in your throat.

But before you could even muster the courage to talk to him, he turned his attention to the boys who had retreated behind you the moment the door opened and greeted them with a short bow before walking away, completely ignoring you. Pain blooms in your chest like a thorned vine wrapping and strangling your heart tighter and tighter as you watch his back disappear around the corner.

“Did sunbae just ignore noona?”

“Is that even possible?”

“I didn't hallucinate that, right?”

“Noona, are you okay?” Soobin’s concerned voice, soft and cautious, brings you back to reality and you turn to them, a precariously built smile on your face.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

The five shared a look as you stepped into the studio, exposing you to the two figures laid on the floor, heaving and panting. The main topics of your thoughts were sitting at the far corner next to the black plastic table while Hoseok stood in the middle of the room, unaffected by whatever had happened and was chugging the water from the small bottle in hand.

As if he had grown a sixth sense for you, he suddenly spun around, a wide grin brightening his stern face.

“Noona!”

At this, the two men on the floor perks up. Namjoon merely waves before promptly dropping back down, Jimin and Taehyung only smiled at you, looking spent from whatever routine Hoseok had them do before turning to the two tallest. Seokjin had pushed himself up to stand and approach the black plastic table from the other end of the room where a dozen take outs were.

As Hoseok approached you, his gaze then found the cluster of five heads peeking through the sides of the entrance and laughed.

“You’ve got five ducklings following you, noona, didn't know you started collecting more after our maknaes.” He jokes before turning to the teens and waving them over. The group then spread to occupy the space in the doorway and bowed. “What can I do for you guys?”

They suddenly disappear behind the wall but you hear them hitting each other and their whisper-shouts, it took a long while before Soobin was pushed out of the shadow and forced to talk to their sunbae. The painfully shy teen shuffles over, shoulders folded forward and taking the smallest of steps forward before stuttering a bow.

A wide smile brightens Hoseok's face, endeared by the boy’s overly formal actions.

“H-Hi sunbae.”

“Hello, Soobinie.”

“We-we we're just wondering if we-we could watch you guys? Practicing dancing I mean—Not that you sunbaes need it cause you're professionals!—I mean of course you still need to practice to be better at dancing and—wait no—”

“Yah Soobin, stop embarrassing us like this!” Yeonjun scolds and immediately, the boy almost broke his neck with how face he looked over his shoulder.

“Then go do it yourself!”

“We don't mind, as long as you guys stay in a corner like good kids then we'll all be good!” Hoseok cuts in before an argument ensues.

There's a tap on your shoulder and you look over to see Seokjin standing behind you, a gentle smile playing on his plush lips, both hands hidden behind him.

There's an awkwardness that hung in the air as you both gazed into each other's eyes before he cleared his throat and began.

“Have you eaten yet?”

“Yes.” You lie. Jin caught it.

Turning to face him fully, he then takes one of your hands and forces your fingers to hold the neatly folded top of a paper takeout bag.

“I've packed Yoongi’s portion here as well as an extra for you.”

“You didn't need to, I already ate.”

“I even had them order some soft tofu soup, you were craving it last week, right?”

It was sweet being loved so selflessly by him. It tasted like the sweetest nectar from the garden of Eden with a foul aftertaste once your mind reminded you of your sins against the man and the thorned tendrils of guilt coiled tighter around your chest, its sourness easily overlapping the sweetness of his love.

After Jungkook pretending you didn't exist earlier, having Jin, someone who you didn't even know still admired you all these years while you had messed around with many faces and came to work with some of their marks on your skin, expressing his care had you almost bursting at the seams.

It enrages you thinking about Alexa going around spreading her bullshit spiel about being Jin’s soulmate. As if she deserved a morsel of his attention.

Nobody deserves Seokjin, not even you.

“Thank you Jinnie, but I already ate.” You then remembered your promise to return to your friends soon. “And Jihae is expecting me back immediately.”

“Coffee and toast is not lunch.” He deadpans as he takes your hand and forces it to close around the pack. “Just eat it with Yoongi, he'd be happy to be able to eat with someone and I’ll handle Jihae noona.”

“How the hell did you know what I had for lunch?”

Shock crossed over his face and he brought a hand over his mouth. “I was right? I just had a hunch on what you ate.”

“That’s a bit creepy, old man.”

“Maybe it’s a soulmate mark manifesting.” He shrugs but you doubt he meant it in a joking way.

“You’re way past the age, give it up hyung.”

You both turned to the door at Jungkook’s voice. Like earlier, he had strode in without acknowledging your presence, something Seokjin had noticed immediately. His eyes slid to the five boys tentatively pushing each other to the empty corner of the studio before looking back at their youngest.

“How could you insult me like this? I fed you with my hands, you should be addressing me formally with a full 90° bow!”

“I should’ve bitten your hands at least once back then.” Jungkook jokingly muses.

Before you could witness their banter explode, there’s a tug on your shirt and you spun around to face Hoseok who had nudged his head to the door. Jin had already marched towards the maknae before you could even thank him so you left.

Once you were both outside the studio, Hoseok closed the door behind and hugged you.

“Wh-what is this?”

“A thank you hug for being the sacrifice and feeding the grumpy dragon instead.” He says with a laugh but you knew what he was trying to do.

“I’m fine, Hoba. I didn’t expect us to be buddy buddy again after what happened.”

He sighed.

“He still shouldn’t have done that. I’m sure Seokjin hyung will talk to him about it later.”

Stepping back, you shook your head. “No need, I understand why he’s acting like that.”

His eyes regarded your face for a moment before pulling you back in for a hug and nuzzling his head on top of yours. “You don’t have to defend him noona, he’s acting like a child. It's our duty as his hyungs to fix that up.”

“Please don’t. It feels like you’re taking sides, he might think it's unfair.”

He laughs. “Are you kidding? ‘Cause from what I’m seeing, he’s being a petulant child. He should handle the rejection with more grace when it's his fault he’s in this predicament. You know Seokjin hyung warned him, right?”

“He told me when he and Tae took him home.”

“Then you should know better than defend him.” You opened your mouth to refute but he pressed a finger to your lips. “Don't start. He's not the same sixteen years old we had to raise back then, he needs correcting.”

With two hands on your shoulders, he then spun you around and began to push you towards the elevator, leaving no room for an argument.

Once he had led you back to the locomotive, he briefly stepped in to push the correct button for the production floor and stepped back and waved as the elevator wall slowly closed to a shut.

“Now go feed hyung and yourself before you go back to work. Thank you again noona and see you later.

“Special delivery for a grumpy hairless cat!”

A beat.

Then came a grumbled: “Come in.”

Punching the proper strings of numbers on the door code, you open the door to the genius lab to find Yoongi sitting in front of his computer, one ear off of his headphones as he goes back to a specific second again and again.

Situating yourself on the couch next to the door, you place the paper bag on the coffee table and slowly unload all its contents, hoping its smell is enough to deter him from his work just for a second.

Taking one of the containers, you open it to see bulgogi generously sprinkled on top of rice. The savory smell of the dish wafting out almost immediately, and Yoongi visibly perks up from his table; if perking up meant him temporarily stopping his incessant clicking and head tilting a little to the side.

“Is it all bulgogi?”

Placing down the container, you opened the other one to reveal the same dish except this time with fried rice.

“Yeah, you want fried rice or no?”

“Whatever you like less.” He grumbled as he returned to his work.

“That's not a proper answer.”

“Just take whatever you want, I like either.” He muttered.

Staring at the food on the table, you found yourself at a crossroads. The fried rice looks more appetizing than the plain white rice on the other container but you've had enough sodium for the week, having challenged Taehyung, Jimin and Jin to who can eat more ramyeon in one sitting the day before the concert.

But today just doesn't feel like a plain rice type of day.

But fried rice isn't healthy.

“Just choose please, I don't know what I want either.” You groaned out, frustrated.

With a grunt, the man took off his headphones and turned to face you before maneuvering himself closer to the table and picking up the container with the plain rice.

“Stop thinking so much about what is healthy or not,” He remarked as he took a pair of chopsticks from the paper bag. “I could hear your thoughts even with my headphones on and my back turned.”

“Then why tell me to choose if you already knew?”

Yoongi only shrugged as he took his first bite, prompting you to take yours. He seems to mull over something as he chews, staring at the food on the table for a while before placing the container down and leaving the room without a word.

You had learned not to question his confusing actions throughout the years, even then you couldn't help but be bewildered.

When he returned, he was carrying two drinks in one hand. Sprite and Kombucha. Settling back on his chair, he placed down the bottle of Kombucha in front of him before opening the can of sprite and placing it in front of you.

“I don't have any straws on me so you'll have to just chug it.”

People don't usually notice it but you think Jin and Yoongi are more similar in how they show their affections, just in different volumes. Seokjin’s care is always voiced out, always asking whether you want something or not and offering to do or make it for you while Yoongi just somehow always knows what you want and does it wordlessly. Both of them are always willing to provide.

If you had asked them for something as ludicrous as fried cotton candy with melted cheese on top, Jin would complain and express his disgust openly, ranting about the strenuous process while holding the handle of the pan and a spatula in the other while Yoongi would cook it without questioning your sanity.

Either way, it never fails to make your chest warm.

“Thank you, Yoongs.”

He suddenly takes a huge bite, bringing the container close to his face before humming out his response, easily flustered as ever.

You both eat your food in silence. With years of friendship under your belt, you have learned to enjoy the serenity Yoongi brings. It had been rough at the start, his quietness matched with his stoic expression had often led to misunderstandings where you often thought he thinks of you badly for being close to his brothers, especially after Jin’s confession.

He had confronted you once he heard it from Namjoon—who had immediately tattled onto his hyung after you had told him not to tell anyone—, saying he simply had problems expressing himself. You could remember how his hands, despite being entangled with each other, shook with his voice, could recall how he had forced himself to hold eye contact with you when he always had difficulties in holding one.

It was thoughtful and that was the first time you had felt the tingles of warmth in your chest. Teenage you had her feet swept off by a stuttering mess of a guy with eye contact issues.

Despite Jin being the first in the group to confess, Yoongi was the first to touch your heart.

“Why are you looking at me like that?’

You tilt your head. “Like what?”

A conflict of emotion crossed his eyes as he struggled to find the words but before he could, your phone vibrated from your pocket.

[13:54] Guwon: I'm at the cafe close to your building

You almost choked on your spit, surprised by his message and Yoongi hurriedly put his food down to pat your back. His office was on the other side of the city, why would he drive so far just to get some coffee with you during work days?

Love, a voice answers and you immediately waved it off.

There was no way he had fallen in love with you in such a short time. You have been on two dates with him yet he hadn't asked you to be his girlfriend when there's been multiple times throughout those days and nights he had the chance to do so.

During nights where you'd restlessly toss around on your bed, you found yourself facing one more problem outside of your friends.

You didn't notice when it started when Guwon began to make your stomach churn and it bothers you to the nines at how you were being suspicious of him.

Guwon is a genuinely nice guy with a legit and grand background from what you learned throughout the short time you've been hanging out, his case stories of helping out women stuck in abusive relationships and bringing justice to those the law has failed once proven true when you've typed his name on Naver. The man didn't deserve the doubt twisting in your stomach nor the aversion you were slowly gaining towards him.

Your conflicting feelings surrounding your friends' confessing and odd behaviors shouldn't be affecting your relationship with the man you will marry at some point yet it ended up doing so.

There was something foul and bitter simmering in your guts these days whenever you force yourself to think about him during your time. It burns like bile and tasted like betrayal, almost like unfaithfulness; you try not to think hard on why you feel this way but it's hard not to when Jimin and Taehyung's jealousy keeps flashing behind your eyelids with every blink.

[13:55] You: Oh wow, which one? [13:55] Guwon: The one on the left side, Areum Cafe. [13:55] Guwon: Are you free to get a cup of coffee with me? [13:56] Guwon: Sorry for springing this up on you [13:55] Guwon: I missed you🙁

“Who is it?”

“It's Guwon,” You say, scratching your head. “He says he's at the cafe down the road and wants to meet up.”

Yoongi placed down his food and stared at you, long and hard. Cat-like eyes narrowed and observing as he leaned back on his chair. You feel his eyes regard your body language before sighing.

“I assume you need help getting out? I'm not as… bold as the younger ones but I think I can help… somehow”

His appearance would surely help tamper down the discomfort that had bloomed with the recent revelations. Yoongi is intimidating as he is caring, having him next to you would ensure you a shorter time spent with the man, as well as prohibit him from pulling another surprise kiss on you.

But why are you so uncomfortable spending time with Guwon anyways?

You didn't have any problems before, even wanted to sleep with him the night prior so why now?

“How’d you know I need help?”

“You looked like your mother just told you to come to another date.”

Immediately, you ironed out the frown you didn't realize had marred your face.

“I thought you would've been delighted you've finally met your match?”

“I-I am.”

Yoongi clicks his tongue, the sound echoing louder in the silence of the room. “Try again. A little more sure this time.”

You sighed and relented, knowing the man wouldn't let you take a step out of the door if you lied to him again.

“Everything just started feeling wrong for some reason.”

He raised an eyebrow at that, eyes widening with surprise. “How so?”

“You know, when Jimin and Taehyung came over last night to make sure I got home safe, they were acting strange towards Guwon.” When he made no move to respond, you continued. “When Guwon suddenly kissed me, Taehyung looked… scary. Jimin too, if you can believe it.”

“I actually do.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Yoongi goes silent again, mulling over something as his gaze finally met yours for the first time that day. “For someone so perceptive, you're a bit oblivious.”

“What is it?”

“I won't elaborate, I'll let you realize things on your own.”

You groaned, facepalming because ain't no way Yoongi just added more fuel to the forest fire that is your thoughts. The man doesn’t even look aware of what his words had done, reaching over and innocently sipping on his kombucha once more.

“Back to what you were saying, why do you think it felt wrong to see Guwon?”

With his calm voice and the deafening silence of the room, you found yourself comparing Yoongi, who even has his hands folded over his crossed jean-clad legs, to a therapist and laughed.

“Didn’t know I was due for a therapy session when I dropped off your lunch.”

“Well I did, so deal with it,” He placed down his bottle. “Do you need my help or not?”

“Is breathing important? Obviously yes.”

He nods and stands, but not before saying, “I hope you know this conversation is far from over.”

While his presence had given you more peace of mind, leaving the BigHit building with Yoongi—who had forgone his usual outdoor style of beanies and big prescription glasses matched with a black mask in order to appear more intimidating, claiming the beanie softens his edges, something you playfully rolled your eyes at—still felt like walking into your doom.

The moment he steps out of the building, suddenly everyone's eyes are on him. The cool stoicness surrounding him commanded attention and the people listened without complaint, not when Yoongi looked like every highschool teenager's bad boy wet dreams.

Strolling into the cafe is easier with Yoongi trailing behind you like a guard dog; or in his case, a guard panther.

There's something about having the rapper, who has never shown a hint of romantic attraction to you in all your years being their friend, accompanying you to meet the man you might marry once the discomfort born from conflicting feelings subsides. It makes your heart jittery and your stomach twisting uncomfortably, the nerves from meeting Guwon only adding fuel to the fire.

It felt improper somehow, as if you were breaking an invisible rule you're yet to uncover from the depths of your soul.

The tempting aroma of freshly baked buttery goods and roasted coffee beans greeted you the moment Yoongi had pushed the door open for the both of you. In the controlled volume of mixed chatters from different tables, a calm acoustic instrumental flies through the air and you almost forgot what you came here for.

It didn't take long for you to find Guwon sitting on the table farthest from the entrance, secluded and away from the wide glass pane windows. When the door had opened with a chime, the man had raised his head from his phone and met your eyes. You try not to linger on how his expression stiffened when he realized you had Yoongi in tow before a smile wipes it away.

“You see him?” Yoongi’s voice grumbled from behind and you nod. Guwon stands, the sound of the chair scraping against the floor catching his attention. “That him?”

“Yeah, I don't think he's happy I brought you with me.”

He chuckled lightly. “Good.”

Guwon met you both halfway, arms opened wide to greet you with a hug and you let him. When you pull away, his hand casually falls to your waist and your skin scrawls.

Immediately, Yoongi’s eyes drop to look at it but before any hint of emotion breaks onto his face, his cool eyes are already back on your suitor’s face.

“Which one of your kids am I given the pleasure of meeting this time?” Guwon asks before offering his free hand to Yoongi who had taken it with a carefully crafted blank expression and unrelenting stare.

Seeing him remain in eye contact with Guwon surprises you. The man, even after your years of being friends, had never held eye contact for longer than five seconds outside the time he had opened up to you about his struggle with expressing himself.

It made you curious. Why is he provoking him? Is he testing Guwon?

“I'm not one of her kids, I'm actually older than her. Min Yoongi.”

“Yoo Guwon, a pleasure to meet you.”

Even when both their hands had long pulled away from each other, their eyes lingered longer. Challenging on Guwon's part, and taunting on Yoongi's as he stared back, completely unfazed.

Seeing them silently engage in a dick measuring contest, something you didn’t expect Yoongi to ever partake in since he had been loud in his distaste for his own gender, irked you. The tightening grip on your waist didn't help, wanting nothing but to slap it off if it wasn't for your promise to your mother to not fuck this up.

‘If you don't tell them what you're uncomfortable with, then they'll continue on doing it. The other guys out there aren't like us who'd feel guilty if we knew, I fear that they might take advantage of you instead, noona.’ Hobi’s voice echoes in your mind.

Sorry Hoba, I'm trying to make this work. But if this behavior continues, then I'll listen to you.

“I thought you idols are often more busy than the average folk?”

Yoongi sucks air through his teeth before responding. “We were in the middle of a fitting prior. I hope you don't mind me keeping watch, can't have our staff getting distracted by heartthrobs like you.”

Guwon laughed, a little louder than usual.

“She's been telling you guys about me?”

“All the good things, don't worry.” He then turns to you, eyes searching your face for a hint of extreme discomfort before continuing. “I'll go order the others some food.”

Sparing one last nod of his head at the man next to you, Yoongi then turns towards the counter to order. The moment he was out of earshot, dread drops onto your stomach like an anvil and you looked up at the Guwon whose eyes were already trained onto yours, a lazy smile stretched on his lips.

“I assume you’ll be needed back once he’s done?”

“ Yeah, I’m sorry it's just… Wrong timing.”

He waves you off. “Nonsense, it’s my fault for bringing you out of your work. They won’t fine you for this, right?”

“I went with one of my bosses, of course they won’t.”

His eyes studied your face for a moment, searching. For what? You don’t want to know. When he had found whatever it was, his face melts into a softer, more mellow expression and your heart clenches. The outpouring of awe in his eyes felt heavy and thick, it clogs up your throat and weighs your already strained form.

“I missed you.” He whispers with the sweetest of voices. “Did you miss me?”

“I-I do, kept thinking about you...”

The lie weighted like lead on your tongue and burned like acid. Compared to the genuineness practically dripping from his lips, your words fall short in your ears. With the way his softened expression crumpled into a frown, you knew he also noticed the hesitance in your voice.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry. With the tour being so close and more sponsorship offers coming in, it got a bit stressful than usual.”

When his arms reach around your shoulders and pull you flush to his chest, you will yourself not to tense. You were both hugging in the middle of the coffee shop and you could feel the nearby patrons’ stare pressing onto your body, judging and unpleasant. Embarrassment burns your cheeks and the desire to push him away grows.

Even Jimin and Taehyung doesn’t dare to get affectionate in public, none of your friends ever did anything more than a hand on your shoulder to lead you to the correct direction or a pat on the back when Jungkook had more sleep and food ingested, and was bouncing off the walls and you just happen to be assigned to him.

You wanted nothing more but to tell him to back off but the words got stuck in your throat.

“Just a tip, she doesn’t like PDA so maybe step away?”

Immediately, Guwon scrambles off of you.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know.” Guwon says, his hand falling from your shoulder and down to your arm. You shivered.

A firm and familiar hand lands on your shoulder before Yoongi tugs you back to stand next to him. There’s a set in jaw as his eyes narrowed down at Guwon, the hand replacing Guwon on your arm is tense and rigid but not enough to hurt.

You sensed that he had a lot to say once you were out of sight, all of them expressing his distaste for the man you’re set to eventually marry. Even when you were all standing there, you could already imagine the curses and nitpicked details pouring out of his lips.

“We’ll be going back now,” Yoongi says to Guwon, voice tight as if holding back his emotions as he curtly bowed. “Our leader is already demanding us to come back so we’ll have to cut this meeting short. It was nice meeting you.”

Guwon looked incredulous at the turn of events, eyes shuttering before he nodded in understanding and turned to flash a smile at you.

“Message me when you’re home, alright?”

Yoongi didn’t even linger long enough for you to respond, already walking away. By the time you turned to look at him, he was three gaits away from leaving the coffee shop. With a dip of your head, you sprint to follow closely behind the man now pushing through the door.

You could understand the reason for his irritation, always the most protective out of the bunch and the one with the most to say about men. To see your closest female friend be made uncomfortable by her suitor, a stranger in his eyes, there was no doubt he’d be livid.

But why does he have to walk so fast?!

You’re not physically built to match his pace, he takes one step and you have to do three. It was infuriating but you couldn’t exactly scream at him to slow down in public, catching the attention of other people would only create more problems than you both could take on.

He eventually slows down to a halt in front of the double glass doors of the BigHit building and you were able to finally catch up to him. In the lobby, you both calmly approached the elevator, a complete juxtaposition of how hasty you two were not a moment before.

But the moment the metal doors of the elevator shuts, isolating you and Yoongi from the rest, he begins.

“I don’t like him.”

It was stupid but you wanted to know what specific trait he had found irksome.

(Deep down, you knew you were finding a reason to stop, to let go of Guwon and stop this stupid charade.)

“He didn’t even notice you were uncomfortable earlier. When you told us that he’s good, I thought he’d be decent, not top grade bare minimum.”

“H-He was actually good, believe it or not.”

“So he's a pretentious prick?”

You sighed. “H-He just—”

“Hyung wouldn't approve.” Yoongi cuts in, his hardened eyes now piercing through yours, almost taunting you to bite back. “Not just him, everyone wouldn't. You'd break poor Jiminie’s heart if you continued seeing him once he found out how he acted today.”

You knew he was guilt tripping you and it was working. But you swore Guwon was better than the others, he had treated you with a gentleness and care your friends had shown yet something had changed after that night.

Was Taehyung's clinginess, their presence in general, been the catalyst?

Had he felt threatened by them showing up? You had established early on that they're your boss and your mother would've mentioned your relationship with the boys in passing at least, so why would he feel threatened by them?

“I know what you're thinking but it doesn't work like that.” His voice, now softer than it had been earlier, pierces through the trance you’ve submerged into. “Even if you had said you’re only friends with them, it's human nature for us to still feel intimidated even if we're just friends.”

“That's dumb.”

He shrugged. “Men are dumb, I'm just slightly better than the rest.”

“That's debatable.” You joked and he raised an eyebrow.

“Your taste is questionable.” He shot back and you hit his arm in response, making him laugh but it dissolves as fast as it came. “I'm serious, hyung won't like it if you continue meeting Guwon.”

“I know, I can already hear him and we're not even there yet.”

“Don’t be dumb, if you want a husband so bad, tell aunt to wait for us to renew our contract this October then I'll marry you.”

He meant it as a joke, you knew that, but you couldn't stop the butterflies in your stomach from fluttering wildly. You're suddenly reminded of a scene from years ago, his alcohol-flushed cheeks pulled taut by the dopey smile stretching his lips wide and his slurred voice admitting something you—until today—have no recollection of what had been uttered.

You both have been battered to the nines, drunken out of your minds and stumbling over the smallest rocks on the street by the time Seokjin and Namjoon had found you halfway home. It was a miracle you both got off unscathed with how giggly and dumbed down you both were.

“Bold of you to assume I'd say yes.”

“I got wealth, I got a good mug on me, what else would you need?”

“Seokjin also got those.”

He pondered long and hard, sucking air through his teeth before he turned to you again with a glint in his eyes.

“You know what they say about my tongue right?”

He couldn’t say he didn’t expect the punch in the arm that followed soon after.

When the elevator door opens and you both go straight for the dance studio, the conversation about Guwon is put on pause and you dread the moment Seokjin hears what had transpired in the coffee shop when suddenly, Yoongi stills and hissed out a curse.

“Shit, I forgot Jungkook’s muffins.”

286 notes · View notes

hellodropbear · 5 months ago

Text

like she used to (VII)

alexia putellas x sister

part I, II, III, IV, V, VI

this is the final part! it is 12:30am, I got home at 11 and read over it as I ate dinner so hopefully there aren't too many mistakes!

I hope you like the final part and sorry it has taken me so long!

~~~~~~

April 12, 2013.

"Alexia!"

My sister was standing outside by the school gates, training uniform on, her skin bronzed from the Barcelona sun. I hadn't been expecting her to pick me up from school that day, but it was always a nice surprise when she did because it meant going to her training instead of Mami's work.

"Hola, pequena!" She lifted me easily into her arms, spinning me in almost a full circle and carrying me out towards her car, avoiding the sympathetic glances she received from the parents around.

I think she was sick of them, our father died almost a year ago and she had been picking me up at least once a week since. Surely they should be aware of it by now?

I was placed in my booster seat in the back of the car, Alexia stepping into the front seat and smiling at me through the rear view mirror.

"Everyone is so excited to see you, pequena! I told them all this morning and they've been waiting all day."

I nodded from the back seat before diving into chatter about my day, what I had done at school. Alexia smiled and nodded from the front seat, only adding to the conversation when I left small gaps between my endless streams of chatter.

The chatter continued as we arrived and I skipped ahead of her before she grabbed my hand with a stern glance, warning me to be safe on the roads.

But Alexia was forgotten as I ran into the changing rooms, straight into Leila's open arms.

"Hola, mi amor." She planted a soft kiss on the top of my head, trying to control my energetic and wriggly body.

"Hola, Leila!"

My long spiel started again, this time spoken directly to Leila as the others sat and watched in amusement, Alexia rolling her eyes at my loud and persisting voice.

But my voice was silenced as soon as they went back out onto the training pitch, sat on the rug that Alexia had laid out with some colouring books and toys. Books and toys that lay abandoned as I stared at the footballers in front of me.

They were incredible, I always thought. They moved so quickly up and down the pitch, shooting and passing the ball with pinpoint precision that I could only imagine to possess as a 6 year old who had only started to learn to play a few months ago.

I idolised my sisters teammates almost as much as I idolised Alexia and I constantly tried to pick up on things they did, trying to be like them, trying to improve my own abilities.

Alba came down and sat next to me, but was unable to pull me out of my trance, instead pulling out her schoolbook and doing some homework as we waited for Alexia to finish up.

But Alexia finishing up meant I was about to start, so I ignored Alba's groan as I jumped up from the floor as the whistle blew, running over to grab a stray ball and attempting to dribble it around the patch of grass near Alba.

It wasn't long before Marta jogged over, guiding me to the small training pitch and trying to intercept the ball and getting me to try dispossess her as she dribbled along.

It was all fun and games until we started shooting, and I found myself incapable of getting a single goal in the back of the net. I was progressively getting more and more upset, with Marta's words of encouragement doing little to cheer me up as I remained unsuccessful in scoring a single goal.

I was forced to give up when Alexia rushed onto the field, apparently recognising my distress and picking me up, holding me close.

I immediately calmed down. Alexia's arms were magical in that way, they never failed to calm me down, to cheer me up. To make me warm, to make me comfortable.

My cries into Alexia's chest were light and she ran her hand up and down my back softly, smiling at Marta as the older Spaniard planted a kiss on my head and said goodbye.

"Pequena, why are you so upset?"

"Because, Ale, I can't even score a goal! You and your team can score a goal from ages and ages away but I can't even score one from right in front of it!"

Alexia laughs softly and I frown.

"You are six, Elena, you are so little and you have only been playing for a couple months. We are professionals, we have to be able to do these things because that is our job, just like your job is to learn how to read and write at school, something you are very good at! You will get better as you continue to practice, we have already seen you get so much better. You got the ball off Marta today, you should be proud of yourself like I am proud of you."

"I just want to be like you, Ale. Why can't I be like you?"

I lean my head into Alexia as she adjusts her hold of me and wanders over to where my belongings were left abandoned.

"You are just like me. When I was your age I was exactly like you are now, only less determined and less talented. You will be better than me one day, pequena, if you keep working so hard. You just need to remember that I will always be proud of you. Every day of my life I wake up and think of how proud I am, how lucky I am that you are my baby sister. I love you pequena."

"Even if I am bad at football?"

"Even if you are bad at football. Which you aren't, by the way. You are incredible."

~~~~~~

November 18, 2017.

It was game day.

The Catalonia cup final day, and my whole family was sat in the audience to watch as I played in the final for the under 11s. I only turned 9 last week, but was invited to play with this team a few months ago.

The game was a big deal for me, playing with people so much older, so much taller. I felt the pressure as well, a defender against a team where the top of my head barely reached the base of the necks of the attackers from the other team.

It was nerve wracking, and I felt everything churning inside me as I walked onto the field and into my position, waiting for the ref to blow his whistle and for the game to commence.

I didn't want to look up into the stands, hyperaware of everyone watching me, everyone waiting for me to be just like Alexia. To stand out, to be fast, to be precise, to be incredible.

But Alexia is a midfielder and I am a centre back. I am not like Alexia, but the only one who seems to understand that is Alexia.

To everyone else, I am a younger version of her, waiting to follow in her footsteps. La Masia, Barcelona B. Barcelona first team.

It makes me wonder what they will think if I don't have the perfect career like Alexia.

But I am only 9, still to young to even trial for La Masia, so the under 11s from the local team will have to do.

The game starts out well, my team scores twice in thirty minutes and we finish the first half up two goals to none. We are happy as we sit on the sidelines with our coach for the 15 minute break, eating slices of orange and joking around.

I sometimes wonder how different it is at half time for Alexia when she plays in her big games. I don't think they eat oranges. Or joke around.

The second half does not go nearly as well. It starts off with a goal to us, but the other team quickly gain possession and score easily. It's upsetting, but we are still two goals up.

When their next goal goes in, we begin to get nervous, skittish. We are still a goal up, but it is not a big enough gap for our liking, especially since they just got two very quickly.

The scoreline remains at 3-2 until the 81st minute, when an attacker from the other team tears all the way down the pitch and into the box. I am in the right position, it is entirely up to me to stop this goal from going in.

But I don't. I try to dispossess her, but I'm unsuccessful. She sends the ball right through my legs and into the net for the equalising goal and I bit back my tears as she celebrates with her friends.

My teammates pat me on the back, telling me it doesn't matter, that we can get another goal in the dying minutes of the game, but I am not focussed on them.

I am focused on my family sitting in the stands because all I can see is disappointment.

Except Alexia, who smiles and puts her thumbs up with an encouraging smile.

But I am a disappointment, because I allowed the other team to equalise.

Alexia wouldn't have done that.

My teammates were right, they score again in the second minute of added time, and we celebrate winning the cup with medals and a trophy. But it all feels tainted, because I almost ruined this for the team.

I disappointed my family because I am a Putellas, we are supposed to be good at football.

It is only when we return to the dressing room that the first tears slip out, but I wipe them away quickly, frustrated that I couldn't stop them from starting in the first place.

Surprisingly, Alexia is the only family member who is outside the dressing room with the other families, and I run directly into her arms, grateful that they are already outstretched.

Her arms are like home. Like they have done for all my life, they cheer me up, take away some of my sadness.

"You played so well, pequena! I am so, so proud of you, my little champion!"

She grabs the piece of metal that hangs from my neck and kisses it.

"Another gold to add to our collection."

Our collection.

Like we collect them together.

I just won an under 11s Catalonia cup, after almost ruining my teams chances. She has a number of Primera division medals, copa de la reina, copa catalunya, golf medals from world championships at the youth age level. A never ending list of MVP awards, honours from spain, from Catalonia and from Mollet del Valles.

And I almost lost my team the Catalonia Cup.

We are not the same, Alexia and I. I just wish my family would see that, understand that I won't be like Alexia because how could I ever be that good.

Alexia seems to pick up on my negative mood, lifting me up like I am still 5 years old and holding me close.

"I know what you are thinking, Elena."

I look at her curiously, a silent question that asks her to continue.

"You are thinking that their equaliser was entirely your fault, that you almost cost the team your victory, no?"

I nod slowly, and she wipes away the tear that slips from my eye.

"You never would have done something like that, Ale."

She shakes her head, chuckling slightly.

"You don't even want to know how many mistakes I've made, how many times I've thought it was all my fault that we lost or almost lost a game. This is your first, but it won't be your last and that is ok. Football is a team sport, Elena, it is never an individuals fault. You wouldn't be mad at a keeper for making a mistake and conceding an important goal and you can't blame the striker for not shooting enough if you lose an important game. Just like you can't blame a defender for conceding. The striker had to get through the midfield first, and they all made mistakes there, and other defenders could have helped you out but they didn't, the keeper wasn't positioned well either but everyone tried their best and accidentally conceded a goal. It's a team, pequena, you win together, lose together, score together and conceded together. And look at how many clearances you made! All those tackles where you recovered the ball, prevented their attack. I am so proud of you today because you were one of the best players on the pitch."

I nod slowly, slumping into her arms.

"I just wish I could be like you, Ale. Because you are so good and everyone knows it. I am so scared that I will disappoint everyone by not living up to what you've done, but how can I? You are so good."

She sighs, shaking her head.

"You are my sister, but that doesn't mean we are the same on the pitch. I am a terrible defender, you are a great one. I can score goals easier than you, but it doesn't mean you're not as good, or can't grow to be a professional like I am. And nobody will ever be disappointed in you either! Whether you play for Barcelona for the rest of your life or if you go and play for a terrible team like Arsenal, or even if you quit football altogether and decide to go down another road because that is always an option too! You are smart like I am not, you are artistic like I am not and you can play that piano better than anyone else I've heard. What I'm saying is that just because we both love football, we are not the same. Everyone knows that and nobody will ever be disappointed in you if you don't follow the same career that I have."

"They all looked so disappointed when I conceded though."

She shook her head again.

"They shouldn't have, because they were not. But even if everyone else fails you, pequena, which they won't, but if they do, you will always have me cheering you on. I will always be there, your annoying, old, proud sister, every single day I am alive I will be proud of you no matter what you do, because I love you so much, you are everything to me."

She wipes away the tears that slipped from my eyes, planting a kiss on my head.

"Now everyone is waiting for us, a big celebration dinner because you won today. Everyone is so proud of you, Elena. You are growing into such a talented and strong little girl, the best centre back our family has ever seen."

I smile.

Maybe I don't need to be just like Alexia to succeed.

Maybe Elena is alright too.

~~~~~~

July 4, 2019.

I was invited to trial for La Masia, but I don't know if I want to go.

I know I am good at football, but I don't even know if I want to play anymore.

Because last week I played the best game I have in a long time, but this morning I singlehandedly lost my team any chances we have of winning the under 15s title.

It had been rough from the beginning and it was even worse considering we were on the top of the league and we were playing a team from close to the bottom. We couldn't get past their defence, but their attack was easily finding their way through our midfield and defensive line.

We conceded three and scored none.

All three of the conceded goals were my fault.

Every. Single. One.

Alba told me after the game that it was alright, it didn't matter.

Mami hugged me and said it would be better next time.

But it isn't alright, it does matter and who knows if it will be better next time?

Alexia was in France, relaxing after her disappointing end to the world cup, but Mami or Alba must have filled her in on the disaster that was my game before she got home, because as soon as she arrived, she was upstairs and into my room, pulling me into a hug.

"I don't want you to tell me that it doesn't matter, Alexia, because it does. Please don't tell me that football is a team sport and it isn't just my fault, because it is. It's all my fault and now I've destroyed their chances of winning the league. So please, don't tell me otherwise."

She shook her head, her arms tightening around my body.

"Mami said you don't want to trial for La Masia anymore?"

I shake my head. I don't think I can even face the trials after the embarrassment that was the other night.

"That's ok. You don't have to if you don't want to."

I look up at her in confusion.

"Really?"

"Absolutely not."

She looks right back at me, brushing the hairs out of my face.

"You're only 11, Elena. You put a lot of pressure on yourself to be great which is not necessary. You are already brilliant. If you don't want to trial, you don't have to. You love school, you love your current team and if you don't want that all to change it doesn't have to. There is always next time if you decide you want to make that jump."

I don't know how she always knows what I am thinking, because I never told her how much I would miss my school and football team if I ended up at La Masia.

"And what if I don't? What if I don't want to play football any more. Throw away everything I have ever worked for. Wouldn't you be disappointed?"

I don't want her to tell me she wouldn't be, because I don't think that's the truth.

"Elena, I will never be disappointed in you. Yes, I would be upset, but that is only because it is something so special that we share, something that connects us in a way that I can't be connected to anyone else in this family. But I love you and I would get over it eventually. But today, let's think about now."

I nod, which she uses as an indicator to continue.

"You're 11 years old, starting as a centre back in the under 15s. You are good, very good and play games so well that nobody would even notice you were so young if it wasn't for your height. You had a bad game the other day, but every other week you have saved that team so many times, so if it wasn't for you, they would have lost that trophy weeks ago. You are smart, have heaps of friends at school and love to play the piano, to read, to hang out with those friends. You love to do things outside of football, it's all equally important. You were scouted to trial for La Masia, but you are 11 and these trials happen every six months so there will be many more chances for you to trial if you decide not to this time but change your mind later. You have a huge family of support right behind you, and you have me, who will always be so proud of you. It's all laid out in front of you, Elena, you just have to make a decision."

A tear slips out of my eye but she is quick to brush it away.

"I don't want to trial, not yet."

Her arms pull me tighter.

"I think that's a good decision. I am proud of you, pequena. You need more time to decide what you want to do. Not want Mami wants you to do, not what I want you to do. Not what anybody else wants you to do. I am proud that you have given yourself that time. You are mature, Elena, and so, so smart."

"I love you, Alexia."

"I love you too. Always."

Her arms are so warm around me that I feel myself drifting to sleep in them, waking up when the sun rises the next morning, still with her right arm hanging loosely around my waist.

I am lucky to have her, I decide. So lucky, because she is like a guiding light who makes everything so much clearer. I don't know what I would do without her.

~~~~~~

I made my debut for Barcelona yesterday. I came in for Irene in the 88th minute, Jonatan said he wanted me to get some minutes under my legs before I could play for longer.

The feeling of running onto the pitch in the Barcelona kit, my name and number on my back, alongside the players I have grown up idolising was something I will never forget.

Something so special, a turning point in my life that could map out my entire career.

But it was all tainted by what I have lost. What I should have had supporting me. Who I should have had supporting me.

"I will always be proud of you, Elena."

I think she has forgotten all those times she told me that, but I certainly have not.

It feels like a long time since I have felt emotions like this. It feels like an even longer time that I have really felt happy. Euphoric, even.

It is harder for a centre back to be subbed in, because they make the foundations of the formation. But we were up by 6 to nothing so it was a safe bet. Any mistakes I made would not lose us points.

I didn't make mistakes though. I made clearances, I stopped the ball from going past Cata and into the goal. Jonatan was happy, Aitana hugged me as soon as the final whistle blew.

Mami was there, of course, cheering from the crowd.

It feels like months since I have seen her. It has been a while since we have spoken properly, although she does not bring that up as she pulls me into a hug, telling me how proud she is of me.

Alba stands from beside her, staring at me intensely, as if worried I will run away again.

She knows that if she brings up the last time that happened, I probably will.

The last month has been rough. I have stayed with Mapi, only leaving the safety of my room in her apartment for training. I did my school, I trained hard and I ate every meal. My days slipped by, I felt nothing. Not happy, not sad. Not anything.

I think I was confused. Exhausted too. I had exploded, finally, and so I had to suffer from the repercussions.

Mapi tried her very best to help clean up after that tidal wave finally hit, but her efforts weren't enough to rebuild what had been destroyed. So I ignored her when she came into my room each night, telling me that Alexia was outside, that Alexia wanted to see me.

I didn't want to see her because I don't think I would have been able to hold it together if she had come crying to me.

But she is here today and I don't think Mapi will let me avoid her when she inevitably approaches me in the change rooms.

I walk there slowly, saying goodbye to Mami and Alba quietly and trailing behind Patri and Pina who don't even notice my presence. It is because I have been so quiet, I think, they don't really know what to do with me. They don't know what to say to make me feel better.

There's not much that will.

The room erupts into loud cheers as I enter, most of the older players proud of me for finally making my debut.

It would have been a dream debut, really, if things were different.

But everything is ruined, everything is overshadowed by so many things.

Alexia has done all this before me, made her debut, broken into the first squad. I am simply just doing what is expected of me, as a Putellas.

She got selected because of her talent. I was selected because Mapi got injured.

But she is right there as I get passed through the room, standing up against the doorway, a soft smile on her face.

Mapi is the one who pushes me towards her and I can't decide whether she doesn't notice my attempts of making frantic eye contact with her, or if she just decides to ignore it. She whispers that everything will be fine, that I just need to talk to her and things will start to get better.

I try telling her that she's wrong, that it's not that easy.

But those arms are around me as soon as I am in reaching distance and it takes everything inside of me to not crack right there. But I can feel the parts of me that were slowly rebuilt over the past month start to fall apart again, but differently.

All those things that crashed out of me by my piano a few months ago come racing right back inside. It is like she gathered them all up in her arms and carried them around for me until she saw me next, until she would be able to give them back.

She sort of picks me up as I start to cry, moving out and into one of the physio rooms, giving us more privacy. Away from the prying eyes of our teammates who have been so intrigued by the drama between us.

So intrigued by the drama that has been ripping me up from the inside.

And it looks like it has also been ripping up Alexia, if you look at the suitcases under her eyes and the severe discolouration in her face.

"Elena." Her voice is clearly tearful, but I can barely hear it over the gut wrenching cries thatI am releasing.

In reality, they aren't really that loud but they overcome me in a way that blocks out everything else around me.

Because I have been void of everything for over a month, no emotions. Not happy, sad, confused, excited, disappointed. Not anything.

But to feel those arms. Her arms that keep me safe, that shelter me from life's issues. It is a feeling like no other.

Something I can finally feel.

And I never want to not feel again, because even though I am not happy, at least I am finally feeling something. At least I am not so empty like I have been, a bottomless pit in my stomach that simply could not be filled.

And with Alexia's arms around me, it feels like I can get through anything.

I am a Putellas. I am strong.

"Elena... I have been a terrible big sister." Her voice breaks and her head lands in my hair.

"And I have been thinking and thinking, wracking my brain to try and figure out what started this all, and I finally remembered the other day. Elena, I do not deserve you."

I move out from beneath her, looking at her intently.

Wet eyes meet wet eyes and I immediately pull her into a hug.

"I have missed you so much, Ale. I have missed you so much."

"I am so, so, so sorry, Elena. Nothing I say will be enough."

We speak at the same time, tears consuming us as we both try to fix our relationship.

Fix the relationship that has been shattered, broken, kicked, destroyed.

Fix the relationship that I would do anything to repair.

"Please, listen to me."

I look up at her as she grabs my face, cupping my cheeks in her hands and wiping away the tears that have fallen.

"I said things to you. Things that I didn't mean, things that were wrong. And then I questioned why you weren't comfortable around me as much any more. And I stopped being your sister, pequena. I stopped watching your games, picking you up from training, taking you to ice cream, helping you with your homework. I just stopped a few years ago and never even tried to explain, never tried to regain your trust."

I frown.

"At my party, the La Masia one. When I cried. You got upset at me and I was childish about the whole thing, I used it against you for so long."

"And you have every right to, Elena, because I was so terrible and I wish I had a reason, something to excuse my words, but I do not. I was stressed, I was anxious. I projected it all onto my perfect baby sister because I didn't know what else to do. And I was a bad sister before that, too. I never should have told you that I was too busy for you because you are so much more important than anything else in my life, but I acted like I didn't care about you at all. I am a terrible sister."

"I didn't help." My voice is mousy, squeaky. Because I have been crying and I am doing everything I can to avoid another round of tears. "I didn't make it easier for you, I wasn't strong like you, like I should have been."

Alexia inhales sharply, immediately shaking her head, pulling mine back into her chest in a tight hug.

"I never want to hear those words come out of your mouth again, Elena, because you are the strongest person I know and I am so, so proud of everything you have done. You have been brave, determined, passionate, so many things. I have been the weak one. I have been so scared of losing you, but I was the one who ruined everything and I lost you, I let you slip through my fingers and I will never forgive myself for that. You are incredible, Elena, and you won't let anyone tell you otherwise. Not me, not anyone."

"I have missed you so much."

Alexia is surprised when I lean further into her arms, but I am grateful when she tightens them around me.

She is my older sister, and I have missed her so much.

She is my older sister, and I lost her for a while. I lost her and my life became miserable. My days were more dreary and I began to hate everything else in my life.

But now she is here, she has acknowledged the issues and I finally feel some relief.

I finally feel like I am getting her back.

Her arms are filling me up with all those emotions, warm ones, cold ones. Things I never want to feel again but things I want to feel every day for the rest of my life.

Alexia is my sister.

And I realised, last night, that I don't have to be exactly like her, because I am not her. I am Elena, and I debuted for Barcelona at 15.

The youngest to ever do it.

It's pretty cool.

But it's even better to have my sister there, cheering for me like she always said she would. She is proud, she loves me and I do think she has missed me like I have missed her.

And I can finally feel myself mending.

We spoke more after the celebrations, she took me to dinner, slowly patching up my insides that I once thought were beyond prepare.

She told me over and over that she was sorry, she feels terrible and she will never let me slip away from her again. She says that I am incredible and that she wishes she had my talent, that I will grow to become the best that the club has ever seen and that I have already paved my way into the history of this football club.

But she also tells me that I am a good person, with good values and a good heart. That Papi would be proud of the person I have become. Not just the footballer, the person.

For the second time that day, I feel happy, full of love, completely content.

Because Alexia loves me, and sometimes, the love of a sister is all you need.

~~~~~~

and that's it!

Let me know if you want to see anything else from this little universe and i'll see what i can do

thank you for reading this all, i have seen all the comments and asks and they mean the world :)

hope you enjoyed

#woso #woso fanfics #barca femeni #fcb femení #alexia putellas #fcb femeni

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dev1lm4n · 1 year ago

Text

lesson two: tease

ko-fi | series masterlist (5 out of 7)

pairing: porn star!joel miller x f!reader

summary: tension is on the rise between you and mr. miller. wicked fantasies hadn't posted for an entire month! desperate, you decided to get even more bold with your requests and he had no difficulty in complying.

word count: 4.8k

warnings: explicit (18+), set in 2013, pre-outbreak, age gap (joel in mid 30's and reader in early 20's), inexperienced but not dumb reader, blowjob, f masturbation, check umbrella warning on series masterlist

notes: tension is literally on the rise! the vase is about to crack, but tonight he decides to indulge. fellas if you enjoyed this do COMMENT, REBLOG or buy me a KO-FI ;) love y'all

Broad shoulders.

During the time when you simply saw Mr. Miller as a figure in your lewd fantasies, you knew that it was the roughness of his build that attracted you. There’s a certain market for it; for women and men alike who enjoyed those who're built like burly vikings straight out of a movie. Those who enjoy men with a slight plumpness on their front, those who salivate over their strong and reliable arms, those who strive to caress their calloused fingers and press kisses onto their rigid knuckles. You’ve never confessed this to anyone - mostly terrified for their reserved judgment over the topic - but you fit perfectly in that box. Time after time, you wonder if it’d feel nice, if you could just press your nifty fingers into the coils of his muscles, if he’d let out a groan.. a moan perhaps from the sensation.

Rough fingers.

After spending two minutes staring intensely at his sturdy, slightly hunched build, you finally gathered enough courage to summon yourself into the kitchen. God, he looked so good just washing the dishes. His already calloused fingers didn’t have to worry about the damage those cheap dish soap does, because if anything, it’d just make it better. More ridges means more texture and more texture feels better. Two of his fingers entered the soapy lining of his mug, spreading the cleaning product into every crack and crevice. It looks a little erotic, you decided. Your filthy mind conjured up altered scenarios which implemented the same motion. You’d be on top of the cold countertop, various kitchen gadgets set aside as his fingers delved into your cunt. He’d spread your wetness the same way he did to the mug.

Thick mustache.

He took notice of your presence. He watched you and you allowed him, even if he did so wordlessly. Water continued to spill out of the faucet. It hit the empty bottom of the sink and sprouted upwards in a gauche manner, effectively wetting his gray shirt in blotches and dots. You breathed out what could pass as a dry chuckle and in return, he quirked his lips. A grin. A youthful one that almost made you forget of his crow’s feet and faint lines. His thin upper lip almost disappeared as it was tugged on both sides, but the dark hair on top remained pristine. It was thick, you concluded. Not as thick as Uncle Tommy’s, but thick enough that he’d get marinara sauce on it every pasta night. Thick enough that you wonder what it’d be like to have it graze your sensitive pelvis.

Fuck, he’s hot and you’re unreasonably horny.

“Hey.”

“Hey, kiddo,” he parroted back, only with the help of that damned nickname he’s stamped onto you.

Crunch

You bit into the red apple you found during your little scavenging trip into his refrigerator. The sound broke whatever trance he had placed you under. With those eyes of yours, pupils rounded and lashes batted, it was a dangerous game you’re playing. When had you gotten so shameless towards Mr. Miller? Perhaps it’s when he touched you in an irrevocably pleasurable way, or perhaps it’s when he hadn’t posted a video for an entire month. He missed his posting schedule, two whole weeks post-’Dirty Fridays’, and it’s severely messing with your head. You’ve always been a good viewer. Always being content with what he had put out and would never harass him for more, but it’s been a long month repeating the same 13 minute long video.

You’re bound to get restless.

“Didn’t see you come home yesterday.”

“I was busy.”

Crunch

With other girls? In that trailer studio of yours? The question sat on the tip of your tongue. A breath away from being exposed into the dense air. You turned to lean your lower back onto the edge of the countertop, eyes still trained on his as you hitched yourself atop the smooth surface. Your fingers grazed the squared edges, just to keep you occupied while you dug under the surface of his browns. You wondered what he was so busy with - wondered what’s going on behind the tightly knitted cloak of guise he wore, wondered what he thought of you after his little lesson. He wasn’t a shy one. Mr. Miller stared back into your pupils. His chest raised and lowered with every blink he took.

You swallowed nervously.

“Workin’ doubles,” he cracked. “I ain’t sharin’ the job with anyone other than Tommy.”

“Is that so?”

“You think I’m lyin’?”

Crunch

You couldn’t read him. You’ve never been able to. There’s just a huge boulder sitting behind those irises, one that’s blocking you from understanding him even further. It’s not like it’s your business anyway. You’re content with spending your downtime with Sarah; screaming your hearts out to Taylor Swift’s I Knew You Were Trouble on the radio, painting each others’ nails, and making the ultimate pancake with chicken. You’re content with just watching him through his videos, reimagining those situations with the new knowledge you’ve acquired from him. You’re content with standing at a distance from him. So, it wouldn’t be logical to get all protective over him. What are you? His crazy ex-girlfriend?

“How’s Sarah?”

“Great,” you mumbled, mouth still half full. “Taught her fractions yesterday. Swear she’s getting smarter than me.”

“How’s Simon?”

Crunch

Things with Simon, surprisingly, went on smoothly. After that mediocre dinner, where you proceed to let Mr. Miller finger you afterwards in order to introduce you to the new world of sex, you’ve exchanged a few messages and a few perfectly appropriate photos. It’s been awhile since you actually put any effort into trying to get into a relationship, due to work loads and a special dependance towards a pornstar, but it’s much better than you expected. He’s a nice boy. He would treat you right if you gave him the chance to, but you couldn’t help but think that you’re doing all this out of spite. Doing this to show off how capable you are to Mr. Miller, to busy yourself off those plaguing thoughts of him.

“Simon’s doing okay. Fine. He took me for ice cream after my classes yesterday.”

“Offered you a ride, right?”

“Yup.”

He taught you well.

“You’ve done it with him then?”

Your heart clenched.

“Done what?”

“What I taught you.”

Why is he so candid about the entire ordeal?

It was like being held at gunpoint. You watched his eyes, then found it to be too oppressive so you looked down to meet his wet hands. He had finished washing all the plates and cutleries from the breakfast you and Sarah made, though his thick fingers still gripped onto the edge of the metal sink, wet and dripping. You looked up once again, trying to find a part of him that doesn’t make you all jittery and awkward.

“Yes.”

Your lie must’ve been undetectable since you quickly caught on to how his brows tangled and unraveled, a habit of his you’ve picked up recently, signaling that he’s processing the information and giving it a good thought.

“Was it as good?”

Crunch

You nodded surely with a mouthful of tangy apple. There’s no way you could get away with lying so blatantly the second time so you decide the nod would affirm your position better instead of scramble it. He cocked his head to the side, arrogant as always, with some sort of interest in his eyes. You could just tell something foul was about to come out of those sharp tongue of his, when all of a sudden, a clatter sounded out from beyond the window. Both of you turned your heads in sync, following after where the presumable source was. There he was. Tommy in all of his youthful glory. One of his jean legs drenched and beside him was a metal bucket, laying pitifully with its contents poured out onto the sidewalk. He was cursing. A garbled mess of English, while he soothed his pained arse.

“Fuckin’ hell.”

He let out a sigh as he finally tore his gaze away from you to wipe his hands onto a kitchen rag.

“Gotta get goin’,” he whispered hurriedly, fingers running down his messy hair to smooth them down. “You need anything, sweetheart?”

You shook your head no and he took it as a cue to leave the premises. He rushed to pick up his phone from the dining room table, eyes fleeting to find his wallet right after.

“Hey, Mr. Miller.”

He turned his head to meet your eyes.

“You busy tonight?”

Dinner had always been a lonesome affair for you.

Back when you still live in your parents’ cluttered mishmash of a house, you’d always opt out of family dinner. Not because you weren’t particularly fond of your mother’s cooking, her one pot recipes will still remain nostalgic in your head despite time, but more because you’d rather not indulge in petty arguments. They’d always argue. Your mother would flash you that look of hers, silently demanding you to stay on her side when it comes to dealing with your father’s frequent misdemeanors. He’d complain about the tiniest bits of things. If the lettuce was too wilted or if you were wearing too much makeup. He’s an ass, sure, but it’s not like your mother’s planning to abandon him anytime soon. They’re conjoined at this point. Even when it’s massively unhealthy, especially for spectators like you.

In Mr. Miller’s home, oftentimes, you’d put together an edible meal for the entire family. Mr. Miller was a hard worker, according to the accounts that he made, so it’s not rare that you’d have to fry up sausages and whip mashed potatoes together for Sarah. It’s not as if he made it your responsibility. He’d encourage the two of you to order take outs or phone in the pizza place, but that couldn’t be good for Sarah’s growth or his own pocket. And as much as you’d like to deny it, you’re growing way too fond of the Millers.

But it’s been far too long since you crossed path with Mr. Miller. Far too long that you might’ve forgotten what his natural musk after a long day smelt like. Far too long that you might’ve forgotten how heavy his boots were as it dragged across the tiles. Far too long that you surely misses him.

You’re nervous.

Unreasonably so when the promise you’ve made with him was simply for dinner. Nothing less or more. Just dinner. Was the invitation you gave him.. too much? Was it too flirty? Was it silly to think that he might’ve entertained the little show you put out? The desperate stares and chewed lips, you’re undeniably begging for attention. Begging for him to pay attention to you, see what you’re made out of, doesn’t he want to unravel you more? The audacity you have was laughable.

How pathetic, you thought.

Just like clockwork, Mr. Miller showed up right after your self-deprecating cycle. Right after all that flirty and playful energy got brutally murdered by common sense. Right after they were buried in a graveyard of mistakes and what was left was simply the putrid scent of shame. Your head perked up expectantly. As if the mere sight of him in his work uniform, a combo of worn-out flannel shirts and dark-washed jeans, would cure you of exhaustion. Mr. Miller came barging into the hallway. His thumb and index finger diligently massaged the tall bridge of his nose, eyes closed and nose flared from breathing too hard. Your eyes finally made its rounds to where his free arm was propped up on his waist. Sleeves rolled to where it was physically impossible to roll them higher.

He didn’t look like he was in the best of moods.

And somehow.. somehow it excites you.

“Hi, how are you?” you spoke stiffly as if you’re one of those supermarket cashiers, posture straightening upon his arrival.

“Not good,” he replied gruffly.

Mr. Miller made his way to you. He appeared to be the same height and stature as he’s always been, but for whatever reason, he looked a lot larger. As if he could bite and tear you into chunks of flesh if he truly desired to. His movements were staggered. Each step seemed to be more and more of a hassle to him. He had this.. frown on his face. You could even call it a scowl. Forehead waved with folds of worries, lips tightened into an irritated pull as he finally settled down across from you. This new side to him made your limbs limp and your heart spasm. A squeeze each time his narrowed eyes met yours.

“Everything.. okay?” you mused out.

“Just a bunch of shit piling up,” he reasoned, looking down to meet the plate you carefully crafted for him. “Nothin’ to worry your pretty little head.”

The plate’s cold, boiled asparagus hardened and packaged chicken dried, but he didn’t even consider complaining. His brown eyes took in the effort you gave, a brief sheen of guilt glazing those pretty eyes of his before he picked up his fork and spoon. You watched him with care. His every move calculated and drilled deep into your head.

“Sarah asleep?”

“Mhm. I bored her to death with trigonometry,” you chuckled lightly. “She’s okay. Just.. she’s been asking for you. Asking me why you’re always home late.”

Joel’s eyes perked up from the plate. He met your eyes, but it almost felt like he’s looking right through you, over your head to where he could contemplate his decisions. You knew this just from looking, but Joel Miller had a fear of not being a good parental figure. Sarah only had one and he’s barely ever home. That sort of thought festered over him and took over any sort of inhibition. Any sort of clear thinking, that he’s doing all these side jobs to help support her further in life, that it was all for her. Mr. Miller beats himself up too much, but it’s not like you had any right to intervene. You watched as he indulged in the asparagus, seeing how it’s grown cold enough to feel like metal rods when bitten into. He chewed on it with a solemn expression, a curl between his brows.

“Sorry for putting you through this, sweetheart,” he hummed. “I could.. should actually hire help.”

You waited a beat.

“You’ve been doing me too much favor. It’s not.. right.”

“Don’t need to.”

“Why?”

“Always happy to help.”

“But-”

“It’ll cost you too much for help. You’d be sleeping at your job if that happens.”

He could easily earn up to thousands if he gave into the temptations and started working for a mainstream adult film company. One that’s easily recognized from its corny storylines and cringy high-pitched over-the-top moans. Mr. Miller would be a hit, you’re sure of that. Mainstream porn only requires two things when it comes to male actors: a pretty reasonably-sized cock and charisma. Both in which he had under his belt. If he weren’t so particular with the actresses he chose, the angles in which he filmed, and the routine in which he performed in, perhaps he wouldn’t have to beat himself up to skin and bones. You leaned your cheeks onto the palm of your hands as you watched him devour his dinner.

“I need a favor.”

His fork paused.

“But you- well, you’ll laugh.”

He looked up. The crinkles beside his eyes seemed a lot more prominent, as if he’s thoroughly entertained by your youthful silliness.

“What is it? Somethin’ for Simon is it?”

He’s spot on and it’s making you shrink.

“What?” he chuckled gruffly. “You gonna ask me to teach ya how to blow a guy? Oh.. or how to hang him up in ribbons?”

You looked away, awkwardly scratching your elbow.

“Fuck. I’m spot on, am I? Didn’t take you for a kinky gal.”

“No! God, no,” you looked at him, horrified. “Not the latter.”

“The former then?”

“The former.”

The former. You couldn’t bear to wait for his delayed answer. It’s shameless for you to be asking a second time, but you couldn’t help yourself. You’re pent-up, desperate, and he’s your porn star crush forfuckssake. You stood up from where you’re seated. Your gaze was averted completely, to the point where it’s tilted at an uncomfortable angle to shuffle away from his attention. It’s better to sleep it off. Then maybe you’d act like all this didn’t happen the next day. Sarah’s going to be around for breakfast, so he’d surely keep his mouth in check and draw his way out of this. Wouldn’t he.. would he-

“Hey, hey slow down.”

You felt a hand stop you. His grip was tight, possibly bruising if you were to retaliate any other way. It was still hard to meet his eyes, especially when you had to make the special effort to tilt your head up in order to meet his searing gaze. You waited instead, letting him hinder you of any movements as you stared intensely into his flannel-cladded chest. What was he going to say? Is he going to call you up for your perverseness? Was he-

“I’ll do it.”

“What?”

“I said I’ll do it.”

His voice clambered in the chambers of your heart. Masculine, thick with an inch of Southern bass, he took hold of your other hand with those thick fingers of his. This was different from your first lesson. He looked much more.. impatient. A bit of a rough edge when it comes to handling you, a pretty little thing that’s too brave and forward for your own good. His scent, fragments of wood and a taste of clean laundry, permeated the thick air around you. You inhaled him. All of him for the first time in a very very long week. He released the steel grip he had around your wrists and traced it over the rough outline of your body. Up, up, up, until he reached the span of your shoulder. Your breath hitched. All you could feel in your heart was a repeating desire for himhimhim.

He pushed you down slowly, guiding you to lower yourself before him. Right until your knees hit the freezing linoleum tiles beneath his feet. What were you doing? Is it the right decision to fall back into the same old mistake?

“Have you ever practiced on anything before?” he chuckled, almost demeaning in a sense. “A banana or a hairbrush perhaps?”

You shook your head no. All you could see was his dirty jeans, stained of dry concrete and paint.

He brought his rough fingers down to graze against your chin, tilting it upwards so that you’d face him. His eyes were dark, hooded, and trying its best to conceal its obvious amusement. Your chest heaved up and down. Nervous of what he’s about to do next.

“Let’s practice first, ‘kay, sweetheart?” he muttered.

Mr. Miller brought his other pair of fingers next to your face, cradling it with such reverence. He swiped your lips. Bottom then top, only to delve inside your mouth to wet it with enough lubricant. He’s initiating it. His little routine. The older man brought two of his fingers, his index and middle, before he inserted it slowly into your wet cavity. Slowly. Achingly slow. He made sure that you’re comfortable with just a knuckle deep before he proceeded to push in further until the tips sat at the very beginning of your tongue. It wasn’t a familiar feeling like rubbing your clit. You struggle not to gag, or to whimper at the sheer lewdness of the scene unfolding.

“Ah, what a smart girl,” he mused. “Lay your tongue flat for me.”

Your clammy palms fell helplessly atop your smooth pajama pants, gripping on the cotton everytime it felt like too much. His thick fingers separated to make the girth much larger, preparing you for what’s to come. It’s almost as if you could taste him. Taste the natural scent Mr. Miller has around him at all times, taste the carnal desire he held for this. You knew he wouldn’t openly admit it, but this time, it truly looked like he’s looking forward to ripping your innocence away. All his feigned affection stretched thin as you obeyed him perfectly. Tongue flat on the base of your mouth, you breathed in through your nose as best as you can.

“That boy wouldn’t like it if you’re sharp with your teeth,” he muttered as he pulled his fingers away. A string of saliva connected the tip of his wet fingers to your slacked jaw. Oh, how vulgar. Your tight entrance twitched and throbbed inside your panties. Arousal started to wet the thin material, painting dark circles that contrast with the bright color. You were heaving, panting from the sudden increase of oxygen. “So no teeth, keep your tongue flat, and breathe through your nose.”

“You got that, sweetheart?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, who?”

“Yes, Mr. Miller.”

“Alright. Would you like me to take my pants off or do you wanna try it yourself?”

You looked up at the tempting prospect. He gave you a little nod, affirming that you indeed had the upper hand to the situation. And just like that your hands were quick to get on the perimeter of his belt. You loosened the leather from its metal confines, slowly pulling it away from the hook before leaving it. The leather hung from where his two front loops were located. Meekly, you looked up once more as your soft fingers felt his buttons up. He hissed through his pursed lips, a good reaction you assume, as you slowly unbuttoned the main button. You were confident enough now to tug away at his zippers. Step one was completed, you’ve successfully opened him up like a Christmas present.

But.. what’s next?

“What do I do next?”

“What do you think you do?”

You reached out for the waistband of his briefs, but you were quickly met with a little slap on the back of your hand. Not a hurtful one. Just a little reminder.

“It’s best if you get him worked up first so he’s fully hard when you’re ready,” he whispered. “Why don’t you press some gentle kisses on it?”

You hummed in agreement, before you did as you’re told. Even with the dim lighting of the dining room, you could see clearly where the outline of his cock is. It’s semi-erected, you deduced. You’ve seen him in all his glory to the point where you could calculate how much more he could grow. Gently, you closed the gap between you and those pair of briefs he’s wearing. Your mouth was hot and warm in contrast to the cold air, so when you finally pressed a kiss on top of his clothed shaft, his cock twitched immediately. You could feel it and see it too in certain lighting. Encouraged, you press even more kisses on each and every spot, slowly building up the desire until you reach the leaking tip. You nuzzled your nose close. It smelled like him, salty with a tinge of masculine musk.

This turned you on so much that you inevitably grinded your bottom towards the cold tile. Nothing was there to satiate your throbbing core, just a short term burst of pleasure.

“Shit, sweetie,” he hissed. “I think you’re ready.”

With haste, you quickly tugged on his waistband. You didn’t expect for his length to pop out that quickly, the startled reaction you had was proof of that. He looked.. pretty. Blushed beige with a ruddy tip that's covered. It’s a little silly that that’s the first thing that came to your mind, but it’s the truth. You’d never guess that you could get this up close. Eye level to the cock you’ve been fantasizing about, where you could practically see each and every one of his veins. You didn’t say one word. Instead, you settled on observing the new interest. Your one finger went up curiously to touch the white substance that’s pooling up top. Sticky, you thought. Out of curiosity, you stuck the lone finger down your throat. Salty was the next thought in line.

“Didn’t expect you to taste it,” he chuckled.

You simmered in the sudden embarrassment.

“What’s next? Should I just put it in my mouth?”

“You could.”

“There’s another way?” you peered up curiously.

“Well,” he hummed. You watched as his finger pried your lips open once more, urging you to stick out your wet tongue. “You could make a show out of it. Look me in the eye and lick me slowly.”

You quirked your eyebrows as if unsure if this will work. You’ve never taken yourself as a ‘sexy’ person. Will this even work? To get rid of those plaguing thoughts, you decided to take a leap of faith. You stuck your tongue out more and slowwwwly dragged it along his salty length. You made sure to keep your eyes on his, watching his every micro reaction to decide which one pleased him more. This is supposed to be about Simon! Why are you.. seeking for his validation? On instinct, you pulled the hooded skin back to reveal his furiously red tip. You laughed nervously before you experimentally sucked on it. The wet warmth instantly had him buck up into you, a strained groan following suit.

“Oh shit,” he cursed. “You’re doing good.”

Getting confident, you decided to suckle on it a little more. It tasted a lot more intense than what you’ve tasted of him, but it wasn’t bad at all.

“You think you could take more, sweetheart?”

You nodded before letting his length infiltrate your mouth even more. The end touched the back of your throat ambitiously before you had to pull back and set yourself onto his sensitive tip once more. It wasn’t as easy as his co-stars are making it seem. There was a rhythm in which you have to master, a balance of push and pull so that you don’t gag at the intrusion. His soft groans were heavenly. You didn’t get to hear much of it the first time around, but now it’s all you could think of. You can’t take it anymore! You just had to touch yourself.

“Shit, you’re a dirty gal, are ya?” he chuckled. “Had to touch yourself to this?”

You cried out a muffled moan. It was all too familiar. The way in which you slipped your hand into your pants, shuffling between the layers of panties to rub at your clit. You were already drenched with need. Strings of arousal webbed between your fingers as you rubbed figure eights all across the sensitive patch of nerves. You’re losing track of the rhythm and Mr. Miller took notice of that. He was kind enough to lead you. His fingers slotted perfectly behind the crown of your head, guiding you in a pace you could tolerate.

“Perfect mouth for little Simon,” he degraded.

Mr. Miller’s large hands continued to move you at a certain pace. The time slot left for you to gather your breath tightened and it’s almost like you could pass out from the lack of oxygen. But it felt too good. He tasted too nice. You’ve got his cock in your mouth and it’s spurting out tangy liquid goodness onto your tongue, what else can you ask for?

You continued to grind onto the palm of your hand, desperate enough to not think of how shameless you looked. So slick, your fingers let out a lewd pop everytime it dipped inside of you. Usually you weren’t fond of vaginal penetration by yourself, but the thought of having his cock inside of you left you rabid. This was supposed to be about Simon, is it not?

“You wanna know what a real man tastes like?” he mused out lazily.

You nodded desperately. Mr. Miller held your head tight against his pelvis. Your nose grazed against the coarse dark curls he had as he twitched inside of you. You continued to slick the pads of your fingers against yourself. An entire week of masturbation being combined into one as you felt that familiar pressure build in your stomach. A coil waiting to be snapped.

“Sh- shit.”

Mr. Miller broke first. He hunched slightly as he rode his orgasm out. You could see how his legs trembled and his hips bucked himself even further down your throat.

There it was. The salty trace you tried earlier came in big spurts down your throat, only when you couldn’t fit more did it start seeping out your mouth. It dribbled down the gaps between his softened cock and your aching mouth, stripes of white just trickling down vulgarly. You moaned into his cock, wetting the flimsy material of your panties. A combination of the scent his cock gave to the familiar rubs to your clit had you seeing stars. You knew for a fact that the linoleum tiles would be soaked with your juices when you come up to your feets.

This isn’t a problem anymore, it’s a catastrophe.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #joel miller tlou #joel miller #tlou #tlou x reader #the last of us x reader #the last of us #tw age gap

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jealousmartini · 4 months ago

Text

KPOP DR INTRODUCTION

Old opening intro:

" Don't freak out! We are O.M.G! "

New opening intro:

" 6 friends and a dream! We are O.M.G "

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[ # 000 :: O.M.G's ORIGIN STORY ] small print

O.M.G, is an originally animated six-member girl group created in late 2013 by Lucia Martinez, or better known as "Keisha" from her character in O.M.G, under her youtube channel "Envious Martini" accompanied by her 5 other girlfriends for fun. They would post a lot of vlogs, grwm (get ready with me's), mukbangs, reaction/commentary, and livestreams, of course, none of these posts were ever serious. And a lot of their videos would be clipped to be used as memes that would instantly catch fire, and their faces would soon be very recognisable. In fact It wouldnt even take long for O.M.G to earn a lot of attention from Korean and Western K-POP fans when "Molly (claimed song!! playboi carti)", which is a scrap unreleased track by the way, would randomly go viral at 2.3 million views on youtube and Envious martini would begin to grow a humble following of 430K followers for their music, art and shitposts.

All music production, concepts, and choreography were created by Keisha with the help of the 5 girls behind the scenes. For example, in order for Keisha to be able to animate the choreography, the girls would make dance routines together, figuring out positions and record it for Keisha to take as reference. This also went for vocals and rapping. All girls played their parts accordingly to how they felt comfortable and were suitable to each member. And then it would be in mid-June of 2014 that the girls would decide to bring Keisha's art to life and replace the characters of O.M.G with themselves.

And in 2015, after being invited to many interviews and talk shows and entering many survival shows and competitions, it would be one competition show in particular, held by JYP which O.M.G would win, where they would officially be adopted under JYP entertainment and debut as a JYP girl group in the same year. But it wasn't until 2016 after much debate surrounding the group that O.M.G. was finally recognised and accepted as a KPOP group.

[ # 001 :: ALBUMS ]

[ disclaimer!! claimed songs are highlighted, and said songs most likely sound slightly different in my dr because of personal taste.]

Core genres :: KPOP, EDM, JERSEY CLUB, POP-ROCK, SYNTH, ELECTRO-POP, CONTEMPORARY R&B

Core aesthetics/concepts :: GIRL CRUSH, Chaotic academia core, Y2K, Girl-next-door

Themes :: Teenage years/Nostalgia, Self discovery, Love/self love, Random stuff

(2013) Mini album 1 :: Superstitious

Tracklist :: "track no.1", "track no.2", "track no.3"

(2014) Mini album 2 :: Lawfully Wedded Wives

Tracklist :: "What's your number", "Molly", "Greedy hearts", "girls never die", "heaven sent", "kinda miss you rn"

(2015) Debut Album :: Oh My Gosh

Tracklist :: "OMG", "Magnetic", "Ditto", "Lucky girl syndrome", "Dalla Dalla", "Woo! Ah!", "ETA"

Debut song :: Ditto

(2016) 1st Single :: Princess Sickness

(2017) 2nd Album :: New Region

Tracklist :: "La di da", "Supernova", "Crush", "life on Mars" , "JOYRIDE",

(2017) 3rd Album :: GINXED

Tracklist :: "Girls on wings", "LOOP", "Serotonin", "WOW", "Bitternes, the disease", "Yes, and?", "Charmed", "LOVE DIVE", "Accendio"

(2019) 4th Album :: Hopscotch

Tracklist :: "Six of em", "1 on 1", "Now what", "Super mario", "Jersey Girls", "Sir mix a lot", more to come...

(2019) 5th Album :: Joyride

Tracklist :: "Insidious", "It's my turn now", "Trance", "met her on the internet", more to come...

(2021) 6th Album :: TOTALLY MAXED OUT

Tracklist :: "I'm your magical girl", more to more...

[ # 002 :: SOLO PROJECTS ]

(2019) Debut Solo Single :: "Make way"

(2021) 1st Solo mini Collection :: Come again?

Tracklist :: "It's my turn now", "He ate my heart", "WTF?"

(2023) 4th Solo Single :: "My Chemical Romance feat. Megan the Stallion"

(2024) 5th Solo Single :: "ABCD feat. NAYEON"

(2024) 6th Solo Single :: "Boohoo"

(2024) 7th Solo Single :: "New Woman feat. CHAE KYUNG"

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[ # 000 :: BASIC INFO ]

Date of DR :: ??/04/2017

Name :: Lucia R. Martinez

korean birthname :: Hwang Chae-Kyung

adopted name :: Lovely adopted surname

nicknames :: Kyu, Kyungie, Keish/Keesh, Chae-Bae, Vivi

Stage name :: Keisha/Kyu

Title names :: THAT girl, Mother Rabbit, Millionaire Maknae, KPOP's Princess, KPOP's Darling, KPOP's first Black Idol, KPOP'S secret ACE, KPOP's curly head, KPOP's BEYONCE

Positions :: Producer, Main/lead singer, main dancer, sub rapper, visuals, maknae, center maybe??

Date of birth : 20 / 06 / 1997

Age :: 19

Hobbies :: Music production, drawing, dancing, singing, baking, gaming

Languages :: English, Korean, Spanish, Portuguese, French, Mandarin Chinese

Ethnicity :: half puerto rican, half korean

Representative animal :: red panda / puppy / Bunny (I can't choose rn guys)

Representative colour :: orange

Representative dessert :: cookies and brownies

Fanbase name :: charmings

Training period :: ?? months

Company :: JYP

Group representative colours :: Blue and Pink

Brands :: Vivian Westwood, Diesel, Juicy Couture

[ # 001 :: FUN FACTS ]

She is older than Jungkook by 4 months. He knows this but still chooses to not use honorifics sometimes.

She is close friends with NAYEON, Sana, Chaeyoung, YOONGI, JIMIN, JUNGKOOK, Namjoon, J-hope, TAEHYUNG, Jin, BANGCHAN, Felix, Hyunjin, YUNA, Jennie, Jisoo, Tsuyu, WONYOUNG, YUJIN,

No one knows this yet but she has a crush on 6 of the idols listed and 2 of the highlighted names are part of the six, the other 4 are not

The red panda is her animal representative because there was a video circulating of her dressed up as a mascot for her highschool as a red panda and break-dancing

Speaking of dancing, she has mastered multiple dancing styles like house, vogue, street dancing, belly dancing, Jazz, Latin, Club, Jersey and Freestyle. She's got her own signature groove 💃🏾 🕺

She is the first kpop idol to be the ambassador for Vivian Westwood, Juicy Couture and Diesel

[ # 002 :: CONTROVERSIES AND SCANDALS ]

Next post...

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#kpop shifting #shiftblr #desired reality #master manifestor #law of assumption #4d reality #shifters #loa #shifting #drself #loa blog #reality shift #reality shifting #shifttok #shifting blog #shifting community

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haveyouseenthismovie-poll · 6 months ago

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End of month update - May

Hello, all! This is the end-of-month update, where I post Tumblr’s current top four films that have received the highest percentage of “yes,” “no,” and “haven’t even heard of this movie” votes.

As of today, the top four films with the highest percentage of “yes” votes are:

Finding Nemo (2003) | Shrek (2001) | Monsters, Inc. (2001) | The Lion King (1994)

Next, the top four films with the highest percentage of “no” votes are:

Sausage Party (2016) | Pinocchio (2019) | Sharknado 2: The Second One (2014) | All Quiet on the Western Front (1930)

This top four changed through the new addition of Pinocchio (2019), which replaced Bonnie and Clyde (1967).

Finally, the top four films with the highest percentage of “haven’t even heard of this movie” votes are:

Like a Cat on a Highway (2017) | Dean Spanley (2008) | Monica and Friends: Bonds (2019) | Monsturd (2003)

This top four changed through the new additions of Like a Cat on a Highway (2017) and Dean Spanley (2008), which replaced Heroic Losers (2019) and Death Trance (2005).

Currently, The Incredibles (2004) is the still the only film to receive absolutely zero “haven’t heard of this” votes.

That’s it for May’s end-of-month update! Remember that you can view last month’s update by clicking here. Additionally, you can view the full ranked Letterboxd lists of movies that have come up on this blog by clicking the following links:

This list is ranked from highest-to-lowest percentage of “yes” votes.

This list is ranked from highest-to-lowest percentage of “no” votes.

This list is ranked from highest-to-lowest percentage of “haven’t even heard of this movie” votes.

#end of month update #text

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lithiumandsushi · 10 months ago

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Trance, 2013

#trance #movie frames #movies #psychological thriller #thriller #rosario dawson #danny boyle #james mcavoy #cinematography #photography

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yelenasdog · 2 years ago

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tell me you’re that somebody ✧ (trevor zegras x fem reader)

genre: smut with plot

summary: trevor hadn’t expected anything to come from his routine tinder round-up of chicks for the first party of the summer at the lake house. but in all fairness, she wasn’t expecting anything when she’d downloaded the app in the first place. they’re both in over their heads.

words: 4k

warnings: alcohol mention, cheesy situation lol, smut, fingering, handjob, public sex (or foreplay? technically? whatever she gets fingered in a hot tub), cursing, reader and trev meet through tinder, use of pet name (baby)

a/n: @eminems-skittles and i texted abt this like a week ago and i haven’t been able to stop thinking abt this so. here! cassie ur my biggest cheerleader i love u 🤍 also the song mentioned later in the fic is “love me” by lil wayne btw and it lightly inspired the fic. so. do w that what u will. happy reading!

The music was loud at the party, and that combined with the amount of drunk 20 somethings and flashing LED lights coming from inside the house would’ve been enough to make her lose her mind.

Key word: would’ve.

But she didn’t. Not yet, anyway. Because in all the noise and smoke and fucking craziness, she had him. And, despite being in a steamy hot tub, it wasn’t the most romantic situation ever, she’d be the first to admit.

The music blasting sounded like it was some kind of Lil Wayne song from 2013 (actually, was that Drake? No, it’s both of them) and the pair was surrounded by a graveyard of half empty beer bottles and cans from where they resided in the hot tub. (All from the girls who took about four minuscule sips from them to seem cool in front of the famed hockey players. That was only before abandoning them for a Whiteclaw the second they got warm.)

But she didn’t pay much care to the scenery, focusing just on the man in front of her. Or, beneath her, if we’re being technical.

Their relationship was a, shall we say, recent development. As in, when Trevor had rented a lake house with his buddies during the off season, and word of the first party had been spread, he’d taken to his Tinder. He’d been tasked with finding the girls, and even though he’d kind of felt like a pimp, he’d scrolled through anyway, finding chicks near his location, matching and inviting them quickly.

He came across her profile, seeing the bio mentioning she wasn’t expecting much from the app, but that she downloaded it for kicks and giggles. She was probably the hottest he’d seen yet (and would see), and he didn’t hesitate to swipe right. He mentally called dibs on the girl, who’s name was apparently Y/n, and not expecting a match right away, he pocketed his phone. Satisfied with the roster he’d created for the party, he stood up, heading outside where some of the guys were already playing a casual game of pong.

He chuckled to himself at the sight before him, Jamie and Alex half asleep in two of the chairs on the pool deck, Quinn on the same page as he scrolled through his phone. Jack and Cole were the two playing pong, while various other friends, some Trevor knew, some he didn’t, lingered about.

Trevor sat down, yawning. He shook his head, trying to rid himself of tiredness, but failing. Conversation drones on, and he mostly ignores it, zoning out. He was snapped out of his trance by the dinging of his phone, which he quickly retrieved, desperate for anything more interesting than what he was currently subject to.

He wasn’t disappointed at what he saw, the notification that he’d matched with someone bright against his lock screen. He clicked, hoping it was Y/n from earlier. It was, and at this revelation, he immediately opened up a chat, not caring that he probably looked desperate.

“Hi :)” he typed out, pressing send. Basic, he knows, but he figured he’d play it safe. He went back and looked at her profile again, swiping through all of the photos. He reread her bio, seeing that she had only recently moved to the area, loved hockey and a few other sports, and was currently still in school, studying for a doctorate. Fancy.

The photos didn’t quite match what the bio said, in Trevor’s mind. There was one of her in tight leggings and a sports bra posing with what he assumed was her dog, another in the garage of some race team, donned in their colors. Which doesn’t seem too far off, but then he kept scrolling.

A personal favorite (yes, it’s only been 10 minutes, yes, he had a personal favorite) was one of her in a rickety bar. It was taken with flash, and her smile was nearly brighter than said flash. It was dim in the photo aside from purple and blue stage lights, a band in the back in front of a crowd of people. Her hand was in the air, wrapped around a bottle of some sort, her other one slung around the shoulders of a guy wearing a cowboy hat. It was her brother in law, Trevor had learned from the bio.

He scrolled through the various pics multiple times after that, landing on one of her in a skimpy blue bikini, smiling on what appeared to be the bow of a yacht.

It caught the attention of Quinn, who’d been on his way inside. He stopped mid sentence, placing a hand on the back of Trevor’s chair.

“Who the fuck is that?” He questioned, leaning in towards Z’s phone. Trevor looked up at him, rolling his eyes and saying “dude, could you get any closer?” Quinn stepped away, his hand still gripping the edge of the chair.

“My bad. Like I said, who’s that?”

“Who’s who?” Jack asked from where he was still playing pong, curious as to what had piqued his older brother’s interest. Jamie, who’d taken Cole’s spot, turned his head as well, hand dropping from where it was mid air.

“Just an absolute rocket Trevor is trying to keep to himself.” Came the voice of Cole, who’d gone inside to get a water and was now back out, peering over Trevor’s shoulder. Z rolled his eyes again, turning off his phone and setting it on the table, face down.

“Well if she’s a rocket,” Jack started, “then is she coming tonight?”

Trevor shrugged. “We’ll see.” He replied, standing up and stretching. “I’m going to get a coffee. Text me if you want anything, ya fuckin’ idiots.” He added, turning and walking inside.

Up until the moment he was walking through the doors of the Starbucks, his phone was still flooding with orders from various numbers. It was a lot of black coffees and everything bagels, and he wasn’t looking forward to carrying them all to the car.

His woeful thoughts of cream cheese and cold brews were interrupted as he lifted his head, planted in place by what he saw.

“Yeah, I guess I should be thanking you for making me download it, but that’s if it’s actually him. What if it’s some creep, huh? I go to his place thinking it’s fuckin Trevor Zegras and it’s some 60 year old named Barnaby Wilson.” She pauses, listening to whoever was on the other side of the phone. “No, I don’t know what kind of name Barnaby Wilson is, nor do I care about a verification system. I care about becoming a murder victim on a shitty true crime podcast.” Another pause.

Then, just as she’s about to speak, she’s cut off by the barista yelling “Y/n!” far too loud for her liking. “Whatever, I’ll call you back. Yes, I’ll keep you updated! I promise. Okay. Love you, bye.” She rolled her eyes to herself, chuckling as she made the short walk to the counter. She grabbed her order with a “thank you” to the barista, before making her way over to the exit.

The exit where Trevor, like an idiot, was still stupidly standing.

“Hey, dude, you gonna order or what?” Some unenthusiastic teen who manned the register asked, obviously not fazed in the slightest by the NHL superstar in front of him.

“Uh, yeah. Just, looking at the menu.” He turned to where a mini line had formed behind him, apologizing to the older woman who had been standing behind him, waiting. He stepped aside, forcing his legs to carry him over to where she had been about to leave.

“Hey, Y/n!”

She turned, eyes wide as saucers upon hearing her name by someone who wasn’t a barista. When she saw that it was the real Trevor Zegras, not Barnaby Wilson, she just about fainted.

“Trevor? Zegras?” She wanted to facepalm at her reaction, and probably would have if it wasn’t from the bag in one hand and drink in the other.

A cocky smile came across Trevor’s face, starting to feel a little bit like himself again at the recognition, standing a little taller.

“In the flesh.” Okay. Maybe a little bit too himself.

“You get my message?” He asked, and she nodded, a small smile raising the corners of her mouth.

“I did. Haven’t responded yet, though. Wasn’t sure if you were the real deal. Not sure if you were some creep pretending to be Trevor Zegras.”

“Barnaby Wilson.” He added, and she grew red at the realization he heard that conversation. A small laugh left her, as her hand with the bag came up to scratch the back of her neck.

“Yeah, something like that.”

“Right.” He added quietly, a smile still cemented onto his face.

“Well”, he started after a moment of quiet. ”I was going to ask you over messages, but since you’re here, I’m having a party later with a couple of buddies. I’d love it if you could make it.”

Her jaw dropped, and she had to play it off as if it was a yawn. Which probably looked stupid the more she thought about it, but who could blame her? In the most typical Wattpad, coffee shop AU meet-cute way possible, she was invited to a party of NHLers, by an NHLer.

She didn’t even give a second thought to her paper that was due in three days, all she needed to do were revisions anyway. She immediately accepted, and after a quick hug initiated by Trevor and plans to exchange numbers and text her the details, they parted.

She got to the car and screamed, before dialing back her best friend who she’d been on the phone with, thanking her endlessly for forcing her to download Tinder.

Trevor, who now was at the back of the line for drinks, texted the group chat to let them know she was definitely coming. Then, he got the notification he had a message on Tinder, seeing it was her responding to his “Hi :)” with a “Hi, not Barnaby.”

That led to where they were now.

When she’d showed up to the party, instructed by Trevor to come wearing a swimsuit, it was like everything stopped.

Much to the dismay of their dates, all of the boys craned their necks to look at the girl who Trevor hadn’t shut up about since that morning, not disappointed in the slightest.

Her denim cutoffs showed off her legs to where they were cut off by a pair of white converse, her white bikini top a slightly lighter shade, not subject to the same daily abuse as the shoes. Trevor had greeted her with a hug, his hand never leaving her back once they parted. He’d made the rounds, introducing her to all his wide eyed friends, before the two of them settled into conversation with Cole about the upcoming Formula 1 season.

Trevor had never given a shit about F1 before. Racing was never really for him. But hearing her ask Cole with such wonder in her voice about what it was like to meet Fernando Alonso, and speak with such conviction about her opinion on the strategy at Ferrari? What they were strategizing, Trevor had no idea, but, fuck, if he didn’t love hearing her talk about it.

The night went on, things got rowdier, and then as they do, they got quieter. She was there for the entirety of it, and at some point, they’d slipped into the hot tub.

It was bubbly and warm, and she’d let out an audible sigh when the water first hit her aching back. The tension from days of sitting hunched up by her laptop as she wrote melted away in the water, and it was divine.

Her and Trevor were joined by Jack and his date for the night. Some brunette named Haleigh. “Like, with a y, but… not… with a y. You know?” She’d added when she introduced herself.

After complaining it was too hot, Haleigh without a Y left the hot tub, going inside to get another Mike’s hard lemonade. Jack sat for a second, his head falling into his hand. He let out a deep, deep sigh of exhaustion, before running the same hand over his face and ruffling it through his hair.

“Jack, come be my pong partner!” She exclaimed, briefly hanging her head out the sliding glass doors, before going back inside.

“Guess that’s my cue.” Jack said, pushing himself up and out of the water. They gave him a sympathetic look, but not that sympathetic, knowing he’d probably be fucking her in give or take about 20 minutes.

It left the two of them mostly alone, in their little bubble at least, only surrounded by a few stragglers. They were either out on the dock, by the bonfire in the backyard, or standing up against the wall, caging in whatever unfortunate girl is the victim of a failed attempt at a fuck, and hasn’t figured out her escape route yet.

But she wasn’t paying any attention to them, and neither was Trevor. His attention was fully on her, where her hand nervously had come up to mess with the charm around her neck. He knew the action itself was fairly innocent, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t let his eyes wander further down.

The way the water droplets were resting upon her slightly burnt skin was downright sinful, some of them still sliding down the expanse of her neck. She looked almost like she did in the picture he liked so much from earlier, all the lights illuminating her in all the best ways. And maybe it was just the alcohol, but Trevor thought she looked angelic.

“Y’know,” he began, his fingertips coming up to play with a strand of her hair, “you’re really fuckin’ pretty.”

She blushed, not that he could tell with all the lights, and looked away, trying to hide the expression that began to tug at her features.

“Thanks. You too.” She tossed back, a breathy laugh leaving both of them. His hand went from the strand of hair to her chin, tilting it up, forcing him to meet her gaze.

“I mean it.”

“Me too.”

It was an immediate response, because she did. She did mean it. He didn’t just look pretty, he looked fucking unreal. But, she didn’t want to say that. Not yet at least. So she settled for pretty.

They held each other’s gazes, and she’s not sure who moved first, but before she knew it, the water around them was rippling. She was suddenly on his lap, his hands on either hip. Her arms were around his neck, and his lips were on hers.

And despite the fact it was fucking amazing, and the fact that his lips were so soft and so perfect, her mind was still running a million miles a minute.

She pulled away, worried that someone would see the two of them. Why was she worried about that? She didn’t know. But she was programmed to worry, it seemed, about anything and everything.

“What’s wrong, Y/n?” Trevor asked, looking up at her with those sweet green eyes.

“Nothing, Trev, it was amazing.”

“Then why’d you stop?” He asked, leaning forward and connecting his lips to her neck, somehow immediately finding her sweet spot. He was relentless, and as she struggled to find words, he hummed against her in question. Her breath hitched at the sensation, and she felt him smile against her, his teeth barely nipping at the sensitive skin. She gasped again, her breath shaky.

“But what if someone sees, Trev?” She managed to get out, hanging her head where Trevor’s shoulder met his neck. He paused his attack on her momentarily, his fingertips smoothing over her thighs, moving up to her waist.

“Look at me, Y/n.” He said, his voice firm but without a hint of animosity or anger. So she lifted her head from her place of hiding, looking him in the eyes.

“Baby, they’re all drunk. They don’t give a fuck. Okay?” He said with a reassuring smile, his question more rhetorical than anything. His hands on her waist started to move her back and forth slightly, feeling where his length was growing through his trunks and her tied bottoms.

Her head fell again, a whine leaving her lips. She continued to move, and Trevor brought his lips up to press a kiss to her temple.

“Just focus on me.” He mumbled, followed by a small “Yeah?” To which she nodded. He smiled again, quickly finding her lips and capturing them with his.

When he asked so nicely, how was she supposed to say no?

It was like the only thing that existed anymore, or had ever existed was Trevor.

He infiltrated every one of her senses, despite the fact they normally would’ve been taken up by the scenery around her. She couldn’t smell the shitty alcohol or the smoke from the bonfire, only the barely lingering scent of the cologne he’d applied before he’d started to welcome guests.

She couldn’t see all of the people around her, just the sight of Trevor, wet curls wildly astray, eyes screwed shut as he helped guide her over his cock.

She couldn’t hear that fucking Lil Wayne (and Drake, and Future, and whoever the fuck else) song, or the boisterous laughter of the hockey players, mixed with that of their dates. (Who’re all laughing just a little too hard.)

She just heard the tiny moans and soft praises that fell from Z’s lips. “You’re doing so good for me, baby.” Was the latest, followed by a groan that she would’ve been worried someone would hear, if not for how enamored she was.

She couldn’t feel the sickly heat in the humid air, or how the water sloshed up against her burnt back, just the slightest bit too hot. She couldn’t feel where the knot keeping her swimsuit tied together was pressing into her skin, or where the grainy feeling of the bench in the hot tub rubbed against her knees. All she could feel was him, his cock pressing against her, his fingertips digging into her, his lips everywhere at once.

And she most definitely couldn’t taste the remnants of the chocolate croissant she’d had for breakfast, or the taste of the tequila shots she’d done with Jamie and Alex. As his tongue lazily danced with her own, it wasn’t any of that that she recognized.

It was the Pink Whitney shot he’d done when the rest were doing tequila, citing that tequila and his stomach didn’t mix. And it was a strange accompaniment, but it was also the leftover tang of the spearmint gum he’d been chewing earlier in the day, stealing a piece from Quinn, who hadn’t offered any to him in the first place. But the strange combination worked, because it was him.

All of it was so much, so Trevor, that it was driving her crazy, but in the best way possible. So when he moved one of his hands from her waist, down to her clothed sex, she almost lost it.

“Trev-“

“You’re good, baby. I’ve got you.”

He ran his thumb over her slit, before sliding his hand down the front of her bottoms, feeling her bare pussy. He wasted no time, easing his two middle fingers into her, stretching her out. The stretch was delicious, and she fully moaned, trying to find any sense that she could to prop herself up entirely on her knees. She palmed him over his pink swim trunks, and he chased the feeling, needily lifting his hips to meet her hand.

She smiled, before mirroring his actions from only a minute ago, her hand easily finding his hardened dick. She ran her thumb over the tip, before she started to jack him off, the water adding resistance as she moved her hand along his length.

But it was all the same to Trevor as he groaned, his hand still pumping in and out of her. His palm perfectly grazed her clit every time he did, and the two of them built up a rhythm as they went. The water around them was moving in waves now, and true to his word from earlier, everyone around them was too drunk to care that they were basically fucking in the hot tub.

As she started to squirm above him, he added a third finger, his glossed over eyes watching in amazement as her mouth went ajar. She clenched down on him, and he could tell she was nearly there. Her hand moved faster in sync with chasing her own peak, Trevor’s doing the same.

“Trev, I’m- fuck! Trevor, I’m close.” She softly cried, her head once again falling back to his shoulder as she rode his hand. He reached his opposite hand forward, groping at her tit, pulling it out of the small triangle of fabric covering it. She moaned at the sensation, and he bit down hard on his lip.

“I know, baby. I’m almost there, too. Shit, you're gonna be good and make me cum, aren’t you? Fuck, yeah. Yeah, you are, baby. Riding my fingers like that. You’re so perfect. So perfect, fuck.

And somehow, they picked up their paces even more, Trevor’s hand slamming into her, while she moved her hand up and down his shaft at a matching speed.

With a cry of his name, and a broken “fuck” from Z, the two came together. Everything went white, and if before everything surrounding her was Trevor, it was like now the two had become one.

She went lax in his arms as they continued to lazily stroke each other, soft kisses pressed to the corner of her mouth by Zeegs.

“You did so good, baby. So fuckin’ sexy riding my hand like that. No idea what you do to me.”

She smiled, tilting her head. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her to his chest.

“I’ve got a semblance of an idea, I think.” She quipped, and he rolled his eyes. She leaned forward again, pausing briefly to admire his features, before leaning forward and connecting their lips in a sweet kiss.

When they pulled away, she nuzzled against him, all of a sudden aware of the space they were in.

“Y’know, you were right, though.”

“About what?” He asked, leaning down. She smiled as she felt his lips on her head.

“Doesn’t seem like anybody noticed.” She giggled, and he let out a “ha!” shaking his head. She was right, he supposed.

Everyone who was inside had either fallen asleep on the couch, or retired to their rooms, Haleigh without a Y and Jack included. The backyard bunch were still all chatting away, and the guys over by the wall seemed to have accepted their losses, as they now were alone, seemingly fighting off sleep as well.

“Guess not.” He replied, looking down at her. She smiled up at him, tilting her head to give him a kiss. He tried to deepen it, but much like before, she pulled away.

“As lovely as your kisses are, and as worth it that it was, I think we’ve contaminated this hot tub.” She joked, beginning to stand. Trevor frowned, his eyebrows furrowing, and his hand not leaving hers.

She raised her eyebrows, as if to say “I wasn’t done”, and so he beckoned for her to continue.

“But, as I was saying, you’re staying here, right?” He nodded. She smiled, shrugging.

“Then you still have a shower and a bed to contaminate too.”

Trevor grinned, standing up and getting out of the hot tub, pulling her out of the water completely. She shrieked and tugged her knees up, her hand coming to grasp at Z’s forearm. He spun her around twice before setting her down, pulling her to his chest. Trevor Zegras had found his match.

“I like the way you think, lady.”

FIN.

hopefully that was good LOL, btw idk if u’ve ever seen shoresey, but this is reminding me too much of that whole “sanguinet got a squeezer from your sweetie of the side of a party island in wasaga beach, buddy.” LMFAOO iykyk.

anyway hope u enjoyed, rb if u did! love u, go take an electronics break and hydrate and eat some protein. mwah, bye <3

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