#with every drop of rain singing i love you i love you i love you ... | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hotteokyu · 10 days ago

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wooyoung's sister

Synopsis ~ Your brother's career would be over if not for his pretty substitute. You can sing, dance, and make a perfect impression of Wooyoung, so you accept his plea. You have your own reasons, of course. It's about time you meet the man thirsting for your innocent brother and put him in his place. You hate people like him. Choi San.

So you become Wooyoung for a while.

Pairing ~ san x reader (wooyoung's twin sister)

Word count ~ 14.8k

Genre / warnings ~ romance, enemies to lovers, smut, EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT MDNI, gender-swap, reader has anger issues (plot point), mention of cult, binder, reader is protective of brother, hates skinship, hates affection, hates everything, san is made fun of a lot, pls dont take it to heart i love him, many thoughts of violence, cursing, trust issues, passing out, some angst, clingy san, lego live ft. Hwa, Hwa is done with their cat fights, slumber party, strawberry cake drama, description of period cramps, drunk confession, angry tension, hongjoong forces them to make up, angry sex, frustrated sex, dom!reader, sub-ish San, oral sex (female receiving), teasing, biting, marking, edging, rough sex

a/n ~ I had a lot of fun writing this :p plz tell me what you think!

It’s not like you didn’t expect it to happen. You knew there’d be a day your brother would come knocking on your door, begging for your help. And you would do anything for your baby brother.

But this is crazy.

There’s an entire team of staff in your bedroom. One is cutting your precious, nurtured hair. One is wrapping a binder around your chest. One is measuring your feet. Another is wiping the pretty glitter from your eyes. Two ladies are packing your bags. And the final one is giving you small sips of water to calm your nerves.

Three bodyguards are shivering outside in the cold rain, refusing to come in to keep dry. A personal driver is waiting in the car out in the parking lot.

In the living room, your brother, his manager, and the CEO of KQ Entertainment are sitting comfortably on your couch.

There must be a weight limit for the apartment.

And there must be a capacity for the absolute rage that can fill your body. Your hair is gone, your features masculinized. You have no tits. They’re gone.

But you take a deep breath. There’s an audience. A big one. You can act like a crazy bitch once you’re alone. Act sane. Calm… down…

Wooyoung’s jaw drops when he sees you, and there’s a single twitch in your left eye.

Calm.

With a huff, you sit on the floor facing the couch everyone else is occupying. Wooyoung is looking away, puckering his lips guiltily.

“I heard you can dance,” the man beside your brother says.

“Yeah, I can dance. I was a trainee at Big Hit for, like, four years,” you scoff, receiving a snicker from your brother.

“I heard you know almost every ATEEZ choreography,” he says, leaning back with a satisfactory smile as you nod.

“He comes home after every comeback and teaches me his parts.” You point at Wooyoung with a deep frown. “He makes us perform it for our grandma for cookies.”

“I heard you can sing, too,” he says eagerly grinning as you nod again. “You don’t sound much like your brother, though. I heard you can do a good impression of him, though.”

Yup. You can sing too. Sing like Wooyoung, dance like Wooyoung, laugh like Wooyoung. For years you’d pretended to be him in different situations. Who knew it would be so helpful in the long run?

But that’s how your night starts. A long boring conversation. Basically… Wooyoung was in Paris for fashion week and befriended a kind lady. He gave her an autograph, as one of her friends was a huge fan. Turns out she was a sex worker and actually signed him up for her cult. It’s a group for worshiping some sex god. KQ needs to get your brother out of trouble in a Paris court. And, obviously, his career is basically over, if not for you, his beautiful stand-in. As long as no one finds out about it, Wooyoung should be fine. It’s an opportunity no one else could have. It’s perfect.

You aren’t even mad.

Which is a first.

You’re just so confused as to how your brother can be so stupid.

A sex cult? That’s crazy??

But you’re already dressed and ready to go. You’d already agreed. So, sure, whatever.

Of course, you have your own reasons.

You were a trainee at BigHit with Wooyoung and Yeosang, but the only reason you trained there was to keep an eye on your brother. He has this thing about him. People find him cute, small, intimidating, sure, but they like a challenge. Everyone falls in love with him. Everyone wants to touch him and love him forever. Absolutely not.

When he and Yeosang moved to KQ, you tried to follow them, but the company wasn’t looking for girls. You got angry and lashed out in the practice room. Got kicked out. Never danced again.

Anyway, you like this idea of being Wooyoung for a few weeks. Because now you can see just how his members act. And you can set them straight.

“Ah, there’s one thing I forgot to mention,” Wooyoung mumbles, eyeing the CEO warily. “She has, like, crazy anger issues.”

Your brother keeps his room plain, black and gray, with zero posters, and zero personality. That’s weird for a guy with a sparkling, outgoing persona. You expected him to have a little bit of something showing in here. Maybe he just doesn’t have the time to decorate. Maybe he’s busy playing games when he does have the time.

You sit down on his bed and pucker your lips as you test its cushion. It’s stiff, your booty sinking just slightly into the memory foam. This will be nice to snuggle up on once you clean all of the sheets.

You take out your phone and go through the notes Wooyoung sent you. Routines, outfits, locations of items and places, dishes, info about the members, dances to le- Your eyes backtrack and a sinister grin grows on your pretty little face.

There’s a lot of useless information, like birthdays and representative animals. But he also wrote exactly what you needed to know to get started on your affection purge.

Your temporary roommates, Choi Jongho and Kim Hongjoong, are both reserved to their areas apparently. You like that. They know their places. They won’t be much of a problem. Yeosang, you know. He won’t be a problem. Song Mingi, you read, is big and awkward. He doesn’t initiate much affection, but he can be a bit freaky at times. Park Seonghwa is silly and affectionate but in a motherly way. How cute. Jeong Yunho is just a big puppy. He’ll come play with you on his own or whenever you want. He’ll like what you like, but he doesn’t pester at all.

Now… you don’t know this Choi San, but you know you hate him and his kind. Affectionate, kisses, skinship, clingy, likes Wooyoung very much. You were expecting to find someone like him here, but seeing it now in front of you, you’re fuming.

How unprofessional. How ignorant.

You’ll fix it, though. You gotta brush off your dusty skills, but you can fix it.

For two days, you have private singing, dance, and performance lessons. You don’t meet any of the members except for Jongho eating breakfast while playing a game on his phone. He hardly says hi as you walk out the door.

For those days, you’re content. You’re a natural, and you’ve already been trained and taught everything throughout your life. Each night, you run everything anyway. Wooyoung keeps his room cold as hell, so dancing doesn’t even make you hot.

The first day at dance practice with the rest of the members, however… You don’t think you’ve gone from completely fine to fucking steaming with anger in such a short amount of time before.

A man dares to put his grimy hands on you?? AND he thinks you’re Wooyoung?!

You memorized Choi San’s face because you were gonna steer clear, but this bitch pulls you into a hug as soon as you walk through the door. You step away immediately, staring in disbelief at the man.

So this is Choi San. He’s taller than you but not by too much. He’s big, wide, and strong. He’s got dimples as he cracks a cheeky grin, raising his groomed brow. His black hair is brushed nicely, clean, and soft on his head. He looks fluffy and innocent, much like a kitten. Cats are brutal and disloyal. How could Wooyoung let this man with obvious ulterior motives get anywhere near him?

He grabs your arm, and you let out a noise of confusion as he pulls you to his chest. “I missed you, Youngie~” he mumbles, squishing his cheek against your head as he holds you tight to him.

You squirm ‘cause, fuck, it’s awful, but it doesn’t seem like he even notices your struggle. He just holds you there effortlessly until he’s content. Then, with a gentle kiss to the side of your head, he walks away as if he hadn’t just fucking assaulted you.

You shook your head, wiping away the kiss he’d left against your hair. Ew. Ewewewew. A hug? A KISS?!?!?! Fuck, you’re going to throw up. Your cheeks are so hot, you literally are going to end it all right here. This is it. You’ve had enough, and it’s been, like, twenty seconds.

You take a deep, mind-cleansing breath. “Ya-!”

“Wooyoung~!” There’s Yeosang blocking your raging view of Choi San in an instant, and you shut your mouth.

“Yeosang!” you exclaim, reaching out and grabbing his hands excitedly. You bring them up to your chest and grin, gazing at his beautiful features. He’s grown so much. He’s still so handsome.

Yeosang is like a little brother to you despite being older. He’s a sweet angel who could do no wrong. You trust this boy with your life, and if anything happens to him, you’ll literally kill the man who hurt him. Is it wrong that you imagine it to be Choi San in your recent scenarios?

“Yeosang~ Yeosang~” you sing, wiggling your hands back and forth as he just stares at you with a happy smile. “Did you eat today? Did you eat yesterday?” You reach up and poke his cheek, your eyes shining happily as your finger sinks nicely into his soft skin. He shies away, scrunching his cheek to his shoulder, blushing lightly. What a cutie.

“What about you,” he mumbles, eying your interlocked fingers. “Your fingers are so thin.” He squeezes your hand gently, and you grin.

“Of course,” you say, though you in fact did not eat this morning or last night. You’ll probably be hungry by lunchtime, so you’ll eat then.

“That’s enough, Yeosangie…” Yeosang is pulled away by the waist, two thick arms wrapping around him and taking him from you. You drop your hands to your sides, feeling agitation build as you already know who it is. You glance up to see a pouting Choi San resting his chin on Yeosang’s shoulder, holding him hostage a few feet away.

“Hey, Choi San,” you say through gritted teeth. “We were talking.”

He shakes his head. “No. You were flirting with each other. I know it.” Why does this man talk in pout? Open your fucking lips and speak. “Yeosang is mine. You can’t have him.”

You feel a thick vein on your neck bulge as you restrain your lips from opening in a round of profanities. So he wants Wooyoung and Yeosang? He wants them both?

“San-ah,” Yeosang giggles shyly, trying to pry open San’s arms without any success. “We have to go practice.”

San sighs, slowly letting a fleeing Yeosang slip from his grip. As everyone gathers by the mirror, San offers you a soft, cat-like smile, but you turn away. He will get zero engagement from you. For your own sake, honestly. He makes you want to rip your shirt open and reveal your secret and shove this fucking binder in his mouth until he talks like a normal fucking human.

You take a deep breath. That was uncalled for. Violence is not okay… Violence is not the answer…

“Young-ah~” You’ve gotten used to his voice by the end of practice. He always has something to say, whether it’s a useless compliment or hyping up the room like you’re all some crazy fangirls and not the performers. He’s always gotta do something so fucking extra.

He leans his arm around your shoulder, and you shrug it off, walking just a bit faster to Wooyoung’s car.

“Youngie, I went to the plushie shop down the street from that one ramen place with the nice old lady, and they had one of those…” You had to master the art of giving so few fucks to the point of being deaf as you grew up alongside Wooyoung. His voice was fading into the abyss within seconds.

By the time you reach your car, you try to go inside quickly, but he tugs on the sleeve of your sweatshirt and holds you just a foot away from your exit. “What’s wrong, Wooyoung?” he asks softly. You turn around, liking how he’s finally noticing your attitude. Maybe he’ll be a quick learner. “Are you hungry?” As he’s met with your bratty glare, he pokes your stomach but pulls away before you can push him. “Do you want me to buy you mint choco ice cream?” He smirks as if the offer would be enticing in the slightest. Fuck, does Wooyoung like that toothpaste shit?

Before he pries any further, you get in the car and lock the door. He steps away pretty easily with a defeated sigh. You drive off with a small huff as you feel your cheeks simmer down from their red, heated boil. Choi San. Choi San. Fuck, you’re going insane.

“You can’t be mean to him,” Wooyoung says plainly. “He’s a soft, delicate romantic. You’ll break his heart.”

“I could not care less,” you say, collapsing on the depression-colored bed, with a long, dramatic sigh.

“Trust meeee,” he whines. “You’re gonna love him. He’s my best friend.”

“Yeosang is your best friend,” you correct. “There’s no way you’re friends with that.”

“That?” he scoffs. “He’s my second best friend, and so what? He’s sexy and kind!”

“He’s lewd, Wooyoung. He’s out to exploit you, I’m telling you!” You’re taking slow breaths before you lose your shit on your pathetic brother. He already has too much going on. You should save his ears for now.

Wooyoung’s quiet on the other end for a long moment. “Good luck at the performance tomorrow,” he says with a huff. “I heard you’re better at dancing than me.”

“Who said that?” you chuckle.

“Sannie.”

You know the poor maknae is trying to sleep next door, but as soon as you jam your finger into your phone to end the call, you throw it across the room and slam your head into your pillow, and you let out a fuming, long, guttural, muffled scream.

You’ve never performed for an actual audience before. Sure you did your evaluations back in your trainee days, but this is so different. You’ve never dolled up so much in your life. You’ll have to dance and sing like a professional for, like, almost an hour under the watch of thousands of crazy fans.

You’re standing completely still on the second step of the stairs leading to the stage. Your heart is beating like crazy, and you don’t know how to calm it down. You’re Wooyoung. You’re cool and awesome and everyone loves you. It doesn’t help much.

Fuck, when are you going out? You’ve been standing here forever. You don’t want to go out. I mean, you do, obviously. You’re kind of curious why your brother is so addicted to this life. You want to feel the thrill he always talks about.

Two thick hands are gently placed on your hips, but you push them away immediately, swerving around to come face-to-face with Choi. San.

“Don’t be nervous, Young-ah,” he says with a wide smile. “You’re so sexy.”

Your face contorts in disgust. “Don’t say that,” you scoff, eyeing his arrogant dimples as they crease further.

“You like it, though,” he says slyly, his eyes squinting as his lips pucker into a small, scrunched smile. “It’s your favorite compliment.”

“I don’t like compliments,” you deny, popping your brows as he gives a satisfying, confused little expression.

“You’re blushing, though,” he says, reaching slowly to poke your pink cheek. You smack his hand away.

“Don’t touch me,” you say strictly, your eyes boring into his as he holds his hand to his chest, clearly offended.

“Why?” he says, turning away as he huffs. “Are you too hot? Will I get burnt?”

“Yes!” you nearly shout, sticking your face closer to his as you scowl. “So don’t touch me. Don’t even think about it!”

He blows you a sweet kiss as you turn around with deeply furrowed brows.

“Ya…” Seonghwa whispers from above you. You look up slowly, your ears ringing in the sudden silence. “They’ll hear you, Wooyoung,” he mumbles, placing a finger to his lips. “Be quiet.”

“Yeah, be quiet, Wooyoung,” San whispers, and you nearly sock him in the face.

Violence is the answer after the performance. Deep breaths. Calm… down…

Performing is oddly comforting. A place where you can jump and run and dance and sing and shout and everyone fucking loves it. Fuck, it feels so nice. You get it within the first few songs – why Wooyoung is addicted to this life. It’s fucking awesome.

Standing there, dancing with a grin from ear to ear, an arm drapes over your shoulders and pulls you close. You don’t even care. The fans eat it up. They scream and squeal and call out your names.

Your eyes meet Choi San’s, the two of you swaying and vibing with the music. He grins, his brows softly scrunched as he shouts out the lyrics of someone else’s part. No one can hear him, but he shouts it anyway, and he’s banging his head, messing up the beautiful work the stylists had done to his black hair. He’s so stupid, is all you can think at all. How can someone be so fucking stupid?

He brings the mic to his lips, and his head stills, his eyes locked in yours. You can hear him now, and, wow, his voice is really pretty. Of course, someone stupid can have a pretty voice. It’s not unheard of. Whatever.

You shrug his arm off and hop to the other side of the stage.

“Fuck yeahhh!!!!!” you exclaim as you leap down the stairs backstage. Your fists are jumping the air as you squeal, punching and swinging until you’re panting by yourself against the wall, leaning back against it with a wide grin.

You’re breathing so fast, your heart racing, and your chest hurts like crazy, but you’re still so fired up, too happy and excited to care. That was so fun. You miss it already. You want to go back up on stage. You want to sing more songs. You want…

Fuck, it’s really hard to breathe when you do so much without any breaks. Your smile is slowly fading as you try to concentrate on your breath. You bring your hands to your chest in confusion, feeling the tight binder under your grasp. It hasn’t caused problems before. It shouldn’t fucking start causing problems now.

But you feel your face turning red, and you aren’t angry at all. You can’t fucking breathe.

You choke on your next inhale, bending over as you break out in breathless coughs and gasps. Fuck, fuck! Your eyes are gonna pop the fuck out. You’re grabbing at your shirt, inhaling desperately, but nothing fucking comes in! The ground is getting too close…

Your forehead slams against the ground before the rest of your body follows. You can’t even shout or cry, your body curling in on itself as your vision turns to static, your hearing gone, your sense tingling.

You’re lifted delicately and slowly from the ground, your eyes closed with hot tears streaming down your cheeks. You wish that hit was enough to knock you out, but here you are in agonizing pain.

“Young-ah!” San must be here. You’re sitting now… on the floor. You can hardly open your eyes, but you feel his hands rushing to carefully remove your stage top. You’re wearing several layers on top of the binder, but alarm shoots through you when you see him taking them off one by one. Your eyes open wide, and you push him away with a gasp. He falls back, his brows furrowed in confusion. You clutch what’s left of your top, breathing heavily as you grit your teeth, your jaw trembling.

“Get out,” you say, hardly able to say it loud enough for his stupid fucking ears to hear. “Get out!” He doesn’t want to go. It’s clear, but you don’t need his help. “I’m fine,” you mutter. “I just need some time alone. I got dizzy.”

He slowly gets up, feeling a little speechless, a little betrayed. But he leaves finally, and you rush into a stall, lock the door, and tear the binder from your chest. You can breathe, and you collapse onto the toilet, gulping the air down as you lean your head against the wall beside you. Your heart can finally calm down, your breaths steadying nicely. But your chest pulls tight quickly as you start to regain some sense in your spinning mind.

This is so humiliating.

How could you almost let yourself get caught like that? How could you let yourself succumb to the weak efforts of the traitor wrapped around your chest? You grip the binder with a newfound hatred, glaring at it as your ears turn a deep shade of red.

No, it isn’t even your fault. It’s this fucking thing’s fault! And once everything’s over, you’re gonna make Choi San wear it for twice the time you will. He needs it more than you anyway with his massive… You glance away from your hands when you witness your fingers scrunch like a pervert in your lap.

Whatever. It’s not a big deal anyway.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, entering the code to your room with tired, hooded eyes. San is wearing pajamas, and he’s showered and squeaky clean, but his presence alone stinks like a possessive stalker cat. That’s a real thing. “It’s been a long day. Shouldn’t you be asleep by now?” Don’t cats sleep more than this? Why is he suddenly acting like he could be human?

“You owe me,” he mumbles, and you eye him, pausing as you open the door. He’s pouting, looking away stubbornly. “For making me worry.”

“Are you serious?”

He turns defensively, pointing at your chest but not daring to touch you. “How am I supposed to sleep if I don’t see you’re okay, first?” he argues, his brows raised as he looks at you expectantly. You say nothing.

So he just goes inside. You don’t stop him. You’re too tired to stop him. You just want to shower and go to sleep. The stage was fun, but you’ve never been more exhausted in your entire life. You’ve never been tired enough to not get angry. It’s a first.

But when you’re done showering, changing, skincaring, and refreshing, and you finally have a soft, natural smile on your face, you’re met with a cat lying on your bed, fast asleep. He’s curled up in your blankets, his face buried in your pillow, his chest enveloping YOUR plushie.

Absolutely not.

He groans at the disturbance as you grab his hair. He isn’t in pain as you pull his head up, glaring at his half-asleep features, and you know because he doesn’t even bother opening his eyes to wake up.

“Get out of my bed,” you say. He smiles a small little devilish smile.

“But it’s a sleepover,” he grumbles, and you drop his head to the pillow with an exasperated scoff.

“Are you a child?” you ask in disbelief.

“Yes, now, go to sleep,” he mumbles, drifting away again.

“No,” you say sternly. “I want to sleep alone. Leave.”

He looks up at you then, a shimmer in his pleading eyes, but you don’t let up. You keep your glare sharp and persistent until he sighs and starts to drag himself up, his body rolling to sitting dramatically. He gets up with a loud huff and stares at you as if giving you a final chance to change your mind.

“Get out,” you say, pushing him lightly. He hardly budges. “Get out, get out, get out… I’m so tiiired.” You push him again and again with each huff until he’s at the door, and you close it in his stupid face. And, finally, you’re alone.

You throw the covers back and shove your legs under them, ignoring how warm he made the bed as you roughly snuggle into your favorite spot. Your phone vibrates just as you let out a content, sleepy sigh. You open your eyes with an irritated stare at the bright light on your bedside table. Your face is shown on the screen, an old photo from your trainee days. You know the photo. Yeosang is on your right and Wooyoung is on your left, but he cropped both of them out. He said it’s the only picture he has of you where you’re genuinely smiling and really, truly happy. For that, he loves it. Sometimes your brother can be sweet.

You put the phone next to your ear so no one can hear him from another room.

“Ya, are you being mean to him?”

Your eyes roll to the back of your brain, trembling and hurting before you let them back down. “No,” you answer.

“You’re a liar,” he scoffs. “There’s a clip going viral of you and San, you know.”

You raise a brow. “A clip?”

“Atiny love Woosan interactions,” he sighs. “They eat it up.”

“Uh huh,” you breathe, more interested in the shadows on the ceiling than this fucking lecture.

“You two were giving the audience what they really wanted to see,” he sighs, “but then you rolled your eyes at him and scurried away like a cat!” He’s laughing at you, wheezing like an idiot as you feel your face grow hot.

“Cats are evil,” you mutter. “I’m not a fucking cat.”

“Don’t lie to yourself,” he laughs. “You’re the definition of a cattitude.”

“What the fuck is that?” you huff, two seconds away from hanging up the phone. Why did he even call you anyway? To nag you about playing with this manipulative evil Choi San? He can talk your ear off all he wants, but no one gets to act in such a way around you or your brother, and he’ll learn that soon.

“Listen, listen…” He’s trying to calm his breath as he settles his laughter. “I know you hate that kind of fanservice, but you really should put in some effort, Y/n,” he sighs. “If you, or, me and San are visibly separated like that, people are gonna ask questions. Including the members.”

“Maybe it’s about time you change things up anyway,” you huff.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m tired. Good night.”

You don’t let him finish before you hang up the phone and turn over to shut your eyes. You start to calm down a little as you let the warmth of the bed sink into your skin. It’s never been this warm this quick before, and it’s making you so drowsy, even after a rise in your heart rate. You fall asleep in no time.

And good sleep brings good attitude, so the morning is bright and nice for your mind. You wake up feeling refreshed and leave bed not dreading the day. Until you open your door, and all of that disappears quickly when you take a step out and find your foot squishing into a giant man’s chest.

You scurry away, almost screaming, cause what the fuck?

Choi San has set up camp outside your bedroom door, snoozing away with pillows and blankets lining the hall in a fluffy makeshift bed. His hair is a mess as he lifts his head in confusion, and his sleepy eyes meet yours in thin, happy slits.

“Good morning, Youngie,” he mumbles. You immediately scratch the little skip your heart did at the sound of his morning voice.

You’re starting to grow hot with anger as you look at the mess, think about everything, and think about everything once more. How could he sleep there?! You told him to go away! How could he just ignore that boundary and sleep outside your room?! Your cheeks are growing pink, but you shake your thoughts away. You must not engage. You should just go. Then, you won't see him anymore, and you can't possibly be mad anymore.

You step with huffing breaths past his limbs under the blankets and stomp away to the kitchen. Maybe some food will make you happy again.

You’ve found that Wooyoung has made a lot of promises before leaving them for you to go through with.

You’ve had to make Jongho dinner at least three times so far, always being met with puppy eyes and pouty lips saying, “You promised.” Fuck that! You can’t even fucking cook. You’re ruining your brother’s reputation, and, you know what, you can’t even find yourself to care with how hard he’s making you work.

Yunho was promised a whole night of gaming. You haven’t played a video game since you were a trainee. You can hear his disappointment each time you die immediately, but he’s too nice to yell at you.

You have to go out to eat with Yeosang, but you don’t mind that actually.

San claims to be promised many things, but you break those without a second thought.

And Seonghwa was promised a lego live and slumber party in his room.

You’ve gotten to know Seonghwa well over the past few weeks, and you like him. He’s cute and takes good care of the members, but he has this elegance to him that makes interacting with him so pleasant. So you agree to do the live, and you agree to sleep over, even if he’s Choi San’s roommate.

Immediately this seems like something you won’t be good at. The lights are dim, the camera is pointed at your face, and the pieces are so tiny, scrambled in little bags over the table. The space is small. His room is small, to begin with, but he invited you here because you would be working on the same set, so it’s okay if the pieces get scrambled a bit.

Seonghwa is the cleanest person you’ve ever met, which comforts you to some extent. Everything about this room is calming. It’s all neat and organized, and your eyes have no reason to find anything about it annoying. You love it. But you know this little craft will make you go insane. You already know, and you haven’t touched a single piece.

“Hi, everyone,” he says softly to the camera. His voice is so gentle, much like his movement as he waves. “Wooyoung finally is joining me to build legos with Atiny.”

“Hi, hi,” you say with a wide smile to showcase Wooyoung’s playful dimples.

“I’m excited for today, maybe more than Tiny is,” he mumbles, smiling to himself as he plays with his computer to make sure everything’s looking nice. “Wooyoung promised a slumber party today.” He covers his mouth as he huffs a shy laugh. “So he has to spend a lot of time with his hyung.”

You huff a laugh too, nodding. “Honestly, this week’s been a little stressful for me, but I think I’ll be able to relax well thanks to him.”

Honestly, you’re so fucking nervous. So many things could go wrong. So many things could set you off. There are so many things to be worried about, and… You won’t be able to take off the binder until you go back home… and who knows if you’ll be able to until tomorrow night…

You swallow your thoughts to the pit of your fluttering stomach as you try to bring your focus back to the soft aroma around you.

Seonghwa’s telling the fans about his day and the set as he starts to open the first bag. You take a subtly deep breath.

The live goes relatively well. You have to excuse yourself to the restroom only once from frustration, running cold water over your flushed cheeks to drain out the color a little. Other than that, assembling legos is nice, and Seonghwa is a relaxing yet engaging person to interact with. It… makes you forget… everything. It’s like you’re truly meant to be there. It feels natural. It makes your mind fade gently into this little life, even if just for an hour or so. It makes you forget your anger.

Until you’re alone again, and this feeling is even more familiar. This is how it usually is. You’ve grown accustomed to being delighted by some peoples’ presence or angered by others, but your roots are truly engraved in you. It’s a bit empty… staring at yourself in the mirror on Seonghwa’s wall and realizing you don’t actually belong here. The illusion that you’re meant here or suddenly not lonely… is being written into your head too deep. It should stop before you get attached.

The binder wrapped around your chest is so uncomfortable, especially since you’ve been wearing it for the entire day. You should take it off, even if it’s just for a few minutes. It feels wrong taking it off in a stranger’s room, but-!

Your head whips around as the door opens, and Choi San walks inside. You cover your chest with the shirt in your hand immediately, your eyes bulging and heart stopped, but he doesn’t even pay you any attention, stumbling by and collapsing on Seonghwa’s bed. His eyes are closed, his body limp and tired. You throw the shirt over your head and take a deep breath.

“I was changing,” you mutter, your body practically shaking as you try not to scream at him. “You couldn’t knock?”

“Hm…?” he grumbles, lifting his head sleepily. “Hi, Young-ah.”

“Choi San!” you shout, covering your mouth quickly to pinch your fucking lips shut. You’re turning red. This is so humiliating. He obviously doesn’t care. Wooyoung probably wouldn’t care. But you fucking care, and you can’t even tell him why. “Knock next time,” you force out quietly. He hums in acknowledgment, but you hardly hear it as you leave the room.

You can’t do this. You’ll tell Seonghwa you don’t feel good, and he’ll let you go. He’ll be sad, but whatever. You can’t deal with that bastard. You can’t fucking do it.

But Seonghwa looks so excited when you come out in the matching pajamas he got for the slumber party. He’s gasping and fangirling over you as you stomp over to him. Each step seems to become just a little softer as his smile numbs your tantrum.

“Ya~!” He takes you in as you stand a few feet away. “Jung Wooyoung? Who are you? You’re too pretty to be Wooyoung,” he compliments. You might’ve frozen up at something like that, but, for some reason, you take it without a second thought, smiling proudly like a cute kitten, folding your arms at your sides as you pose for him.

No. You can’t stay. You need to leave.

“H..yung,” you mumble, the word a little unfamiliar to your lips. “Actually, I…”

“Seriously,” he huffs, coming closer, and you shut your mouth. He leans down and stares intently at your features. You can’t help but look away, your cheeks growing red as he examines you. “Your face has been so cute lately,” he mumbles. “Are you in love?”

“No,” you scoff.

“Are you lying?”

“I’m not!” you mumble, backing away slightly. He looks at you in disbelief. “I’m really not!”

“You’ve gotten a little shorter too.. ya… Do you wear high platforms to seem taller?”

Three centimeters isn’t even that much shorter… How could he notice something like that..? You nod, rolling your eyes. “So what?”

“It’s not good to wear them too much,” he sighs as he walks by.

“Whatever,” you huff, patting your cheeks as you let your quiet panic settle down. He doesn’t actually suspect anything. He’s just calling Wooyoung cute, which is a very valid observation.

“No,” Seonghwa says sternly when he walks into his room to see a snoozing cat on his bed. “No, get out.”

He grabs San’s ankles and pulls him up the bed. San just groans and lets himself get dragged, his shirt riding up his torso until he’s at the edge of the bed, his feet on the floor, his toned stomach on full display, and you… You look away, letting Seonghwa take care of the hindrance.

“Hyung,” San whines. “No one will play with me!”

Seonghwa scoffs. “San, what’s with you these days? Everyone hangs out with you all the time, but you keep complaining 'cause you don’t want to.”

“I want to play with Wooyoungie,” he says, smiling as his eyes meet yours for less than a second. “He’s so cute lately, but he won’t play with me anymore.” He frowns, looking frustratingly at the ceiling. “I don’t know if I should like it or hate it.”

“You should hate it,” you say, unable to stop yourself. “And you should get out. The room isn’t big enough for your broad shoulders.”

He glares at you, but you don’t care. That’s what you want. But when Seonghwa tries to drag him out again, he refuses.

“Hyung, I’m sorry, I’m sorry for saying I didn’t want to play with you. Please let me stay. I’m so bored. Please?”

There is NOT enough room for you, Hyung, and Choi San’s huge ass shoulders, and you’re so fucking close to chopping them off and shoving them through his pouty lips as he eats YOUR cake. The movie isn’t entertaining, despite your attempts to understand it for Seonghwa’s sake, so you're left with your mind focused on every little hindrance he brings to this otherwise nice night.

“You know, Choi San, there’s a lot of room on the floor for people with wide shoulders,” you huff.

He gives you a wide smile, shoving his dimples into your hooded eyes. “There’s room on my lap for little brats.”

You scoff, glaring at his brows as they raise. He pats his lap expectedly, but you look away with a huff.

“You could at least let us eat the cake we bought for us,” you grumble. “Instead of gobbling it up yourself.”

“No,” he says. “Seonghwa stole and ate my cake, so he doesn’t deserve any of his.” You eye him in disbelief. Is he a child? “But Wooyoungie can have as much as he wants.” He holds up a big bite, smiling big as he waits for you to chomp it off the fork.

“No thanks,” you decline. “You ate from that fo-”

He pinches your puffed-out cheeks together and opens your mouth, the cake pushed inside and smooshed against your teeth as he feeds you the bite. Your brows knit together as he pulls his hand away.

“Isn’t it tasty?” he asks, and you shake your head out of spite. “You’re so cute,” he laughs, his thumb wiping away some cream from your bottom lip. He brings it to his own and licks it off without a second thought.

Your eye twitches as you force your head to turn back to the TV. You should calm down. If your tight fists happened to collide with his face, Seonghwa wouldn’t like it very much. For Seonghwa’s sake, you should just ignore him.

But San’s shoulders are just so wide. Every time he tries to move, he bumps into you, and you can’t stop yourself from bumping back. He glares at you, and you glare back, shoulder to shoulder. It’s a war. You use your hands this time, moving his arm further from your body, but he moves it back.

“Are you serious?” you whisper harshly.

“Shh, I’m trying to watch the movie.”

“Bullshit.”

His eyes go wide. “Language!” he whispers, and you bump his shoulder in annoyance.

He doesn’t just do it back, though, he leans over and grabs your waist, and you jump. His fingers jab into your flesh, and the most uncomfortable sensation fills you. You’re helpless to his attack, pressed against the wall as he evades every defensive grab of your hands.

“Choi San,” you scold, but the jabs turn to tickles quickly, and an involuntary grin spreads across your gasping lips. “San, stop!” you laugh, pushing against his hands but failing as he keeps moving them to new places. You push against his chest hard, and he falls back a little, freezing when he bumps into the other man in the bed.

He turns his head around slowly, met with a blank expression from Seonghwa, simply trying to watch the movie.

“We’re sorry, Hyung,” San mumbles, his head low. The floor is hard against your knees, but you honestly deserve it after ruining the night Seonghwa planned. “We got carried away.”

“What’s up with you two?” he sighs, standing in disappointment above the both of you. “Why are you at each other’s throats every two seconds these days?”

“He started it,” you mumble.

“I’m sorry, Hyung,” San says, trying not to laugh, and you glare at him. “He’s just so cute when he’s mad.”

“Seriously, San?” Seonghwa sighs.

“It’s not my fault he looks extra… adorable lately! Like-!” He turns to you with great determination, motioning toward your features one by one. “His eyes are bigger, his lashes are longer, his nose is prettier, his lips are plumper, his mole…” He squints his eyes, but you cover your cheek quickly.

“I’m wearing makeup,” you mumble.

He moves your hand without much effort. “No, you’re not… Where’s your mole…” he mumbles.

“I…” Your eyes shoot from San to Seonghwa. “It..”

“You see what I mean?” he huffs, resting his case. “How do I put it… He’s so… different these days. I feel my heart flutter when he looks at me.”

“Please,” you scoff.

“Really!” he defends, backing away a little as you feel your anger rise. He can probably sense the shift in the atmosphere by now. “I don’t know what to do with myself, Hyung.” He turns back to Seonghwa. “So… it’s not really my fault.”

So San is kicked out to his own room to sleep. You argued his shoulders are far too wide for the room. Seonghwa agreed, and now it’s finally just the two of you in your matching pajamas.

“We’re so cute.” He smiles, happily biting into the strawberry cream cake sitting between you two. “We should have slumber parties more often.”

You nod, melting as you take another bite. “And I understand why you love building legos now,” you mumble. “It was very comforting.”

There’s a nice, long moment of silent cake-eating as you both delight in its taste without a greedy cat eating it all.

“Wooyoung,” he says. “You know… if you keep acting so obvious about it, people will realize…”

You shoot your eyes up from the cake, your heart stopping for a moment. “What?”

He reaches out and taps just below your eye. “That you removed your mole.”

Your brows lift as relief fills you. “Oh! My mole!” you laugh, and he laughs too, nodding.

“I know you don’t really want to bring attention to it, but you’re so bad at keeping secrets.”

You nod, taking another stressful bite. “Thank you, Hyung. I’ll work on it.”

You both finish the cake and giggle and talk all night until you glance at the clock and gasp because it’s almost two in the morning. You rush to wash up and get into bed, still giggling over stupid things. But as soon as the light is off and the room goes silent, you feel yourself dying down and drifting off quickly, like some teenagers after a long day.

Seonghwa’s bed is small, but there’s enough room for the two of you to drift off in your own areas. Seonghwa falls asleep first, making small sighs and mumbles as he snoozes away. It’s so cute. You listen to him for a while before you finally let your mind rest.

Wooyoung messages you every morning, telling you to eat and to be kind and shit, but this morning is different. It’s been a few days since your slumber party with Seonghwa, and everything has fallen into place. It all really feels like routine by now, like this is natural for you. Until you’re hit with a fucking brick, remembering the reality of the situation once again.

Y/n-nie: you got a notification..what does two days left mean??

Y/n-nie: ??

Y/n-nie: are you going to kill someone? are you counting down… IS IT CHOI SAN?!?

Y/n-nie: DONT FUCKING TOUCH HIM!

You put the phone down and stare at the wall. Your period. You’d completely forgotten about the monthly punishment for being female.

You have no pads… You have no comfort items. Do they keep pain medicine in the dorms? How the fuck will you gather supplies without anyone knowing? Especially considering that leech, Choi San.

Fuck, now that you’re awake, there’s definitely an ache forming. That useless app never guesses right. It always comes a day or so early. You groan as you force yourself out of bed.

The convenience store down the street has everything you need. You’re biting your lip to wait until you have some water to ease the pain with a pill, so you rush back to the dorm.

Jongho is eating breakfast when you trudge back inside. He looks over curiously at the sound of the plastic bag.

“What did you buy so early in the morning?” he asks. “Did you sneak out so you could get a sweet treat for yourself?” he accuses.

“No,” you grumble, pulling the bag a little behind your back so he can’t see. “It’s nothing.”

He immediately gets up, and you back away. “Why are you hiding it then?” he asks, raising a brow. He reaches behind you, but you pull it away.

“It’s nothing,” you mumble, your cramps worsening as you stand still. “Go eat your breakfast. I have to go get ready.”

“Hyung, you’re the worst liar,” he chuckles, and his hand snags the bag. You grab it back, pulling and keeping it closed as he tries to peek inside. You rip the bag in half as you try to get it back, but you snatch the pads midair and run to your room.

You really can’t do this right now. You’re bent over, leaned against the locked door as you try to ground yourself. It takes slow steps to make it to the bathroom. There are just a few small drops of blood on your panties, so you ignore them and stick a pad over. But you can’t get up. The pain has tripled since you walked through your bedroom door. There’s a growing buzz vibrating in your head as you lean it against the cold tile of the wall. Fuck, you hope you don’t pass out here. You’re sweating, hot and limp yet tense in your core, or else you think your guts might fall out. You feel like you might throw up, but that should pass quickly if you wait patiently. You bite your lip, squeezing your eyes shut as the pain only gets worse. And the binder around your chest… fuck, you can’t breathe. You take it off and leave it on the floor as you stumble to wash your hands and make it to the bed.

You search for the medicine you bought, but it’s not on the counter or floor or anything. You take a deep breath to hold in your frustration and just make it your goal to curl up in bed.

It feels a little better, no binder, soft surface, fluffy blankets draped over you, your legs pulled loosely to your chest as you lay limply on your side. You have a schedule today, but it’s not too important. You should tell your manager you’re sick, but you don’t have your phone near you. You can’t even begin to think of where that might be.

There’s a soft knock at your door, and it takes a second for you to call out for them to just come in.

“Sorry, Young-ah,” San says softly as he peeks inside. “You must’ve been sleeping.”

“No, it's okay,” you mumble, honestly just a little relieved to have something for your mind to be focused on that isn’t the knives stabbing into you.

He steps inside and closes the door. “Are you okay?” he asks as he takes in the view of you. You’re sweating and breathing heavily, curled into yourself. “Do you have a fever?”

“I…It hurts all over,” you mumble, and his expression changes from worry to pain as he watches you shift and whimper softly.

He leans down, his face just inches from yours as he gazes at your features, gently tucking away the hair in front of your eyes. “Close your eyes, baby, I’ll make you feel better.”

If you could move at all, you’d punch yourself at the way your heart flutters just slightly. Instead, you listen and close your eyes, gazing just a second longer at his gentle features.

“Youngie~” It’s such a gentle voice, a sweet hum to your pounding ears. A soft hand is placed against your cheek, your head lifted slowly, as if not to disturb your sleep, as if you’re the most delicate thing to ever touch his skin. As if it’s actually carefilled, loving.

San’s face is clear even before his features straighten in your hazy gaze. His eyes are trained on your lips, careful fingers softly pushing two pills between them. A glass taps them then, and warm tea meets your tongue at a slow, patient pace. You swallow, a shiver gliding down your chest to your aching stomach as the delightful warmth of the tea touches your swollen insides.

“Did you eat yet today, Youngie?” he asks, placing your head back on the fluffy pillow.

“No,” you mumble. “I’m not hungry.”

“You should eat something,” he says, and he starts to get up, but your eyes widen a little. If he leaves, your mind will focus on the pain, and it hurts so much. You reach out before you can even think and grab his sleeve. “I’ll be right back,” he says, gently clasping your hand as he tries to leave. “It’ll make you feel-”

“Please stay,” you mumble. “Just for a little… It still hurts so much.” You pull a little, and he steps closer. “L-lay with me for a bit?” What are you even saying? You just… know he can make you feel better. You don’t care about anything except making the cramps disappear quickly.

The bed sinks softly as he lays behind you. Under the covers, a new warmth meets your back, a soft breath against your neck. You relax against him, feeling the subconscious tension in your limbs fall into his calming aroma. His body curls into yours, matching your form, bigger and warmer, keeping you perfectly content aside from the dulling ache.

“What’s wrong, Youngie?” he mumbles, his warm breath puffing gently across your skin. “Did you overwork yourself again?”

You lower your gaze to the movement of the blanket as he wraps his arm around your waist, his hand meeting your stomach. His fingers dip under your shirt, spreading across the width of your body, and you shudder at the feeling. You should probably move away. He could find out your secret. You wouldn’t mind. He could make you forget all about the pain and make you drift asleep with his touch.

“We love you, Wooyoung.” His thumb caresses your skin in slow rubs. “You can take your time, and we’ll always be here to listen to your troubles. You don’t have to keep them all to yourself.”

You don’t say anything. It’s not really your place to say anything anyway. Even if… some people should know their place, it’s good to know Wooyoung has a family he can count on.

You’ve mastered the art of Wooyoung. It’s been five weeks since you took your brother’s place, and you feel very immersed in the role. You’ve learned all of the inside jokes by now, figured out each of the members, and perfected almost all of their choreographies. You could become Wooyoung at this point, and no one would ever know. You survived your period without anyone knowing. Sure, everyone knew there was something wrong, pitying you the whole week while you wobbled around, but no one suspected a thing. You’re just too good at this.

“Sangie,” you mumble, chewing happily on the freshly grilled meat. “Should we visit my sister next time we have a break?”

Yeosang smiles at the sudden suggestion. “Sure. I haven’t seen her in years.” Oh, he’s so cute.

If Yeosang comes to visit you once you’re back in your old life, you’ll be able to get a glimpse of the little chapter in your boring life you actually enjoyed. So you’ll set up lots of dates and promises before you leave. Serves Wooyoung right anyway.

“Another bottle of soju, please!” Seonghwa calls out, sitting across from you at the table. He smiles when he catches your eye. “You’ve worked so hard, Wooyoung. Let it out tonight.”

“Kay,” you mumble happily through your food.

The company dinner is a nice reward after your endless effort to keep up with the schedule that comes with Wooyoung’s life. The food is delicious, the atmosphere is bustling and joyful, and you get to drink for the first time in fucking forever.

Every shot makes you melt into your seat, a content, relaxing sigh leaving your lips. Except…

“Youngie, plea~se!” There’s been a child whining in your ear the whole night. “Please do it with me?”

San’s face is bright red, his eyes glazed over as he rocks back and forth with a strong pout. You’re ignoring him, enjoying your food without even listening to his request.

“I’ll do anything,” he mumbles, feeling a little defeated. Your brow quirks at that.

“Anything?” His posture fixes itself as soon as your eyes land on him, and he nods eagerly.

He’s so fucking drunk. He said he was a good drinker but got quiet after two shots. Then he started begging to have a competition. You might indulge… if it means you can get something from him. Amusement at watching him humiliate himself. You giggle to yourself before turning to him with a newfound encouragement.

“Pour the shots.”

His hand is trembling as he clanks the bottle against your glass, nearly spilling the whole thing as he pulls away. You bring the glass to your lips when he does, and you catch his eye, a determined look in him.

One shot, and he’s breathing heavily, but he won’t give in. You’re a pretty good drinker, but you’ve already had a lot, and you’re getting pretty hazy yourself.

Two shots. Three shots. Seven shots. You’ve finished two bottles, one each, and you can hardly keep your vision straight. He’s swaying back and forth, arms limp in his lap as he stares blankly at you. You both lost, but you probably won’t remember the whole event by morning, so you forget it, slamming your head to the table with a huff.

San mumbles something, as he gets up. Maybe he’s going to the bathroom. It would be so funny if he drops outside the toilet and everyone would see him. You snort to yourself. You wanna see it happen.

You stumble to your feet, following him through the tables to the bathrooms. It’s empty inside, quiet and dim. He goes in and stands by the mirror. He runs his fingers through his hair, groaning against his cool hands.

“Wooyoung… what are you doing to me…” His voice is so low and slurred, but you make out every word, and it fills you with rage. This again?! You thought by now he’d have learned his lesson and kept away, but he’s still going after you? No, after your brother?! You guess he’s so fucking slow, he needs it shoved in his face.

“Choi San!” you shout, and he looks up, shocked. “Shut the fuck up!” He frowns as you stomp over to him, looking guilty but not sure why. You grab his wrist and unhook that fucking binder. As it falls to the floor, you shove his hand under your shirt and onto your chest. His eyes widen like crazy as you scowl at him, his hand trembling. “I’m not fucking Wooyoung! And you need to learn your fucking place!” you shout, panting. “You don’t get to-!”

“So that’s why…” he mumbles, his fingers twitching around your flesh. “I’ve wanted to fuck you lately…”

Your face drops, your brows knitting together. “What?”

“Fuck…” he groans, squeezing your breast as he takes in your flushed form against his. “That’s why your face is so pretty. I’ve wanted to kiss you so bad. Every time you yell at me, I’ve wanted to push you so far, so you just shove me to the ground and have your way with me.” He sighs, leaning his forehead against yours. “Because you’re not Wooyoung. I probably knew the whole time… you just can’t guess something like that.”

“Yeah?” you scoff, and he nods, bringing his hands to your hips as he pulls you flush against him. “You’re a fucking liar. I know you just want to take advantage of Wooyoung.”

“I’ve never thought of him like that until recently. Until it wasn’t him.”

Fuck. Fuck! He’d practically known the whole time?! If he knew the differences right away, who knows if you even got away with any of it at all? You bite your lip, trembling with frustration and anger.

“You weren’t very good at hiding it… now that I think about it.”

You shove him against the wall, a deep scowl on your features. His grin as you shove your finger into his chest just fuels you even more. “Bastard,” you bite. “I worked day and night for fucking weeks, and you aren’t even surprised?! It wasn’t worth it at all?!”

“Don’t be mad,” he coos, leaning forward again.

Your restraints are snapping one by one as you glare from his cat-like smile to his squinted eyes. He’s having the time of his life. You don’t even try to stop your hand from wrapping around his throat as he leans closer and closer. You close your fingers, tightening just as his lips meet yours with a low groan.

The movement is intense as soon as the flame is lit. His lips don’t fight for the dominance you place over his, your hand around his neck bringing him lower, closer to your dangerous taste. Your breaths are tangled, vocal, and quick as you kiss over and over in a maddening dance.

“Don’t fuck with me,” you growl, but his only response is to cup your face and bring you closer, biting your bottom lip gently before kissing it better.

You glare at him as you tangle your hands in his hair, pulling lightly and fuming at the way he groans against your lips. What does this fucker not like? You really want to test his boundaries, make him regret playing with you. You want to push him to the ground and fucking destroy him just to watch him finally understand the authority you have over him. You-

The door opens, and you’re both immediately separated, facing away from each other, pretending like nothing was happening. Jongho walks in, pausing when he sees the view. San’s messy hair, sticking up like it was clearly grabbed, your flushed faces, the piece of clothing at San’s feet. San kicks it behind him quickly.

Jongho gives a blank look. “Did you two fight again?” he asks, used to the cat fights by now. “Anyway, we’re going home. Come on, Hyung.” He motions for you to come, and you almost hesitate. If not for the much-needed clarity Jongho’s interruption brought, you would’ve done so much more damage. You would have ruined everything. You rush out of the room behind him.

“You can’t yet. We’re almost done here. Hold out for a little longer.”

“No. Fuck this! I can’t do this, Wooyoung! I’m going crazy!” you shout into your phone. “I…” You can’t fucking tell him. You’re being swayed by the members. Changed and warped into something you’re not. You’re starting to like it here, and you need to go back to your life… where no one else will ever bother you, and you can live alone again. Forever. “I need to get out of here,” you say.

“Just one more week,” he says. “Please…”

One more week. “Fine.”

But you’re not going to be nice about it.

San doesn’t talk to you, and you don’t talk to him, but you feel his eyes on you while you’re all practicing for an upcoming festival performance. He’s looking blankly. Maybe he doesn’t even remember what happened. But it doesn’t matter. You’ll never see him again after this performance. And you’re so fucking glad.

“Hyung, come on! Get into it!” Jongho shouts, his eyes meeting yours through the mirror.

You give him an annoyed look, your head hurting too much to care much for the dance. The music is pounding in your ears, but you move anyway. They’re lucky they get that from you after a late night of drinking.

“Hyung,” Jongho chuckles. “Why are you so down?” He leans in, giving you a suddenly serious expression. You lean away. “Is it ‘cause you and Sannie are fighting again?”

You eye him. “Yeah,” you mumble. “He’s a fucking jerk.”

He laughs, smacking your chest, and you flinch. He keeps his hand there, though, raising a brow. You step away. “Hyung, are you working out more? Is Sannie forcing you to go to the gym with him? Is that why you’re always mad at him?” He goes to feel your chest again, but a veiny, furious hand grabs his wrist.

“Don’t touch people like that, Jongho,” a tight-voiced San spits bitterly. Jongho’s eyes grow a little wide as he tries to retract his hand.

“Fuck,” he grumbles, finally snatching his arms back, rubbing his wrist. “Sorry.” You’ve never seen the maknae so quick to listen, giving an annoyed look before walking away.

You don’t even bother with San, just walk away. Your head is fucking throbbing.

“Get it together,” is all Hongjoong has to say to you and San when he pulls you aside the night before the performance in Japan. It’s obvious the chemistry and friendship Woosan have that the fans love is missing. It’s obvious to everyone that something is going on, and you’re just being petty, but you don’t fucking care.

After ignoring him for a week, though, you think you can get away with it. Until those bastards fucking lock you into a closet. They lure you in, and, suddenly, it’s just you, San, and a room hardly big enough for one person.

Your chest to his, feet staggered, breath against breath, and the need to fucking kill someone are all resting in this dimly lit closet.

“You two can come out when you’ve made up,” Hongjoong sighs. “If you miss the performance, so be it. You have thirty minutes.”

“This is your fucking fault,” you scoff as soon as you hear him walk away.

“My fault? As if you didn’t lie to everybody and then make everything complicated by kissing me,” he argues.

“Me? You literally said you’d been thinking about fucking me!” you whisper aggressively.

“I was drunk!”

“So was I!”

Your faces are hardly separated at all, your words and breaths mixing as the closet grows hotter and hotter.

“You! You lust after my brother! You’re a bastard!”

His brows twist in confusion. “I do not. He’s my best friend… I don’t like him like that!”

“Liar! We look exactly the same!”

He shakes his head quickly. “You have prettier eyes! They’re bigger, and the color is different!” He points to each feature, gazing at them with determination. “You have a cuter nose than him! Your lips are softer than his! Your hair is softer than his! Your jawline isn’t so defined! You have the cutest features that obviously aren’t his! Your body is smaller and the perfect shape! Your expressions are cuter! You get mad all the time, but you make the cutest face! You don’t even understand how unlike him you are! You’re so obviously Y/n! So maybe I did fall for you a bit when I thought you were your brother, but it’s because of those changes that make you so different from him! Because you’re fucking adorable!”

He’s panting, scowling even, as you just stare at him. Honestly, you blanked out. You didn’t even hear the end. Your name rolled from his lips without a second thought. You can’t decide if it hurts your heart or fumes it with rage, or even if it makes you happy. You’re so conflicted, just staring in silence.

When the door opens again twenty minutes later, you’re both still staring in silence. Despite the threat, you both have to perform without giving evidence of reconciliation.

And, being on stage again, you’ve decided that you’re fucking pissed. Your mind goes a little blank as you perform the choreo you’ve recited for hours on end, day after day, just for your brother. You’re fuming, glaring at the crowd, the fans of your brother. The members who laugh and dance with your brother. Each move that adds to that fucking reputation you’re here to protect. For your brother. And the man who you came here to put in his place so that your brother is never hurt. The man who you refuse to accept you want just because he’s your brother’s best friend, and you need to protect your brother’s image and do every fucking thing for HIM.

You’re standing here at the edge of the stage, the instruments ringing in your ears. You’re red. You’re dancing in circles as you let the energy of the music take hold of your mind. You need to release everything, or you might just fall into the crowd. Your chest is so tight. You need something to get rid of this feeling. You’re so fucking sick of it. You want it gone.

The music? The fans? The dance? The members? The performance? Choi San? His hooded eyes meet yours as he leans closer. The cameras are on you, yet he moves closer and closer. You’re in a heated daze, meeting him closer. Your foreheads collide, your breaths dancing as he whispers to you.

“Use me.”

“Get this off right now,” you demand, gripping his shirt as you stumble into your hotel room. You strip off your pants, backing him to the bed just as his shirt gets over his head. His breath hitches as he watches you toss your panties off to the side, gazing at your bare legs. You quickly throw your shirt over your head, and his eyes follow your fingers as they unzip the binder. Within a minute, your entire body is bare to him, and he’s so fucking hard.

You admire his chest, biting your lip as you run your fingertips over his beautiful features. It’s not like you aren’t used to it by now. The man lives without his shirt, but seeing it here, just for your eyes, makes you so excited.

You push him to the bed, climbing on top of him. As soon as his head hits the mattress, two hands are grabbing his hair and shoving his mouth against your leaking cunt. You watch his eyes roll as he licks against your sweet core, his tongue grinding against your clit before he kisses it prettily. You sigh, grinding down against his tongue and pulling him closer by his messy locks.

“That’s it, Sannie,” you groan. “Use your lips for something good for once.”

His hands grab your thighs to pull you lower, putting your weight on his face until all he can feel or breathe is your pussy. His tongue is messy and quick, diving into your hole as he groans against you.

“You like that?” you scoff, biting your lip as he hums. “You liked being choked in the bathroom too, didn’t you? You wanna drown in my pussy?” You feel the bed shift as his hips buck slightly into the air. You know he’s rock hard, but he’s being good and not touching himself like you know he so desperately wants to. “Fuck,” you whimper as he sucks on your throbbing clit. “Only you can make me this wet anyway. You deserve it.”

The sight is making you dizzy, his brows furrowed, eyes hazy as they gaze at your figure above him. His lips are pressing and pleasuring just the right spots, his tongue fucking your tight hole and drinking your arousal over and over again. You can’t help but let your voice escape in your breaths as you roll your hips along with his movements.

If you’d known he could do this, you might’ve told him earlier. No, that’s not true. Because you can’t have Choi San. You’ll fucking take him anyway.

You push his face away, scowling as his warm breath fans your dripping folds. You move to sit on his lap, and he jolts when you grind your hips down on his erection. His mouth is messy with your arousal, his lips plump from their desperate work.

He wants you so fucking bad, but you can’t have him?!

You press your lips to his neck, noticing the way he bares the skin for you to taste. Your teeth graze his soft, unmarked skin, and you want to sink into him so fucking bad. You want to mark him and show everyone he belongs to you, even if you’re not allowed to have him.

You press your teeth into his throat lightly, and his breath hitches, his hips pressing up against you. His breath against your ear is heavy as his fingers entwine with your hair, pulling you closer to his neck, teeth deeper into his skin. That’s right. He wants to be used. He wants to be owned.

You bite his neck, a moan escaping his lips as he trembles beneath you. You lick at the indents, nibbling and sucking all over his neck to leave your trace. Every part of him should be marked. You’re fuming, latching onto his collarbone, his chest, nibbling on his nipple just to watch him get more and more worked up beneath you.

“Y/n,” he whimpers. It must have been ten minutes of this. He’s enjoying every little mark, every little sensation, panting and whimpering as you have your way with him.

“What’s wrong, Sannie?” you ask, sitting between his legs, cheek resting on his inner thigh as he begs you with his gaze for more. “Does it hurt?” You gently poke his erection, straining painfully against his pants.

He nods. “You’re so mean,” he whines.

“Don’t you know that’s what you signed up for?” you chuckle. “Don’t you know how fucking furious I am right now?!” He nods, biting his lip as he watches you eye the twitch in his bulge. “Playing with you is helping me, Sannie. I’m sorry if I’m being mean,” you coo. You tilt your head as an idea meets your mind. “Do you want to show me? How should I make it up to you?”

“C-can I touch you?” he asks, his expression falling when you shake your head.

“No, Sannie. How do you want me to touch you?” His eyes go a little wide in embarrassment. “Show me.”

“I… I don’t know,” he mumbles, looking away as his face flushes a deep pink.

“Come on, Sannie,” you mumble, stretching the waistband teasingly. “Don’t be shy. Show me how you want me to touch you.”

His hands tremble as they hesitate with each motion toward his erection. He palms himself over his sweats first, gazing at your features as you watch his hand. He’s so embarrassed, but the eager, aroused expression on your face is spurring him on. He wants to give you everything you want.

His hand slides into his pants, and he takes his cock out, groaning at the way you lick your lips. He strokes himself slowly, tightly. He doesn’t want to cum. Not by himself. But the sight of you on top of him has him so fucking sensitive. Each slow stroke has an airy moan leaving his lips. He tries to keep them in because he’s so embarrassed to be feeling this good all on his own, but it’s useless.

His thumb swipes across the tip every few strokes, his body jolting each time. Precum is leaking more and more, and the sounds are getting so lewd, so wet.

“Do you like it there?” you ask, running the palm of your hand over the head. He moans, grabbing your wrist without even thinking.

“Yeah,” he chokes out. “Yeah, it feels g-good there.”

You sigh, sitting back and watching his thick fingers slide against himself. He’s big and thick, just like the rest of him. It’s veiny too, feeling far too explicit for the cute man Choi San is. Watching this innocent man stroke himself just the way he likes it just makes you so fucking desperate to get your hands back on him.

You bite your lip as you move off of him.

“Come here, Sannie.”

He’s quick to shove his pants off and move to between your legs, his hands finding your waist without a second thought, rubbing your soft skin as he catches his breath.

“I’m so frustrated,” you sigh. “But if we feel good together, I might feel better. Hmm?” You reach down and spread your slicked folds for him to see, inviting him inside, but he doesn’t move, his eyes trained on the sight. “Come on, San, fuck me.”

He groans, grabbing his cock and lining it up with your hole. Just as he’s about to push inside, you can’t help but crack a knowing smile.

“Since the head feels so good for you, only put that in,” you say, and his head shoots up so fast, his brows twisted in confusion.

“Y/n,” he mumbles. “I wanna feel you, though.”

“You showed me how you wanted to be touched, Sannie. I’ll make you feel good. With just the tip.”

He looks devastated, and you almost laugh at how adorable it is. But he pushes inside anyway, jaw-dropping at how warm you are inside.

“Fuck,” you groan, your back arching as your mind goes blank for a moment, the pleasure of being stretched on his cock better than anything else. But he keeps going. “Sannie,” you warn, and he stops quickly, looking away guiltily. “Does it feel good?” You press yourself just a bit deeper, and he nods quickly, biting his lip as he glares at the connection between you two.

He doesn’t start moving until it becomes unbearable just sitting in your warmth. There’s hardly any way to move, but he grinds the tip in and out of your pussy, frustration and pleasure pulling at his mind. It’s so tight and wet, but he can hardly feel it. He wants to feel it all. He wants to fuck you hard and deep. This isn’t enough at all.

But you look like you could cum any second, his tip pressing against your g-spot, stretching you enough to grind just softly against your clit. It feels fucking amazing. And better yet, you know he’s getting pent up with every second he’s left with just an inch of your pussy to enjoy.

“Y/n,” he huffs, gazing at you desperately, feeling dizzy with how you’re grinding against him, moaning and whimpering softly. “C-can I go deeper please?” he mumbles.

You shake your head. “I’m so close. Keep going,” you say breathlessly.

He gazes at how you’re dripping, soaking his length and the sheets. He watches you clench around what little your desperate pussy can find. He can’t help but want to feel you convulse around him. He needs something. Anything. So he rubs his fingers over your clit, watching your eyes roll back as you grind faster and harder, going just a bit deeper. Maybe you’d suck him in. He could go deeper without you even realizing it. He could feel your cream on his cock. He rubs faster, hearing the growing squelch of your overflowing slick as the length grinding inside becomes longer and longer. He holds his moans at the overwhelming pleasure slowly being revealed to him. Until you drop your hips, his cock pulling out completely. He glances at you in confusion.

“Are you being bad, Sannie?” you ask, panting and fuming at your orgasm being delayed simply because he couldn’t do what he was fucking told. “Were you being greedy? Gonna fuck me even though I said no?”

He shakes his head quickly. “No!” he insists. “I was just trying to help you cum,” he mumbles.

“And you lie to me?” you scoff. “Bad boys don’t get rewards, Sannie. Sit there and be good for once, fuck.” You bring your fingers to your clit, and he stays still between your legs, cock hanging uselessly. You rub hard and fast, biting your lip as you rebuild the tension you’ve lost.

“You- You’re gonna cum on your own?” he mumbles, distressed as your soft moans get louder, and your movements get faster. “I- I can help,” he panics, but you push him away with your free hand with a grunt. He falls back onto the bed, eyes frantically switching from your throbbing pussy to your blissed-out expression as you get closer and closer. His chest is so tight. He wants to feel you cum around him so fucking bad, but you’re being so mean. Why the fuck are you messing with him so much?! He feels like a spoiled brat, but he’s so angry, so frustrated. He just wants to make you feel good, pound into your pussy, but you’re making everything so difficult!

“F-Fuck me,” you moan out as you’re right on the edge. Your eyes meet his in a hazy glare, but he’s frozen. Did he hear you right? Your jaw is clenched as you hold in your orgasm for him. “Fuck. Me.”

His cock slams into you, and you rub your clit fast and hard, your walls clenching around him as he thrusts quick and deep into you. Your eyes roll back as you let out your pent-up moans, your climax taking over your entire being, your limbs trembling as you cream around his cock.

His head falls to your shoulder as he whimpers with each hard, desperate thrust. His hips slam against yours, the slick between you making a mess on your skin. It’s loud and sloppy, no one caring much for decency anymore as you chase the pleasure you’d been building up for. His hands are on your hips, pulling you to meet each thrust impatiently. And his cock is so fucking thick, running along your walls and hitting every desperate spot within you.

“San! Ngh~! San!” you moan, your voice being knocked out of you with each thrust. He’s panting against your skin as he bites and kisses your shoulder and neck. “K-kiss me,” you breathe, hardly able to get out a word that isn’t his name as his relentless pace drowns your thoughts.

His lips smash against yours, his hips rolling as he focuses on your tongue against his, the taste of you clouding his frustration for a long moment.

“Y/n,” he groans as your fingers run through his hair. “S-So pretty,” he mumbles, kissing you again and again. “So tight, just for me.” His hips pick up their pace again, and your lips can’t keep up with his, pleasure with each slam hitting your entire body.

He rests his forehead against yours, gazing into your teary eyes as your puffy lips fall apart into unsuppressable moans. He wraps his arms under your thighs and raises them higher, pressing deeper into you with each thrust.

“S-San,” you whimper, watching his hungry eyes move from your pussy to the tears dripping down your cheeks. “C-can you say my name?”

He pecks your lips, panting as he chokes out, “Y/n.” You nod, your pussy fluttering around him as his low voice meets your ears.

“San, fuck~” you shout as his fingers find your clit and rub fast. “Again, baby, please say it again.” Tears are streaming down your face as your clit and your hole are pleasured thoroughly, mind going blank as he growls your name again and again.

“San,” you pant. “S-San~ Ah.. ngh I’m so close,” you cry, grabbing onto his shoulders as the pleasure moves faster and harder through your body. Your eyes are rolled back, your head dipped into the pillow as you thrust your pussy against his sloppy movements, his voice getting higher and more desperate with yours.

“Y/n, Y/n, fuck, you’re so tight,” he growls, slamming your hips against his cock as he buries himself deeper and deeper, losing his rhythm. “Cum with me, baby- ngh~” he moans, and you pull him as close as possible, your arms wrapped around his head as your body convulses with immense pleasure, his thrusts riding your high and fingers keeping it going for so fucking long, your lips trembling and voice breaking as you let go. He buries himself deep, his cock twitching as he meets you there, his voice high and unsuppressed right beside your ear. You’re filled with his warmth, spasming as you feel him fill you. You’re so full, so warm, so satisfied, panting as you hold him close.

Your legs slowly slide to the bed as he lets himself lean his weight on you, just slightly. You don’t mind. It’s warm and comforting, being so close, being so vulnerable. His head slowly rises, and you let him, your arms falling to the bed. His eyes are still hazy, meeting yours with soft trembles. He gives you a soft, lazy kiss before slowly pulling out and collapsing beside you.

You don’t say a word as you curl into his chest, letting him hold you there, breath against breath, no worries nor thoughts, just comfort.

“A sex cult?” His jaw drops, and you nod, cracking up. “How do you even…” He sighs. “He’s so odd.”

“But we used to do this all the time as kids. You know, I trained with Yeosang and Wooyoung at BigHit.”

San raises a brow. “Sangie didn’t recognize you?”

“Well, it’s been a while, and… you know,” you giggle. “He never really knows what’s going on.”

He laughs, nodding as he holds you close to his chest. “You’d think he’d remember such a feisty personality.”

You pucker your lips. “I’d say it’s more passionate than feisty,” you mumble. “I can’t help but get angry… I’m sorry for being so rude.”

He pauses for a second, then pushes you away so he can really look at your face. “No, I don’t accept your apology. Why did you tease me so much?”

You blush, looking away shyly. “I didn’t really…”

“I was dying, Y/n,” he says, completely serious. “You enjoyed my struggle.”

“Well,” you huff. “I was so angry at everything. I just needed you to fuck it out of me, you know?” He raises his brows. “You wouldn’t have if I asked. You’d be too careful about it,” you argue. “So I just worked you up to it. I’m sorry, Sannie.”

He grins, shaking his head in disbelief before pulling your head back to his chest. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Wooyoung, when will you be here?” you whine into the phone, lying lazily on your couch.

Wooyoung promised to bring Yeosang and San to your hometown during their next break. It’s been a month since you returned home. Your hair has grown to your shoulders, and you’re so excited to see them again. Wooyoung was hesitant when you mentioned bringing San. He thought you might try to kill him since you didn’t succeed in your time as Wooyoung.

But you just want to see him again.

You’ve been texting and calling every day since you left, but a long-distance relationship is so frustrating. And you’re hiding it from Wooyoung nonetheless. Maybe one day you’ll tell him, but you don’t want him to freak out about it.

When the front door opens, you shoot to your feet. Wooyoung strides inside and gives you a big hug, but you don’t even bother with him, moving past him to greet the important guests. Yeosang is smiling brightly, handing you a little gift, and San… San is as dangerously perfect as you remember.

You bow politely. As your head lowers, you let a blush spread across your cheeks. Is it wrong… in front of everyone… that you want to take him away and feel him again? You’ve been talking for a month, but you haven’t been able to have a deep connection. The temptation to take him away right now is so strong.

“Nice to meet you, Y/n,” he says.

“Yeah,” you mumble. “I’ll… show you around.” You turn to Wooyoung and Yeosang quickly. “‘Cause you guys have been here.”

You start walking before anyone can even say anything. San follows, and, as soon as you enter your bathroom, you pin him against the wall and melt against him as his arms wrap around your waist. Your lips meet hard and fast.

“I missed you so much,” you whisper, hardly any sound at all as your lips are too busy memorizing the feel of his. You cup his face in your hands as you pull him closer to your movement. “San…” you sigh.

You both freeze when a figure walks into view and stops beside you. You both glance over, eyes wide in shock as Yeosang’s horrified expression meets you.

“You- We- S-” He’s looking from you to him, covering his mouth, speechless.

“What’s wrong?” Wooyoung calls out. “Are they fighting?!” Wooyoung runs down the hall, but you push away from San immediately, standing beside the sink with a composed expression masking your panic.

Yeosang is still looking from you to San, unsure of what to do, but a single twitch of your head tells him not to say a word.

“Young-ah, that’s not nice,” San jokes. “Why would we be fighting?”

He eyes you skeptically.

“Did she threaten you?”

“Ya,” you grumble. “I was just showing him the rooms. I wouldn’t pick a fight with someone I just met.”

“Uh huh,” he mumbles before turning to go back to the living room.

“Since when are you guys…” Yeosang mumbles. “I mean, you’ve never met.”

“We’ll tell you everything,” you sigh. “But later. We don’t want Wooyoung to know. He’d go crazy.”

Yeosang looks conflicted. You know he can’t lie. You know he can’t keep a secret. Especially from Wooyoung, who presters him until he tells him everything he knows. But you’re really counting on him. Wooyoung definitely can not know.

“I’ll buy you chicken,” you offer, and he’s immediately made up his mind.

You return to your brother, the other two going to the kitchen to prepare the food they brought for lunch. Wooyoung looks lost in thought when you sit next to him on the couch.

“What’s wrong, Youngie?” you ask, looking toward the kitchen cautiously.

He sighs. “Actually, Y/n, I didn’t just come here to visit.” He bites his lip. “I sort of got into some trouble… again…”

You look at him in disbelief. “Again? What happened this time?”

“Well… that lady from Paris… the one that got me into this mess. I didn’t want to tell the company. Like, we won the case. I’m not in that cult anymore.” He lowers his voice. “But I really wanted to settle it quickly, so I went to visit her personally.” Your jaw drops just a bit. “And she gave me a contract that would settle everything. I didn’t…”

“Fuck, Wooyoung,” you laugh in disbelief.

“She tricked me!” he argues. “She’s a master manipulator!”

“So what now? Did you sell your soul to the devil? Did you… I don’t know… become her slave or something?”

“Marriage.”

“No fucking way,” you scoff. “What didn’t you read to sign a fucking marriage contract? Are you actually slow?”

“I know, I fucked up,” he whispers. “But please help me out one more time. I… I’ll figure it out.”

“Does-”

“Young-ah, I thought we got two orders of the spicy chicken,” San mumbles as he walks into the living room. Your conversation stops with a long sigh from your lips.

“I’ll do it,” you tell your brother, reaching for the chicken box in San’s hands. “It’s fine. We can share.”

It’s not like you don’t have your own reasons anyway.

taglist ~

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#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #ateez atiny #atiny #atz #ateez san #ateez smut #ateez seonghwa #atz san #atz x reader #atz smut #atz fanfic #wooyoung #seonghwa #choi san #enemies to lovers #gender swap #smut

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triptuckers · 1 year ago

Text

the comfort of home - percy jackson

Request: yes! "Hii, I just finished watching both episodes of PJO and I wept as I beheld Sally's maternal love unfold on the screen, knowing it before hand from the books. Thus, I was pondering if you might entertain a request—a tale where a daughter of Hades (angsty) forges a close bond with Percy, and Sally, in her gracious warmth bless her soul, adopts her into their lives because, after all, they're nearly kin, entwined by the delicate threads of almost-cousinhood." Pairing: percy jackson x hades!reader Summary: after a typical day for a demigod, you just need a safe space to go Warnings: mentions of fighting, injuries, blood, throwing up, swearing, angst Word count: 2k A/N: first of all anon are you a writer?????? bro those words..... pls write more !! thanks for your request, enjoy!

you're walking down the streets of new york city, feeling utterly miserable. you're soaked through because of the rain and you're hurt.

everyone knows that demigods don't exactly live a quiet life. especially kids from zeus, poseidon or hades. still, most of the times you're fighting for your life you're on a quest.

not simply on your way home.

but today was different. somehow you brought not one but all three of the furies down on you. you don't even know how, you weren't doing anything.

it was a tough fight, but you stood strong. you couldn't prevent the dozen little cuts that littered your body. you're bruised over and on top of that it started to rain, messing with your sight.

right now you're on your way to your foster home. but it's a slow journey. you're not sure you want to go there. and you're not sure how much the mist hides for them.

sometimes if you got home all bruised you told them you got in a fight. sometimes they didn't spare you a second glance.

you stop in the middle of the street. at this point you've been walking for so long you don't even notice the rain anymore.

you turn around, heading another way. there's one other place you could go. you're lost in thought, and most of the people don't pay you any attention. perks of living in new york, you guess. new yorkers just don't care.

when you get to the familiar building, you feel a sense of calm coming over you. somehow you always found yourself back here. as you walk up to the entrance, someone leaves just as you arrive, so you can slip in the door before it closes.

you walk the stairs slowly because of your injuries. every step hurts and takes tremendous effort.

when you finally get to the right floor and walk to the door, you just stand in front of it. you're fully aware you're dripping rainwater on the floor, but suddenly you can't bring yourself to knock.

why are you even here? you don't want to be a burden.

they've told you that you can always come over, no matter what. but it's late at night, it's raining outside, you're soaked.

you're standing there, debating wether or not to go in, when you hear a voice on the other side of the door.

the person is softly singing along to a song that's playing.

tears well up in your eyes as you recognise the song. you were the one to recommend it.

you raise your hand and knock on the door.

'coming!' says the voice.

moments later the door opens to reveal a woman.

her eyes briefly widen at the sight of you, scanning your body for injuries. then her eyes soften.

'oh, what happened to you, sweetheart?' says sally.

her gentle voice is what pushes you over the edge, breaking down in tears in front of her.

sally pulls you over the doorstep and closes the door. she pulls you into a hug, not caring that you're soaked.

you wrap your arms around her and cry. you let all of the anxiety rush out of you as sally rubs circles on your back and whispers soft words in your ear. you ignore your aching body and allow yourself to just be here in the moment.

after a while, sally pulls back and holds you at an arms length.

'I'm so sorry for dropping in like this, miss jackson.' you say softly.

'y/n, you know you're always welcome here. and I've told you to call me sally.' she says kindly.

you nod. 'is percy home?'

'he's out to the movies with grover. do you want me to ask him to come home?'

'no, he's out having fun. it's alright. could I just..'

'why don't you take a shower first, hm? I bet you're freezing.'

you sigh softly. that does sound good.

'yeah, alright.'

'you go take a shower, then I'll make tea and see if I can do something about that.'

she pointedly looks at the cut above your brow. you totally forgot that was there.

'I don't have any clothes.' you say softly.

'that's alright, just borrow some from percy. he won't mind.' says sally.

'thank you.'

you walk towards percy's room to get some clothes when sally calls your name, making you turn around again.

'you're not a burden, you know that right. we love having you over.' says sally.

you swallow back the new tears that threaten to fall. sometimes you forget she knows you so well.

'thanks.' you say, entering percy's room to get some clothes.

you pick a shirt, sweater and sweatpants form percy's closet before going into the bathroom.

you peel your soaked clothes from your body, hissing when you pull the fabric from your wounds.

turning on the water, you get in the shower, letting the water calm you down. you wash off all of the dried blood, dirt and sweat.

after drying off you put on percy's clothes, his scent surrounding you and comforting you.

you head back to the living room to find sally putting two steaming mugs on the table.

'we still got your favorite.' she says, sliding your mug towards you.

'thanks.'

'drink up, and tell me about today if you want. I'll see if we have some medical stuff left in the kitchen.'

you sigh, thinking back to today.

'I didn't even do anything.' you say. 'I was just walking down the road and I got this feeling I was being watched. I thought it wasn't a big deal but hey, demigod instinct, so I took a turn and went into an alley. sure enough, someone followed me.'

'someone or something?' says sally, returning with the first aid kit.

'someone at first. then the mist cleared and it was one of the furies.' you say. 'at that point I was just so done. I wasn't even on a quest so what the hell was she doing there?'

'how did you get away? you've fought a fury before, percy told me.' says sally, scooting her chair closer to you so she can clean the cut on your forehead.

'I have. it's okay if it's one. but then the other two showed up.' you sigh. 'at that point I was really annoyed. I think it was just annoyance that drove me at that point. they were clearly there because they were bored. they thought "hey smells like demigod, oh look it's the hades kid, let's mess with her."

'well, you're here now. you made it out.' says sally, finishing with the cut on your forehead.

'yeah. thanks again.' you say, sipping your tea.

'you don't have to keep thanking me.' says sally. 'you know you're always welcome here, you're practically family. I know you don't like your foster home. now, do you have any other wounds?'

you chuckle. 'only about two dozen little cuts and even more bruises. I've had worse, it's okay.' you say.

'it's never okay.' says sally. 'you and percy are way too young for this.'

you shrug. 'and yet we have to deal with it.' you say, rolling up your sleeves so sally can clean and bandage the cuts on your arms.

the next hour is spent by sally cleaning your wounds and bandaging you up as she tells you stories. you liked hearing her stories. ever since you first met her, it was one of your favorite things about her. she could tell stories in a way that felt like you were actually there, experiencing them.

just as she secures the last bandage in place, you briefly close your eyes, exhaustion getting to you.

'you can get some sleep, I'll tell percy when he gets home.' says sally.

'it's okay, I want to see him before I go to bed.' you say.

'alright, want to watch a movie of something?'

'movie sounds great.'

sally picks a movie while you sit down on the couch. it doesn't take long for you to doze off, even though you fight to stay awake. the fight with the furies was intense, so sally lets you sleep while she waits for percy to home home.

about halfway through the movie, the door to the apartment opens and percy enters.

'hey mom.' he says, taking off his shoes and jacket and dumping his bag near the door.

as he walks into the room, he notices a familiar sword leaning against the back of the couch. he frowns, he didn't know you were coming.

'is y/n here?' he says, walking over to his mom.

she nods, pointing to the couch.

percy looks over the back of the couch to find you fast asleep, wearing his clothes and your body littered in bandages and bruises.

'what happened?' says percy, walking around the couch.

'the three furies.' says sally. 'she didn't feel like going to her foster home.'

percy kneels before the couch, studying your face. he reaches out and traces one of the bruises on your cheek.

you stir awake from the movement, your eyes meeting percy's.

'hi.' you say softly.

'hey. you alright?' he says.

you nod. 'how was the movie?'

percy chuckles. 'it was good. you would have loved it. heard you got in a fight?'

'yeah. those damned furies.' you say. 'luckily your mom patched me up though.'

'you know my bed is more comfortable than the couch, right?' says percy.

you slowly sit up. 'I know. I wanted to stay awake til you got home.'

'and you did a great job at that.' says percy with a familiar twinkle in his eyes.

you hit him on the shoulder. 'you would have fallen asleep as well!'

sally watches the exchange with a smile on her face. moments like these make her especially happy you met percy.

'come on.' says percy, standing up and holding out his hand for you to take.

you take it and allow percy to gently pull you to your feet.

'thanks again sally.' you say as percy beings leading you to his bedroom to sleep in an actual bed.

'no need to thank me y/n. it's always good to have you around, even if it's like this.'

you and percy both say goodnight to her before entering percy's room.

'so, did you sugarcoat the story for my mom?' he says as you sit down on this bed.

'not really, I just didn't tell her all of the details.' you say.

percy raises an eyebrow at you. 'details like?'

'like how one of them punched me in the gut and I nearly threw up because of it.' you say.

'ew.' says percy, face scrunching up in disgust.

'you would have thrown up as well.' you say.

'but you managed to fend off all three furies on your own?' he says.

you nod, laying down. 'I think I bruised a rib, though. the rest is all small cuts and bruises. no broken bones this time. they looked like they were really fucking annoyed they could be bested by just one kid.' you say.

percy smiles, walking over to kiss your cheek, careful not to touch the wounds on your face. 'that's my girl.' he says.

'you got anything to do tomorrow?' you say, stifling a yawn.

'nope. we can spend the day here.' he says, walking over to the bed an laying down next to you.

'good.' you say. 'I just need to wash my clothes and clean my sword, and I should probably-' 'y/n.'

you look at percy.

'let's just relax tomorrow, okay? come on, you need sleep.'

you nod, moving closer to him.

as you're laying next to percy, feeling sleep get to you once more, you can't help but to feel a deep sense of gratitude.

sally didn't question why you showed up at her doorstep, but pulled you in her arms and sat with you to bandage your wounds and listen to your story.

percy listened to you as well and provided you familiar comfort you needed, telling you to relax.

you just know if something ever goes wrong, you're always welcome at the jackson household.

A/N: If you want to request something, make sure to read my house rulesHere’s the list of characters I write for. Everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. Please don’t repost my work, as I spend much time and effort on it!! Thank you for reading! Much love, Marit/Max

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heynhay · 1 year ago

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with every drop of rain singing i love you, i love you, i love you

#ok back to schoolwork now zzzz see u guys in like 4 more weeks probably LOL #klance #voltron #vld #keith kogane #lance mcclain #art #my art #mitski

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brummiereader · 20 days ago

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Sweet Dreams, Darling (Part One)

Summary: August 1907. The beginning of a whirlwind romance that would see you and Tommy separated then reunited again for years to come. But when you unexpectedly reappear one rainy morning back into his life, Tommy's distracted eyes have your reunion starting off on the wrong foot. In a desperate attempt to refresh your memory of the summer you spent together, Tommy patiently waits for the penny to finally drop.

Warnings: Language, angst, mutual pining, sexual assault.

Word count: 3.5K

Authors Note: The song John sings to irritate Arthur with is an old cockney song called "I've got a lovely bunch of coconuts" by Merv Griffin. This first chapter is loosely based off the song "The Tunnel Of Love" by the Dire Straits, and how my grandparents met each other in the 1950's.

[Masterlist] [Trailer]

Birmingham, 1967

" We'll leave in an hour, Nan" your granddaughter softly smiled at you, chestnut brown locks falling in front of her rosy cheeks as she placed the small porcelain cup of freshly brewed tea on the doily covered table beside you.

" Thank you, dear" your eyes drifted solemnly from the black and white photo of you and Tommy next to the steaming cup of English brew. The captured moment, and its weathered edges, tucked safely behind the glass of it's silver-plated frame.

" Time doesn't half catch up on you when you're not looking" your eyes drifted down to your aged hands, to the wrinkles and patches of wisdom dotted across your skin as you reached out with shaky fingers to brush the pad of your thumb over your husband's youthful face staring back at you.

" Nan?" your granddaughter shifted towards you, hand resting gently on your back as her eyes darted to the bouquet of wrapped carnations, lonesome on her grandfather's leather upholstered chair of choice. "Nan, are you ok?"

" Hm?" you turned to see the concern in her eyes, to the feeling of her hand clutched tightly around yours in a pang of worry.

" Oh, don't fret lovey. All is well" your fingers brushed the ringlet of hair from her face to see the crystal blues of her eyes she and every member of your and Tommy's brood had inherited.

"Ok" she quietly caved in to your smile of reassurance as she watched your attentions drift back to her suited grandfather, sat stoic beside you in the portrait taken many moons ago.

" How did you and Grandad meet?" she was eager to lighten the mood. To one of happy memories. To the many stories she had been told by her grandfather when Sunday dinner had been eaten. When the dishes had been cleared, and she sat patiently by his chair, waiting for him to tell her about the tales of his youth while they both indulged in the stash of black liquorice sat in a ceramic pot by his favourite seat, neither one of them had a liking for. All but one story that was. A story he'd left for you to tell. One she was eager to learn before it was time to leave.

" Which time, my dear?" you turned with the milky cup of black tea perched between your lips, welcoming the warmth of England's remedy to all of life's hardships settle in your chest as the drizzly weather dusted the tips of your freshly cut grass with beaded droplets of rain.

" Nan, you must be confused. Surely you could have only met once?" your granddaughter's head lowered with a blushing smile at your usually sharp memory succumbing to your old age.

" Oh, but we didn't, dear. Even though your Grandfather's stubbornness on the matter often insisted otherwise" a youthful giggle erupted from your chest as a flurry of memories about both encounters swarmed back to you in a warm hug.

"The first time I met your Grandfather, he wasn't that far off from your own age" you adjusted yourself in your floral recliner for the long tale ready to be told as you placed your cup of tea down on its silver coaster.

" And the second time...well, I didn't recognise him at all" you watched your granddaughter eagerly nestle in, pulling one of your hand-knitted cushions into her lap.

" Tell me about it, please?" her eyes beamed with curiosity. Her buoyant energy and keenness to learn about how you had met, awakening the sounds of spinning carousels, the melodies of your youth being played from the intricately placed chimes of a wooden music box.

" It was the summer of 1907, the hottest day on record. And the fair had come to town..."

August, 1907

" I've got a lovely bunch of coconuts" John, burdened with the title of middle child sang with the intention of irritating his older brother as giggling children ran by with fluffy clouds of sugared treats, whilst the sounds of a wooden music box being turned by a tattooed armed man, played through the buzz and excitement of the fair.

"Shut it, John" Arthur grumbled, eyes narrowing in on the stack of tropical fruits as he rolled the metal ball in the palm of his hand.

" There they all just standing in a row" the cockney classic continued as he plonked himself down on top of the table.

"Would ya bleeding shut it!" Arthur growled, squeezing the iron ball he was seconds from launching at his brothers head.

"Big ones, small ones" John cupped his shirted bosom with pouting lips as he slid into Arthurs line of sight.

" Idiot wants me to kill him" Arthur quietly smirked as his aim shifted to his brother's cackling face.

"Got too many brothers anyway" the eldest Shelby mumbled under his breath, squinting eyes curling at the obnoxious noise accompanied by Johns flamboyant dancing as his arm stretched out beside him, weapon firmly grasped between his fingers.

" One less mouth for Aunt Poll to feed, ay Tommy? Tom?" Arthur's murderous intentions went unheard as Tommy's remained elsewhere to a young girl with rebellious whispers of hair blowing in the summer breeze. A perched basket of freshly picked apples resting on her hip, ready to be dipped into their delightful syrupy mixture.

"Shit..." Tommy mumbled under his breath, eyes darting to find you disappearing among the swarming crowd as he wiped the beads of sweat from his brow before taking off in search of you.

"You won!" John jumped off the table, head snapping back to the tumbling sound of fuzzy coated coconuts falling to the ground.

"What d'you mean?..." the eldest brother sniffed, prize in hand as he turned to see the confusion knitted between John's brows.

"...I missed" Arthur's Cheshire smile grew at the slouching one of John's as his stuffed win landed with a hard thud across the back of his head before his darting eyes searched for his now, favourite brother.

"Where's Tom at?"

Swerving through the teeming crowd of people patiently waiting for a spin on the galloping horsed carousel, Tommy's searching eyes finally landed on you.

" You in line, Mister?" a young boy, cheeks full of candy floss tugged at the cuffs of his shirt as the line of fairgoers moved forward, pushing Tommy to the front.

" Ay?" Tommys eyes darted to and from the small child to you disappearing behind the wooden stalls of prizes yet to be won as he held up the huffing crowd.

" You getting on or what, son?" the stout operator grumbled with a flick of his head for Tommy to step onto the rickety ride, its wooden frame decorated with weathered looping twirls from the many summers it had seen.

" 'ere" Tommy reached into his pocket, handing the last of his tickets to the sticky cheeked boy before setting off in search of you for a second time.

" Thanks mister!" a squeaky call of gratitude saw Tommy off to the back of the brightly covered stalls, to you stood with a young man hovering over you.

" Go on, give us a quick kiss then" the towering lad, dressed down in only a vest and tweed trousers kept you in place as the scorching heat of the sun beamed down on your backs.

" Fuck off, O'Connor " your attempts to push past his strong build were rendered useless when his quick footing had him slip in front of you, thieving fingers delving into the basket of apples sat on your hip.

"Little tease" he bit down onto the freshly picked fruit with a smirk. Fingers lifting the ends of your dress for a peak under the frilly fabric, you hastily slapped away.

" Gonna ask your daddy for your hand in marriage. Won't be able to say no then" the teasing tone in his voice was suddenly replaced by his reaching hand, grabbing hold of your arm as he threw the half-eaten fruit behind him to the feet of Tommy, stood watching behind the wooden frame of the stall.

" He'll put a bullet through your chest before you get the chance if you don't let me go" you battled with his grasp with a stiffened bottom lip. Eyes watering at the stinging hold of his leathery hands searing your skin.

A good foot taller than him. Muscles as big as fucking boulders. Shit, Tommy thought to himself as he watched with rolling shoulders, pumping himself up for the scrap undoubtedly about to take place.

" Your pretty little head forgotten who owns this fucking fair?" his fingers cupped your cheek, forcing the back of your head against the wooden barrier separating you from aide.

"My old man was kind enough to give your family work when you lot came knocking. Can take it away just as quickly" he played with the fragile state of your family's finances, knowing how much you depended on your jobs at the fair to make ends meet.

" Come on, darling. Loosen up a bit, yeh?" his hand glided over your clothed breast in a hushed voice. Nestled head in the curve of your neck, leaving a trail of desire down your skin with moans of want as you squeezed your welling eyes shut, waiting for it to be over.

" Ay! Get the fuck off her!" Tommy raced forward, lean body ducking past O'Connor's turning shadow with a fist full of taught vengeance ready to be delivered in one mighty blow to his cheek.

And a mighty blow was dealt, one Tommy was sure had broken his hand when his stifled cries of pain had him swiftly turning his back to you in an agonising attempt to save face.

" You knocked the bastard out!" your back stiffened against the wooden stall as your widening eyes snapped down to the body of Sean O'Connor, slumped unconscious on the cracking earth of summers drought.

" Fuck!" Tommy's voice shrilled with a strangle bellow, succumbing to the stabbing pain shooting through his hand.

"Wha...what's his head made of? Fucking metal?!" he turned with a reddened face contorting in pain as his shivering hand, bloody and bruised, wiped his sweaty brow.

" Well, he is as thick as a brick" you stepped over the slumped body, heel of your shoe conveniently finding its way onto Sean's limp hand.

" Let me see" you slowly approached, gently cradling his hand in yours with an urgent need to inspect the damage that had been done.

" One of many battle wounds, I'm sure. But not broken" you quietly noted with a brush of your thumb over his battered hand, eyes locking with the besotted blue gaze staring down at you and the smile your own curling lips couldn't help but match as a blissfulll silence settled between you both.

"Thank you..." your gratitude came in a faint murmur against the sound of fairground melodies as you waited for him to introduce himself.

" Tommy Shelby" his freckled cheeks dimpled with a smile, bruised hand still cradled between yours in a hold so gentle, he'd all but forgotten about the throbbing pain he felt only moments before.

"I'm Y/N, Y/N Y/M/N" your cheeks blushed with a subtle sway of your hips as you melted under his crystal stare.

" Y/N" he echoed back in a whisper, eyes taking in every delicate feature that had captivated him from afar on the hottest day of August that was set to be the most cherished summer of his life.

" It's a pleasure to meet you, Y/N"

For two months the fair had come to Birmingham. And for two months Tommy had visited you almost every day, spending a small fortune on tickets to go over looked by the watchful eyes of your family and those of Sean's who was laid up inside by the window of his family's wagon in search of the peaked cap boy who had bruised his ego.

But like most traveling folk, the time had come to move on. News the love-struck teen battled to swallow as he watched you clear the stall of trinkets and stuffed bears through the setting sun of the fair's last day.

" Can't you stay? Just one more day?" Tommy asked the impossible as he sat perched on the table next to you, picking at the splintering wood with eyes downcast at your shuffling feet.

" You know how it is, we never settle for too long" you caught his sorrowful gaze darting up at you as you placed the arms worth of prizes into its crate for his hand.

" Was just trying my luck, eh?" a faint smile and pull of your body had you settling yourself between his legs when a rowdy voice saw you both squinting through the fading sun.

" Come on, wrap it up, ay Tom! We've got a train to bloody catch!" Arthur called for his brother to hurry his goodbyes as a disgruntled Tommy mumbled his displeasure upon seeing him and John stood impatiently waiting for him.

" Here" you turned back with a blushing smile, fingers reaching into the wooden crate of treasures for a small box as Tommy's hands dropped to your waist. Eyes committing to memory every inch of your glowing face illuminated by the orange hues of the dying sun.

" Remember me by this" you pulled his hand in front of you, placing a small gold buckled ring on his thumb when your impending farewell got the better of you and a steady stream of tears began to roll down your cheeks.

With nothing left to say that would reassure your broken hearts you'd see each other again, your intended promises fell silent to the feeling of your lips meeting in a first kiss. A final goodbye to your summer romance.

" Don't forget me" you pulled away, cheeks dotted with tears when your shaky body was suddenly pulled back into a passionate embrace encouraged by the whistles and cheers of Tommy's hollering brothers before he left you stood where he'd first met you.

" Now how could I ever forget that, eh!" he called back with a boyish grin, adjusting his peak cap as Arthur landed a slap of approval to his shoulder before they ran to catch the last train of the day back to Small Heath.

High on the world, Tommy had already begun the count-down to when the fair would visit next year. But youth's wishfulness would be met with disappointment when life's hardships changed fate's trajectory and Tommy found himself hopelessly searching for you every summer as your face began to fade from his memory with each passing season. That was until an unexpected rainy day in 1914, when you'd meet again, for a second time.

Small Heath, 1914

"Easy on the breaks there, Tom. Easy now" Arthur held onto the dash of the chugging truck with a grunt. Regretting handing over the reins of designated driver to his younger brother

" It's a piece of shit!" Tommy protested about the dubiously sourced vehicle Arthur had scavenged.

" Yeh well, this piece of shit will see that this delivery finds its way to Charlie's yard" the two brothers shared a mischievous smirk as the sound of a truck's worth of nicked train tracks rattled behind them the Shelby boys would use to line their pockets for their growing family business ran out of their Watery Lane home.

" Turn 'ere" Arthur's eyes narrowed in on the end of the cobbled road, to the officer stood inspecting the goods of each passing vehicle after having learnt of the missing tracks that saw every train out of Small Health stranded that morning. " Tom, bloody turn!"

" It's...stuck!" Tommy battled with the wheel as the rattling truck rumbled towards the policeman eyeing up the chaotic scene of Arthur manhandling every leverage, every button in attempts to save themselves from driving head first into the baton-handed officer.

" Bloody thing!" the eldest brother leaned over, straining with Tommy to turn the stiffened wheel when the metal discs finally loosened and they swerved around the corner, narrowly missing the discovery of the tonnes worth of metal concealed in the back of the car.

" Fuck, that was a close one!" Arthur fell back into his chair with a chuckle as Tommy shot him an irritated glare at his useless ability to source the equipment needed to commit their petty crimes.

" Next time, I'm in charge" Tommy huffed as he turned his grinding jaw back to the road when something, or rather someone, suddenly caught his eye.

" Yeh, yeh" Arthur waved off his brother with a sniff, stretching his gangly legs along the foot of the car as Tommy found his eyes slipping to the cobbled path and the approaching sight of someone he never thought he'd lay eyes on again. You.

" Tommy. Ay, Tommy" Arthurs' heavy hand alerted his brother with a pat across his chest at the drifting wheels heading for the large puddle ahead.

Oblivious to the foolish cockup he was about to make. Tommy couldn't seem to drag his longing eyes from you after the seven years he'd gone without seeing you.

But a joyful reunion was off the cards for Tommy, whose frazzled thoughts had him forgetting that he was in fact, in control of the hurtling vehicle speeding your way. So frazzled that he had no time to react when the swerving wheels saw him drive into the large puddle, dosing you in a wave of muddied rain water.

" Shit! Shit!" Tommy's eyes darted to the rear-view mirror to you stood drenched from head to toe with waving arms as he slouched into his seat with reddening cheeks. His embarrassment only made worse by Arthur's perfectly sought choice of words.

" Well done you bloody idiot"

With a change of dry clothes and a frown permanently settled between your brows for the day that had started in a puddle of disaster, you began to tidy the countertop of the corner shop you now worked at. Unbeknownst that the very cause of said disastrous day, had inquired around the soot-covered town about your whereabouts, and was about to stroll through the door to the sound of the ringing bell hovered overhead.

You, you glared at the three men, eyes quickly hunting out the careless driver you remained oblivious to his connection to your youth.

With the sudden realisation that you didn't recognise him, Tommy casually drifted from shelf to shelf, to each boxed product and canned good while watching you in the corner of his eye as he swallowed back his disappointment.

Almost a decade later and you looked almost the same as you did on that sweltering summer day he had met you. A true beauty, one that had managed to turn him into a pathetic puppy-eyed boy like it had all those years ago. His enamorment with you, something he desperately tried to conceal from your glaring eyes, watching him over the newspaper in your hands.

With a roll of his shoulders, Tommy placed the can of beans back onto its dusty shelf, gold ring you had offered him all those years ago catching his eye. The same gold ring that had made its way across each growing finger, until it sat comfortably on his pinky.

" Packet of Sweet Aftons" he cleared his throat as you pulled your head up from the newspaper, forcefully folding its flimsy pages in half Tommy was sure would see the side of his face if he didn't say anything, if he didn't apologise for his small detour into you that morning.

" Of course...sir" your forced smile came with a hefty amount of exaggerated politeness that didn't go amiss by his sniggering brothers stood behind him.

" I erh, I didn't see you there...this morning, that is" he cleared his throat as you stepped onto the small wooden stool to the shelf of neatly arranged boxed cigarettes. The hung mirror reflecting off the wall, capturing Tommy elbowing his giggling brothers who were intent on making your reunion as painful as they possibly could for him.

" I would've stopped, but we were in a hurry" Tommy refrained from reminding you of who he was on a whim that you'd save him from further embarrassment when you finally recognised him. Or so he hoped.

" Five pence" you slammed the cardboard packet of rolled tobacco onto the counter, unimpressed with the strangers' attempts at a half-assed apology.

"Right" another wave of disappointment quietened his voice as he jostled in his suit trousers for the brassy coins.

" It's usually on the house, love" Johns ill timed remark left Tommy internally crippling at the smirk growing on your lips.

" That so?" your brows raised at the youngest's nodding head as you tossed each coin into the silver dipped till.

" Have a nice day, gentlemen" you shot a pursed smile at Tommy's lingering stare as you shut the metal draw with a loud clang.

With a knitted brow you watched each sharply dressed man leave the small corner shop, when the clouds parted, capturing the illuminated face of the sole culprit to your bad day. The blues of his eyes and freckled face causing a forgotten memory to emerge in the forefront of your searching mind. One you had no time to puzzle together when the hollering voice of your boss suddenly boomed in your ear.

" Oh bloody Christ! Jesus bloody Christ, Y/N!" your boss waddled towards you, your and Tommy's mutual gaze broken as he strolled past the shop window out of sight.

" What have you gone and done, you silly girl?" your employer paced back and forth, eyes nervously darting to and from the bustling street outside.

" Made you five pence is what I've done" you protested, hands coming down onto your hips with a knitted brow of confusion at his unexpected reaction at you doing your job.

" You're gonna have to go give them their money back. And...and apologise!" your mumbling boss brushed the film of sweat from his brow, fumbling fingers pulling the knobbly ended leaver to open the till.

" And why would I do that?" you watched him turn your hand in a panic, placing more than double the amount of the sale in your palm.

" You may be new here, but you'd be wise to learn about the people who run this shit hole we call home before you lose your eyes" your boss spoke of the emerging razor gang that had begun to slowly gain notoriety in the Birmingham district.

" And who might those people be?" your rolling eyes at his exaggerated worry about a group of petty chancers had you huffing as you pulled your coat over your shoulders, when he grabbed hold of your arm, whispering the name of the cutthroat gang you had encountered.

" The Peaky Blinders, that's who"

With stomping feet and locks of blowing hair trailing behind you in the bitter wind, you marched through the sludge of Small Heath to the pub the locals called the Garrison on the orders of your boss.

" Come on..." you grunted, straining to open the heavy doors of the tavern that's hinges had frozen in the frosty weather when you unceremoniously flew into the smoke-clouded pub with a tumble.

" Great" you mumbled under your breath at the murmur of low chuckles, the crowd of eyes glaring over their shoulders at your dramatic entrance.

Head held high above each following stare, you sought out the man you had been begrudgingly forced to apologise to. The very same man you found smirking at you over his pint of ale in a dimly lit corner of the pub.

" I hope you don't think I'm gonna pull out the red carpet for you" your apology fell short as you tossed the pennies onto the wooden table, fearless of him and his family's growing status in the town, having already lived a hardened childhood among petty criminals such as himself.

"Keep it. Buy a toffee apple" a boyish smile peaked at the corner of his mouth as he pushed the money back across the table to you. His attempts to refresh your memory only leaving you with a tilting head of confusion at his peculiar suggestion.

" You don't remember me, do you Y/N?" your brow scrunched upon hearing your name, when your attentions darted to the sound of a spinning coin coming to a stop, to the pinky-ringed finger tapping against its bronze printed front that suddenly caused a wave of memories to hurtle back to you about the boy you had shared a fleeting teen romance with.

Tommy Shelby. Your summer love.

*I'd love to hear your thoughts on this chapter in the comments below 💚*

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teddybeartoji · 11 months ago

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彡 A THUNDERING FIRST

☆. contains: suguru geto x gn!reader; meet-cute, fluff, trigger warning for a sweaty suguru, double warning for a very flirty suguru!! mentions of teeth and biting bc yk i love that shit wc: 4k

reading in the park can be such a good way to spend the day – you get to hear the lovely little birds sing to each other, you can see the kids faceplant onto the ground and laugh it off, you can smile at passing dogs, you can feel the sun and you can feel the wind and for just a while – everything is good.

it's more windy today than it is sunny but that doesn't bother you too much. the gentle spring wind dances in the trees, swaying the tiny green leaves that are just beginning to grow. the ground is still wet from yesterday's rain but it's not too muddy. you're grateful for the shower anyway, excited for the fresh grass to rise from the soil, pretty flowers alongside it. everything smells good, too. the air is crisp and filled with new beginnings and laughter and now you feel yourself getting a little too poetic.

looking down at your book, you twirl your pen between your fingers as you try to bring your focus back to the words on the pages. okay, reading in the park can be a little distracting sometimes. but most of the time it's not that bad—

you raise your head from your lap when you hear the steady steps and it's weird because you've learned to not give your attention to every passerby.

but this isn't just some passerby. the soles of his feet dig into the ground as he approaches and something about him just pulls you to him. you only have a second to look at him before he passes but it's enough to peak your interest like nothing else.

a pair of dark grey shorts with some black underpants underneath them, a pair of surprisingly clean sneakers on his feet, a pair of black socks, a dark blue almost skin-tight jacket and a black cap are what pull on your ropes but the messy black bun that peeks from under the cap, the various piercings and the dark purple eyes are what tie the knot.

his phone is in a little make-shift bag that surrounds his very big and glorious bicep and he has earphones on. you've never been this observant with a stranger before.

right when he passes by you, his eyes flick down to yours for a fraction of a second and then he's already gone. steady pace and steady steps as he heads down the path in the park, leaving you longing behind him.

you shake your head and once again, try to focus back on your reading. but it's even harder now that you know a man like that is just jogging around the place. you eye him from a distance away, wiping his sweat as he passes another runner. you've never seen anyone run as gracefully as he does. you force your eyes from him and glue them to the pages that lay neglected in your lap.

around eleven minutes later, you hear him again. you just know it's him by the sound of his steps, by the sound of his shoes hitting the ground – you look up and find him already looking at you as he closes in on you. there's a slight flush to his face, beads of sweat rolling from his temple and he looks gorgeous. he gives you a small smile, a really fucking charming one, and jogs on, leaving you staring at him again.

he does glance back at you, though. when he's a minute away and just when the path turns back around, his eyes search for you over the field of trees. his lips pull into a smirk when your head raises toward him and you drop it the second your eyes meet from far away. cute.

another ten minutes have passed and you've reread the same page four times now. the thought of quitting on the book is heavy on your mind as you consider just focusing on the man instead. it feels silly – stealing glances at a random crush at a park but you can't help it. he has wooed you with just about nothing; you don't know nothing about him other than the facts that 1. he's ridiculously good-looking and 2. he's a really fucking good runner. the lap he seems to be doing is one of the biggest ones in the park and yet he seems to be completing it in record time. maybe it's those long legs of his?

you twist and twirl the pen again until it slips from you, rolling onto the ground. you curse under your breath and then you hear him again. scrambling from your spot, you hastily grab the pen – a little afraid to be in his way; scared to embarrass yourself in front of him.

he's a bit more flushed this time around, sweatier and sexier. he exudes confidence; like not the type to be an annoying fuck-boy but more of a dangerous one. the type to break your heart like it's nothing but a glass toy. but then he gives you another smile and the thoughts fades. his smile is soft and his eyes crinkle as he does so. he nods his head at you and you do it back – you reckon you're really getting somewhere here. is this flirting works?

you watch him run off and almost die when he glances over his shoulder to get another look at you. a blink and you would've missed it – a wolfish grin; wide and sharp, it merely flashes at you but when you squint your eyes to observe him closer, he's already too far again.

your heart is beating way too fast for a person that's literally sitting down and your hands feel clammy. damn. luckily, you have the wind to help you cool down as you try to think of a plan to get his attention. you'd offer him water but that's a bit too far from a complete stranger. you'd ask him— what would you ask him? how's the run? no, that's bad. how's the weather? horrible. what kind of music are you listening to? c'mon, you can do better than that. come here often? awful, just awful. you decide that you won't say anything – stopping his run for some small talk would just be awkward and you'd rather just keep looking at him. that's the safe bet, that's what you'll do.

he's back. he's on his fourth lap and he doesn't seem to be stopping any time soon. all self-respect has gone with the dancing wind as you blankly stare at the handsome stranger. the tips of his ears have grown red too and he's really panting now. he's just so— he slows down. his steps falter a few feet from you and your eyes widen. well, you didn't really consider the possibility of him starting the conversation. you check the name of your book to make sure you won't make a complete fool of yourself and repeat your own name in your head. there's no room to fuck up with a guy like him.

he glances down at his feet and your eyes follow. oh... his laces are undone. that's... disappointing. you're about to curse yourself for even thinking that he'd actually wanna talk to you but his silky smooth voice breaks your little bubble.

"may i?" his slender finger is pointing the bench your sitting on and you can't to open your mouth, humming an reply instead. his posture is extraordinaly as he walks to you and plops down a bit too close for a stranger (you most definitely do not mind).

it's quiet for a moment before he speaks up again. "what are you reading?"

you quietly thank yourself for checking the name and introduce it to the man beside you. even as he's tying his shoelaces, he has a strong presence. he keeps glancing at you from the corner of his eye, letting you know that he is in fact listening to you. when he's done he leans back against the bench and sprawls out his arms on the backrest; one of his is dangerously close to your shoulder but he'd never make that move this early. he just wants to make clear that he is as interested as you are. he lets his legs spread out a little wider, situating himself a bit more comfortably on the wooden bench and you stealthily pinch yourself for stealing a look at his strong thighs.

"you know, i thought about what to say but i couldn't come up with anything good... 'how's the run?' is pretty stupid, isn't it?" you ramble as you feel yourself melt under his gaze.

"you thought about what to say?"

...

"i– "

your head falls down to your chest as your whole body heats up – now you're actually afraid of melting away. you hide your burning face in your palms and you sigh. so much for not embarrasing yourself, huh? he in turn, lets his head fall back as he grins up at the sky. his lip piercing shines under the greyish light and his eyes fall shut as he basks in your flustered state.

when he feels like your cuteness meter is just about full - he lets you off the hook. "that's really sweet of you."

peeking from between your fingers, you look at him. his eyes peer from underneath his cap, and in a way, it's really adorable how you're both hiding your eyes from each other. maybe not even hiding, but just, sheltering them. gauging when to finally drop the act and let yourselves stare at each other freely just the way you actually want to.

"not totally embarrassing?" you joke, forcing down the nervousness and letting a smile sprout on your lips instead.

"not at all." he assures with his saccharine voice. you almost believe him.

"it's never a bad thing to be prepared." you've known him for mere minutes but you know he's teasing. the tease is smoothly hidden in his charismatic tone but it's there nonetheless. a bead of sweat rolls from his temple and he wipes it with the back of his hand.

you bite the inside of your cheek as you drop your hands but avert your gaze, turning to the trees for a boost of strength.

he'd never admit it but... he too had to think of a way. he too thought that it'd be too weird to just ask about your book – he had to think of a way to break the first barrier. so, he untied his laced before he reached you. but that's a secret.

"suguru."

you whip your head your back to him, surprised by his little introduction. you repeat his name out loud and it tastes like honey, the syllables falling from your lips like a sweet goo. he does the same with yours and you swear you've never heard anyone say it the way he just did. there's a purr to his voice, coming from deep inside his chest - each letter is given so much thought and care. accompanied by the determined look in his eyes – you're just grateful you're already sitting down; he has your knees feeling weak, the muscles in your body tensing as he shifts just a little closer. barely an inch but it's enough to speed up your heart even more, enough for your body temperature to be reaching a new high.

his hand reaches over and you follow it in slow motion; you can hear your own heartbeat pounding in your ears as his fingertips graze your cheek. heat blooms from the touch and you feel like you're about to burst into a thousand little butterflies.

"you got a little something here..."

he takes notice of the warmth even though the contact lasted a fraction of a second – he's as observant as ever. his foxy eyes twinkle with a dose of smugness, a certain heat running through his body at the effects he seems to have on you.

pulling his hand back, he displays the single eyelash he just caught on his pointer finger right in front of your face. "c'mon, make a wish."

he watches your eyes flick from his finger to his eyes and then back down, he watches your brain work out your silly little wish. he thinks about what his would be and wonders whether you'd want the same.

you inhale sharply before blowing on his finger, letting the eyelash take flight and disappear with the wind. smiles bloom on your faces – the childish act bonding the two strangers forever.

"the run was good, by the way." he rests his hand back behind your shoulders, making you subconsciously lean closer. "the weather is good; i like this better. hard to focus when the sun is bearing down on you."

you nod your head, utterly bewitched by the man before you, and he knows it too. "'though it's hard to focus when i have you sitting here, too."

he has you hooked and he won't let you go. your eyes widen as his bore into you, absolutely feeding off of your every reaction.

"oh, you're killing me..."

"am i? i'm sorry for that, sweetheart."

you can't keep the groan that bubbles from the depths of your throat as you double over, hiding your face in your hands again. his quiet laughter rumbles through his chest and when you swear that when you raise your head, a singular sunray shines from behind the clouds. it lights up his smile, his eyes crinkling in the process. wow.

"when are you gonna come here again?"

there's no time to waste – you have to shoot your shot. you have to.

he lets the laughter die slowly, impressed by your sudden burst of confidence. "tomorrow."

"you run every day?" his ego grows in size at the surpised tone and he nods. "wait, how come i've never seen you before then?"

"maybe you were actually reading your book all those other times, hm?"

your heart does a little flip in your chest and you bite down into the soft flesh of your lip. he's sooooooooo...

he adjusts his hips on the bench and catches you looking. he's tempted to make another tease but—

"i would've definitely seen you if you were here. you're kind of hard to miss. very hard to miss actually."

he hides his reaction with a deep hum, infatuated with the fact that you can keep up with him so well despite your flustered state. "i just recently moved here, so... it'd actually be very nice to have somebody to show me around. the coffee would obviously be my treat, you know, if you're down for it, if you want to be that person for me."

his offer almost flies over your foggy head but his last words sink their claws into you at the last minute. the butterflies in your stomach are making you feel sick, a giddy nervousness swimming in your veins.

"i'd love to be that person for you." you nod your head, gluing your eyes to his as the final push to show you that you're as interested as he is. as if that wasn't clear enough already. "mainly for the the free coffee, though."

"right... right..." one of the corners of his lips is crooked upward and he looks so good. he looks like he bites, like he would sink his teeth into you so, oh, so gently and then lick the wound to make you all better again. you're really in it now.

unbeknownst to you – the sky has turned a shade darker, grey clouds now swarming the entirety of the field of blue above you and suddenly you feel a cold drop on your warm skin. and then another. and another. craning your neck up, you take in the foggy ceiling as the rain starts to soak your clothes.

you scramble to pack your bag, throwing your precious book in there before frantically looking for your pen only to have suguru hand it to you with a smile. "here."

"thank you."

you don't want to go. he doesn't want to go. the strap of your bag sits on your shoulder, the soles of your feet dig into the ground but nothing. you chew on your cheek and he picks at his fingernails – neither of you ready to part with each other just yet.

but thunder booms, yanking yourselves out of it. reminding that this chapter is only beginning and that the first page is always the shortest one anyway.

"you're gonna get a cold like this..."

"like what?" the water droplets cascade down his neck as he leans closer.

"oh, i don't know... sweaty and hot? what if the wind and the rain get to you and i don't get to have my free coffee, hm?"

he does want to bite you. his canines bite into his bottom lip as he observes you. how you're completely unfazed by the rain, how your confidence is clearly growing as you tempt him with your words.

"the wind and the rain have nothing on me, angel. i'd kill to get you that coffee." lightning strikes as his words fall from his tainted lips and he can't tear his eyes from you.

finally, he pushes himself off the bench and you watch him stretch his whole body like a big cat. an inch of skin shows itself from below his jacket, his happy trail making your eyes bulge before you clear your throat with a quiet cough and push yourself up aswell. making sure you have everything, you check your bag and your pockets and turn to him, only to find him already staring down at you. he's tall. he looked tall before too... but now that you're standing next to him – he's really fucking tall. and he seems to be thinking the same thing as he takes the oppurtunity to assert a little dominance by closing the distance between you.

"and maybe the rain will do you some good too... maybe it'll help you cool off, yeah?" there it is again – hidden by a tone of genuine advice – the tease. it slips from his curved lips with ease, with too much ease, and you hate that you can't even argue with him. you burn under his eyes and the rain is seemingly the only thing that's keeping you alive at this point.

"i think you should buy me so many coffees." you sigh, clutching onto your bag strap. he's towering over you, so you need just about anything and everything to keep your composure.

"yeah? what for?" he laughs. god, you love his laugh.

"for putting up with your teasing. i think i deserve a reward, honestly."

it looks like a scene out of a romantic little movie – the two lovers standing in the storm; fingers twitching beside their bodies, gazes lingering on each other for longer than they should. nobody would guess that this is your first meeting.

"terrible manners, by the way. i can't believe i'm still talking to you." you give him another sigh, albeit an overly dramatic one this time.

suguru hasn't been this beguiled since... ever probably. yes, his friends tend to give him snarky comments like this but it's entirely different coming from you. it gets his heart pumping like nothing else – the rush from the run has nothing on you.

"oh, my deepest apologies, your highness. shall i kiss thy hand before we part?"

his little bit coaxes out a loud cackle – his chest swells at the sweet melody, getting addicted already.

"yes! yes, i think you should do that, kind sir." your cheeks hurt from smiling when you hold your hand out for him, testing whether he'd actually do it.

(he's forcing down a full-body reaction at you calling him sir.)

suguru is not a man to back down and you're about to learn all about it. the thunder rumbles loudly, echoing through the park he takes your smaller hand into his bigger ones, raising it to his mouth. his purple eyes twinkle at you and your breaths are getting shorter and shorter. his lips graze your wet skin before he's fully pressing them against you, all while keeping eye contact with you.

a shiver runs up your back and you're about to pass out. or throw up. or die. something is happening to you and he's the sole reason behind it.

he lowers your hand and offers you another dangerous grin; his sharp teeth glint from behind his pretty lips as the lighting flashes again and you gulp.

"don't die on me now."

...

your jaw drops and you place your hands on your hips, tilting your chin up to show your 'annoyance'. "exactly what was the point of the kiss, if you plan on continuing your little act, hm, suguru?"

"the point is to get to kiss you again."

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

oh.

this stranger will be the death of you. your whole body flushes again, your own built up cockiness fades away, leaving you small and shivering before him. the perfect prey ready for picking.

"not today though. can't have the highness grow too big, now can i? but perhaps next time? over that promised coffee?" his voice is sticky and sweet, meant as a trap to catch little doves like you.

you squeak out a mhmm as he's already getting his phone from his little bag.

by now, you're both absolutely soaked. the spring thunder cleans you from the groggy winter feelings and thoughts and gives life to... whatever this is going to bloom into.

you exchange your socials, giggling at how the screens refuse to cooperate under the rain but you get it done nonetheless.

"please, don't get sick."

"if i do, you'd nurse me back to health though, wouldn't you?"

you slap his chest, unable to bear the teasing little remarks any longer. his charisma knows no bounds and it's 100% not what you expected him to be like. maybe you should've – the eyes betray him.

"probably, yeah. nurse you from this horrendeous act. where are you learning it from anyway? some terrible love coach?" you scoff.

"something like that yeah." he trails off, once again hypnotized by the way your wet eyelashes shine when you blink up at him.

"okay-okay, we have to stop this now or we'll both get sick." you shake your head, physically trying to remove every thought of him that has been swimming in your head for the past hour or so. he hums as a reply. he fixes the cap on his head and awaits for you to make the first move.

it's taking everything in you to do so – it's almost as if you're glued there, right in front of him and it just feels right. his voice is right, his words are right, his eyes are right, his lips, his teases; but when the thunder booms again, you know it in your guts that he's gonna be in your life for a long time.

this kind of turned into smth way different than i intended but i'm not mad hihihi

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