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callsign-magnolia · 1 year

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I Hope You Dance // Ch. 36

MATURE CONTENT (18+)

A/N: This is cross posted to my Wattpad, so if this seems familiar that is why!

TW: Mental abuse, emotional abuse, slight physical abuse, death and loss.

Description: When Caila meets Rooster, sparks fly. But, she's already married, to a man who she thought loved her, and won't let her go. Rooster will fight for her, he just has to convince Caila to fight for herself.

Word Count: 6.0k

Chapter 35 | Masterlist

Spending time away from those you love is always hard. Especially when it’s to do a job that you may not return from. Last words being shared on a dock or a runway, not knowing if those were truly your last goodbyes or just temporary ones. But being apart from the one you love, it’s a whole new kind of hurt I hadn’t experienced. Even when I loved Aaron, being apart wasn’t hard, and when I stopped loving him, I relished in our time separated. But with Rooster, it was like my heart was left behind in San Diego with him and he packed it up and took it with him wherever we went. So imagine my shock when I looked into the living room and found the man who holds my heart, sitting in front of the Christmas tree.

He had on a black t-shirt, pajama pants that match mine, and Laura reached over, slapping a large green bow on his head. He grinned at me as he sat crisscross in the floor, making an inhuman noise escape my lips. I surged forward, launching myself at him, tackling him to the floor, causing him to groan. “This isn’t real.” I cried, finding it hard to believe he was here. “It is real, pretty girl.” I pulled back, looking into those brown eyes that always seem to captivate me. “How? How are you even here?” I asked as my hands came up to cup his cheeks, my thumb running just under his eyes. “You might want to thank a certain fleet commander for that.” He said as he nodded his head towards my father. I sat up, smiling at my dad before getting up and pulling him into a hug. “Thank you, daddy.”

Suddenly my mom took my shoulders, tears streaming down her cheeks. “We love you. Both of you.” I furrowed my brow in confusion. “What?” She turned me around, her and my father laying a hand on either shoulder. I gasped at the sight before me, in absolute shock. “What are you doing?!” I asked loudly. He was down on one knee, holding his hand out for me while he laughed at my exclamation. “Come here.” He waved me over, but I was frozen, standing against my parents, staring at his outstretched hand. “Come here, pretty girl.” He waved again, and with a small push, I took a step closer. My hand slipped into his with ease, and the coldness that filled my body immediately disappeared and filled with warmth, and tears. I stood in front of him as he stared up at me. I held back all the sobs that wanted to escape, wiping my eyes.

“Mags, when I first met you, you almost ran me over.” I let out a teary laugh at his words, remembering how we literally bumped into each other. “But it didn’t take long for me to fall for you. Your bright and goofy personality, your love for people, your family. You make loving you so easy, and you are the most important person in the world to me.” He had tears welling in his eyes as he smiled at me from his kneeling position. “We have been through literal hell, and I never gave up hope that we would find our way back to each other, and sure enough, we did. When I saw you for the first time at the Hard Deck, I know my face didn’t show it, but you took my breath away and made my heart hurt all at once and I knew then I couldn’t live without you. I told myself I wouldn’t live without you, and I don’t want another minute to go by, without you knowing that.” He let go of my hand, pulling a small navy box from his pocket. My hands covered my mouth, hiding my dropped jaw. I had a feeling, when I saw him down on one knee, what he was doing. But he still shocked me with the ring box, so much so I almost didn’t notice him take my hand again, popping the ring box open and revealing the most gorgeous ring.

“Caila, I promise to honor you, cherish you, and love you, for the rest of my life. I promise to protect you and give you a life full of adventure and love.” I fanned my face, fighting tears as a few streaked his own face. “Mags, will you marry me?” I choked on a sob before nodding. He stood, catching my lips with his as he did. His arms wrapped my arms around my waist, pulling me close as we relaxed into the kiss. “Yes!” I said as we pulled away. He took the ring from the box, slipping it on my finger. I stared at it for a moment, tears still streaming. “Are you sure?” I asked without thinking. Everyone laughed as Bradley nodded. “I have never been more sure of anything.” He said as he pulled me into another kiss. As we pulled away, he rested his forehead on mine. “Hold still!” Mom yelled, making us freeze. She grabbed my left hand, holding it up before bringing Bradley’s up to hold mine. “Stay just like that.” We did, relaxing as she took the picture. “Okay.” We relaxed and turned to everyone who cheered, coming over for hugs. Hangman pulled us both into a hug, squeezing our shoulders. “Seriously, congratulations.” He said as he shook Bradley’s hand and pulled me into one last hug. “Oh, we should facetime Phoenix later.” I said as I turned to Bradley. “Don’t worry, I facetimes her and she saw the whole thing live.”

“It’s one a.m. on the west coast!” He nodded. “She didn’t want to miss it.” I furrowed my brows. “Who knew?” Rooster chuckled, tucking me closer into his side. “Only your dad until this morning.” He said as my parents came over. “Your father only told me when he got up to go to the airport. Then I had to relay it to everyone else, so no one gave it away when he came in.” It was funny, the elaborate schemes my parents came up with. “And I was the distraction.” Mav said as he joined the group, Bradley reaching over to pull him into a hug. “Thanks for coming, Mav.” Maverick just smiled at him. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.” I chuckled. “Not even with Penny and Amelia?” I asked and he shrugged. “Admiral Benjamin was pretty upset when I showed up for Thanksgiving. So, Penny and I agreed I would come out here and give her dad a chance to calm down.” I knew Admiral Benjamin wasn’t Mav’s biggest fan but for him to still be mad all these years later. Suddenly all the girls came over, dying to see the ring. “Oh my god it’s gorgeous!” Amber said as Kimberly, Laura, and Catherine all held my hand, looking at it. The excitement built up within me and I couldn’t help but burst. “I’M GETTING MARRIED!” I squealed and they joined me.

“Okay! Mav go change, family picture time before we open gifts!” Mav changed into a flannel set of pajama pants and a white shirt before joining us by the tree. The dogs rushed over, Sadie crawling in Rooster’s lap as Dahlia took her spot next to me. Mom set up the camera, putting it on a timer as we all scooted closer together. Bradley had his right knee propped up, so I wrapped my left hand around it, my ring proudly on display as the flash went off. Once it did I turned to him, admiring him as he laughed at something amber said. Soon he turned to me, giving me a loving smile. “What’s on your mind, pretty girl?” He asked as he brushed some hair behind my ear, knocking my glasses. “I don’t want a long engagement.” I stated and his eyes brightened with joy. “You don’t?” I shook my head. “I wanna be Mrs. Bradshaw as soon as possible.” He smiled, leaning down, his nose just brushing mine. “Oh, honey. You’ll be Mrs. Bradshaw before you know it.” He whispered before kissing me gently.

“Can we open presents yet?! Santa didn’t come all this way for nothin’!” Levi loudly exclaimed as Owen agreed. “Alright, spread out in the floor.” Mom said as everyone spread out around the living room. Parents got to work handing out gifts and soon each of us had stacks of gifts next to us. “Alright, kids first!” Before she even finished her sentence, wrapping paper, and ribbon, and bows were flying across the room. Each kid squealing with pure delight as they unwrapped their presents. Even JJ stared wide eyed at the playmat I got him but had Rooster and I’s name slapped on it. Soon the kids were done, and it was the adults turn. We all opened our gifts with a little less enthusiasm, but we were excited none the less. “Oh my god! Is this why you walked out of the boutique the day I went shopping?” I exclaimed and Rooster nodded as I held up the leather jacket I had looked at. “Thank you, honey.” I said, leaning over and kissing him. “Now, open this one.” I said as I handed him a box. “How did you even manage to get me anything?” I giggled, resting my chin on his shoulder.

“I still have access to the internet when I’m deployed.” I said matter of factly. He smirked, ripping open the box. “Oh, Mags.” He gasped, lifting the red Phillies jersey from the box. “Turn it around.” He did and laughed. “No way! No freaking way!” Thanks to mom, I managed to get the Jersey signed by every player on the roster. He yanked me into his lap, hugging me tightly to him. “You… you are absolutely amazing.” He muttered before placing a kiss on my lips. “I love you, Roo.” I said as my hand rested on his cheek. “Oh, I love you too, pretty girl.” He said before kissing me again. “Okay, and these are from us.” Dad said as he handed him an envelope. Rooster took it and opened it and we both gasped at what he pulled out. “How did you score these?” I asked as Rooster just stared at the tickets. “Well, it pays to be the Fleet Commander.” I looked to Rooster who was still in shock. “Yeah, but tickets to one game of our choosing? That’s not just a score, daddy!” It was true. He pulled some major strings. There were four tickets in the envelope. Two for the Phillies, and two for the Eagles and they both said game of holders choosing. My dad just shrugged. “Well, this way you two can go to whatever game your available to go to. They’re also front row seats.” I looked to Rooster who was still sitting motionless. “Roo? Honey?” My voice seemed to snap him out of his trance. “Thi-this is amazing. Thank you guys, so much.” He managed to get out, but he still seemed a little surprised.

Once everyone finished, mom came over with two more boxes. “Okay, this one is for Caila only. But this one is for the both of you.” She said as she handed us a box each. I ripped open the one for me, gasping as I saw blueprints. “Are there…?” I stopped, tears quickly streaming down my cheeks. “The original plans for your grandmother’s house in Tennessee. Those are the floor plans that were drawn up for her and were built by my dad.” I ran my hand over them, not believing that after all this time of trying to find them, they rested in my lap. “I figured you might want them… unless you’ve changed your mind.” I looked up to Rooster, because now we both had to be in agreement on it. He smiled at me, grabbing my hand and holding it close to his chest. “If it makes you happy, we’ll do it.” I smiled and kissed his cheek as I set the plans to the side, looking down as the last box that rested in my lap. I pulled on the paper to reveal a white leather notebook with gold lettering. It said Wedding Planner in the center and at the bottom in beautiful calligraphy it said Mr. & Mrs. Bradshaw. Tears welled in my eyes and I looked up at them. “When did you buy this?” I asked and mom gave me a teary smile. “I got it made in D.C.”

“You’ve held onto it for this long?” She nodded. “I knew he loved you. But the way he loved and supported you in D.C., not to mention the way he protected you? I knew it was only a matter of time.” I smiled, leaning my head onto his shoulder as I ran my hand over the planner. “Thank you, mama.” She smiled back at me, watching as Bradley placed a kiss to my head. Finally we were all done and the tiredness set in. We all decided to go back to bed so Kimberly and Amber took their kids back to the lodge, seeing as they were already falling back asleep. Then, I took Bradley’s hand and hauled him up to my room. The dogs rushed in, crawling into their beds as Bradley shut the door behind us, yanking me into him by my hips. “when do you leave?” I asked as his forehead rested on mine. He pursed his lips, wrapping his arms around me. “My flight leaves at eleven tonight. That’s the latest one I could catch to be back on the ship on time.” I gave him a sad smile but nodded anyway. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him into a kiss. His hands splayed along my back as I played with the hairs on his neck. He pulled away, resting his forehead on mine again. “Are you tired?” I nodded and before I knew it, he lifted me up by the back of my thighs, carrying me to the bed. I giggled as he fell onto the bed with me, pinning me down. “You asked my dad, right?” Surely he did, daddy would’ve said something if he didn’t. “Sure did. At Thanksgiving.”

“What’d he say?” He grinned at me, resting his body weight on me as my hands went into his hair. “That he wouldn’t have given anyone else permission.” I smiled at the thought, loving that my parents loved him. “They really love you; you know? They see you as family.” I could feel his smile against my chest. “It’s nice to feel like I’m a part of a family again.” I smiled, wrapping my legs around his waist as one hand ran my nails along his back, the other playing with his hair. Soon we got under the covers, my head on his chest as he held me. My left hand resting next to my head as his right hand held it. “It’s so beautiful. Where did you get it?” I asked, staring at the pear-shaped diamond. “Aunt Tilly’s. It was my mom’s.” My head shot up, looking at him with teary eyes. “Really?” He nodded, pulling my hand up and placing a kiss to my ring as I laid my hand on his chest again. “It was the upgrade my dad had bought for her. It was found in his closet back at Top Gun. Mav found it when he was cleaning out the last of dad’s things after he died.” My chest tightened at his words. “She never wore it. She refused because if my dad didn’t get the chance to give it to her, she didn’t want it on her finger. So she was buried with her original ring and she told me to keep this one for the woman of my dreams.” He said as he turned to face me. “That’s you, Mags.” I smiled at him, wiping the tears from my eyes. “I love you, Bradley. So much.” I said as I snuggled closer to him. Soon with the heat from Bradley, and the comfort of having him home, even if it’s for such a short time, I drifted back off to sleep.

“Mags.” I stirred, running my hand along the empty sheets. “Mags.” I opened my eyes, staring at the wall. My heart sped up, thinking it was a dream. But as I ran my thumb over my ring finger, I knew it was real. I turned, looking at Rooster who had a smile on his face. “Hi.” I whispered. “It snowed.” I furrowed my brows in confusion. It doesn’t snow in North Georgia, if it does it doesn’t stick. I sat up, crawling out of bed and padding around the bed to the window on his side. I gasped at the sight; a thick blanket of white snow covered everything. “Oh my god.” It was still coming down heavily outside, making a giggle escape my lips as I watched the snow fall. “Please tell me you’ve seen snow.” I laughed and nodded. “Of course! But I’ve never had a white Christmas before!” He looked at me, shocked. “What?” I shook my head. “It hardly snows here, and if it does, we never get this much.” I turned, throwing my arms around his neck as his held the side of my ribs. “I guess I got two Christmas miracles this year.” He smiled at me, running his hand through my hair. “Yeah, I guess you did.” He muttered as he kissed me gently. After a moment he picked me up, laying me on the side of the bed. “Why’d you get up?” I asked as I scratched his back and scalp with my nails. “The dogs wanted out.” He said as he laid his head on my chest.

We laid like that just enjoying each other’s company, but soon I felt his hips shifting. I bit my lip as I felt him grind his clothed cock into me. “Roo?” I asked, holding back a moan as I felt the pressure on my clit. “Hm?” He asked, pressing against me harder. “Ah- need help?” At my question he turned his head, pressing kisses to my clothed chest. “Think you can help me?” He asked before moving his kisses up to my neck, sucking just under my ear. “Mm. I know I can.” He hummed against my neck, grinding into me harder. I gripped his hair, tugging on it lightly and pulling a moan from him. His hands slowly slid under my shirt, running it up till it was pulled over my head and tossed to the floor.

His lips attacked my breast, his hands finding the back of my bra and snapping it open. “I’ve missed you so fucking much, pretty girl.” He groaned out, pulling my nipple between his teeth. I gasped, arching my back as he rolled his hips into mine again. “Roo, honey, please.” I keened. I bunched his shirt in my hands, pulling it off of him and throwing it to the floor. He grabbed my pajama pants, tugging them off as my lips latched onto his neck, licking and nipping at it. When I was finally bare, he grabbed me, shifting me up onto the bed as he knelt down at the end of the bed. “Oh, fuck.” I whispered with a grin, knowing exactly what was coming. He couldn’t wait, and I knew it, especially when he licked a stripe up my pussy, paying special attention to my clit at the end. I arched my back as my hands found themselves tangled in his curls. He ran his tongue over my clit a few times before delving inside me. I moaned quietly, the feeling of his tongue inside me making me throw my head back. I pulled my hips back, but he wrapped his arms around my thighs, pulling me flush against his face. “Don’t run from me, pretty girl. You’re gonna cum on my tongue before I fuck you stupid.”

His words alone made heat pool in my belly, and with the way he was working me over, I knew it wouldn’t be long, and I was right. In minutes he had me tumbling over the edge, his hand coming up to cover my moans, keeping the noise down. Soon he pulled away, chest heaving as he looked down at me. “Oh, I’ve missed this.” He smiled at me as he chased his breath. “Having you all fucked out under me.” He whispered as he rolled his hips into my bare and soaking pussy. I gasped as he smirked at me. “Fuck. You’re all flushed and needy for me, aren’t you pretty girl?” He asked as he leaned down, licking up my throat before kissing my lips. “You need me?” I nodded, spreading my legs wider for him. “Please, Roo. Need you so bad.” He smiled, kissing me as he pulled off his own pajama pants. “I got you, pretty girl.” He whispered as my lips attached to his neck, kissing and nipping at it as he grabbed himself, lining up with my entrance. I buried my face in his shoulder as he pushed in, whimpering as he stretched me out. “Sh, Mags. You know it won’t hurt for long.” He whispered in my ear. He sat up as he bottomed out, buried to the hilt inside me. I sighed, leaning my head back against the mattress. He gently pulled out before slowly thrusting back in. His hands held my waist as I held his arms.

“Oh, you’re my good girl, aren’t you? Taking my cock so well? Hm?” He asked, reaching up and running his thumb along my bottom lip before plunging it into my mouth. I moaned around it, his thumb keeping me quiet. “That’s it, just like that.” I never thought I would miss sex so much, but having Rooster between my thighs is like heaven and sometimes, I think I’d like him to stay there forever. Soon his pace sped up, and the bed started creaking, causing him to stop. I whined, needing him to fuck me. He was still buried inside me as he looked around my room. “We’re about to alert everyone to what we’re doing.” I said with a giggle before his face let up. “No, we’re not.” I furrowed my brows, before he hoisted me up, keeping me on his cock. Every step caused him to shift, and I buried my face into his shoulder as I bit my lip. He lifted me up enough to pull me off him, making me cry out quietly before he set me on my feet. “Lay down.” I did as he asked, laying down on the rug in front of the roaring fireplace before he grabbed a thick blanket from the chair across the room. I bit my lip as he walked over, the slightest movement causing his muscles to shift. “Mm, coming back to fuck me?” I asked as I ran my hands down my torso. “Hands off.”

I did as he asked, placing my hands down by my hips as he got down in the floor with me, leaning over to kiss me as he pulled the blanket over us. “Now,” He said as he lined himself up, my legs spreading wider for him. “I can fuck you properly.” He placed his hand over my mouth before delving inside of me. I cried into his hand as he rocked his body into mine. “Roo.” I muttered, one hand wrapping around the wrist of the hand on my mouth and the other scarping my nails down his back. “I love you, Mags. Fuck. I love how well you take my cock and how well you make me feel.” He groaned, his pace becoming rougher, my breasts bouncing with every thrust. My legs locked around his waist as he took a nipple into his mouth. I cried out as he bit down on it, the pleasure becoming too much. “That’s it, pretty girl. You’re getting close.” His breath hitched as I contracted my muscles, squeezing his cock. “Squeezing my cock like that. Come on Mags, come on my cock and I’ll fill you up.” His voice was shaky as I came closer to the precipice of my orgasm. Soon, he had me coming on his cock, just like he wanted and he buried his face in my neck, his arms wrapping around me and holding me close as he filled me up. “Fuck, Mags. Take it. Take it all, pretty girl.” By the time we were done, I’m pretty sure my eyes had rolled back in my head as my legs shook.

We laid together for a while, him behind me as his hand ran across my belly and I stared at my ring. “Caila Bradshaw. I like it.” He chuckled, kissing the back of my head. “Something about you with my last name, it does something to me.” I turned to look at him. “Oh, does it?” He leaned down to kiss me, but we were cut off by a knock at the door. “Yeah?” I asked as I shot up. “I’m fixing something light for lunch before we all go outside. Wanna join us?” Mom asked through the door. “Uh, yeah. Giv-give us just a minute.” After that I heard her footsteps walking away. “You okay?” I nodded. “Yeah, I panicked because usually she walked right in after she knocks.” He chuckled. “That would’ve been bad.” I nodded. “Yeah.” I said as I looked at the fire. “Come on. Let’s go outside for a few.” He smiled, getting up with me. We got up and put on some warm clothes before going downstairs. Mom was at the front door when she stopped me, telling Bradley to go on. “Have you been getting comments like this?” Mom asked as she showed me her twitter. She posted a the picture she took of Rooster and I but below it was a message.

She’ll regret that.

I shook my head. “No, I haven’t gotten any like that.” She sighed, putting her phone in her coat pocket. “Just be careful, okay? I worry about you all the way across the country by yourself.” I nodded before she opened the door, letting us outside. As I set foot out the door, something cold hit my chest. “What the?” I asked, brushing snow off my chest and looking up. Jameson was standing behind Laura, snickering. “Jameson!” He busted out laughing and I took the opportunity to launch my own snowball, nailing him in the head. “SNOWBALL FIGHT!” Owen screamed and it was on. My family is competitive, but so are the Seresin’s. It was every man for themselves and I hid behind a small snow bank with Anita who was giggling. I made a snowball and handed it to her, but as soon as she stood she was knocked clean off her feet by a snowball to the face. She landed on her back with a thud, her little head colliding with the snow. Immediately she started crying, sobs shaking her little body. “Oh, baby.” I said as I stood her up and wiped her face. Immediately she clung to me and I stood as her legs wrapped around my waist.

“You’re okay.” I whispered as she cried into my shoulder. Kim came over, attempting to take her but Anita shook her head, holding onto me tighter. “I got her.” I mouthed and Kim looked a little defeated, but nodded anyway and walked back to the boys, seemingly scolding them. “It hurts!” She cried. That was a packed snowball, hardly breaking when it hit her face, so the sting mixed with the cold probably hurt. “I know.” I said as I bounced her in my arms. It took a few minutes, but she calmed down, a hiccup here and there as Rooster came over. “She okay?” He asked, pulling some of her hair out of her face. “Yeah. It hurts but she’s okay.” He smiled at me as I swung side to side. “What?” I asked and he just shook his head. “You’re good with her.” I smiled. “Don’t tell the boys, but she’s my favorite of the older ones.” He chuckled as she sat up, wiping her eyes. “Want down.” I set her down on her feet, crouching down and straightening out her clothes. “Why don’t you go give your mommy a hug? She was worried about you.” She smiled, running off to Kim where she quickly wrapped her arms around her legs, grinning up at her.

“You will be such an amazing mom.” Rooster said as he wrapped his arms around my waist and placing a kiss to the back of my head. A few months ago, that sentence would’ve upset me, it did upset me. But now, it has me looking forward to the future. “Walk with me?” He asked, holding his hand out to me. I took it with a smile, letting him lead me down the fence line. We walked and walked, his thumb occasionally brushing over my left ring finger, feeling the engagement ring under my glove. “What are you thinking about?” At my question, he stopped, leaning against the wooden fence. He pulled me close, wrapping his arms around my waist and smiling at me. “I’m thinking… how damn lucky I am to have someone like you to love me.” I smiled, leaning into him as he held me. “I think I’m pretty lucky to find you.” I really was, he taught me not only to love myself, but to save myself. “Mm, I still think I’m luckier.” He tilted my chin up, kissing my lips sweetly. We walked for while longer before agreeing to go in with everyone else. “I know a good way to warm up.” I whispered against the back of his shoulder once we were in my room. “Mm, do you?” He hummed and I nodded, grabbing his hand and leading him to the en suite and cranking up the shower.

I ran my hands under his shirt, pulling it over his head as he grabbed my cheeks, kissing me fervently. I unbuttoned his jeans, shoving them down his legs, along with his boxers before he tore my clothes off me. We went another round in the shower, my legs around his waist as he thrust into me. My quiet moans filling the room, spurring him on. Only after we both fell apart together did we actually shower. Loving touches, soft kisses to lips, shoulders and foreheads. I washed his hair as his thumbs rubbed circles into my hips and he ran conditioner through mine before we got out, getting dressed into the clothes we would wear for dinner. He put on dark grey slacks and a dark blue button down. I straightened my hair before putting on a forest green and black plaid skirt, pairing it with black doc martins and a white sweater. “Woah.” Bradley muttered as I came out of the bathroom. “You look… beautiful.” I smiled, leaning up and kissing him. “Thank you, handsome.” I said as I ran my hand down his abdomen. “And my favorite lipstick? Must be my lucky day.” I shook my head, giggling as I walked over to the door.

“Maybe you’ll get lucky again later.” I winked at him before walking out. By the time I was going down the stairs, he rushed past me, taking my hand as I hit the bottom. “Thank you.” I said before making my way into the kitchen. “Need help?” I asked as mom and Laura rushed around the kitchen. “Nope.” Bradley walked in behind me, and mom’s face lit up. “Bradley! We need someone to do the dressing, think you can do it by yourself this time?” He nodded, walking around the island. “Hand me the recipe card and I can.” Laura tossed it to him and he immediately started grabbing stuff. “Guess I’m chopped liver then.” I muttered, reaching into the fridge for some tea. Bradley stopped, walking over and grabbing me. He dipped me before kissing me passionately. “Better?” He asked as he stood me back up on my feet. I just nodded as mom and Laura laughed at me. The doorbell went off and mom nodded towards the door. “Why don’t you get that?” I just nodded, walking out of the kitchen and towards the front door.

When I opened it all I saw was a big stack of gifts. They turned to the side to reveal my favorite cousin, Rebecca. “Beccs! Oh my god!” I opened the door wider, allowing her in. “Oh my god, let me set these down.” She said excitedly. Rushing into the living room and all but dropping the presents. “OH MY GOD!” She yelled, yanking me into a hug and wrapping her legs around my waist. “I have fucking missed you!” She squealed as she kissed my face. “I’m so sorry I haven’t been around.” “You live seven hours away.” She shook her head as she put her feet back on the ground. “That’s not the problem. I finally dumped Chad.” I cheered and hugged her again. “I told you he was no good!” She nodded. “I know. But now I am single and focusing on myself and my class. I’m moving to second grade next fall!” Rebecca was a primary school teacher in Knoxville. She is my uncle Josh’s only child, we were born in the same year so we were close whenever we got to see each other. “Heads up, daddy wasn’t far behind me.” She said as she grabbed my hands. Immediately her thumb ran over my finger, drawing her attention to it. “Oh. My. God.” She muttered, running her finger over the diamond. “Is that an engagement ring?” I nodded as she squealed again. “Who is he? When did this happen?” She asked, making me smile. “This morning. He’s in the kitchen with mom, wanna meet him?” She nodded, taking my hand as I led her into the kitchen. “Aunt Gina!” She yelled, rushing into my mother’s arms for a hug. “Oh, Becca you look so beautiful!” Mom admired, running her hand over Becca’s cheeks.

“Oh, thank you Aunt Gina.” She said and I grabbed her hand, pulling her over to Bradley. “Becca, this is my fiancé, Bradley Bradshaw.” Her eyes widened as she shook Bradley’s hand. “Holy mother of god.” She muttered, staring at him. “Don’t feed his ego.” I said as I elbowed her ribs. “He’s way hotter than Aaron could’ve ever imagined being.” We laughed at her words as she turned to me. “You landed him?” My jaw dropped as Bradley pulled me into him, kissing my temple. “More like I landed her.” He spoke. “Well, I just have to say, if you hurt her, I will make you disappear.” “You don’t have to worry about that, Becca. He won’t.” My dad said as she rushed over to hug him. “Hi, Uncle David.” He hugged her back and opened his mouth to say something else when he was cut off. “Rebecca!” My Uncle Josh yelled and I turned to Bradley. “Remember how I said my mom’s oldest brother doesn’t like her?” He nodded, furrowing his brows. “Get ready to meet him.” “Rebecca!” He yelled again. “I don’t think I’m going to like him.” I nodded. “Most of us don’t but he’s family so mom insists.” Suddenly the kitchen door swung open, Uncle Josh walked in with Becca not far behind him. “Regina.” He nodded at my mom before shaking my dad’s hand. He turned to Rooster and I, me still tucked in to Rooster’s side. “Who the hell are you?” He asked pointing to Rooster and sighed. “Uncle Josh, this is Bradley. My fiancé.” I said as I wrapped my arms around his bicep. “Fiancé? The ink on your divorce papers are barely dry.” Oh, this is going to be a long day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Taglist:

@mak-32 @rosiahills22 @dhwanishah09

#rooster #rooster top gun #rooster fanfic #bradley rooster bradshaw #robert bob floyd #bradley bradshaw #bob floyd #top gun maverick #natasha trace #phoenix #pete maverick mitchell #hangman #jake hangman seresin #i hope you dance #jake seresin

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foundmywei · 1 year

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Liushen Fanfic Recs Part 2

Here's the 2nd (and final) part of my favorite liushen fics. Enjoy!

Part 1 , Masterpost

Taking the Long Road by deliciousshame

(3,039 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 1/1)

canon compliant, time travel

Liu Qingge doesn't defeat monsters for rewards.

But who doesn't have a wish waiting to be granted?

Secret Route Unlocked by Kyogre

(115,553 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 35/35)

canon-divergence, fake/pretend relationship

Getting out of an arranged marriage by pretending to date? Check. Thrown into a trial while tied together? Check. Forced to share a room and a bed? Check. Kiss under the influence? Check!

Every tired, cliche romance trope possible as applied to liushen. feat. Luo Binghe's journey through unrequited feelings and making one (1) actual friend

Pushing by hummingbirdhum

(4,611 words | Explicit | Chapters: 1/1)

canon universe, established relationship

Shen Qingqiu has a very hot partner, and he wants to do sexy things with said partner. Problem is, he has no idea what he's doing, and he's not sure Liu Qingge does either.

End of a day by liuniverse

(1,562 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 1/1)

canon universe, established relationship

He hasn't even realized that he has closed his eyes when he feels gentle kisses being placed on his shoulders, and then Shen Qingqiu lowers his robe even more, letting it drop to his waist. Liu Qingge feels shivers run down his spine as his lover starts rubbing his back, while continuing to give him more kisses every once in a while.

Or, Shen Qingqiu helps Liu Qingge relax after a tiring day

and i would like to find a hand like yours to take mine by nk009

(1,234 words | General Audiences | Chapters: 1/1)

canon universe, first kiss

Liu Qingge doesn’t dare move. Doesn’t dare breathe. When Shen Qingqiu’s nose brushes against his own, he fights to suppress a shiver. When Shen Qingqiu flicks his eyes up in question, he tries not to startle and cast his gaze away. And when Shen Qingqiu puts a hand on his chest, and closes his eyes, he…

Liu Qingge fists his sweaty hands in his robes. His face feels hot. His muscles are frozen. His heartbeat roars in his ears.

Shen Qingqiu is kissing him.

Duck, Duck, Demon by psychomachia

(2,915 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 1/1)

canon-divergence

There's a lot that can be glossed over by the words "years passed."

Or Shen Qingqiu runs into a lot of monsters and Liu Qingge tags along for the fighting (and saving).

ouroboros by Yuu_chi

(1,827 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 1/1)

canon compliant

Today Liu Qingge is going to fight a fight he knows he will lose.

Fall Again by oiiwaforlife

(1,776 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 1/1)

canon universe, established relationship

After a slip up during a mission, Liu Qingge finds himself in a predicament.

to be fond of dancing was a certain step towards falling in love by sugaelite

(20,706 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 4/4)

pride & prejudice AU

In the few beats of quiet, wherein Liu Qingge stops hearing the chatter and music around him and only the thump, thump, thump of what must be his heartbeat, he finds that Shen Yuan is indeed quite pretty. Even prettier when he bows and walks away, tugging his brother after him. For once, Liu Qingge cannot fault Yue Qingyuan for the way he stares after them, since he is doing the same.

or: Pride and Prejudice Liushen AU with Liu Qingge as Darcy, Shen Yuan as Lizzie, Shen Jiu as Jane and Yue Qingyuan as Bingley.

You are the ace up my sleeve by liuniverse

(3,236 words | General Audiences | Chapters: 1/1)

canon universe, asexual LQG

“I didn’t really think that I would get to call you my partner in this lifetime, but somehow it happened. And I’m very happy but…” “You are not breaking up with me, are you?” Shen Qingqiu asks, letting out an awkward laugh. Liu Qingge tilts his head in confusion, narrowing his eyes, until he realizes why the older man came to that conclusion. “Of course not,” he says firmly.

Or, Liu Qingge has been stressing about how his lack of sexual attraction could possibly affect his new relationship with Shen Qingqiu

A Cang Qiong Mountain Mini Adventure by Anonymous

(5,886 words | Not Rated | Chapters: 1/1)

canon universe

Liu Qingge has a qi deviation, so naturally his shixiong will help him.

punch, punch, kiss? by spacedreams

(1,270 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 1/1)

canon universe

Liu Qingge and Shen Qingqiu spar.

Silent Vow by lemonmeringue (yukisadah)

(5,410 words | General Audiences | Chapters: 1/1)

canon compliant, pre-relationship

Liu Qingge is absolutely certain Shen Qingqiu needs to get off of Qing Jing Peak without it being to go off on his own for days to who-knows-where. Who else would get so lost in their grief without even realizing they're grieving? He'll never heal if things keep going like this. That's why he asked Yue Qingyuan to help setup this fake mission for them. So what if a very small, very loud part of him can't wait for the mission to start? This is to help his fellow peak lord, that's all. It's nothing special. Really. Definitely. Probably. Maybe.

Takes place sometime during the three years Luo Binghe is in the Abyss.

Four Treasures by manic_intent

(5,057 words | Explicit | Chapters: 1/1)

canon-divergence

Shen Qingqiu had never been particularly good at calligraphy. He’d learnt an awkward version of kaishu under his late grandmother’s patient tutelage. Grinding ink, tending to the brush, dutifully attempting to copy her graceful strokes on the boxed paper. Her patience had resulted in Qingqiu’s calligraphy being less of a squiggly, blocky waste of ink and more something that was vaguely readable. Still, in the end, even the old lady had given up on him. He’d wandered through xingshu and caoshu exhibitions without absorbing much, and as with much of the non-video game, non-novel part of his life, it’d faded into the dusty recesses of his mind.

absolutely fan-tastic by backspacedintooblivion (Evil_and_I_know_it)

(1,903 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 1/1)

canon universe, established relationship

Suddenly, his eyes fell onto the fan that hung above his bed.

Shen Qingqiu had hung it there as a joke, so that Liu Qingge would dream only of him and find him all his lost fans. A smile tugged at his lips. It would be nice to see Shen Qingqiu with a fan he made attached his waist. A useful token of his love.

OR Liu Qingge finds out that making a gift isn't as easy as it seems, but he tries anyway.

(un)justified suspicions by IceImagines

(3,932 words | Mature | Chapters: 1/1)

canon universe

Yue Qingyuan is happy that his beloved shidi is getting along better with Liu Qingge. Really, he is. Except when he’s forced to see things he never, ever, ever wanted to see. Repeatedly.

Or, five times Liushen test Zhangmen-shixiong’s sanity, and one time they finally break it.

Spinning Sugar by lemonmeringue (yukisadah)

(7,880 words | General Audiences | Chapters: 1/1)

canon-divergence, pre-relationship

Liu Qingge is absolutely certain Shen Qingqiu needs help. Who would be able to keep going on as if nothing had happened after something like that? He'll never be able to start to heal if things keep going like this. That's why he's going along with Shang Qinghua's suggestion to go supervise the other's cooking. So what if he can't fix things immediately, can't make the one he cares for better with a snap of his fingers? This is to help take Shen Qingqiu's mind off of things. That alone is enough for now. Helping him in anyway he can, staying by his side as long as he's allowed. Really.

Takes place after the events of Maigu Ridge. In which Shen Qingqiu can't so easily overcome what happened.

seasons of love by shadhahvar

(9,216 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 6/6)

canon-divergence

Five times Liu Qingge has wanted to kiss Shen Qingqiu, and the one time he asks if he may.

A five in one fic, told from both Liu Qingge and Shen Qingqiu's perspectives.

oh, to be a tiny frog in a lake by everydaywei

(2,821 words | General Audiences | Chapters: 1/1)

canon universe

On a trip to Yunmeng's esteemed Lotus Pier, Peak Lord Shen Qingqiu attempts frog watching to outrun his 100% completely platonic thoughts about Cang Qiong's beloved War God.

unbearably fond by backspacedintooblivion (Evil_and_I_know_it)

(2,000 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 1/1)

canon-divergence

“Liu-shidi.”

“Hm?”

Shen Qingqiu gestured at the space between his knees, where he had placed a pillow.

“Can I braid your hair?”

Liu Qingge snorted.

“There is no way I am letting your drunk hands near my hair.”

to the you, who holds his heart in his hand by jadelian (niliuh)

(7,922 words | General Audiences | Chapters: 1/1)

historical AU, war

In 1948, the life expectancy of an average Chinese person was 36 years.

For soldiers of the People’s Liberation Army, it's even less.

A majority of them don't make it past their 20s. 25, if they're lucky. But in war, luck is scarce and fleeting.

Liu Qingge knows there is no point in making promises of love, of a never do we part or a happy ever after. Why promise forever if he is fated to die before he can keep it? He would not doom any lover of his to years of mourning, of broken hearts and shattered promises.

But when he gets assigned to spearhead the potentially tide changing Pingjin campaign, a campaign where the surrounding cities that were protected fiercely by opposing army, where the geography worked against defenders, and where death was an all time high, Liu Qingge can no longer ignore the painful thought of never having a chance.

How High The Moon by 00janeblonde

(1,304 words | General Audiences | Chapters: 1/1)

canon universe, temporary memory loss

Liu Qingge woke up, confused and overwhelmingly tired. He heard the light tap-tap of rain against the window pane. There was an elegant man sitting in his line of sight, his manner and bearing similar to the immortals who sometimes visited his father. The man was writing, supplementing the dwindling afternoon light with a glowing night pearl. Liu Qingge watched him muzzily for awhile before falling back asleep.

Prayer to a Dying God by xnemone

(2,244 words | Explicit | Chapters: 1/1)

canon universe, sex pollen

Shen Qingqiu accompanies Liu Qingge on a mission to a faraway forest to deal with a beast whose domain is rumored to hold a little-known flower with inopportune effects. Shen Qingqiu also ends upassistingLiu Qingge in dealing with said effects.

Another LiuShen aphrodisiac flower fuck-or-die fic, or in this case, blow-or-die. Enjoy.

after the cure by orro

(6,681 words | Explicit | Chapters: 1/1)

canon universe, established relationship

Liu Qingge becomes aware that all the sex he's had with Shen Qingqiu lately is directly because of poison, venom, or curses. He's not the kind of man who would just use his partner for dual cultivation. Liu Qingge is going to fix this and show Shen Qingqiu exactly how much he cares for him.

#liushen #shen qingqiu #liu qingge #svsss #scum villain's self saving system #liushen fic

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umbralsound-xiv · 23 days

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Present.

Sayuri had left to visit Bexy, so i thought to practise a few rehearsals in her absence. I had a dance in Costa Del Sol not too long from now, and it does not hurt to start early...

Dull, rhythmic thuds sound from within the shared room of the Fellfrosts, audible from the leading corridor long before one had reached the doorway. Within, Eir soared through the air, clad in Thavnairian silks and ribbons, before finding solid footing in the stage below. Practise for a routine performance, he seems to move as gracefully as a swan, and just as easily as breathing, chest raised and arms arched as he held his pose.

While such sounds were normally a cause for concern for the Seeker, the rhythmic nature of it keeps her calm once her ears caught onto the sound, wandering down the hallway that would inevitably lead her to their room. The door is opened quietly, the Sayuri stepping past the threshold and turning to close the door - not yet looking towards the dancing Viera.

The sound of the door is enough to steal Eir's attention, silver eyes flicking to her and bringing a smile to his lips. "My Moon…" Eir cooes. "I did not think you would be home so soon." He drops his pose into something more relaxed, head tilted. "But i am no less glad to see you, hm?"

She turns to face the stage, ears tilting backwards as her gaze falls onto Eir. Silence is kept, as she fights her own features that threaten to sink into a saddened expression; a fight she soon enough loses, the longer she stares at him. A certain blankness to indicate the impending tears take to her eyes, her tilted ears sinking lower and lower a top her skull. Her feet bring her forwards, the slim package she held in her arms is abandoned to the nearest surface that isn't the floor - arms stretching out for Eir in a mute request for a hug.

Features slowly pulling to knit his brow into something threaded with worry, he knew that look well enough to know what it meant. One step sees him drop in a controlled step from the stage to near her, soon wrapping his arms around her. "…Sayuri?" Her name sang with concern, hands slowly shifting where he embraced her, searching for a wound or injury. "…Are you okay?"

...Something had happened, though i knew not what. She seemed so... Sad. ...But she had just visited Bexy, had she not?

Sayuri's arms coil around him with some slight amount of desperation, face pressing into his chest before offering an awkward nod against him in return to his question. Other than the slight shake from her silent sobs, she seems fine - unharmed.

Arms wrapped around her, pulling her into a close, comforting embrace, Eir quietly hushes her, hand combing through her hair. "Shh… It is okay… I am here. I am here, my love…" Voice a whisper, he rocks her slowly, pressing a tender kiss to the crown of her hair. "I do not know what brings your tears. But i will always be here to dry them…"

Her head turns slightly, both to push against his gently and to let her ear press against his chest, arms squeezing him as she exhaled a drawn-out, shaky breath in some attempt to still her emotions.

Eir stills his words for a moment, letting the sound that she sought to listen to be the only thing to be heard; the gentle thump of his heartbeat within his chest. Gently trailing his hand over her shoulder, he caresses her to offer some quiet comfort. Eventually, he speaks. "…I am here. Here, and whole, and with you, safe and together in our room." Lips tug into a worried frown, his cheek rests to the top of her head. "…You need only tell me what you need…"

".. You're already giving it." Sayuri whispers, one arm uncoiling to let her hand move up and brush her tears away, only to slip back around him to embrace him once more. "..I-.. shouldn't be crying about it, it's.." She sighs, nudging her head against him. ".. It's a good thing."

"A good thing?" Eir echoes, pressing another kiss to her forehead. "You do not seem particularly happy about it. Happy tears are usually a little more… Joyful." Still frowning lips move away as he raises his head, gazing towards the pillows in some quiet contemplation. Remaining unmoving for the time being, he gives her a needing squeeze, arms wrapped around her, loving and firm.

".. Bittersweet." She mumbles. "..A good thing in.. an awful thing."

Leaning down to wrap his arms around her, he lifts her up in a bridal carry, walking the few steps it took him to bring her to the pillows. Not relinquishing her for even a moment, Eir carefully settles down to sitting, Sayuri no further from his arms than she was a few moments ago. "…Talk to me?" He asks softly, gently tracing his fingertips over her cheek, brushing the tears away.

I opted to nestle in the pillows, she always seems happier, more comfortable there. She could hold onto me for as long as she needed.

She clung herself to him as she was lift off her feet, merely holding on as they descended into the pillows. Sayuri's head tilts into his palm, a slow sigh leaving her. ".. While we were in Thavnair.. Bexy.. Hunted." She mumbles. ".. She has captured the last of the three who took you from me."

"…Captured?" Eir asks, in some disbelief… And just a hint of discomfort. Sinking ever so slightly into his shoulders, he holds onto her that bit tighter. "I… I see." He doesn't elaborate further, listening.

...I knew it would continue, though foolishly tried to put it out of my mind. Bexy will hunt them, and Sayuri might join her, and i... ...I fear for repercussions. But i know what i chose, in a life with her. And i am not going anywhere.

".. He is one of their healers. Bexy intends to make him cure me.. since he knows what was done." She tightens her wrap around him, ears pinning back. ".. I wanted nothing more than to hurt him, to make him suffer.. And then.." She pauses, pushing herself up enough to look directly at him. ".. He.. told me something.."

"The Seeker. Can we… Trust him? I fear for what he will do to you. I… I know you said you would kill him if you ever got close enough. Assuming you were… Why did you not?" So close to her now, Eir's heart had already begun to race. "…What… Did he tell you?"

".. Trust? No. Gods no. I don't trust that bastard any more than I trust Grym himself." She frowned. ".. Bexy told me not to, before I even knew who she had captured. That we need him to cure me.. and to potentially aid others in the Compound to get out.." She pauses then, seemingly a little hesitant to bring it up. ".. That.. my cold.. was the reason you survived long enough to be saved, that sun.."

Eir's teeth grit, and suddenly he's the one holding her close, an almost desperate, protective thing. Brow furrowed, his steely gaze hardens into a glare, cast at no thing in particular; the one he'd wished to bestow it on was far from their room. "If he hurts you, i swear, i will kill him myself." No sooner as he speaks, the exhale that follows softens into a tremble, and another needing squeeze of his arms wraps around her, moreso for the words Sayuri continued with. Hesitant, he shifts his side uncomfortably. "…The sun i…" Eir trails, lips pulled into a line. "…Almost… Died. It was… You?" His expression had melted into something softer, regarding her as he turned his face to her own. "You saved me. When--- When everything went dark. Your face was the last thing i saw." Slowly, a hand raises to touch her cheek. "…You saved me…"

...Would i really kill him if he harmed her? I... ...If he was in front of me, and she was suffering, i would... I... Bexy would beat me to it, no doubt. ...But it was her. Sayuri. She... She saved me... I would have surely bled out had her ice not been present. I only remember the panic. Not in... Dying. It was frightening, but... Knowing i would be leaving her alone in such a terrible place...

Sayuri blinks, a touch taken aback from the sentence that left Eir. She reaches a hand up to gently cup his cheek, brushing her thumb along it. ".. He was terrified of me, and Bexy won't let him do any further harm to me." She pauses, sinking her head into a small nod. ".. I held you." She whispers. ".. I.. covered everything in ice.. The cold was enough to keep you from bleeding out.." Her hand moves to cup his as it touches her cheek. ".. My ice did something.. good.."

"A blessing." Eir confirms to her words, smiling warmly as her hand touched his. "It has always been a blessing. Not a curse. People were just too blind to see it." Eir moves to rest his head against her own, eyes closed, lined with tears. "…You saved me. I am… Glad, i did not die. I would not want to leave you alone there. Or… Anywhere. Glad that i lived long enough to marry you." Slowly gazing up to her, a little teary eyed, he half laughs. "My wife. My Moon. How lucky i am…"

".. X'aoki would disagree with you. Not that his opinion matters.." She huffs, her father's name uttered with some amount of spite. Her head rests against his, forehead affectionately nudging at him. ".. My husband. My Heart." She responds, offering him a small smile.

"Your Heart." Eir murmurs lovingly, before adding; "…It beats because of you. For more than one reason, we can now attest." Gently grasping her hand, he traces it over his jaw, down his neck, to rest on his chest where the sign of life was more than apparent. "You are a blessing to me. I do not care what anyone else thinks. My life is better for having you in it."

Her lips curl into a slightly wider smile at his words, her fingers gently trailing over his skin as he guides her hand. ".. And mine is better for having you." She murmurs.

Tilting his head, his lips meet to claim her own in a tender, loving kiss, parting only a moment before sinking in. When he does eventually retreat, his head settles to her own, gazing to her eyes with a warm, pleased sigh. "…I hope you remember this, beyond everything anyone has ever told you. That when it mattered most, your ice can help as much as it can harm. Even on your worst suns, when you were covered in ice, never once did it hurt me." Pausing, he regards her with such warmth, thumb trailing over her knuckles. "I do not ever think it will."

Sayuri meets his lips with her own, ears wiggling in response while she lingers in the kiss. When they part, she pushes her head against his, exhaling a slow, content breath through her nose. ".. I can't promise that I will.. but I will try to remind myself. And failing that.. I am sure you will." She pauses, torn ear drooping. ".. I hope it won't."

"I hope so too. But i will not be upset with you if it does. Even then, it will have helped me far more than it has harmed me." A wry smile passes Eir's lips, then. "The hardest part will not be addressing the wound, but the guilt you would undoubtedly carry with yourself for hurting me."

Sayuri's lips shape into a tiny pout. He isn't wrong.

Brightening, Eir steals a kiss. A gentle brush of his thumb dismisses any lingering tears, brushing her hair from her face to better see her. "If you wanted me to kiss you, you need only ask." He muses, gently rubbing his nose to her own. "How was Bexy? Is Vex still staying with her?"

She smiles, nudging her head into his hand. "..Why ask, when I can just pout?" She snickers. "She's doing well, happy to see me as ever. And yes, Vex is still around. I didn't get to speak to her much, but it was nice to see her nonetheless."

"I suppose." Eir smirks. "…And good, i am glad. Gladder still that Vex is still present. Speaking of…" Eir eyes the abandoned box on the sofa. "…What did you bring?"

I had noticed a gift during her arrival, and would admit i was curious...

Sayuri glances to the box, offering a small shrug. ".. Wedding-starlight-namesday gift from Bexy. She said it'd be best opened with you."

Eir makes a face. He's jumping to all sorts of conclusions, eyes wide. He quickly dismisses the expression, glancing away. "Are… You going to open it?"

She peers up at Eir, then to the box.. and back to Eir. A long exhale leaves her nose, her body sinking further against him to signal her lack of want to move. ".. Later."

Slowly, Eir lofts a brow. And then the other, soon to join it. "…Is that because you do not wish to open it yet, or…" He shifts a little, to hold her closer. "Because you do not want to let go of me in the process?"

"… The latter." She mumbles.

Eir sighs, lips curled into a grin. Scooping her up in one arm, he shuffles to his knees, embracing her as he stood. In just a few footsteps, he crosses the room, plucks up the small box, and returns to the pillow pile, practically slumping back into the spot he left from with a thud. "There." He breathes, turning his head to kiss her on the temple. "Better?"

A new pout finds its way onto Sayuri's lips as she's scooped up, clinging herself to him to keep herself near while he ventures forth, and back. She only relaxes once more as they return into their pillow pile, ears wiggling at the kiss placed upon her temple. ".. Yes."

Better. Always better with her here, in my arms. She opened the gift; a new and identical pair of pyjamas... But we were already comfortable, and neither one of us particularly wanted to move...

#Muse: [Eir]#Duet: [Winter Moon]#Chapter: [Present]#FFXIV #IC #Writing #Snippet

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moon3thereal · 3 years

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I have a request with Nat x reader. It’s a party at the compound and nobody has ever seen Nat drunk but this night she was completely gone like blackout drunk. So you end up having to carry her to her room and take care of her but she accidentally admits her love for you, you end up sleeping on the armchair in the room and in the morning you wake up to a Nat that’s throwing up on the floor, at first she don’t remember shit but later during the day she remembered what she said and gets really flustered and embarrassed but it ends I fluff reader admits her love for Nat to

Title: Drunken Confessions

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: alcohol

a/n: thank you for the request! happy reading <3

1.4k

Everyone knew Tony Stark loved the glamour of his extravagant parties often threw in the Avengers tower. Everyone also knew that while everyone else got batshit drunk, the black widow never got even slightly tipsy after several rounds of drinking games when everyone else was drunk enough to strip to their undergarments and start pole dancing. She always only watched with a hint of amusement glinting in her emerald eyes

That led to the bet going on amongst the other Avengers, Tony threw in a solid 500 dollars to whoever got Natasha drunk while the others put in smaller amounts. Thor had been lurking around with a smug grin for a whole 5 minutes since the party had started, you had no doubt that he’d been up to no good and opted not to touch the alcohol at the bar for tonight.

Spotting a certain redhead, you sidled up to the bar in your new dress that you definitely haven’t bought to impress her and new heels that again, you definitely didn’t buy to awe her. “Someone put in effort for tonight’s party” Natasha said, dropping her gaze to your heels and all the way up until she met your eyes “trying to impress someone?” she winked teasingly. Damn it, were you that obvious “Steve maybe?” she pressed, seating yourself on one of the rotatable, red leather stools you laughed “I don’t swing that way”

Natasha hummed in acknowledgement “me neither” she said. You turned to look at her so quickly that you thought you may have given yourself whiplash “Then…You and Bruce?” you asked cautiously “there’s a reason that didn’t work out” she said, taking a sip of her martini and sending her glass a peculiar look “you’re new?” she asked the bartender “no ma’am I’ve been working here for three years” Natasha’s lips formed into a silent ‘oh’ and you stifled a laugh

After a few more glasses of alcohol, Natasha was clearly very drunk, the rest of the avengers who hadn’t seen Thor’s expression of obvious smugness had drunk the alcohol unknowingly too and Tony and Steve were challenging each other to a dance off. In their boxers. You watched with amusement and second-hand embarrassment. Meanwhile, the Russian that was the heart of all this chaos was standing across the room apparently having an argument with Clint about whether the walls are green or red. The walls are white. Then it suddenly clicked in your mind, the only alcohol that could get her so shockingly drunk, Asgardian liquor

Of course, why hadn’t you thought about it before. Thor was incredibly competitive even if he didn’t look it. You continued sitting aside from all the havoc erupting on the party floor taking tentative sips from the water you’d brought, keeping an eye on Natasha before she does something stupid. Normally that was her job, unbeknownst to you, Natasha always looked out for you during Tony’s parties, knowing your alcohol tolerance wasn’t exactly high.

Glancing at the clock, you could see that it was almost 3 in the morning and the noises had died down and all the Avengers were splayed out on the couch only half awake, Natasha was half laid half seated on two bar stools barely keeping herself upright. Deciding that you really didn’t want her to fall off and give herself a concussion, you tugged at her sleeve “come on Nat, we’re going back to your bedroom” she smirked at you with her painted lips which were normally perfect but tonight, they were slightly smudged, you liked the look on her though

“Bedroom? Getting frisky already y/l/n?” you raised your eyebrows while helping her off the chair and draping your jacket around her shoulders “getting concerned about how drunk you are” you corrected. Natasha hummed and after a few steps let her head slump onto your shoulder, you were half supporting and half carrying her but you were glad she wasn’t sober right now because your heart was probably going a million miles a minute, her hair smelt so nice, her tresses were gently tickling your neck

Caught up in your thoughts you had to abruptly steer Natasha towards her bedroom before she walked directly into a wall. Practically dumping her onto the bed with a huff from the exertion of dragging her all the way back to her room, you pulled off her heels and hung up the jacket “I love y/n, don’t you think she’s just so pretty, she’s so smart too and how she fights, it’s soooo hot” she slurred and your cheeks heated up.

You were ready to dismiss it as a hallucination, you had feelings for the redhead, you’d been harboring them for a good 2 months because you thought they’d never be reciprocated. But Natasha turned to you “do you think she likes me too?” she asked “yeah, yeah I’m sure she does” you whispered. Natasha seemed to hear it, she sighed contentedly and let her eyes close. Making your way out of the room, you heard her say “stay” it was barely a whisper but you heard it and you could never refuse her

So you slumped onto her chair with your chin supported by the heel of your hand just appreciating how gorgeous she looked even blackout drunk, ginger hair all over the place and smudged makeup. It sounded creepy but you were really just taking the advantage of being able to stare at her now before she’s sober again tomorrow and your act of indifference had to come up again.

You didn’t know at what point you fell asleep but you woke up to Natasha rushing to the bathroom and throwing up in the toilet. Hastily pulling her hair back into a ponytail, you rubbed her back in an attempt to soothe her. She glanced up at you when she was done and flushed the toilet “why are you here?” she asked while rinsing her mouth in the sink and holding a hand to her head while wincing. You tried to hide your disappointment, last night it was the alcohol speaking, not her, it didn’t even make sense that she would remember it, really. “you couldn’t stay on your feet on your own, let alone walk back to your room, I wanted to make sure you were okay so I slept in that armchair” you gestured to the armchair at the corner of her room

“You didn’t have to do that” she said “but I’m glad you did, thank you” sending you a tired smile. You squeezed her shoulder “I’m gonna go make some breakfast you want some?” you asked at her doorway “please” she said while removing the makeup from the night before. You nodded and made your way to the kitchen

Once you step foot in the kitchen, you saw Thor with a triumphant smile on his face and the rest of the Avengers grumbling, you slapped a 50 dollar note on the table, shaking your head amusedly as you passed by. Thor’s grin widened further as he stuffed the money into his pocket. There were pancakes in the pan, courtesy of Wanda most probably. You put two each on separate plates, slathering Nutella on yours and drizzling syrup on Natasha’s. you made some coffee and poured out two mugs

When you came back to the table, Natasha was already seated wearing a hoodie, one of yours you realized with a skip of your heartbeat, and sweatpants. Setting the plate and mug of coffee in front of her, you took a seat and dug in.

It was only in the afternoon when you and Natasha were working on reports that her cheeks suddenly went pink and she stared at you with an expression of mortification. You frowned at her sudden distress and walked over to her “what’s wrong?” you asked, genuinely concerned. “last night, what I said, I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, I didn’t, I mean, I do feel that way, but if you don’t it’s completely understandable and I-” you cut her off by pressing your lips to hers, the feeling of her lips against yours was heavenly, they were soft and tasted like her vanilla and cherry chapstick.

“I love you too” you whispered slightly dazed from the fact that you’d just kissed Natasha and that she hadn’t pulled away “show me how much” she said and kissed you again.

Taglist: @phoenixofash @michelle-dsn @midgardianweasley

#natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha x reader #natasha fluff #natasha x y/n #black widow x reader #black widow fluff

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arizona2004 · 3 years

Text

The Fight

Azriel x reader

Warnings: mentions of sex(no actual smut)

Word count: 2931

Note: I used the pronouns “me/I” instead of “you” but it’s not an Original character still y/n

Looking at the lacey, black fabric hanging on the rack it was impossible not to remember the time I had worn a similar contraption -that showed even more skin- for my mate. It was impossible not to remember the way Azriel’s eyes were blown wide when he saw me or the way his hands felt on my skin, giving me his undivided attention. I was so lost in the memory of Azriel’s lips and teeth grazing my skin I didn’t even notice Mor come up behind me.

“The dress is beautiful, and all y/n, but you look like you want to fuck it. Calm down, girly.”

My cheeks immediately reddened at the comment, but I ignored that and said anyways, “Do you think Az will like it?”

“Oh, Azriel is who you’re thinking about. I should have assumed it wasn’t me given he’s your mate and all, but a girl can still dream,” she responded with a wink and a smirk, making me blush even redder, reminding me of another night before I even knew my mate. It was one drunken incident centuries ago that Mor and I hardly ever spoke about, but it was one of the best nights of my life, excluding every night spent with my mate, of course. “I’m sure he’ll love it, but he’d also love you if you were dressed in a trash bag,” Mor continued.

“I’m gonna have to disagree with you there. He’s barely touched me in the last week. I need something that’ll get his attention.”

“Then wear nothing,” she replied with a smirk.

“I’m not going naked to Rita’s tonight, Mor.”

“Oh, but he’d be certain to take you home immediately.”

I rolled my eyes and took the dress off the rack and to the counter to pay. “Are we all going out to eat beforehand or to Rhys and Feyre’s?” I asked.

“Probably out, but it doesn’t matter because Rhys is paying either way,” she responded with a grin.

Rolling my eyes at her, again I finished paying, and we headed for the door.

…………….

I haven’t seen Az all day, he had left bed before I woke, and yesterday I hadn’t seen him until he had finally turned in for the night. I’ve been more stressed than usual, even with work being slow. With Azriel and I barely talking or touching, I’ve been incredibly tense. I know Mor would only shut down the thought if I voiced it to her, but I can’t help but wonder if Az is getting bored of me or if he realized he doesn’t love me anymore. I’m probably just being paranoid.

I climb into the tub scented with vanilla -Azriel’s favorite- and began washing my hair.

…………….

As I was just finishing up washing and was about to get out and dry off I heard Azriel walk into the bedroom. He knocked at the bathroom door, “y/n?”

“Yeah, come in,” I answered.

His eyes met mine, he looked tired, and I immediately grew concerned, but before I could say anything, he spoke, “Are you gonna be ready in 45? That’s when we need to meet up with everyone,” he said, never straying his eyes from mine.

“Yeah,” I responded, and he left. He didn’t even look at me, not even a peak. He always peaked a glance when I was naked. Tears welled up in my eyes, and I covered my mouth to stifle my crying. I sat there for a few additional minutes pulling myself together and panicking over my mate.

When I finally pulled myself from the tub, I cleaned up my face, applying makeup to cover any signs I had been crying, and dried my hair, pinning half of it back. Hanging up my towel, I walked into the bedroom naked, Az quickly looked away when he realized, and it was like a knife to my heart. I continued on my path toward the closet to retrieve my dress. As Azriel finished lacing up his boots, he walked out the door and headed downstairs. I stared after him and decided that if he was gonna act like this, then I was gonna be worse.

After slipping into the tight lace dress that had an underlayer that only covering my privates and left the rest of my skin open wherever the lace didn’t cover it, I strapped on some black heels and painted my lips red. I knew Az was standing in the foyer, and I could feel his eyes on me as I descended the stairs, but I refused to look his way. He was angry, and I could feel it, “You’re not leaving the house dressed like that,” he said behind me as I walked toward the door, hips swaying. With my hand on the handle, I glanced back and said, “oh, yes, I am,” before opening the door and swinging it shut in his face. I quickly walked down the steps with a grin plastered across my face and joined everyone waiting for us in the street.

“I just knew you’d look incredible in that dress,” Mor commented, “but I still think you should have come naked.”

I smirked at her and was about to respond, but Azriel had appeared behind me and grabbed my elbow. “Go inside and change. I’ll wait,” he growled in my ear.

“No,” I said pulling my arm from him.

“No?”

“I like this dress, and I want to wear it out tonight,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest, pushing my breasts up, showing them even more in the low cut of the dress.

His eyes darkened, and I could feel the anger rolling off of him as he said, “Your ass is practically hanging out the back of it, and the lace barely covers anything.”

“It covers enough,” I said, head still raised high, as I turned from him and towards the others, “So where are we going to eat?” I asked with an innocent smile. Azriel was still staring at my back seething, and everyone else was looking between us, a little hesitant and concerned, but Mor just named a place and put her arm in mine, walking us away.

Everyone soon followed after, and I could feel Azriel’s stare against my back, but I ignored it as Mor and I laughed together. I was perfectly happy being silently angry until Mor said, “Are you and Az, okay?”

I had to will myself not to cry. I took a deep breath, I’m not going to be sad because my relationship might be falling apart, I’m just going to be angry and get my revenge. “Of course. Why wouldn’t we be okay?” I responded with a fake smile.

“Well, he’s definitely mad, and I’m starting to think this dress overdid it with trying to get his attention,” she whispered.

“You don’t think I should have worn the dress?” I asked.

“Oh, no, I think you should wear it. Just maybe not to intentionally piss him off. Or maybe in a larger size, because your ass really is about to be on full display,” she said with a glance at my rear.

A growl immediately erupted from Azriel, and he glared at Mor. She tensed slightly, and I quickly glared back at Azriel and let a warning growl of my own loose as I pulled her closer to me by her hip.

As we arrived at the restaurant, a waiter took us to our reserved table in the back, and I sat with Mor at my left and pulled Cassian into the chair on my right. I could feel Azriel’s anger spark at that as he took a seat across from me, and I leaned into Cassian to whisper about something Mor and I had been discussing. He laughed at my comment but quickly stopped and looked away from me. Looking up, I realized Azriel was glaring at him. “Stop it,” I whispered across the table at him.

“Stop what?” he asked curtly, turning his glare to me.

“Glaring and growling,” I said.

“I’m not,” he said, then turned his head away, ignoring me.

The rest of dinner was tense. Azriel continued glaring or growling at anyone that looked my way a moment too long. And I avoided his looks, continuing my conversation with Mor and Cassian, occasionally adding a hand to their thighs or shoulders just to piss Azriel off a little more. Cassian wasn’t too happy about it, probably fearing for his life, but Mor happily flirted back after she drank a little wine.

We all got up and headed for Rita’s after dinner. The walk was short, and I stayed next to Mor and Cassian the whole time, mostly to protect them from any threats Az might send their way if I wasn’t there. When we got into the club, Amren parted from the group -probably to go to the Summer court rather than spend the night with us- and Rhys went to the bar to order some drinks. The rest of us headed for our designated booth, and as Azriel and Feyre sat down, I pulled Cassian and Mor to the dance floor.

Cassian quickly slipped away from me, dancing with some female I’d never seen before, but Mor kept her hands on my hips and danced with me. I glanced to Azriel, finding him downing a shot while Feyre and Rhys looked on worriedly. Rhys whispered something to him, but nothing was gonna help the mood I put him in.

After a while, Mor and I went back to the table to drink. Mor went back to the dancing before I did, so I sparked a conversation with Rhys and Feyre, avoiding Azriel’s eyes. As I stood to start dancing again, I realized that I should have had fewer drinks. Dancing was gonna be difficult. When I arrived at the edge of the dance floor, I looked over my shoulder at Azriel. He was studiously ignoring me. Of course, he isn’t going to come dance with me, I thought to myself. So I started swaying my hips by myself, wishing his hands were on them. I kept on like that, dancing where I knew Az could see me. If he was looking. Eventually, a pair of hands did find their way to my hips, but the first thing I noticed was that they weren’t Azriel’s. Well, at least someone wants to dance with me, I thought, so I let him pull me closer.

After a minute, I turned my head toward the booth, but Azriel was no longer there. I was about to pull away from the male to look for Az when I felt his lips kiss my neck. Okay, that was too far, and I was about to say as much when I pulled away, but before I got the chance, he was ripped away. I spun around to see Azriel holding the male by his throat and growling something I couldn’t hear in his ear.

“Az, stop it,” I protested, but he didn’t even look my way.

Rhys showed up a moment later and was saying something to Azriel, but my head went fuzzy. My ears were ringing, and everything looked blurry. I tried stepping forward and reaching out for Azriel, “Az…” but instead, everything went black. Right before I hit the floor, I felt hands catch me. Azriel.

It was only a few moments later when I woke up sitting in the booth, and Feyre was placing a glass of water in front of me. I quickly drank half of it and set it down before resting my head on Azriel’s shoulder. But then he pulled away, and my anger from before rose back up again.

“I cannot believe you’re angry with me,” I growled at him.

“You can’t believe I’m angry. Of course, I am. That man kissed you and was dancing with you,” he growled back, eyes blazing.

“I didn’t ask him to kiss me, and he wouldn’t have been dancing with me if you had been.”

“Maybe he wouldn’t have been dancing with you if you weren’t dressed like that,” he snapped back.

“What the hell’s that supposed to mean? I’m only attractive when I show some skin?”

“Of course not,” he practically yelled back. “But if you weren’t dressed as though you’re just wanting every male to wonder what the hell’s under that lace, then they wouldn’t try to touch you.”

“They also wouldn’t try anything if they had any idea I have a mate. Why do you think I’m dressed like this, Az?” he furrowed his brow and opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, I said, “You’ve barely spoken to or touched me all week, and we haven’t had sex in almost two weeks. The only male I wanted attention from was you,” I said, standing up and walking toward the door.

Once I was outside, I started walking home. I could’ve just winnowed but, I was hoping Az would come after me. Please, please, please. Run after me. Just like in the storybooks. Please! I practically shouted down the bond, but he didn’t come, so I winnowed to the foyer of our house and cried until I couldn’t anymore.

Eventually, I picked myself up and went upstairs. I ripped the dress off, never wanting to see it again, before wrapping myself in a robe and walking into the bathroom. I washed all of the ruined makeup off my face and brushed the lingering taste of alcohol away. Not that it mattered, because minutes later, I was seated by the toilet puking everything up and crying again. Azriel still wasn’t back when I fell asleep on the bathroom floor. But in the morning, I woke up in bed.

A glass of water was sitting on the bedside table, but Azriel’s side of the bed was still mostly made. He hadn’t slept there. I sat up in bed and was drinking the water when Azriel walked in, “You’re up,” he seemed surprised. I didn’t say anything. My mouth was still dry, and my eyes puffy from crying. “I guess we need to talk,” he said, sitting down at the foot of the bed.

“Are you seeing someone else?” I blurted out before I could stop myself.

He looked at me incredulously, “No! Of course not. Why would you even think that?”

Relief washed through me, and I just shrugged my shoulders slightly, looking down at my lap. I could feel the tears welling up, but I didn’t want to cry, so I tried to push them back down to no avail.

Azriel pushed closer to me on the bed and lifted my chin, “Hey, look at me. Look at me,” When I finally lifted my head, he looked me in the eyes and said, “I love you. I love you so much, you have to know that,” he pulled me into his lap, and I cried lightly into his shoulder while he kept murmuring those words again and again.

I fell asleep again, and when I woke up, I was curled against Azriel’s left side, his right-wing wrapped around us as he lay on his back. I snuggled closer to him, and when he wrapped his arms tighter around me, I asked, “Why haven’t you been around? I wake up and, you’re gone. I go to bed and, you’re still not here,” I looked up at him, and he looked back, pulling me up and pressing my forehead to his.

“At first, I was just busy with work. Then it felt like there was some disconnect between us. I didn’t know what to do so, I just pulled away. I realize I should have come to you, but it just feels easier to stay in the shadows.”

“Azriel…”

“I know. It’s stupid, and I’m an idiot.”

I pulled back slightly, opening my eyes, “I was not going to say that. I do wish you would have come to me, it would have made things a lot easier, but the way you feel is not stupid,” He kissed me then. Just his lips pushing against mine. Not too gentle, but not rough either. We stayed like that for a little while longer, just holding each other tightly.

We finally got up when our stomachs began to grumble and went to the kitchen. It was after 3 pm I sat at the breakfast bar while Az made us a couple of sandwiches. Things were less tense but, we were both still walking on eggshells around one another. I know I’m not mad at him anymore and, I don’t think he’s upset but, things are still a little off.

We make generic small talk while we eat, but the silences in between aren’t as comfortable as they used to be. After we finish eating, I pick up our plates and bring them to the sink. Before I realize he’s behind me, Azriel puts his hands on my shoulders and starts massaging.

“You’re tense,” he says, “what’s wrong?”

“I don’t know. Things aren’t the same,” I frowned and leaned back into him, looking at him over my shoulder.

He smiled softly and said, “We got into the biggest fight of our relationship. Things aren’t going to be the same. But you still love me, don’t you?”

“Of course I do,” I said, turning around to look at him directly.

He just smiled again and kissed my lips lightly, “I still love you, too, y/n. I’ll love you always.”

“Always,” I repeated with a grin, kissing him harder.

part 2 (smut)

#azriel x reader #female reader #azriel #acotar imagine #a court of thorns and roses #morrigon

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samstree · 3 years

Note

for the cliche tropes, 27. Help me I’m being hit on at a bar please be my fake boyfriend for a second with geraskier, if you please <3

Thank you for the prompt! 🌼 Sorry it’s quite late but please enjoy this tiny piece of pining on this fine Friday.

(1.3k, geraskier, slow dancing, drunk jaskier, protective geralt, no warnings.)

“Oh, Geralt! Fancy seeing you here!” Jaskier exclaims, as if they didn’t come to the banquet together.

The bard reaches Geralt’s table and sweeps away his ale in one swift motion before chugging it all down. When he finally puts down the tankard, Geralt finds himself the recipient of the bard’s most charming and yet most performative smile.

Jaskier is nervous.

“Phew!” His hands flail dramatically. “Fine evening, isn’t it?”

Geralt hums, waiting for the catch.

“Let’s dance!”

Without getting a reply, Jaskier is already dragging Geralt up from his seat. With all the wine and ale in his system, Jaskier’s hold is not strong enough to manhandle a bulky witcher, but they end up at the edge of the dance floor anyway.

Jaskier’s warm palms rest flush against Geralt’s waist, and their faces are only a hand’s breadth away. Geralt can feel the heat on the bard’s flushed cheeks and hear the pounding of his heart in the din of the room. They sway to the gentle music.

It’s…close, too close. Geralt needs a distraction.

“What’s the catch, Jask?”

The bard scoffs, almost offended. “Do I require a reason to dance with you? Or am I not allowed to just enjoy quality time with my favorite witcher?”

Geralt simply lifts an eyebrow.

“All right. You are too smart for your own good.” Jaskier chews on his lips, again, nervously. “There is this one gentleman, who may have been too eager for my…company, despite my explaining of the situation.”

“Which is?”

“That I’m in love and thus unavailable?” Jaskier says as if it’s obvious. Geralt frowns with worry.

“Still?” the witcher asks quizzically. “Valdo left nearly a year ago, Jaskier. It isn’t healthy.”

That is the wrong thing to say because Jaskier flinches at the name. Hurt flashes across those cornflower blue eyes, and Jaskier looks too dejected, too similar to how Geralt found him at his worst, in pain and alone and roaring drunk. He never wants to see Jaskier like that again.

“Well, no matter,” Jaskier chuckles tightly. “It’s not like the guy took the hint and left me alone, so I had to improvise. Now, before you give me another lecture or something, you need to know that I had no choice but to—”

“What did you do?” Geralt lets the music and the crowd lead the two of them around the dance floor, careful not to bump into another couple.

The bard regains his balance, looking contrite.

“I may have implied that, um, the person I’m in love with is here tonight.” He pauses before continuing reluctantly. “Or I may have said plainly that he is…a certain witcher.”

“Jaskier…”

“I know. I know! But he was relentless and I couldn’t get away!” he pleads.

“Hmm.”

Geralt’s hands tighten on Jaskier’s shoulders protectively. The bard is too drunk to even keep up with the dance, let alone fight off some unwanted pursuer. In truth, he’s only relieved that he is here with Jaskier, even though the lie is hitting a bit too close to home.

Holding Jaskier like this, swaying with him gently, is once again reminding Geralt of what he isn’t allowed to dream. He no longer dares these days. Not when he’s the one pushing Jaskier away time and time again, not when he’s the one who let Jaskier slip through his fingers and end up with Valdo, not when he’s the one who inadvertently caused Jaskier’s broken heart.

“Oh fuck.” Jaskier hisses, his body tensing. “He’s coming towards us. Okay, act natural! Wait, what is natural if we were together? Oh…um… Just roll with me, will you?”

Before Geralt can reply, Jaskier’s mouth is on his. The kiss is as chaste as it can be—Jaskier is only pecking at his lips gently, never pushing in. Geralt only remembers to close his eyes after a moment, and forces himself to respond as such. To keep up the front, he tells himself, lest the guy is watching.

And he is. Deliberate footsteps are circling the dance floor, not far from them. Geralt concentrate on identifying the man’s heartbeat and his movement—

Jaskier sucks on his lower lip once, twice, before letting go. He buries his face in the crook of Geralt’s neck, his body still taut like a statue.

“Is he gone?”

Warm breaths ghost over the skin of Geralt’s neck and he struggles to open his eyes. The man is not gone. In fact, he’s observing them intently, just shy of stepping into the dance floor himself. Through the moving crowd, Geralt can make out his golden hair and slim shoulders, almost a spitting image of one Valdo Marx, only a little taller.

Geralt hates this man immediately.

Perhaps it’s those too piercing eyes, or the way his presence is making Jaskier nervous like this, or just the look of him. Geralt narrows his eyes dangerously.

“He is not,” Geralt says into Jaskier’s ear, mimicking a lover’s murmur, all the while not breaking eye contact. He’s heard so many times how his yellow eyes are monstrous, and Geralt is thankful for once. It takes some balls to not cower under a witcher’s glare, one that projects predator from afar. This one crumbles within seconds.

With a triumphant smirk, Geralt moves one hand up to cup the nape of Jaskier’s neck, the other one still pressed between his shoulder blades. He’s laying claim. Hopefully, the light can catch a glint of his fangs, but either way, the man is soon running off, tail between his legs.

“Now he’s gone,” Geralt’s voice comes out deeper and rougher. He clears his throat. “Should be out of the gate by this point.”

They are standing impossibly close. The anxious rise and fall of Jaskier’s chest slow to normal and they separate. Geralt misses the contact. He now has a harder time keeping Jaskier steady on his feet. Yes, that’s the sole reason to miss holding Jaskier.

“I—” Jaskier’s gaze is still fixed somewhere far away behind Geralt’s shoulder, oblivious of how reluctantly the witcher is retracting his hands. “Sorry I did that.”

“Hmm. It worked.”

The bard lets out a dry laugh. “Thank the fuck you are here. I wouldn’t have known what to do.”

“You can take care of yourself.”

Geralt only has one hand at Jaskier’s elbow, holding onto him with a featherlight touch. The music has come to an end and the quiet intimacy dissipates.

“Can I?” Jaskier says half-mockingly. “One look at that guy and I could barely breathe, Geralt, and he doesn’t even look that much like Val—him.”

Jaskier bites his lips in contrite, his eyes dimmed. Geralt dips his head to meet Jaskier’s gaze, the ocean blue so lost.

“Hey. I’ll be here if you need me,” he adds way too quickly, almost spluttering. “—to get rid of unwanted attention, that is.”

Jaskier doesn’t seem to notice the awkwardness. Instead, a soft smile stretches across his face. Wordlessly, the bard leans forward to place a small kiss on Geralt’s cheek.

Geralt has to hide the gasp, his eyes wide. He doesn’t know why he’s more affected this time. Is it because it’s real? A voice at the back of his head asks. The last time—even with Jaskier’s lips all over him—was only a show, but this one is full of Jaskier’s heart.

“You are sweet.” Jaskier wipes at the spot with a thumb. “What would I do without you, my friend?”

“Hmm.”

Friend. It’s one little word that Geralt has rejected time and time again, and just when he begins to want for more, he finds himself trapped in the very same word. The irony would be laughable if Geralt is not missing the warmth of Jaskier against him so much.

How the turntables.

Geralt lets Jaskier retreat into the crowd, and if he turns to smell the lingering scent of Jaskier on his shoulder, nobody needs to know.

#geraskier #geraskier fic #geralt x jaskier #slow dancing #pre-relationship #protective geralt #pining geralt #friendzoned geralt #post-breakup jaskier #sad jaskier #drunk jaskier #the ex is valdo #I know I’ve been using Valdo a lot lately #what can i say #he's a blank slate in canon

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la-fille-en-aiguilles · 3 years

Text

Dog Tags

Billy Russo x Female!Reader

Request by @nebulastarr : Hey! Whenever requests open up again, could you do a Billy Russo x Reader where the reader liked Billy but doesn’t want to tell him because she thinks he won’t feel the same way

A/N: I was going to wait and get down to writing this once I was finished with my series... But this one has simply hit a little too close to home. I couldn’t stop thinking about it when I saw it and I ended up putting a lot of personal stuff in it so I’m sorry if it feels chaotic at times. Thank you for requesting, love, I hope it lives up to your expectations. The Only Living Thing series will be back with its third part next week. The song: Isak Danielson - Power

All you heard was an excited scream, that raised above all of the New York’s past-6-pm commotion, as a slender tall body smashed into you, locking you in a bone-crushing hug. You laughed happily, albeit feeling a little bit uncomfortable in Karen’s strong hold. You knew it didn’t seem that way, but Karen packed a wicked punch in those elegant arms of hers. Those self-defense sessions with Frankie boy that she’s been gushing about over the phone must have been finally paying off.

“Once I am done hugging you, I am so kicking your ass,” she breathed out into your hair as she squeezed you harder, as if reading your thoughts. “You’ve been ghosting me for what, a month now?”

You sighed guiltily as Karen pushed you slightly away, keeping her hands on your shoulders. You watched her as she studied your face, a creeping smile stinging at the corners of her mouth.

Grabbing one of her elbows, you groaned dramatically, pulling her towards the busy road. With your hands locked, you finally admitted:

“I did suck at communicating these past couple of weeks. Work’s been…. hectic”, the lie tasted bitter on your tongue, but this was the best explanation you’ve been able to come up with so far. “Please don’t kill me”.

Trying to keep up with your power walk, Karen let a bubbling laughter leave her lips.

“You’re not the one who should be worried then,” she gave you one of those bright trademark smiles of hers. “Next time I’m going to interview Russo, I’ll…”

You stuttered at her tirade as you walked, and of course it didn’t go by unnoticed. Karen was the best journalist you have ever met during your prominent career. She just sensed that sort of thing.

“I’m getting this ‘I-meant-to-tell-you-Karen-but-I-didn’t-and-now-you’ll-need-to-fight-it-out-of-me’ vibe”, she gave you a scrutinising look. “Want to maybe share whatever it is you’ve been not telling me before I go full interrogation mode on your plump backside?”

You rolled your eyes as you led her to a terrace-ringed Upper East Side high-rise, waving to the doorman through the glass doors. Jackson, a thirty-five year old ex-military with three kids and a labrador, gave you a brilliant smile as he hurried to open them for you.

“Good evening, Mrs Y/L/N!” He bowed his head in a stiff, very army-like manner. “A package arrived this afternoon for you, should I bring it up?”

From the corner of your eye, you caught Karen looking around, confusion written all over her face. You had a lot to catch up on.

“Don’t worry about it, Jax, just give it to me,” you didn’t mean to urge him, but you couldn’t wait to change out of your corporate attire into some comfortable old pyjamas and crack open a bottle of whiskey - that’s right, some habits did die hard. And to think you were a bubbles-kind of girl a year ago when you met him.

You could feel Karen’s blue eyes drill a hole in the back of your head as you took a small, envelope-sized package from Jackson’s hands.

It wasn’t until you both stepped into the elevator that Karen cleared her throat.

“When you said you’d rather have a girls’ night in, I asked Frank to pick me up from Queens, not from…here,” she spoke, her eyes skimming expensive red wood and mirrors. “Did you finally sleep with Russo and moved in with him?”

Whatever it was that Karen expected you to say to that, it definitely didn’t include you spitting out a roaring laugh, as you nearly dropped the package on the floor.

“Quite the opposite, actually,” you informed her after you finally restored your breath. “I left Anvil. And, well, Russo. At the end of last month”.

—

A half-bottle of whiskey for you and a bottle of white wine for Karen later, both of you were sprawled out on the lambskins thrown over the hardwood floor in your living room. Jazz music was seeping out of the speakers by the TV, a couple of Diptyque candles emitting a soft yellow glow.

You stared at the ceiling of your new living quarters, your mind a blur. As you folded your hands on your stomach, you felt Karen twitch as she bent her elbow and leaned her blond head on the palm of her hand, facing you.

“So let me get this straight,” she paused, narrowing her eyes. “After becoming the Forbes’ hottest CSO, concluding what can easily be described as deals of the century - especially the one with Anthony Stark aka Iron Man and his magnificent goatee…”

Involuntary, you giggled at this. This talk brought out some very dear memories that you wouldn’t trade for the world - the way Billy’s dark eyes shimmered in the dim lights of the opera house as he gave you a look that said you did it, ever the perfect team… Or the way he threw his arms around your frame, his long fingers sliding down your back… You knew you looked good in that dress, but the moment Billy saw you wearing it… You felt like the only girl in the world, the way his jaw dropped a tad, his lips opening up in awe…

Oookay, Y/N, can’t go there, your mind screamed at you as you wiped that dreamy smile off your face. Sitting down, you took your whiskey glass, and washed those memories away with a gulp of amber liquid.

Meanwhile, Karen ranted on.

“…you just quit?!”

She jumped to her feet all of the sudden, brushing her blond hair away from her face as she watched you excitedly.

“Jesus Christ, did Billy make a move?! He made a move on you, didn’t he?”

The urge to facepalm was fierce, almost overpowering, but you managed to resist. Slamming your empty glass against the floor harder than you intended, you gave her a bored look.

“No, Karen, why… Why in the world would you think that?” You sounded just a little short of desperate, so you cleared your throat. “I was his second-in-command, that wouldn’t have been appropriate…”

When you were done studying the flame, dancing within the glass walls of one of the nearby candles, you raised your eyes to meet Karen’s. She wore quite possibly the most blatant look of ‘you are shitting me’ on her face.

“So you just quit?” she stared at you in disbelief, unblinking. “No explanations provided?”

“This wasn’t how it happened,” you said, hating the fact that you felt like you had to justify yourself. You brought your knees closer, hugging them tightly. “I…”

—

“…I’m here to see William Russo”.  

With a nonchalant gesture, you unbuttoned your Burberry coat, looking at a red-head secretary behind a desk that screamed power and status with every inch of its epic proportions.

Anvil was certainly new money. With all of those hedge funds injecting their cash into emerging companies, there was no shortage of these - entrepreneurial endeavours that didn’t last long.

You didn’t know that at the time, but you were going to make sure this one would.

“My name is Y/N Y/N/L,” you added, perching your sunglasses on top of your head. “He’s expecting me.”

The red-head gave you a polite smile before checking something on her Mac.

“Welcome, Miss Y/N/L,” she almost seemed shy, as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear before standing up. “Mr Russo is indeed waiting for you. If you would like to follow me, please”.

As the redhead led you through the training grounds, packed with fit men and women that looked like they walked straight outta Gym Shark ad, you did notice a couple of vagrant stares in your direction. You couldn’t blame them. You looked slightly out of place; more Vogue than the setting allowed for.

You quit your job as the COO of a global FinTech company just weeks ago, looking for a new challenge. It was an adventure of a lifetime, and while your ex-executive board had literally begged you to stay, once you’d decided something, no promise of a generous promotion could make you change your mind. While you absolutely loved your job, working for one of the most prominent online payment giants in the world, it felt like it was time for you to step down. Due to all the processes and wise investments you’d initiated, the company could make millions of profits without their CEO having so much as to lift a finger.

And you, well, you lived for the hustle. And that’s exactly what you were here for.

You still had your doubts about Anvil’s owner and acting CEO, though. William “Billy” Russo had already become a household name in the financial circles, albeit the company he was spearheading had little to do with the FinTech space. Some said he had the potential to succeed; others badmouthed him for being ruthless and balancing on the very edge of legal limits.

In short, the man had you intrigued. So the very moment he called and invited you to drop by Anvil to talk strategy, you knew you had to meet him.

See the beast for yourself, so to speak.

The first thing you noticed about William Russo as you walked into his office, spacious and entirely transparent, with its glass walls overlooking the training grounds, was experience, for the lack of a better word. It was etched into his every handsome feature, especially into his scruff strong-willed jaw. As he raised his gaze to meet yours upon the red-head’s announcement, his black eyes swallowing you whole, you realized no light reflected on their surface. There was a certain confidence to him as he raised from his chair, his white shirt straining some over his chest, long dark strands of hair falling onto his long eyelashes. This man meant business, as those black impenetrable eyes zeroed in on yours. He almost seemed too flawless - to spotless to be an ex-marine, stained with blood and murder.

All that Hallmark handsomeness was nothing but a cover.

Before William Russo had even got a chance to open his mouth, you were determined to find out what was lurking underneath.

“Mrs Y/L/N”, the hot-shot gave you a polite smile. “Thank you for coming”.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Russo”, you didn’t move an inch. He may have invited you for interview, but he wasn’t the only one with a long set of demands.

You briefly wondered if he knew that.

Before your thoughts could take you further, William Russo made his way to you, composed and calculated. He stopped by your side, albeit for a moment; rolling the sleeves of his shirt further up, he shot the red-head a charming smile (nothing like the one he gave you).

“Olivia, would you please bring a fresh pot of coffee to the conference room? Mrs Y/L/N and I have a lot to discuss”.

When he turned back to face you, you noted unconsciously that he was taller than you expected, the top of your head barely reaching his shoulders. The cool and composed look was back on his face as he motioned towards the doors.

“Would you like to follow me, Mrs…”

“Y/N”, you cut in with a slight raise of your chin. “I’d also prefer to call you William while I tear Anvil’s strategy down”.

His reaction didn’t disappoint. Some tension left his arms, his stung-up body relaxing just enough for a spark of mischief and curiosity flicker its way to his eyes’ surface.

A twinkle of a smile danced across his lips as he bit on the inside of his cheek, nodding ever so slightly in approval.

“It’s Billy”, he said, amusement echoing in his every word. "I don’t expect any leniency, Y/N”.

“Good”, you replied instantly, looking him straight into his eyes. “That’s not what I came here for”.

He nodded again.

And this time, there was liveliness in the quirk of his brow and a touch of insecurity in the corners of his mouth.

Now that was the man you could potentially work with.

—

Working with William Russo was anything but predictable. There were, however, certain patterns to his way of handling things. Whatever the trouble was, Billy was good at seeing the bigger picture - he was usually able to put things into perspective, but there were occasions when he refused to. You dare say that sometimes, you felt like he thought that money didn’t matter - like Anvil’s financial prosperity didn’t matter - as long as his team got not to risk their lives one extra time. You watched him turn down several lucrative deals that you’d busted your ass to put on his table, because it involved sending his men a little too far from home, in a place where he had no strings to pull whatsoever should anything go south. A part of you (the part that wasn’t frustrated as hell) admired him for that - it didn’t, however, stop you from disagreeing with him, time and again.

You may have never been to Iraq, and may have never known the horrors of sleeping with the bombs exploding a mere kilometer away, but you knew a game-changer when you saw it. There were risks involved, there was no arguing about that, but those were calculated, and those kind of deals could make Anvil jump straight to the top of the private military sector overnight.

William and you disagreed.

When William and you disagreed, no voice was raised, no blood was spilt, but Billy usually became distant, cold and just short of snappy when those conversations took place. 

He only crossed the line once.

  You were three months into your job as Anvil’s Chief Strategy Officer when Mayhew happened.

The clock on your desk showed midnight as you paced in your office, on the phone with Rex Mayhew, the U.S. Ambassador in Cairo. A cat-and-mouse game between the Egyptian Armed Forces and the nefarious arms dealer group had become common knowledge since a week or so; the U.S. special forces got involved in the conflict when it’d been discovered that the arms were being transported onto American soil. Rex, an old friend from your Yale days, had let you in on the fact that General Richard Ravelin, in charge of the operation, was looking to reinforce his rangs with private military before “neutralising the threat”. This was a one-in-a-lifetime opportunity, with a potential governmental recognition in play… and Billy wanted to hear nothing of it.

You were exhausted and barely hanging in there; Billy was categorical and stubborn.

You’ve dropped the phone on your table promising Rex you were going to give him an answer in two hours, tops. Taking a deep breath, you walked out of your office, your bare feet thudding on the parquet floors of the corridor. When you reached Billy’s hideout, you found the man leaning against his desk with a glass of whiskey in his unnerved hand.

“Billy…” you spoke firmly, barely stepping through the doorway. “Rex…”

“Can go fuck himself”.

Oh, okay. No sugarcoating this. Alright.

You saw his lips barely touch the amber liquid as he slammed the glass against the surface of his desk.

“I said no, Y/N,” he wasn’t facing you anymore, leaning on his desk with his hands digging into the wood, his back tense. “Please just go home. Have a good night sleep. We will talk about this tomorrow.”

You could have sworn you felt your head starting to fume. This was the third time Billy Russo was shutting you down. For the third time he was making you feel like an incompetent fool when you were trying to do your goddamn job.

Why in hell would he hire you if whatever vision you had for Anvil didn’t match with his own?!

“You could at least say this to my face, Billy,” you spoke a bit harshly before you could stop yourself. “You know, to my tired and disappointed face, with a mouth that you have been shutting up every time it offers you a deal of the century”.

This sounded so much better in your head.

“Why did you hire me?” you asked almost immediately, trying to soften the impact of the words that had already escaped. “If this isn’t the direction in which you want to take your company, maybe I should just…”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Y/N, just fucking leave already!” Billy snapped like a branch that’s been holding too much weight, the sound of it dry and final.

…maybe I should just rethink the entire plan.

There was no point in finishing that sentence now, was there?

“I was there long before you came along, so I’d think I know a shitstorm in the making when I see one!” Billy was looking at you alright, brushing his hair back, his eyes black and void.

You had wished It would have been new to you - looking in William Russo’s eyes and not seeing him there. But it wasn’t. He was back to his Hallmark version of a man, but instead of playing a hero, he was now putting on his villain guise.

“Let’s get something straight here,” he leaned back on his desk, crossing his arms on his chest, his black eyes narrowed. “While you were making your way to the top of a rich-ass cookie-cutter FinTech company, I was crawling in the dirt in Iraq under a downpour of the Trident D5LE missiles. While the closest thing you’ve come to havin’ your hands dirty was bribing an investor or two, I was fucking beheadin’ people under the direction of the CIA,” his words were cold, measured and rhythmic, like a round of bullets being fired on a range. “You know nothing of what’s it like to be in the middle of that kind of shit show, princess, so when I fucking say no, you listen. Is that clear?”

Bark. Sit. Roll over.

“Crystal. Sir.”, you finally broke the heavy silence hanging in the air, just barely resisting the urge to salute him. “I’ll see myself out.”

Biting the inside of your cheek like your life depended on it, once you turned your back on him, your first thought was don’t you dare cry on his account, bitch and then almost right away wait at least until you’re home.

You could have sworn you heard William call your name in a stranded voice, but you made sure to slam the door somewhat hard as you left his office so you could pretend you didn’t hear him.

If you were to face him now, with all that power and toughness he exuded… You would never admit it, even to yourself, but you’d just end up on the floor, huddled into a shivering little ball.

—

You were grateful that the next day after the shit went down with Mayhew fell on a Friday. When you stumbled into your apartment in Queens at almost one in the morning, you immediately shot an email to the HR department asking for a day off. Once that’d been done, you dialled Rex to decline his offer to introduce Anvil to general Ravelin, washed the makeup off your face and crawled into bed, hugging the second pillow close to your chest.

You didn’t cry, if that’s what you’re wondering.

As you rolled out of bed in the morning at around 8 am, you took a shower and grabbed a coffee from the kitchen before settling behind your home office desk with a heavy head. When you opened up the Keynote presentation with your strategy outlined for the H1, you couldn’t help but steal a glance at the iPhone you left on your couch last night.

You weren’t going to check if you had any missing calls.

There was nothing you had left to say to each other.

…with your chest hollow, you powered up the screen. There were no missed calls and no new messages.

It all looked like you had another strategy to build now. If Billy Russo thought that calling you a rich-ass princess that knew nothing of the world, all butterflies and rainbows, was going to make you resign, then man, was he in for a surprise.

You once heard one of his men compare you to a military convoy, when the guy thought you weren’t listening.

He had no idea.

You spent the morning refilling you coffee cup and rebuilding your H1 plan from scratch. After about eleven calls with the people you knew could get you a foot in the door of the offices of some government officials, billionaires and generals, after typing, deleting and typing again for 5 hours straight, by 2pm you had a solid game plan. You were pretty sure it would still need some tweaking from Castle, who essentially held the role of the Chief Operating Officer, dispatching men and women on missions and planning operations, and, well, from Billy Russo.

The Badass-ex-Sniper-turned-CEO himself.

You kept the email short and to-the-point, sending the document over to Russo with Castle on copy, saying you’d be in the office to debrief on Monday.   Refusing to check whether your email’d been opened, you slammed your MacBook shut.

The rest of the day rolled on uneventfully. You grabbed a coffee with the People Culture Officer from your previous company, who also happened to be one of your dearest friends; then you picked up your dry cleaners and did some shopping, cracking for a pair of new shoes in Saks Fifth Avenue.

Shoes were, indeed, your weakness.

By the time you got home, the tired sun was yawning, stretching its rays in one last effort before rolling into bed. Humming a Dua Lipa song under your breath, you were putting your new Jimmy Choo’s away when you suddenly heard your phone ring.

You didn’t even have to look at it to know who it was.   You checked the time, however, noticing is was two minutes after the official end of the working day.

“Hi, Y/N”, Billy spoke, clearing his throat. “Are you… Um… Any chance you’re available to meet tonight? I would really appreciate it if you could give me fifteen minutes of your time. Please.”

It sounded like the real Billy Russo was back around. Insecure. Rugged. Imperfect.

“Can you pick me up?” you asked softly, “I’ll text you my address. There’s a pizza place just around the corner, I could use a free slice”, you circled the cold coffee cup you left on the counter with your finger. “Free as in you’re paying, Russo”.

A laugh that came somewhere from within caressed your ear.

“Uh, yes, I’m actually… Yeah, thanks. I’m leaving the office now,” even if he tried to hide it, a shocked surprise still seeped through the cracks in between the vowels.

You chuckled silently at his reaction.

“Just one more thing,” you ventured, placing the cup in the sink and making your way to the balcony - your small piece of heaven with a wooden chair, pillows and lavender. As you stepped outside, you put oyour free hand on the railing, just to feel the coolness of it, the evening air and the gentle flower smell stroking your skin. “What kind of car should I be on the lookout for?”

Billy hesitated, biting his bottom lip, running his nervous fingers through the thick strands of dark hair. The setting sun was hitting him just from the right angle, making his sculpted cheeks look like they were made of marble.

“A Rolls Royce Wraith”, he squirmed, rubbing his forehead, probably realising how lame and pretentious it sounded. “I’ll call you once I’m downstairs”.

“Uh-huh”, you smirked, leaning on the railing with your forearms.

You saw Russo pinch the bridge of his nose, sinking his teeth into his bottom lip again.   Your small balcony provided quite a view, when you really thought about it.

“Don’t take too long”, you couldn’t help it, it really was stronger than you. “I’m starving”.

With a wide grin, you dropped the call and went back into your apartment.

You were planning to make him wait for ten extra minutes when he would finally “arrive”.

Just for the hell of it.

—

“That’s a lot of hot sauce for one pizza”, Billy commented, watching you spray your truffles and cheese generously with the piquant olive oil.

You gave him a mischievous smile.

“What can I say,” you shrugged, leaning back in your chair and licking the tip of your finger after you swept a drop of it from the top of the bottle. “I like them hot”.

That startled a laugh out of Billy as he eyed you with something in his irises looking a lot like awe.

Just when he was about to speak, a servant brought a glass of red wine for him and bottle of sparkling water for you.

You thanked the guy with a sweet smile, while Billy eyed him a bit coldly, obviously waiting for him to leave.

When the waiter had finally made himself scarce, Billy softly called your name.

You raised your eyes to meet him, struggling as hell to keep your stare vacant. (Which was hard to do with some foreign tightness in your throat).

“Before we dig in and I hope spend a nice evening as two friends, getting together on a Friday night”, he didn’t even blink? Was he blinking? You couldn’t tell, his black eyes swallowing you whole, again. “I want to apologise. I was completely out of line… It was unacceptable. You don’t need my validation, of course, but I still want you to know that you are doing a terrific job at Anvil, taking us to the heights I never even thought existed. It’s just… It’s hard for me sometimes to be a good CEO and someone who promised to take care of my men at the same time… Everything is happening so fast, I’m afraid to lose my footing.”

You reached out for his hand across the table before you could stop yourself. You didn’t take it, but your fingers brushed his ever so slightly before you realized what you were just about to do. Your eyes widened as you looked at him, searching for a reaction.   Billy remained perfectly still, not taking his eyes off you.

You grabbed a napkin next to his wrist, pretending this was what you had meant to do all along.   “We’ll get there, Billy”, you said, a small encouraging smile blooming on your lips. “We just need some tweaking”.

You weren’t sure if you were talking about strategy at this point anymore.

—

You had a great time at dinner.

(And a whole-hearted laugh as Billy finished your remainders of the truffle pizza, downing a litre of water to numb down the burning sensation in his throat afterwards).

You talked about your respective lives, your ex-colleagues, your hopes for the future… You dared think this who the real Billy Russo was.

And he was incredible.

After the two of you were done with dinner, you offered him to come upstairs to your place and go through the new strategy together. He didn’t hesitate, although you could swear you’d seen something ambiguous flash in the depths of his dark eyes before he nodded.

(You must have imagined it.)

The two of you ended up sprawled out on your soft faux fur carpet talking game plan, bouncing ideas off each other. You watched Billy frown, as he rubbed his mouth with his long fingers, smile in excitement and shake his head in awe when you voiced your ideas - you felt proud and appreciated, and you wouldn’t trade the sensation for anything in the world.

A couple of hours later the two of you had finally decided that it was enough brainstorming for one night, and you rose to your feet to go and make Billy a coffee before he got behind the wheel. As you pushed the start button on your coffee machine, you heard him speak over the noise.

“You know I’ve done four tours - three in Iraq and one in Afghanistan”, you popped your head up, only to see him play absentmindedly with something on his chest. “And every time I’m considering a mission for Anvil, I find myself back in there again… A part of a death squad.”

You carefully picked up his cup of coffee and made your way back to him. You didn’t say a word as you leaned lower to hand it over to him, encouraging him to go on.   Billy thanked you in a whisper before clearing his throat.

“Every time I have to send them somewhere, especially overseas, I force myself to stop and think… Is this really worth it? Is a fat check really worth putting the lives of my men and women in danger? And most importantly - you may think it’s stupid…” he avoided your gaze, staring into his coffee cup, a miserable smile on his lips. “I think, will it make a difference? If one of them dies on a mission, I have to at least know they made a difference… it’s selfish and it’s more about the peace of my own mind, but it is what it is, you know?”

When he looked up at you, his eyes were full, full to the brim. There was so much emotion in them, hatred, misery, hope, adoration, all whipped in a wild mix that was Billy Russo’s dark, velvet eyes.

“I carry these at all times,” the fingers of his free hand dropped to his chest, as he got a hold of something hanging around his neck. A necklace? “When in doubt, I just look at them - they help me remember where I’ve been and what I’ve done - and I just know if it’s worth it or not. The answer is usually no, by the way”.

He smiled again, the curve of his lips looking less haunted this time, as he sipped on his coffee.

Dog tags. Those were Russo’s dog tags.

“So they’re your reminder that, even being a badass CEO of a private military company”, you couldn’t help but feel some kind of zero gravity settling in your lower stomach as you saw him chuckle at your words. “…you still have a heart”.

“How poetic”, Billy teased you without missing a beat, putting the empty cup on the floor next to him. “But yeah. Sort of, I guess”.

As you fell asleep that night, you dreamed about explosions, piquant olive oil and holding Billy Russo’s dog tags in your hand.

—

The time flew by after that. In 8-month time (after some tweaking) Billy Russo and you became a team. It sometimes felt like nothing could stop you, as long as you were together.

It should not have come as a surprise that the two of you earned yourselves a catchy nickname - at first, it was spoken solely behind your backs, but soon enough it became some kind of a title, more powerful than that of the CEO or the CSO.

Anvil’s men and women (and especially Frank - the fact that he invented the nickname secretly tickled him pink) - were now calling you Bonnie and Clyde. The ultimate partners in crime, against all odds, doing the impossible.

The two of you also settled in an almost homely kind of routine. Ever since that Mayhew fiasco and the day that followed, Friday had become the non-spoken partners in crime day. What it meant in practice was exchanging Friday jokes on Anvil’s internal communications suite…

(Billy once attacked you with a “would you look at this, just found the actual footage of your interview @ Anvil”. Before you even got a chance to answer, he forwarded you a cheesy meme with two old women speaking to each other, one of them saying “We need someone who can do the job of two men”, and the other responding “oh, so it’s only a part-time job then”. When you shot him back a message asking whether he really considered himself an arthritic old woman, that seemed to have shut him up).

…grabbing a beer in a bar nearby…

(you sometimes invited your colleagues to join you, plus it was an unspoken rule that Frank and Karen were to be there as well)

…you making fun of Billy Russo’s eating habits…

(It was honestly a nuisance to have a lunch with him. The list of things he refused to eat went on and on: no asian food, no food chain restaurants (even high-rated), no soups, no cheesecakes… He sure was settling well in that peaceful life he earned after spending all those tours living off canned food).

…and just overall enjoying each other’s company.

By the time the ninth month of your being Anvil’s CSO had rolled in, you couldn’t imagine not seeing Billy Russo every day. Not noticing him rolling his eyes at a smart-ass comment you or Frank made, or his orbs lighting up every time you told him the deal with that or this decision maker had gone through. You simply could not understand how you managed to live day in and day out, and think you were genuinely happy, before you actually met Billy. Everything before him just faded away somehow, your memories lost their colour and spike in comparison to the life you were living now. You kicked ass at your job, your career thrived, but most importantly, you were feeling like this was exactly where you were meant to be, braving the obstacles by Billy Russo’s side, knowing he would catch you should you fall.

He would, wouldn’t he?

It was your usual Friday night outing, the seven of you - Billy, Frank, Karen, Curtis, James from legal, Ashley from mine clearance and yourself - occupying your usual table at Whimsy, the bar that must have made 90% or their revenus off of Anvil’s folk. It was just around the corner from the headquarters, after all.

The overall mood of the evening was rather nostalgic. It’d been four weeks since you’d lost a team member in a crossfire in Falluja, Iraq. After everything was said and done, his loss still hung heavy in the air, and it felt right to get one more drink in Jasper’s honour. The conversation flowed easily, even though the topics you’d spoken about were anything but.

“I remember how I felt when I lost Andy”, Ashley nursed her beer as she stared into the distance. “I just literally had the weight of the entire world on my shoulders, pinning me to the ground, I just couldn’t move on”, she finished her bottle in one go and motioned for the bartender to bring her another one. “Sometimes, I just ask myself, what would have I done if I’d known he was going to die the next day? Would I have stopped him from going? I think I would,” she thanked the bartender as he put the beer in front of her, her eyes a bit foggy. “Yeah, I definitely would have.”

Frank grasped Ashley’s shoulder and squeezed it hard in a comforting gesture; Karen gave her a tender look.

You didn’t know why your mind had gone there, but all of the sudden a memory of Billy sitting in his office chair, laughing his ass off at some offhand comment you’d made flashed before your eyes; it quickly got replaced by the recollection of his hand brushing against yours during the Zoom meeting you’ve had with general Warren Singer; then you remembered him putting his hand on the small of your back, staring daggers at some army brat wanting to join Anvil, eyeing you like a piece of meat (you learned later that day that the man’d been thrown out before having a chance to introduce himself); until finally, your brain stopped dead at the picture of Billy running his nervous fingers through his hair as he called you from his car, telling you he was only leaving the office.

What would you do if you knew he was going to die tomorrow?

Your heart sunk at the thought as you gulped hard, ducking your head and staring at your hands folded in your lap.

A soft touch enveloping your elbow had you facing the man of the hour, his black eyes shimmering with concern.

“Are you okay?” he half-whispered, half-mouthed, not letting go of your hand.

No.

Nothing is okay, Billy.

I’m so happy that I met you, but you’re scaring the hell out of me.

I never wanted any form of eternity until now, I never saw the point…

So stay. Please, stay forever, and feel something for me, too.

“Yes. I’m fine,” you whispered back, staring into his eyes, hypnotised and helpless. You watched him turn away from you as if in slow motion, the warmth of his hand leaving nothing behind but emptiness in your bones.

“Here is to always telling the things that matter to the people who matter”, Billy spoke firmly, raising his beer. ��Here’s to never missing a chance to open up to the people we love”.

Well, if this was his way of crossing the t's and putting the dots to the i’s regarding his feelings for you, he couldn’t have been clearer.  

As far as confessions of love went, this one was non-existent.

—

You tried, time and again, to convince yourself you had to go. You learned the hard way that your unrequited feelings were feeding on a sort of inadvertent parasitic relationship where every moment of your day depended on the level of Billy’s unintentional emotional indifference. Your days were spent questioning his every move - every look and every touch; until, the grown-ass woman that you were, you’d commanded yourself to stop second-guessing everything - stop feeling - and decided your best course of action would be… to work yourself into the ground.

If Billy ever noticed anything, he didn’t show it - your were still you, after all, working hard, laughing when he said something funny, calling him out on his bullshit when needed. He didn’t notice slight change in your eyes, when their icy surface cracked at every other compliment he threw in your direction (and there was no shortage of those). He didn’t realize the smile you gave him was different from those tightlipped signs of appreciation you gave to Anvil’s potential clients, he didn’t think twice about the reason for which you glowed around him, your every move softening, your every gesture emanating warmth.

Because Billy hadn’t really known you until you started to have feelings for him.

You knew this couldn’t go on forever. This entire situation was bound to result in some explosion of nuclear proportions, and then all hell would break loose. You needed to get yourself out of this situations, but you just… couldn’t. You couldn’t imagine your life without Billy Russo. You couldn’t leave him.

Even if being friends with him meant tearing yourself apart and suffering in silence.

  Long story short, you waited with fear in your bones for someone to walk into your life and to get you out. You’ve had no fight left in you to do it yourself.

Your salvation came in the form of a phone call on a Friday evening, when Billy was on a recruiting mission in California.

You were typing back a response to his cheeky message when the call cut in half-sentence.

Billy Russo: Please remind me to take you with me instead of Frank next time? He’s driving me insane trying to set me up with the ladies from the Organising Committee. Any ideas on how I can calm him the fuck down?

You: Sorry, Billy, but recruiting is out of my mission scope. As for the calm down part, try bondage maybe? :)

Billy Russo: I’m going to pretend you did not just suggest I engage in sexual practices with Frankie. Karen will have my balls.

Billy Russo: But perhaps you’re right. Taking you with me is probably not a good idea. Wouldn’t want my new recruits’ brains to turn into mush because of how beautiful you are.

You: The flattery will….

“Hello? Y/N speaking”, you brought your phone close to your ear, your cheeks still a lovely shade of pink. If you were going to feel miserable when Billy came back, acting like nothing happened, you were sure going to make the best of that fuzzy feeling in your chest right now.

“Miss Y/N/L”, a smooth deep voice greeted you, and you could have sworn you’d heard it many times before. “I hope I’m not interrupting?”

Frowning in an attempt to remember, you urged:

“No, not at all. How can I help you?” you stared into the screen of your Mac, wheels turning in your head as you silently catalogued all the men you were in discussions with regarding a deal. “I didn’t catch your name…”

“Oh, how rude of me”, the man chuckled but there was no mockery in his voice, more like self-depreciation. “Tony Stark, from Stark Industries”.

Your mind went blank. Did you hear his last words correctly?

“Uh… Mr. Stark”, you quickly got a hold of yourself - well, as quickly as you could. “I appreciate you reaching out to me directly. What can Anvil do for you?”

You did a pretty bang-up job trying to mask your amazement with polite cheerfulness, and Stark had caught on that.

Tony Stark just called your cellphone number. What in the world?…

“We don’t really do alien invasions”.

Ohyourgod, did you just say it out loud?!

His uproarious laughter took you by surprise, reverberating through your entire body. It took every ounce of your self-control not to giggle in response.

“That’s a good one, I love it”, Stark finally said, restoring his breath. “And the better question would be, Y/N - can I call you Y/N? - what you can do for me”.

Before your brain could take you into some naughty direction, freaking Iron Man cleared his throat.

“Okay, this came out wrong,” he admitted with a sense of self-irony. “I um… I’m looking for the Co-Chief Executive Officer for Stark Industries. Well, Virginia Potts is actually looking for a Co-CEO, I’m just her errand boy. And my missions apparently include recruiting…. Anyway,” it was a bit of a challenge to follow Anthony Stark’s train of thought, but you were also still shocked, so that could explain it. “…I think you are the perfect fit for the job”.

You just stared into the screen front of you, your breathing barely audible.

“Mrs Potts and I would love it if you could swing by the A-Tower, let’s say, on Thursday? You’ll be surprised, but I can also whip up a mean cup of coffee…”

Say something.

Fucking hell.

Say something!…

“Thursday sounds great,” you blurted out without thinking. “Let me just shuffle my schedule around… I could stop by after lunch?”   Your hands were slightly shaking as you clicked on your mouse, opening your schedule window.

“Whatever works for you, Y/N”, you could hear Stark smile. “Not to sound like a creep, but I’ve been following your career for quite a while now, and I think that the work you've done in such a short span of time for Anvil is outstanding, even though you still don’t offer protection from alien invasions”.

That made you chuckle, pushing you halfway out of your stupor.

“I’ll put that on the list of things for us to consider”, you promised.

"Tell Mr. Russo I sent my best,” Stark added, and you felt your heart drop to your stomach. “I actually might have some ideas for how we could collaborate. Let's discuss this on Thursday, too, shall we?”

After you said your goodbyes, you fell back in your chair, dropping your iPhone on the table.

You: The flattery will….

...get you nowhere.

You never finished that message, leaving Russo on Read.

—

Starting with that evening, things were moving fast - too fast for you to keep track.

After a three-hour long coffee and the tour of the A-Tower, Virginia Potts, the acting CEO of the Stark Industries, had offered you the job - just like that - and asked you to come back to her executive assistant should you wish to take the job, with your salary expectations and the information about your notice period. You thanked her for her time and promised to get back to her as soon as you made your decision.

Virginia Potts was a brilliant woman; but running a company like Stark Industries while being equipped with a vagina was certainly no walk in the park. Sexism was still very much present within the Boards of the Tech Businesses. You understood perfectly well why she wanted a woman in her corner - it would have been a massive slap in the Board’s face, but it was also about having someone to lean on, who just understood.

In any other circumstances you would have peed your pants in excitement. It was an opportunity to work for Stark Industries - no, scratch that - it was an opportunity to step in as a Stark Industries co-CEO. The idea of it still made you dizzy.

…but as you looked at Virginia’s email sent to your personal address thanking you for stopping by, your eyes were swimming with tears.

You weren’t ready to leave Billy.  You just couldn’t.  You couldn’t leave him.   There was no epic finale to your story. There was no big revelation, no closure, no moment of relief, no acceptance, nothing. Only a fat-ass what if.

And you didn’t know how to let go of a what if with Billy Russo.

And that was exactly why you had to do it.

You heard Billy come in the next Monday earlier than usual. He was positively humming Usher’s Yeah! quietly as he made his way past your office’s doors straight into his own.

You took a deep breath, closing your eyes. You’ve been psyching yourself up during the entire weekend, telling yourself it wasn’t a big deal, we wouldn’t even flinch when you were going to tell him.

You had to tell him.

As you stood up from your chair, straightening you skirt with the palms of your hands, you suddenly heard the footsteps coming back in your direction. You froze in place like a deer in headlights when Billy swung open the door to your office, a box of Pierre Hermé macarons in his hands.

Your goddamn favorite Pierre Hermé macarons.

“You’re here!” Billy’s warm smile illuminated the room. “So much for a surprise, huh?”

He shook the box carefully in the air. You stared at it, dumbfounded, every single thought leaving you.

You couldn’t breathe.

In the hazy morning light seeping through the windows of your office, Billy looked beautiful and dissolute, shirt open at the collar, longer strands of dark hair falling into his eyes.

He was going to be the death of you. It really wasn’t fair.

“Billy, I have to tell you something.”

Was it you who spoke those words? They seemed distant and cold, so uncharacteristically detached.

Blood roared in your ears.

“What’s wrong?”

Billy’s reaction was instant. In three decisive steps he closed the distance that separated you, leaving the macarons on your desk. He stood still just mere inches away, and just like during your very first meeting, you had a fleeting thought cross your mind: you really were tiny next to him, the top of your head barely reaching his shoulders.

You bit the inside of your bottom lip, trying to keep your composure. He stared at you unblinking. He wasn’t touching you, but it felt like his eyes were looking straight into your soul, undressing you, blowing that wall you built around yourself into dust. They were taking you down, piece by piece, determined to see what you’d been keeping from him.   Because, of course, he knew. He should have known something was going on. Hence the surprise this morning.

He had no idea what it was though.

“Maybe you should sit,” you said, making a physical effort to tear your eyes away from him, feigning sudden interest in the buttons of his shirt.

  That chest…

  …was going to be just fine. He didn’t feel the same way you did. He would just find someone else to fill your position. With brilliant women stalking him - in cooperative packs - that would not be a problem.

“You’re leaving, aren’t you”.

You squeezed your eyes shut as soon as his words reached your ears.  Fucking hell, you should have done that by phone. Or with other people around. You should have…

“You’re leaving”, you heard Billy repeat as his voice broke a little. He stepped away, burying his face in his hands as he dragged them down his jaw and neck, staring into the ceiling.

“Billy, listen, I…”

You were the one to close the space between the two of you this time, and before you could think too much into it… You threw your hands around his shoulders, burying your face in his neck.

The sensation struck you like a bolt of lightening when you felt his hands cross behind you back and pull you closer.

He smelled heavenly. Like a forest fire, a hint of smoke with oud and pine. You inhaled deep, deeper still, losing yourself in his comforting touch.

In his arms, just for a second there, you felt home.

“You… The company doesn’t need me anymore”, you nearly choked on words, screaming internally at yourself to keep the waterworks at bay. “It’s thriving, there’s not much else I can give you. My job here is done.”

I need to leave because your indifference is destroying me, and when I think I’m ready to let go, all it takes is one look from you, and I’m back to wanting you, to settling for anything you give me, like a goddamn fool.

“What the hell are you talking about, Y/N?!” Billy exclaimed, his hands grasping your shoulders as he distanced your bodies just enough for him to look into your eyes. “I nee- The company needs you! I was… You know, I was planning to make you the CEO of Anvil in a couple months time,” his smile, as earnest as it was, did not reach his eyes. “Yeah”, noticing your eyes go wide in shock, he let his hands slide down your sides. “You’re so much better at it than I ever was. I was going to join Frank and just manage operations… under you”.

You just stared at him, dumbfounded, not feeling a stray tear escape your eye and rolling down your cheekbone.

“These are the tears of happiness, I hope”, Billy added, and you barely registered his touch as his thumb wiped the salty drop off. “Well, I guess Anvil will have to settle for the little old me. With my best girl going places."

You gave him a strained smile before you carefully wiped your cheeks, just taking a moment to look at him. To try and read him.

Billy Russo was a goddamn ceiling. Plain white, cool and unattainable. In all of your time working for him, you have never seen this Hallmark version of him before. Which one was it?  

Oh wait, you guessed you knew. The happy-for-you friend.

“So where are you going?” Billy asked, his eyes empty. “Who snatched you away from m- Anvil?”

The stutter was so subtle you barely noticed. You were finally tired of reading into shit.

“Stark Industries. I’ll be their co-CEO”.

—

Before you left Anvil you promised yourself you’d get the deal with Stark Industries up and running. There was no one in the world you trusted more in terms of security than Billy.

(The fact that you couldn’t keep your heart safe from him didn’t really count, did it?)

As a matter of fact, Billy and you were going to shake hands with Anthony Stark on the deal on your last night of being Anvil’s CSO. It was happening in The Metropolitan Opera and required both Billy and yourself to dress for the occasion.   He promised to come pick you up at 6pm sharp; you were putting on the Jimmy Choo’s you’d bought a coulee months ago in Saks Fifth Avenue when you heard a low knock on your door.

Straightening up, you threw a quick glance at your reflection in the mirror. You decided to go with a long Marchesa black velvet gown with a rather deep V-line, a pair of long diamond earrings and an elegant half-up half-down hairdo, soft curls in the front framing your face.

“I’m coming”, you yelled out, picking up your leather jacket (because why the hell not) and your purse from the kitchen counter. Sharply opening the entrance door, you realized moments later that you didn’t even take time to prepare yourself for seeing William Russo in a tux.

If you weren’t already half in love with him, the sight before your eyes would have sealed the deal.

God-fucking-damn, like he needed any help being unforgettable.

With a black jacket thrown on a crisp white shirt with a couple of buttons undone and the tie hanging loosely around his neck, Billy was here to make a statement, to leave a mark. His hair was coiffed back in his usual style; honest to God, he looked like he just stepped out of the Man of the Year special GQ edition…

Just when your thoughts were about to switch to the way you must have looked next to him, ridiculous in your simplicity, like you refused to make an effort…

…Your eyes met his.

And the way he looked at you was so intense, his big black eyes with galaxies in them probing into yours, his strong jaw slack. There was beauty and tragedy reflecting in those orbs, but only just for a second - just for a second, he looked at you the way he probably looked at the sky he could never reach. Just for a second, he looked at you the way that made your heart beat twice as fast, like the world could crumble all around him and he still would not have blinked.

Would not have taken his eyes off you.

“Wow, Y/N, you look… You look beautiful”, he finally said. “I just can't spot a part of you that beats the other.”

Something in your chest exploded silently.

“Thank you, Billy,” you smiled at him - a genuine and happy smile, because you felt on top of the world with his adoring eyes on you. “You’re quite a catch yourself”.

Before you could scold yourself for your choice of words, you stepped out of your apartment and locked the door behind you.

“Shall we?” Billy offered his hand to you, without hesitation it seemed.

“We shall”, you replied instantly, slowly sliding your hand into the crook of his elbow.

And, just like always, you were going to enjoy it while it lasted.

—

The crowd in the opera was so posh, the looks all the women had been throwing you first made you question your choice of outfit. It’s after overhearing their conversations that you realized, the reason they stared daggers at you was the man that kept by your side no matter where you went.

Virginia and Anthony welcomed you at the buffet with sun-stained sincere smiles. After a short small talk, Anthony Stark informed you both that he had signed the contract earlier today, thus officially giving Anvil an exclusive security deal with Stark Industries. As of now, Anvil was the only company allowed on the Stark Industries’ premises in the quality of guards and protection officers.

The look Billy and you exchanged spoke volumes; while your eyes were sparkling with excitement though, screaming “we did it!!”, his bottomless black eyes were whispering “thanks to you”.

The four of you then shook hands and went through rounds of gratitude and appreciation; when a pleasant woman’s voice announced the imminent start of Onegin, inviting the guests to go to their seats. Virginia immediately took you hand, leading you straight into the Opera house, saying something about leaving men to finish their drinks. You threw Billy a laughing look over your shoulder, mouthing “come join me” before disappearing out of his sight.

“So on the scale of one to ten, how pissed at me are you, Mr. Russo?”

Billy turned his head sharply to a side, leaning on the high table, and spotted Anthony Stark himself, nursing a glass of whiskey. “For taking your queen away from you? Excuse the chess metaphor, but that woman”, Stark took a sip of his whiskey and savoured it before swallowing it down. “Is a goddamn queen.”

Billy chuckled, straightening up, digging his hands into the pockets of his trousers.

“That, she is,” he whispered, his eyes still piercing the spot in the crowd where your smiling face was mere minutes ago.

—

When the opera ended, both Billy and you couldn’t be more relieved - because both of you hated it with passion.

Exchanging meaningful glances in the dark during the singers’ performances now and then, you had to bite your tongue in order to not just ask Billy if you could maybe sneak out. Russo proved to be more stoic than you, carefully covering your hand with his in what was meant to be a comforting gesture.

You didn’t look at him once after that, afraid to say or do something that would make him remove his hand.

How much more pathetic could you get?

When the performance was over, Billy led you out of the opera house without saying a word, his hand hugging carefully the small of your back.

His silence was unnerving. You didn’t know what to make of it. Should you have shaken his hand off back in the darkness of the concert hall? Or should you have caressed it with your thumb?

Your mind was spinning in circles by the time he opened the door for you and you slid into the front passenger seat of his Rolls goddamn Royce.

When he got in the car and gripped his steering wheel, you reached out and placed your hand on his whitening knuckles.

“Billy,” you spoke softly, barely audibly. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes,” he whispered back, turning his head to a side to face you. His black eyes stared into yours, looking hypnotised and helpless. “Everything is fine.”

It didn’t take a degree in Psychology to see that he was lying. You could feel his gaze on you as you turned away from him, taking your hand away at the same time.

Billy started the car. The revving engine filled the silence, loaded with the unsaid words.

—

“…he then walked me to my door, we exchanged our goodbyes. And that was it,” you finished lightly, looking back at Karen.

Her eyes were red as she stared at you, unblinking.

“Unbelievable…” she whispered. “So you never told him?…” her lips barely moved.

You sighed.

“Have you ever felt like you’re potentially in love with someone? Like, you don’t actually love him, you know you don’t, but one day you realise that you could? You realise just how easy it would be for you to fall in love with him? With all the teasing and the banter, the play hitting each other, calling each other names, just…. You start to pick up on little things - like if you listen closely, in every shut up, there’s a barely-there ring of I could love you.”  You shifted on the floor a little, and Karen watched your memories transport you somewhere else again. While physically your were here, in your apartment - with your fluttering eye-lashes, uneven breathing and loaded expression - mentally, you were somewhere else.

“….You probably don’t notice it at first, but your body is drawn to him. Every accidental or absentminded touch…” you continued quietly. “And there’s that twinkle in his eyes when he looks at you and it messes you up, because - what’s going on with you? What the hell does it even mean? Are you imagining shit? You’re trying to make sense.”  

Karen didn’t interrupt, still staring at you as if she were seeing you for the first time

“I mean, he didn’t ask for any of it, you know?” you finally raised your foggy stare at Karen, as if searching for confirmation. “Maybe he just did something dumb one day, smiled at you or said something that seemed important and then all of the sudden you’re full on Looney Tunes, seeing stuff that isn’t there?”

Your words barely audible, you swallowed hard, before continuing.  “…I just kept looking at him with what ifs, and could haves, seeing all that goddamn potential. It’s so fucking twisted. Over-analyzing everything? Waiting for a sign?…” you chuckled bitterly all of the sudden. “…I was so fucking scared of reading too much into it, of crossing that line, because… It would be so easy!… Falling in love with him would have been so easy.”

Oh sweetheart, Karen’s eyes glowed with comfort as she reached out for your hand and squeezed it softly. But you already are in love with him.   

A loaded silence ripped through the air in your living room. The sound of an engine revving somewhere close squeezed its way through the slit of an opened window, and it seemed to break the trance.

Both Karen and you shuddered, and as you took in the realisation Karen’s eyes just bestowed upon you, you pinched the bridge of your nose.

“It’s pretty late,” Karen spoke up, reading you like an open book. She knew it was her cue to leave the stage. You needed time to process. “Frank is in a bar nearby with Curtis, let me just give him a call, okay, sweetheart?” she gave your hand one last reassuring squeeze. “You know where to find me when you need me”.

“Yes”, you responded, blinking tiredly. “Thank you so much for coming, Karen. I didn’t mean to unload on you like that…”

“Shut the hell up,” the blonde advised, raising her eyebrows. “But honestly, Y/N, please call me once you… come to terms with things, okay?”

You nodded.

When Karen left, leaving the sweet and pleasant smell of her perfume behind, you closed the door behind her and turned around, leaning on the cold wood and metal with your eyes closed.

It’s been a month. This was supposed to pass by now. Billy was supposed to stop inviting himself into your dreams. You were supposed to heal.

You may have just realized you were in love with the man instead.

Letting out half a moan, half a groan, you peeled yourself from the door slowly, and brushed your hair back, wanting nothing more than to fall face-first into bed.

After you at least cleaned up a bit and put out the Dyptique candles, that is.

As your eyes scanned your living room in an attempt to asses the size of the job at hand, you stopped mid-way, zeroing in on the box Jax gave you earlier in the evening. It rested silently on the kitchen table.

Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, you made your way to the kitchen area. Grabbing the package, you turned it around, looking for any indication of the sender.

The package wasn’t even stamped.

Curiosity getting the best of you, you took a moment to grab a knife from one of the drawers, and carefully swished it between the two cardboard sheets.

Flipping over the envelop, you heard something fall out of it before you could actually see it. A small sheet of paper floated in the air before falling on the surface, partially covering whatever fell out of the package.

Your heart squeezed the second your brain identified the object, attached to a worn silver chain.

With trembling fingers, you slid two metal pieces from under the paper, covering your mouth.

Finding their home in the palm of your hand, Billy’s dog tags shimmered in the dim candlelight.

Squeezing them in between your fingers, you grabbed the paper with your free hand, your eyes staring at one single sentence scribbled on its surface.

“You took my heart with you”.

#billy russo x you #billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo angst #billy russo fanfic #billy russo story #the punisher imagine #billy russo imagine #the punisher story #billy russo request

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otptings · 3 years

Text

Puzzle Piece

♡Idol: Wong Yukhei

♡Requested: Yessss Hi, I ult Lucas and love your writing, could you write a story with praising kink? A little bit of fluff too, just very cute and sexy stuff! He’s treats y/n as a goddess! Thank you and keep going with your amazing stories!

♡Word Count: 3.1k+

♡Genre: Angst, Smut mixed with Fluff

♡Warning: gossip, insecurities, mentions of weight gain, semi public sex, marking, slight breeding kink, cream pie, fingering, overstimulation, multiple orgasms (2)

♡Synopsis: Stylists noonas aren't always correct, especially when it comes to Lucas' relationship.

♡A/n : this is the fourth way that I've written this one shot, sorry that it is so late I just couldn't figure out how I wanted to do it and kept messing around with various ideas. Those other ideas might make an appearance on my page later on. Thank you for requesting, I hope you enjoyed it and if you did please like, reblog, or donate to my Ko-Fi in my bio, thank you so much for reading

Dating an idol is always an adventure, and after two years you’d think that you’d be used to everything that comes along with it. Having your picture taken while out and about, dates being interrupted by random schedules, fans recognizing one or both of you despite your masks and precautions, even being stalked by crazy saesangs. But there are still some things that you don’t think you’ll ever get used to. Fans asking for a picture of you and Lucas together, the random fan edits that will get set to your dms about your relationship, or even some of the endless praise that fans give you.

Another thing you’ll never get used to is the random VIP tickets and backstage passes gifted to you courtesy of Lucas. Bypassing the normal concert security checkpoints and being led directly to your special front row seat where WayV’s security watches over you diligently. It always gives you an adrenaline rush being able to properly see Lucas in his element in person, not just over a monitor in a cozy backstage room to keep you safe. Along with Lucas being a gigantic flirt, constantly winking at you or making sure to look in your direction while singing specifically saucy lyrics. Backstage is a whole nother story.

Being allowed backstage at certain award shows always leaves you in awe. Seeing the workers rushing around and doing all of the little things that make the concert possible in the first place, seeing all of the idols along with the boys warming up and goofing around for their vlogs. It’s a sight that made you grateful that you were ever able to go to concerts. This was only made better because Lucas always made sure that you had a place backstage during award shows while he was preparing for his performances. Winking at you while he’s getting his makeup and hair done, flirting with you while putting on his mic pack and in-ears, pulling you into a quick kiss before he’s hoarded backstage, and you’re led either to your observation or the crowd. It’s one of the things you can never get used to, even now while walking towards your observation room, Taeyong waving at you while he walks past getting ready to watch the performance himself.

“I don’t know what Lucas sees in her.” Your steps faltered as you passed by the dressing room, hearing the voices of the stylist noonas. “She’s not even that pretty and is always draping herself all over Lucas.”

“It’s so embarrassing. She’s so annoying.” You unconsciously walked closer to the door, trying to hear more of the conversation, feeling slight embarrassment run through you.

“She’s only using him for his money and fame. Like what girlfriend always asks for free VIP tickets?”

“A golddigger.”

“Exactly. I just don't understand how sweet Lucas falls for it.” Peeking around the corner you saw the two stylists giggling from where they sat on the couch.

“I mean, I’m so much prettier than her. And I’m skinnier than her, Lucas should really be dating me.”

“Plus Lucas deserves someone good for him, good for his image. She’s only bringing it down.”

“Are you okay?” You jumped feeling someone grab your shoulder, accidentally hitting the door causing the two stylists to stand up abruptly. Turning around you saw that it was only WayV’s managers, surely coming to check on you since you’ve never made it to the room. When you glanced back the stylist noonas at least had the nerve to act embarrassed while cleaning up their supplies. Nodding your head you allowed him to lead you to the observation room, checking on you once more before leaving to go backstage.

You tried to watch the performance, focusing on Lucas as he rapped and danced but their words kept flowing through your head.

Were you always clinging on to him? Sure you held his hand a lot but that’s because he was actually the clingy one. What if he was only doing it because he thought that you wanted it? Always hugging you, and kissing you only because he felt obligated to do it? Were you just using him for money and fame? Sure having fans recognize the two of you and compliment your relationship was a fun side effect but that’s not the only reason you were in a relationship. All of the concert tickets were gifts, you never purposely asked for them. You also never declined them. You may not have been as skinny as female idols but that doesn’t mean that you're fat. Right? Lucas is the one always taking you out on dates or buying you dinner and constant snacks, what if you were gaining weight. What if you were getting fat?

Shaking your head you tried to forget all of the negative thoughts and focus on the concert, Lucas didn’t try so hard convincing your manager all those months ago to allow you to come to concerts just for you to not even pay attention. But they refused to leave, the negative thoughts swirling around your mind so aggressively that you hadn’t realized the performance was over until Lucas gently knocked on the door, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Babyyy.” Lucas’ face popped up in the opening, smiling happily at you despite the sweat dripping down his face. Weakly smiling at him you stood up reading to open your arms for him before the words of you being clingy echoed in your mind. “Did you like our performance?”

Nodding your head you gave him two thumbs up. If Lucas realized your awkwardness he didn’t let in on it, only opening the door fully and holding his hand out to you. “Are you hungry? I can find something for you to eat since we still have a couple more hours here.” Hastily shaking your head, you tried to make your smile bigger, hoping that it would distract Lucas from your strange behavior considering you never declined food.

“I’m fine Lucas, anyway don’t you need to get out of your performance clothes?” Lucas nodded his head before tossing his arm over your shoulder, leading you back towards the dressing room to put on the suit that he arrived in. Or so you thought.

Instead of taking you back to the dressing room the rest of WayV was occupying he led you into one of the single bathrooms, quickly pushing you inside and locking the door behind the both of you.

“Lucas? We don’t have time for a quickie. You need to change your clothes and meet up with the boys.” Lucas turned back around toward you, trying to resist the urge to place a kiss onto your pouty lips and get to the root of the problem.

“What’s wrong?” You opened your mouth to deny it but Lucas quickly cut you off, “Don’t tell me that it’s nothing because I know you better than that. You’re being really quiet, and not greeting me with a hug and kiss like you normally are.” Sighing you rubbed your hands up and down your arms, knowing that it was no use lying to Lucas.

“I feel like you could do better than me. Not someone who always takes your tickets and clings onto you. You'd be better off with another idol.” Staring at your feet you waited for the inevitable rejection that was to come, Lucas would realize all of the stylist noonas were correct and would leave you. Maybe he’d get with someone in Twice, they’re all gorgeous and skinny. Lucas’ hands cupped your cheeks, forcing you to look at him while fighting the urge to let out a laugh at your obscene statement.

“Do better? Why would I want to do better than the person who’s perfectly made for me?” The typical heat rising to your cheeks and urge to smile didn’t happen as usual, so focused on the negative words of the stylists. “What made you think like this? Actually, who made you think like this? The tickets to concerts are all gifts and I don’t even have to pay for them, I actually cling onto you more, and I like your affection anyway. It makes me feel special, and no one else is better for me than who. So once more, who could be better than my gorgeous baby in front of me?”

“The stylists.” You muttered, not wanting to ruin the sweet moment of Lucas always knowing the right things to say.

“Which stylists? They had no right to say any of that about you especially when it’s false.”

“Two of your stylists, the ones with the red and blonde hair.” Lucas nodded understandingly, a plan underway to make sure that they knew better than to speak about you like that.

“”Can I show you how much I love you?”

“Don’t you have to go back to the crowd soon?” Lucas only shrugged.

“I need to make sure you’re good first.” Timidly nodding your head a smile spread across Lucas’ face as he spun the two of you around and pressed you against the door. Lucas’ right hand cupped the back of your neck, keeping you in place while his lips pressed against your. His left hand slid underneath your dress, fingers toying with the lace that covered your thin panties, not wasting any time to get you aroused. You could feel the smirk on his lips when you nipped your bottom lip and sucked on it drawing out a loud moan from you. Lucas pulled away and you rolled your eyes, already knowing that teasing was going to follow.

“Can’t wait for everyone to hear all the pretty noises you make for me.”His lips reconnected with yours, this time easily parting allowing him access. Slipping his tongue into your mouth you moaned again at the taste of him, the sweet candy that he always eats before performances still coating his tongue. You’ve never been more grateful for the easy access that a dress gives you - besides when Lucas bent you over in one of the unoccupied dressing rooms during Resonance filming, a very awkward conversation ensued when Taeil accidentally walked past - when Lucas pulled your panties to the side and slid two fingers past your folds and leant down to your neck.

A fun fact that not many people don’t know is that Lucas is a great multi-tasker, and it shows in the way that his fingers skillfully worked over your clit as he sucked a bruise under your ear, much too high to be covered with the low neck of your dress. All you could do was run your fingers through his hair, biting back the whimper that wanted to come out of your throat. His fingers slipped past your folders, finally pushing in two fingers causing you to throw your head back against the door. Lucas could only lean back and admire you, the growing whimper that you were hiding finally bubbling past your lips, hickeys lining your neck showing off that you were only his.

“Do you really think I’d want anyone else? No one else is as sensitive as you, dripping all over my fingers.” Lucas’ voice paired with his fingers brushing over your g spot caused another loud moan to slip from your lips, if it wasn’t for the intense pleasure that Lucas was giving you, you might’ve had the nerve to be embarrassed over how wet you were. “You’re so perfect baby, just like this.”

“Please Xuxi.” You couldn’t help the desperation that bled into your voice, Lucas always knowing your body better than you did, knowing all of the little things that made you wet, and knowing the perfect way to use that knowledge to have you coming undone underneath of him. Even now as you looked at him, his stereotypical smirk on his face as he watched you beg him, a multiple of ‘please’ and ‘Xuxi’ leaving your mouth as his fingers continued to work on your g spot bringing your orgasm dangerously close.

“You can cum baby. But we’re still not done.” That’s all that you needed to hear before your orgasm hit you, a loud cry on your lips as his fingers continued to move, helping you ride out your orgasm until you were overstimulated and working towards another one.

“Xuxi.” Lucas couldn’t deny that he wanted to give you another orgasm on his fingers, especially as your thighs started to shake and your hands pulled his hair causing him to let out a groan, but as he felt his cock twitch he knew that he really just wanted to be inside of you. Plus, both of you did need to be out in the audience to hear the award results or else that would be just another scandal that he would have to deal with.

“What do you want, baby? Use your words, I’ll give you anything that you want.”

“Need you, please Xuxi, need you to fuck me.” Lucas cooed at you, loving just how needy you were.

“You know I can never say no to my baby girl.” You felt heat rush to your cheeks as his patronizing tone, but it soon left as he pulled his fingers from your cunt, placing them in his mouth and sucking your cum off of them. Letting out a loud exaggerated moan that caused you to weakly smack his arm.

“You’re annoying.” Lucas only smiled happily before pulling his pants, sighing from relief as his cock was finally free from the tight confine of his leather pants.

“You love it.” Gripping the back of your thighs Lucas lifted you up, causing you to squeal before wrapping your legs tightly around him. Leaning in and placing multiple pecks on your lip, a giggle leaving you as your arms slid around his neck.

“Maybe I do.” Lucas leaned back so that he could see you properly, your swollen lips parted slightly as you watched him, curious of his next move.

“You know that I love you. Right? It doesn’t matter what anyone else says about our relationship, you're perfect for me.” All of the attention from Lucas made you shy, a shocking feat after dating for two years, opting to place your head in the crook of his neck as you nodded. Lucas grabbed the base of his cock with one his free hands, lining it up with your entrance and bottoming out with one thrust. Your arms tightened around his neck and you couldn’t help the breathy moan that you let out at the feeling of his thick cock stretching your walls. Lucas was no better, squeezing your thighs tightly as he let out a low groan, the feeling of being properly inside of you with your warm walls tightening around him.

“Fuck, you’re always so tight.” Lucas slowly started to thrust inside you, a little awkward at first due to the angle but soon he had set a quick pace that had you pulling his hair harshly as his cock massaged your walls.

“You think anyone else could take me like this?” You let out a loud whine at his words, feeling the tile digging into your back from how hard he pressed you against it, his balls slapping against your ass with every brutal thrust. “No one else could take my cock as perfectly as you, fuck, no one else could even make me as hard as you.” Another loud moan as he changed the angle of his thrust, reaching deeper spots that were previously untouched by anyone else in your past, only proving his point of being made for him as his cock perfectly massaged over your a spot causing your eyes to roll back. “You’re made for my cock, and so pretty while taking it at all.” Lucas leaned back slightly, never stopping his brutal thrusts as one of his hands cupped your chin, sliding his thumb over your bottom lip, which you happily accepted and sucked on, swirling your tongue around causing Lucas to let out another loud groan.

“My pretty girl, I wouldn’t trade you for anything in the world.” Lucas’ sweet words greatly contrasted his brutal pace that had you steadily clenching around his cock, rapidly bringing you to your second orgasm at a pace that you couldn’t even warn him before it was washing you, you release coating his thighs as you let out a muffled moan around his thumb.

“Gorgeous.” Lucas took his thumb from your mouth, increasing his pace as you cried out from the overstimulation. “So close baby.” Lucas barely got his words out before he was twitching inside of you, loud groan leaving his mouth as his warm cum spurted into your tired cunt, leaking out as he continued to fuck it deeper into you, riding out both of your orgasms.

His hands slid from your thighs up to your waist, wrapping his arms around you tightly while nuzzling your neck. Both of you enjoying the comfortable silence, a moment of calm before you will be forced back out to deal with the chaos that comes with an award show. Lucas gently set you down on your shaky legs, trying to hide his laugh as you gripped the wall for support.

“This is your fucking fault. Now I’m going to walk around with cum in my panties.” Lucas only shrugged while pulling wiping your cum off of his cock, tossing away the napkin before pulling his pants up that were surprisingly not noticeably soiled.

“Nuh uh. I had to make sure my gorgeous girlfriend knew that I wanted no one else but her. Now you know there’s no one else that I would risk getting pregnant except for you.” Scoffing you tried to hit Lucas, only for him to catch your hand and pull you closer to him, his typical love sick look fading into something more serious.

“You are the only one that I want, you’re my other half, my missing puzzle piece. I don’t care what anyone else says, you are the only person for me. Okay?” Nodding your head you muttered a quiet okay, Lucas placed a quick kiss on your neck before turning you around. “And look just how pretty you are all marked up.” All embarrassment that was hidden while y’all where having sex showcased itself in that moment, your ears and cheeks heating up as you looked at yourself. Hickeys lined your neck, weirdly resembling an L in a way that you had no hopes of trying to cover it with anything more than a gigantic hood over your head. There was no way you could walk out of the bathroom like this.

“Now all the stylists know you’re mine.”

288 notes · View notes

let-them-read-fics · 3 years

Text

Conflicted Connections

Requested By @rc11: “Reader is drunk and calls Rosé to pick her up since she’s worried. And on the way home, the reader confesses but since she knows Rosé is out of her league she gets all sad. All fluff throughout the way, and the next day she avoids Rosé since she recalls herself confessing and is to embarrassed to face her. Gets a lil bit angst but then they somehow make up at the end.”

Pairing: Rosé x Fem!Reader

Word Count: ~ 6,505

Warnings / Misc. – Mentions Of Alcohol & Partying, Angst, Fluff

Disclaimer: This writing is a work of fiction, and no disrespect is meant for those mentioned herein.

A/N: Thank you for the request! I had fun writing this one, and I really hope you enjoy it. I stuck with the gist, but I added quite a bit :) AND WHO ELSE IS HYPED FOR THE SHOW??? 🥳 I can’t wait to see our girls own that stage 😌

PS ~~ The song used is called "Baby, I Love You" by Tiffany Alvord, and it was specially requested.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

With yet another steaming cup of tea in hand, Rosé makes her way back to her room, settling onto the soft cushions of the bed. Her notebook lays open in front of her, lyrics and annotations beautifully etched into the paper.

She pulls her guitar back into her lap now, allowing her fingers to glide along the strings as she strums out whatever comes to mind. Nothing makes her feel as relaxed as this; she's free to sing whatever she feels -- to play whatever feels right. If only for a little while, she can connect back to her roots and remember how she felt as a little girl; when her heart and mind were unburdened by fear of judgement.

Life isn't always easy, but she takes comfort in the fact that her love of music will always remain childlike, in the sense that there's always something new to discover or tell the world. It goes without saying that being a songwriter is much easier when you're inspired, and Rosé can attest to that. A certain someone has become her muse over the course of the past few months, and her mind is constantly filled with ideas for new material.

As another line pops into her head, she takes the page between her fingers to flip to a clean sheet. A few seconds later, thinking she found one, she begins writing. Soon, though, she discovers that this wasn't an empty page: in the upper right hand corner, a small heart is drawn, encompassing the words "Hi Rosie" and a small smiley face. Your initials are printed next to the doodle, and the sight brings a soft smile to her face. You must've sneakily drawn that when she wasn't looking one day.

Her fingers run along the markings, tracing over the lines as your face flashes in her mind for the millionth time today. The universe must've been listening, because no more than 5 minutes later, her phone starts ringing. She reaches backwards towards the bedside table, and her fingers soon make contact with the device.

"Hey, I was just thinking about you--" She starts, before being interrupted.

"BABY YOU LIGHT UP MY WORLD LIKE NOBODY ELSE--" Your voice booms through the phone as you sing loudly, nearly making Rosé go deaf in the process. She blinks a few times to refocus her thoughts before chuckling lightly.

"Y/N?"

"Rosie I'm at this really fun party, you should come hang out!" Your words come out slightly slurred, but excited nonetheless. It's a bit hard for her to hear you now over the music blasting in the background.

"Ah, I don't know…" She trails off, voice unsure. She'd much rather spend the evening writing about you than at some random party.

"Pleaaseee?" You drag out, making sure to whine for even more emphasis. "I miss you."

Rosé's heart skips a beat at that last part, now thudding obnoxiously loud in her chest. She misses you too, probably more than a 'friend' should, but she can't help it -- you're simply too amazing.

She takes a breath, knowing that she'll likely regret her next decision -- after all, hiding her feelings becomes harder every time she's around you. Regardless, she can't find it in herself to say no to you. "Alright, fine. Where are you again?"

You let out a loud cheer upon hearing her cave in, and she just knows you look like a dork, likely having that stupid little smirk on your lips that she loves so much.

After getting the address from you, she goes into her closet to find a good outfit. For anyone else, she might've just shown up in whatever was comfortable; but knowing that you're there is enough motivation for her to put a bit more effort into it.

Her signature style shines through: she dons a black crop top and jeans, paired with a long, hickory colored trench coat. She finishes the look off with her white sneakers, giving the outfit that final umph that it needed.

With one last look in the mirror, she adjusts her clothes and hair again before heading out.

-----

The moment that Rosé steps foot inside the house, her eyes widen. She's been to plenty of parties before, but never one as chaotic as this. A large crowd is gathered in the living room, making the area that was likely once spacious now appear cramped and tiny. Some people move with the rhythm, while others dance wildly to the beat of their own drum. The music was audible from outside, but inside is a whole nother story: it's nearly deafening now.

In front of her, just past the living room, two guys are fist fighting. To her left, a long hallway is filled with couples making out, likely on their way to the bedrooms. She grimaces before pushing her way past everyone and walking towards the kitchen.

The bright strobe lights from the living room still manage to reach the area, but things are definitely a little calmer here. That's not to say that it's quiet, though: people are gathered around the counters, downing shots and cheering each other on at the same time. Some stumble around, nearly falling over as their friends laugh hysterically and help keep them vertical.

In the adjacent room, two teams of partygoers are busy playing beer pong. It seems to be boys vs girls, and Rose smirks when she discovers the latter are in the lead.

She scans the rooms one more time, but you're still nowhere to be found. A pang of worry settles in her chest, but it only makes her more determined to find you.

And, 10 minutes later, she does. You're outside in the backyard, sitting near the fire pit with a bottle of wine in your hand. The flames are dying down now, long ago forgotten about -- the stars shining in the midnight sky had captivated you, stealing your attention away from keeping the fire fed.

Before she begins her journey over to you, she takes a moment to appreciate how beautiful you look. The remaining embers flicker lazily, creating a deep haze that casts onto your body. The shadows contrast with the light, making your features pop in all the right ways. The sound of someone shouting again brings her out of her daze, and Rose makes her way to you.

At first, you don't notice her. Your eyes are wide, filled with wonder as you gaze up at the sky in awe. Space has always baffled you, and Rose thinks you look adorable when you get like this.

"Y/N," she says gently, standing beside your chair. After pulling your eyes away from the sky, you meet her gaze. A light blush rises to your cheeks at the way she's looking at you.

"Hi Rosie," you slur. The words come out cutely, but she can tell that you're much drunker than you had been when you called earlier.

"How much have you had?"

You scrunch your face up in thought as the last two functioning brain cells in your head go to work. She can practically see the wheels turning, and she can't help but laugh at the look of effort on your face.

"...a lot." You ultimately conclude, taking far too long to come up with such a simple answer. "Alex gave me a couple of his special mixes earlier, I had some shots, and now--" you declare, holding the wine bottle up triumphantly, "--this!"

As soon as she heard his name leave your lips, she frowned. Alex is one of your coworkers and friends, and he's totally in love with you. You're oblivious to it, but Rose isn't and she can't stand him. On top of the fact that he's a guy, he has the audacity to like you? Well, she can't exactly blame him for those things, but that doesn't mean that she has to like him. She's civil around him for your sake, but that's all.

"Do you want some?" You ask, always willing to offer her whatever you have. Sharing is caring, and you definitely care about a certain Australian beauty.

She looks down at you before shaking her head. "No, I'm good." You swish the liquid around, peering down into the bottle as it glides from side to side. "Me too," you say, setting it down beside your chair. "Let's go dance!" You suggest excitedly, using your strength to hoist your body out of the seat. Sorely miscalculating your moves, your foot doesn't quite connect with the ground how you intended; you stumble, falling right into Rosie's waiting arms.

She was watching you carefully, having a feeling that this would happen.

"Nope, I'm taking you home. No dancing for you." You whine and pout, but Rose doesn't budge. Eventually you give up, and allow her to hold you close as she helps you walk out of the house. You rest your head on her shoulder, and she has to fight the butterflies that take flight.

As the two of you near the door, Rose spots Alex in the living room. She shoots him a cocky grin, as if to say 'checkmate' before she leads you out the door.

-----

The ride home was getting off to a rather interesting start. It took Rosie a while to wrangle you into the car and buckle you in, but she eventually managed to do it. Now, though, a new problem is arising: you're being flirty, and she doesn't know what to do with herself.

"You're so pretty," you compliment, leaning over the center console to whisper the phrase in her ear. She gulps and attempts to calm her heart down, but she's having trouble. "Shush," she commands, blushing as she lets out a little giggle. She tries to remind herself that you're just drunk -- that there's no real meaning behind your words -- but it feels good to pretend.

After a moment, you return to your seat, and she lets out a sigh of relief.

Barely 2 minutes later, you place a hand on her knee, saying gently, "You always take such good care of me. Thank you, Rose." She sneaks a glance at you, and her heart nearly melts at the smile you're sending her way. Your eyes are shining with sincerity, and she'd surely get lost in them if she weren't busy driving.

The rest of the ride is filled with more flirting and compliments from you, all of which send her into a gay panic, but she wouldn't have wanted it any other way.

----

Now, laying in your bed as Rosé rounds up some pajamas for you, the effects of the alcohol really begin setting in. You're still in the playful, teasing phase, but you know you'll have a major hangover tomorrow. Whatever Alex put in those drinks is catching up with you and running its course throughout your body.

"Rosie, do you like anyone?" You call out, toying with your fingers like a toddler. She emerges from the bathroom, washcloth in hand, just as you ask the very words she's been fearing.

She goes to respond, but you interrupt her with a drunken giggle. "Because I do. Her name rhymes with nosey." You chuckle at yourself, but she's too busy trying not to freak out to return the gesture. When you don't question her further, she relaxes her shoulders. How many more times could she get away with avoiding her feelings?

She pushes the scary thought away, instead opting to bring over your clothes and give you a minute to change. Thankfully you're coherent enough to do that on your own -- the thought of you flirting with her while half naked and self-assured sends her wild, and she knows she'd slip up and confess.

Once you're dressed, she comes back over to the bed and sits down in front of you. She brings the rag up to your face and slides it across your cheeks and neck, knowing just what you need. This isn't the first time she's done this for you, and she can't deny the rush she feels when you look up at her with those big eyes, filled with gratitude.

You sigh at the coolness, relishing in the way that it soothes your hot skin. A soft thank you slips past your lips as your eyelids flutter shut, and Rosé almost lets herself imagine that you're hers. That she just brought her girlfriend back home and now she's taking care of her. But before she can get too lost in that fantasy, she pulls away, slipping the rag into your hand so that you can use it on yourself now.

"Well, I think my work here is done." She declares, patting your leg lovingly. She moves to stand, and the action prompts you to speak up.

"Wait," you start, grabbing her wrist before she can get away. You meant to tug gently, but you must've misjudged your strength; in an instant, she's close to you again, just a breath away. Her face is right in front of yours, and you can feel her warm breath against your lips.

Her eyes are wide now, and a subtle tremble runs through her. She's never been this close to you, and although she's terrified, she doesn't want to move away. She wants to give in -- to lean forward the tiniest bit and capture your lips -- but she can't. Her breathing becomes labored as she notices your gaze move from her eyes to her lips. Do you like her back? Surely not, you're just drunk...right?

Her pink lips look so kissable right now, the gloss on them shining in the low lamplight. She's close enough that you can smell her fruity shampoo and feel every jagged breath she draws in.

"Y/N--"

That's all it takes to set you into motion. You bring a hand up to her cheek, cupping it sweetly as you press your lips to hers. She sighs at the contact, melting into your embrace, and allows herself to let her walls down. Her lips move against yours slowly, unsure -- this is new for both of you, and you're testing the waters. One of her hands comes up to rest against the back of your neck, and she pulls you impossibly closer.

After she subconsciously bites your lip - the action drawing a groan from you - she snaps back to reality and pulls away. Her lips are red and swollen, and you have to stop yourself from leaning back in. She looks like she wants to do the same, but she centers herself before she can.

"I, uh, I'm gonna go. Goodnight, Y/N." She says breathlessly, swallowing as she runs a hand through her hair. She doesn't give herself anymore time to change her mind, and soon she's rushing out, failing to even give you so much as a second glance.

Shocked, you sit back and let your mind try and piece together what the hell just happened. The kiss worked well in sobering you up, at least for the time being, but you wish it hadn't. Now, you're forced to sit alone with your feelings again, lips still tingling with the memory of hers against them.

----

The Next Morning

*ring ring*

The blare of your ringtone sounds especially loud now, making you wince in pain. Your head is pounding, and that definitely isn't helping. Quickly, you roll over and pick it up, keeping your eyes closed as you press the button and hold it to your ear. "Hello?" You ask groggily, voice still laced with sleep.

"Hey, Y/N. The girls and I are going out later; do you wanna come with?" Jennie's sweet voice asks. You rub your forehead, now opening your eyes and staring at the ceiling as you ponder your options. With a glance at the clock, you see that you've already slept a good portion of the day away.

"I'd love to, but I'm pretty hungover right now Jen." You chuckle despite yourself, grinning when she laughs back.

"Rosie told us you might be dealing with that." Jennie laughs again, but you go quiet. Did she tell them everything that happened, or did she try and forget about it? After all, she basically ran away -- surely she regrets it. You scold yourself for even thinking that someone as out of your league as Rosé could like you back.

"Jisoo whipped up her special 'hangover-reverser' drink for you, as she calls it." She adds, hoping that'll win you over. Lost in your thoughts, you forget to answer her.

Jennie takes your silence the wrong way, saying, "You don't have to come, but we'd love to hang out." She sounds sad at the thought of you staying home, and a feeling of guilt creeps into your mind. Work has kept you from hanging out with all of them recently, and they miss you. You miss them too, and quickly decide that a hangover (and the awkward situation you'll be subjected to when face to face with Rosé) aren't enough of a deal breaker to decline their offer.

"I'll be over in a few. Tell Jisoo to make a couple more for the road… I'll need all the help I can get."

Jennie laughs again, and you pep up at the sweet sound. She celebrates, and you can hear the girls clapping in the background, shouting praise at her for convincing you to come. The two of you say your goodbyes, and you begin getting ready.

-----

"Jisoo, you're a lifesaver." You confess, flopping back onto the couch. The unnie responds with a smug, "I know," from her place in front of the mirror.

You lick the remaining liquid from your lips, and Rose shifts in her seat across the room. She can't get the feeling of your kiss out of her mind, and seeing you do that only makes things worse.

"Here's the second one," Lisa says, smirking as she pats your shoulder and hands you the cup. You smile back at her and smack her butt as a wordless thank you.

"Alright, so where exactly are we going, girls?" You ask as you tuck your feet underneath your body.

"I was thinking we could shop around Hongdae. They changed some stuff since we were there last, and it looks awesome." Jennie informs.

"Sounds good to me." Jisoo replies from the adjacent room, applying the finishing touches to her makeup.

Lisa agrees as well, and so does Rosie. At the sound of her soft voice, you make eye contact with her for the first time today. Ever since you arrived earlier, you've avoided her. She's done much the same, refraining from saying much to you at all. The girls haven't seemed to pick up on the tension yet, but they're observant; surely it won't take them long.

As you replay the fateful events in your mind again, you allow your head to lull back and rest against the cushion of the couch. Last night, Rosé’s eyes were speaking all of the words she could never tell you out loud, sparkling with repressed desire. It wasn't hard to tell that she was nervous, but she kissed you like she had been waiting to for an eternity. So, clearly, your confusion at the whole situation is understandable. Why did she run away?

"Ready?" Jisoo asks, kicking your foot to get your attention.

"As I'll ever be." You state as you stick a hand out to her. She understands immediately, swiftly helping you up. A little groan leaves you, your head spinning from standing up so quickly, so she doesn't move until you get adjusted.

"Thanks," you smile, giving her a sweet kiss on the cheek. Having such good friends always comes in handy, but there's something special to the little moments like these. She hums in response, and the two of you lead the way out to the car.

Rosé watches the whole encounter as she falls in line behind you, wishing she were in Jisoo's place. Last night was a wake up call for her, unexpected in literally every way, and she panicked. Looking back now, she wishes she would've at least explained her behavior to you. The kiss awakened something within her, releasing all of the feelings she's held in for so long. She didn't rush out because she didn't enjoy the kiss; if she had any idea that that's the impression it left on you, she would've ran back in and kissed you a million times over.

Lisa notices Rosie's furrowed brow and downcast eyes, and instantly knows something's up.

Now in the car, she leans in close to ask, "Everything okay?"

"Mhm." Rosie replies, doing her best to sound like her normal self.

The years have made Lisa an expert at reading the slightly older girl, but she doesn't want to push her. If she wants to talk about it, she will.

"Okay…" Lisa trails off, coincidentally making fleeting eye contact with you through the rearview mirror. On any other day, you would've fought Lisa over the seat next to Rosé; but today, of course, is unlike any other. You're in uncharted territory now, and you have no idea when -- or if -- you'll return to normal. For now, you make do with the passenger's seat, keeping yourself busy by looking out the window. Jennie's driving is smooth, and you appreciate that in your altered state. A low pulsing still vibrates through your head every now and then, but it's become much more bearable. Jisoo truly knows what she's doing with that concoction.

----

Hongdae, Seoul -- A Few Hours Later

"Jennie," Lisa huffs out, struggling to carry everything she’s been handed. "How much stuff do you need?!" The maknae does her best to keep the bags from touching the ground, but that task is proving difficult.

"We're almost there!" Jennie says, dismissing the younger girls complaints.

A few minutes later, you're seated at the new restaurant Jennie's spent the night talking about. Seeing the girls so happy today has taken your mind off of your own problems somewhat, but sometimes the issues are unavoidable… like right now.

Though she tries to be discreet about it -- even going so far as to hide behind her menu -- you can feel Rosé's eyes on you. The waiter seated you at a booth, and of course she happened to sit right in front of you. Having her attention has always been something you enjoy, but you're so embarrassed about what happened that you can't help but shy away from it now. If drunkenly confessing your feelings for her wasn't bad enough, you also kissed her. What could be next?

Rosie's dying on the inside a little more with every minute that passes. The past few hours were filled with plenty of fun and stupidity for the lot of you, stopping in just about every store you came across and joking all the while. But the entire time, you and Rosé kept your distance. Occasionally you'd crack a joke to make her laugh or the two of you would share a look, but the air around you was always thick with the emotions you couldn't give voice to. It also doesn't help that part of Rosé is afraid you didn't even really mean to kiss her. If she blames it on your drunkenness, she doesn't have to process her feelings; she can just go back to suffering in silence. When she looks at you, though, she knows there's no denying what you both feel for each other.

"Can I get you started with some drinks?" The waiter approaches again, pen and pad ready to go.

"Do you have sikhye?" You inquire, raising your head to look at him.

"We do."

"Great," you smile, getting an idea. "I'll take one of those and a glass of water, please." He jots down your request before recording the other orders and setting off to get the drinks prepared.

In order to preserve the plan, you don't dare look in Rosé's eyes.

A couple minutes later, he returns with a big tray of drinks; it's a wonder he didn't accidently drop any on the way. Jennie and Jisoo ordered multiple for the table so you could sample them, and you smile at the gesture. They all look tasty, but one in particular catches your attention.

When he hands it to you, you wordlessly slide it over to Rosé. You know she loves it, and you did order it for her, after all. She lets out a little gasp of excitement, and you choose this moment to really look at her. Her eyes are shining again, and you laugh -- if anything is capable of cheering her up, it's something that she can eat or drink.

She beams at you while extending her hand, gently resting it against yours on the table. It's warm and comforting, and you can't help but want to hold it forever. Her fingertips brush against the soft skin of your wrist, and you almost melt at the tenderness of the motion.

Thankfully the other girls aren't paying attention, or else you'd be thoroughly embarrassed. They continue on with their conversation, leaving you and Rosé to get lost in your own world for the next while.

More time passes, in which you place your food orders and the waiter later brings it out to you.

"Enjoy, ladies." He declares before bowing and returning to the host stand.

"It looks so yummy," Rose moans, snatching up her chopsticks before digging in. The other girls agree as well, and soon all of you are eating like there's no tomorrow. The flavors go perfectly together, and you pat yourself on the back for choosing the dish you did.

"Do you wanna try some?" You ask after noticing Rose eyeing your plate. You quirk an eyebrow at her as you wait for her answer, which comes in the form of a sheepish nod.

"That's my girl," you declare with a smile on your face, happy to bring back some of your playful banter. Rosie's heart speeds up at the title, but she tries not to show it too much. Although it's a bit unmannerly, you reach a bite of your food across the table to her and grin when she takes it. Her cheeks puff out in that signature chipmunk pose, and your smile widens.

"Yah, that's delicious." She sighs, closing her eyes to allow her palate to focus on the flavors.

You shake your head at how much of a dork she is for food, but giggle despite yourself. She really is the cutest.

-----

"Good evening, everyone, this is the manager speaking. Our lounge area will open in 10 minutes, and karaoke will begin shortly after!"

Lisa looks at Jennie incredulously, her mouth hanging open. "They have karaoke, too?? How cool is that!"

Jennie smirks, knowing how good she is at choosing places to take you guys. This joint is definitely somewhere that you'll frequent whenever you're around. "I know right?" She asks, satisfied with herself.

In Rosie's eyes, the karaoke announcement was fate working its magic. She's spent the day mulling over everything that's transpired, deciding earlier that all she needed was one more sign. Now that she had that last little push, all she has left to do is gather up all the courage she possesses.

As the 5 of you finish up your meals and wait for it to kick off, she racks her brain for the perfect song to sing. She's going to confess.

---

Fully stuffed and satisfied with the amazing dinner you just had, you all follow the waiter towards the lounge area. Located in the back of the restaurant, it's complete with 1 main, corner stage, and 2 smaller ones off to the side. Plush couches and chairs stretch out in front of the stages, allowing the audience to kick back and enjoy the performances.

A small bar is tucked away in the far corner of the room, stocked with a vast array of different liquors and mixes. Strips of light line the shelves behind the bartender, giving the space its own unique style, and you take some time to admire it all. A few small disco balls hang from the ceiling, placed strategically throughout the room to allow for the most amount of ambience possible. All of the different colors of the rainbow take their turn cycling through the projector, flashing and shining around the room in their random patterns. It's a very welcoming place to be.

You're the first guests in there, so you're free to choose whatever stage you want. "Which one should we go to?" Jisoo asks, doing a little half spin as she looks around the room.

"Really, unnie? You have to ask?" Lisa rolls her eyes and scoffs; she thought her best friend knew her better than that. Obviously Lisa wants to go to the big stage. How else would she show off all of her moves while she sings?

"You're so dramatic." Jisoo grumbles, sending the maknae an annoyed look of her own as she's dragged over to the performance area. You, Jennie, and Rosé trail after them, shaking your heads at their behavior.

----

"Come on, we're going first." You bite back a laugh as you watch Lisa tug Jennie up from her spot on the sofa, where she had just sat down and gotten comfortable. Jennie tries to protest, even pointing at the drink she just got from the bar to convince Lisa to let her stay, but she isn't having it. They walk over to the kiosk built into the wall, and take their time in choosing a song to sing.

Their performance is a wild ride, to say the least. Lisa forgets the words at one point, opting to compensate by freestyling a rap and dancing around wildly while everyone hypes her up. She could've just looked at the lyrics on the stage screen, you realize, but that wouldn't have been even half as fun. Jennie breaks into the box of props sitting just off stage, pulling out a multicolored, frilly scarf and wrapping it around her singing partner. To finish off her own look, she rummages around until she finds a comically large top hat and pair of heart shaped glasses.

"Golden buzzer!" You shout out, pressing an imaginary button on the table. The girls celebrate, and your combined laughter fills the room.

Next up is Jisoo, who decides to put her charm on full display and serenade all of you. She starts off on stage, letting her deep voice lull you into a state of entrancement before she approaches the couch. She greets each of you individually, giving you separate attention just like a rock star would, and all of you go wild for her. She tries to keep up the edgy, heartthrob persona, but it fades a bit when she cracks a smile, her eyes turning into those adorable crescents that you all love so much.

As her song comes to an end, you excuse yourself to the bathroom. In order to go through with your plan -- that is, singing a song to Rosie -- you have to calm your nerves a bit first. You splash water on your face and sigh as the chilly liquid slides down your skin. A bead of it trails down your neck, soaking into the cotton of your collar the second it hits it, and you're reminded of last night. A familiar warmth runs through you at the memory of Rosé's hands on your body, taking care of you like always. She's the definition of girlfriend material, and you always kick yourself for waiting so long to tell her about your feelings.

A basket of paper towels sits on the marble countertop of the sink, and you reach forward to grab one and dry your face. With one final look in the mirror, you throw the paper away and exit the restroom.

Too busy mentally preparing yourself for the performance, you fail to notice that Rosé is already standing on the stage, mic in hand. You lift your head as you near the stage, and she makes eye contact with you; she looks nervous, so you give her a reassuring smile and move back to your seat. Behind the nervousness, you can see how excited she is; you're intrigued.

"So, this song goes out to a very special girl here tonight. I hope you like it." She announces shyly, garnering some applause from the small group of diners that have filtered their way in from the restaurant. She presses play, and shakes her hands out in an attempt to get rid of the anxiety building within her. Up until now, keeping her worries in check had been doable; though as she stands alone on stage, looking down at the object of her affection, she's afraid all over again. And yet, somehow in an instant, you take some of those fears away. You're looking at her with so much love and encouragement in your eyes that Rosé thinks she can accomplish anything.

The song -- one you're hearing for the first time tonight -- picks up, and she begins.

There are three words, & I want you to know they are true

There are three words, that I've been dying to say to you

Burns in my heart, like a fire that ain't goin' out

I need to let you know

You're unintentionally holding in a breath as she croons the words out, singing straight to you. Her soulful vocals ring out across the space, making goosebumps appear on your skin; her voice always strikes a certain chord within you, the beautiful tones sounding like Heaven. She makes it feel like you're the only two people in the room; that even the world stopped for a moment to watch this play out.

I wanna say I love you, I wanna hold you tight

I want your arms around me & I, want your lips on mine

I wanna say I love you, but, babe I'm terrified

My hands are shaking, my heart is racing

Cause it's something I can't hide, it's something I can't deny

So here I go

Baby I lo-o-o-ve you

The smile on your face can't be wiped away by anything; no natural force of the universe could get in the way of this. Your heart swells at her confession as things finally fall into place. Possessed by the love you hold for the goddess in front of you, you decide to be brave and join her on stage.

She squeals and covers her face as you approach, and the audience erupts into cheers at this. They whistle and clap loudly, and you can hear the distinct voices of the girls from behind you. Pulling her hands away, Rosé's adorable face is revealed in all its glory. She has tears in her eyes, and they let you know that the past 48 hours have been just as much of an emotional rollercoaster for her as they have been for you.

You press a kiss to the back of her hand, feeling your chest tighten at the way it lightly shakes against your lips. You take a step closer and wrap your arms around her waist as she hooks her right one around your shoulders. Her left hand holds the mic between you two, making it so that you can sing the next part together.

I've never said, these words to anyone, anyone at all

Never got this close, cause I was always afraid I would fall

But now I know, that I'll fall right in-to your arms

Don't ever let me go

I wanna say I love you, I wanna hold you tight

I want your arms around me & I, want your lips on mine

I wanna say I love you, but, babe I'm terrified

My hands are shaking, my heart is racing

Cause it's something I can't hide, it's something I can't deny

So here I go

Baby I lo-o-o-ve you

The entire time you're singing, she can't take her eyes off of you. She watches as your lips move along with the words, your face scrunching up occasionally to aid in hitting all the notes, and she even forgets to keep singing a couple times. You're so close to her, just like last night. She vows that this time will be different, though.

After you finish the verse, Rosé surges forward, closing what little distance is left between you. During the performance you had gradually migrated closer to one another, so that made her job all the more easy.

She leans into you and smiles at the feeling of your racing heart. It lets her know that this is actually happening -- that after spending so many months waiting to finally confess and have you return her feelings, it's happening.

She tastes the strawberry chapstick on your lips, and it reminds her of the time she told you it's her favorite type. You used to wear a vanilla kind… does that mean you switched to strawberry after she told you that? (Yes, yes it does).

You bring your right hand up to her jaw and cup it as you move to deepen the kiss. A soft groan escapes her lips at this, and she doesn't waste any time in kissing you back even harder than before. It's long-overdue, and she can't get enough of you.

All too quickly, though, Rosie gets lost in the embrace, and the lounge is filled with feedback as the mic drops to the floor. She jumps at the sudden noise before snatching it up, her face crimson with embarrassment. After placing it back on the stand, she turns to hide her face in your neck. You just chuckle as you wrap your arms around her again. She snuggles in close to you, and you rest your head against hers.

"Awwww, they grow up so fast!" Jisoo wails, wiping imaginary tears from her eyes.

"Cough it up, Jendeukie." Lisa smirks, sticking a hand out in front of the other girl. Jennie shoots her a glare, but nonetheless reaches to the table in front of her to grab her purse.

"Not another word, Manoban." Jennie says, shoving the 5 dollar bill into Lisa's waiting palm.

The younger girl clears her throat dramatically before saying loudly, "I TOLD YOU SO! Nobody ever listens to the maknae."

You and Rosé can't contain your laughter anymore, and neither can the girls.

Soon the two of you are back on the couches, cuddling in the corner seat as the others make kissy noises at you.

She's nestled up against your side, resting her head against your chest contently.

"I know we kinda did things out of order and all, but I might as well ask. Will you be my girlfriend?" You smile dorkily as she raises up to look at you, a playful smirk of her own tugging at her lips.

"Absolutely, Y/N." She has stars in her eyes and a dreamy expression on her features as she leans in to kiss you again.

626 notes · View notes

teenwolffanclub-me · 4 years

Text

How Drunk Are You? (Stiles Stilinski x Reader)

Summary: You and your best friend, Stiles, can’t decide who’s more drunk after a night out with the pack. It doesn’t take long for your little competition to get out of hand.

Word count: 4,752

Warnings: drunk (but consensual) sexy times

Notes: I got this idea while drunk and may have gotten a little carried away but this one really just spoke to me so here ya go 😅

———————————————————————

You tumble out of the Uber, nearly falling flat on your face before a firm hand juts out of the car to steady you.

“Jesus Christ, Y/N.” Stiles chuckles from behind you as he steps out onto the sidewalk. “You’re way more fucked up than I thought.”

You twirl around to face him, nearly losing your balance for the second time. You furrow your brows and poke a finger into his chest harshly.

“You, sir, are wrong. I’m completely sober.” You wobble a bit in your heels, and he just rolls his eyes before slamming the car door shut and waving off your driver.

He takes only one step forward before his knees buckle, almost sending him crumpling to the ground beside you. He puts a hand on your shoulder to steady himself, breaking into a fit of giggles at his own intoxicated state. He’s trying to be the responsible one but honestly, he may be more gone than you.

You can’t help but laugh along with him as you help each other to your front door. Once there, you try turning the knob before realizing with a huff that you have to unlock it first. You let go of Stiles, who nearly loses his balance again, to rummage through your purse for the keys.

The bag suddenly seems endless as you shove receipts, sticks of gum, lip gloss, and other random shit out of the way to find your keychain. Finally, after what feels like several minutes to your drunk brain, you find them.

“Ah ha!” You call triumphantly and hold them up against your dim porch light.

“Hey. I’ll prove I’m more sober.” Stiles perks up with an idea, his caramel eyes dancing with amusement. “I bet I can unlock the door without looking.”

A laugh bubbles in your chest at the image of him doing that, and you instantly hand him the keys. You don’t think he’s actually coherent enough to succeed, but you know it’ll be entertaining to watch him try.

He waggles his eyebrows at you as he takes the keys and turns so that his back is to the door. He fumbles around blindly, chewing on his bottom lip in concentration. Your breathing slows as your eyes track the movement. You swallow thickly, feeling the familiar attraction you have for your best friend—that you usually keep tightly packed away—rise to the surface.

Admittedly, you’re a horny drunk. You can’t help but flirt with everyone and anyone you encounter while out partying, including your best friends that you’d never consider sleeping with, not even while intoxicated. But Stiles was a different story.

You’d been attracted to the spaz since you met him freshman year, although it was clear nothing was going to happen due to his obsession with a certain raven haired beauty. That was a couple years ago at this point, and he’d moved on, but the two of you were much too close to act on any lingering feelings now.

You laugh again as he continually fails to unlock the door, and decide to help him out. You lean forward, your chest only an inch away from his, and wrap your fingers around his hand. He stiffens against you, but you don’t notice through your drunk haze.

You peer over his shoulder and guide the key to where it needs to be, easily unlocking the door within seconds.

“You lose.” You quip, standing up straight to smirk at him before popping the door open and skipping inside.

What you don’t see is the way Stiles stands there for several moments collecting himself. You hadn’t even done anything, he thought. You’d barely touched him and here he was, clutching his chest in an effort to slow his racing heart. He was so screwed, being alone with you right now, but he was also way too drunk to do anything about it.

He clears his throat and finally walks inside, closing and locking the door behind him. Even while completely plastered, he knows a random supernatural creature could attack at any moment. Not that a wooden door would do much to keep them out, but the action was just muscle memory at this point.

He finds you lounging on the couch, your legs dangling over the armrest. He scratches at the side of his head as his eyes trail over you, trying his best not to make his simmering lust obvious. You were easily the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, and that was when you were wearing sweats.

Right now, with you laying there, your skirt riding up and your breasts peaking out from the low neckline of your crop top, he was finding it hard to control his attraction.

“It’s my turn.” You push yourself up onto your elbows and let your eyes sweep around your living room and kitchen. “I bet I can make the fries I have in my freezer without burning the whole place down.”

Stiles groans excitedly at the idea. Anything greasy sounds like the absolute best thing he could put into his stomach right now. He nods encouragingly and you sway to your feet, giggling as you almost fall once again. You take a detour and slide your heels off at the front door, sighing with content as your feet finally relax.

He follows close behind you as you prance your way into the kitchen, telling himself it’s to keep you safe but knowing it’s actually because it gives him an amazing view of your ass. You preheat the oven and pop the freezer open before crouching down to rummage through your cabinets for a pan.

Stiles wants to avert his eyes. He wants to be a respectable young man and not openly gawk at his best friend, but he can see the edge of your red lacy panties with you bending over like that. He chews on his bottom lip and watches as you search for whatever it is you’re looking for. He can’t even remember what you’re supposed to be doing with your body on display like that.

You finally find the right pan for the job and pull it out with a triumphant smile before standing upright, much to Stiles’ dismay. You place the baking sheet on the stovetop and pour out a heaping pile of fries before resealing the bag and putting them away.

You turn on your heel to face your best friend, who was still somewhat in a daze, giving him jazz hands with a big grin.

“Ta-da!” You bounce your way over to the large island in the middle of your kitchen, proud of yourself for completing the first step of your bet.

Stiles’ hooded eyes follow you, his heart racing in his chest. He honestly can’t believe how lucky he is to call you his best friend. The two of you—along with the pack of course—had gone through so much the last few years. It was a miracle any of you were still alive, although not all of you were.

It was with the realization, that life is short and that he loves the shit out of you, that he decides to throw caution to the wind. You jump up onto the island, blissfully unaware of the breakthrough he just made. He gulps, the sight of you level with him now, your mini skirt all hiked up around your thighs and your tight crop top giving him a peak of midriff almost too much to handle.

He isn’t sure if he’ll regret this in the morning, but he’s also too drunk to care. Right now, he wants you more than he’s ever wanted anything. He walks toward you slowly, his eyes trailing up and down your form as if it’s the first time he’s seeing it.

Your brows furrow at his sudden change in demeanor, the darkness swirling in his caramel eyes too hard to decipher from this distance. You watch closely as he moves forward until he’s only a foot away. He leans down, still taller than you even while you’re sitting on the counter, each of his hands bracing against the marble beside your hips.

“Stiles...?” Your voice trials off in question as you search his face.

“I bet,” He swallows down the last bit of hesitation bubbling in his throat and lets his eyes flutter down to your lips. “You won’t kiss me right now.”

Your breath catches at his words. Your eyes widen and you aren’t even sure you heard him correctly. Your mind instantly starts racing with questions. Is he just saying this because he’s drunk? Or could he possibly return the feelings you’ve been harboring for years?

To be completely honest, you don’t really care. You’ve wanted him for so long, and he looks ridiculously enticing in his red flannel and black bomber jacket. It was the alcohol that made you do it, sure, but it was more so the fact that you’ve wanted to kiss this man since you met him.

You cup the sides of his face and jerk him down to you, closing those last few inches. Your lips wrestle with his and he stiffens against you as if surprised, despite being the one to initiate this. The kiss isn’t pretty. It’s messy and heated. A battle of tongues and teeth as both of you fight for dominance.

One of his hands moves to your exposed knee, the other gripping your waist firmly. He lets out a broken moan against you, his head tilting to give him more room to devour you. Your hands tangle in his hair and you arch into him as his long fingers tentatively slide beneath the edge of your crop top.

Internally, he’s freaking the fuck out. He didn’t think you’d actually do it. He fully expected you to laugh the bet off and move on, but here you are. Kissing the shit out of him. He knows that he will never be able to come back from this moment. No matter what happens after this, he has to have you.

You pull away first, breathless, not from the kiss itself but because it’s him. It’s Stiles. Your best friend. You’re honestly a little surprised that he’s such a good kisser. Sure, he’s had girlfriends over the years, but damn.

The two of you sit painfully still for several moments. Stiles is afraid that if he moves even an inch, he’ll break whatever spell had come over you. He leans forward minutely, desperately wanting to kiss you again, but you press a hand to his chest and practically shove him away.

His eyes widen as he stumbles back, nearly falling to the floor, panic tightening in his chest. Did he fuck up? You regret it already? Is everything ruined forever?

You chew on your bottom lip as you look at him. His hair is all wild, his cheeks are flushed, his lips are plump and glistening. He’s sex on legs, and you’ve barely even gotten a taste. That one kiss is all it took to ignite the lust that’d been simmering within you all night.

You pull in a shaky breath, knowing that if you’re ever going to make a move, it has to be right now.

“I bet,” You say slowly, your voice low and sultry as you watch his eyes flicker over your face. “I can make you hard without even touching you.”

Stiles sputters silently, brain short circuiting at your words. He’s frozen in place. He wants to pump a fist into the air because this is actually happening but his muscles won’t move. He just nods, his eyes wide and mouth agape.

You giggle at his dumbstruck expression as you jump down from the island, the food on the stove completely forgotten. The edge of your lips twitch up into a smirk when you take a small step toward him and he stiffens. A surge of confidence moves through you at the sight of unmistakable desire in his eyes.

You hold his gaze as you grip the edge of your top and peel it over your head slowly. You’re suddenly very grateful that past you chose to wear your favorite matching red lacy set. Stiles’ eyes instantly trail down your exposed torso, although they keep flickering back to your breasts as if unable to look away.

You run your hands slowly along your shoulders, over your chest, and down your stomach. Stiles watches every one of your movements like they’re supplying the air he needs to breathe. You push your thumbs into the waistband of your mini skirt and pull it down a fraction of an inch before letting it go with a snap against your skin.

Stiles jumps at the sound, his glazed eyes locked onto the place your hands had just been. You take a few steps toward him, swaying slightly, and can’t help but giggle. This situation really is pretty ridiculous. You’re in your kitchen, preforming a strip tease for your best friend. It’s not something you ever thought you’d do.

You don’t stop until you’re only inches away from his heaving chest. You bat your eyelashes up at him and turn around so your back is just a hairs length from him. You bend over slowly, flicking your hair over your shoulder to look up at him as you wiggle your hips sensually.

You hear his shaky intake of breath and can’t help but smirk. If you’d known the effect you had on him, you would’ve done this years ago. He’s absolutely itching to touch you. His fingers are twitching at his sides in anticipation, but he doesn’t want to overstep your boundaries.

He wants to take you. To claim you as his. Pull you back against him and ravish you like the goddess you are. But he holds himself back. The ball is in your court, and he’s going to let you have your fun until he’s sure you’re ready for him.

You stand up straight and turn to face him, eyes skimming down to the obvious bulge at the front of his jeans. A slow smile pulls at your lips.

“You lose again.” Your voice is barely above a whisper. You’re afraid that if you speak any louder, it’ll break this tension, this electricity between you.

It’s at this moment that he snaps, his earlier thoughts instantly forgotten. He just can’t take it anymore. He’s been restraining himself for years and right now, after the show you just gave him, he can’t wait even a second longer to have you.

At once, you’re in his arms. He leans forward and captures your lips with his, sliding his palms down the backs of your legs before hiking them up around his waist. You squeal against him and tighten your thighs to hold yourself up.

His hands are on your ass, kneading the soft flesh as he blindly walks both of you toward the stairs. He doesn’t need to look. He has the entire layout of your house memorized after being here almost daily for years. He clambers up to the second floor, staggering and pausing a few times to deepen your kisses.

You feel feverish. His skin on yours is causing some sort of reaction. You’re burning up, hot crackling desire twisting in your stomach. You don’t even realize that he shoves his way through your bedroom door until he tosses you onto your bed. You bounce a few times, bracing your hands on the soft mattress to keep yourself upright.

Your eyes widen at the sight of him at the foot of your bed. He’s looking at you with this heat, this need. It makes you want to give him anything he asks for. You’re his, whether he knows it yet or not. You’re completely gone for your spaz of a best friend.

He suddenly takes a step forward and grips your ankles in each of his hands. He jerks you toward him until your legs are dangling off the edge of the bed. He pulls them apart and stands between them before dropping to his knees. Your eyes widen knowingly, a spark of excitement igniting in your chest.

“I bet I can make you cum in less than five minutes.” He smirks at the awestruck expression overtaking your face.

You nod your head enthusiastically, wanting nothing more than for him to ease the throbbing need between your legs. He runs his fingers up your shins, torturously slow, before stopping to squeeze your thighs gently. His eyes never leave yours as he moves higher and higher, dangerously close to exactly where you want him.

Stiles leans up and connects your lips again, this time a languid kiss as he lightly guides you down to the bed. You prop yourself up onto your elbows as he peppers gentle kisses down the column of your throat. A shudder moves through you at the feeling of his hair brushing against your heated skin as he moves across your collarbone.

He traces a path down your chest, stopping at your breasts to lap at your hardened nipples. You moan loudly, the feeling of his warm breath against you, along with the course material of your lacy bra enough to make you cum on its own.

He moves lower and lower until his fingers slide beneath the waistband of your skirt. His lips never leave you as he tugs it down over your hips before discarding it somewhere on the floor behind him. Your panties quickly join the pile as you shiver on your bed, dripping core now exposed to the chilly air of your bedroom.

Stiles’ darkened eyes flicker up toward yours as he parts your thighs and dives between them. You cry out when his tongue expertly brushes your clit, throwing your head back against the mattress. One of his hands glides up to squeeze your hip, while the other teases your entrance.

A pitiful whimper escapes you when he inserts a finger. It’s so long and thick and wow you’re really doing this with your best friend. He groans against you, sending delicious vibrations through your body. One of your hands tangles in his hair, pulling harshly when he flicks his tongue against your sensitive bud again.

You steal a glance down toward him and feel your heart swell at the look he’s giving you. His eyes are shining with adoration as he laps at your core like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted.

Your eyes roll back when he pushes another finger inside you and starts pumping them quickly. You feel your stomach tightening already as his free hand snakes up to pinch your nipples delicately.

“Stiles...” You murmur breathlessly, back arching as another wave of pleasure crashes down onto you.

He nearly explodes in his jeans at the sound of his name on your lips like that. His eyes pinch shut as he tries to reel in his own desire so he can fully focus on you. He groans against you at the feeling of your core clenching around his fingers. He pulls them almost completely free before slamming them back inside, smirking at the way it makes you whine.

All it takes is one more lick against your clit, and you’re coming. You cry out, your body trembling from head to toe as intense waves of pleasure move through you. Stiles can’t help but moan at the sound as his free hand slides across your stomach to push you down against the bed.

He doesn’t stop until you sag against the mattress, completely spent. He finally pulls away, wiping his mouth clean with the back of his hand as a big grin overtakes his face. He’s been wanting to do that for way too long, and honestly can’t believe it just happened for real. He’s imagined it enough times to know it would be amazing, but that had exceeded his expectations.

You’re the most gorgeous thing he’s ever seen. All sweaty, flushed chest heaving, pupils blown wide from pleasure that he gave you. A sense of pride swells in his chest at the fact that he was able to make you feel so good.

Once you snap out of your blissful haze, you sit upright and jerk him toward you. You hungrily devour his lips, not feeling the least bit satiated by that mind blowing orgasm. You want—no, need—him. Right now.

He clambers up onto the bed, one of his hands moving to cup the back of your head as he climbs on top of you. You slide your hands along his shoulders beneath his flannel and practically rip it from his body. Next comes his undershirt, followed by the belt around his waist.

Your shaky hands fumble with the button of his jeans for a few seconds before he bats them away to undo it himself. Within seconds they’re gone too, joining the pile of clothes on your carpeted floor. You drag your fingers down his broad chest, pausing over the small patch of hair between his pecks.

He shudders against you, lips leaving yours to suck and lick his way down your neck. You palm him through his boxers and he grunts lowly, stiffening at the feeling. A trembling sigh falls past your lips as you explore his hard length through the thin fabric.

Suddenly impatient, you use both hands to pull the barrier down, eyes widening as his cock springs free. It’s so much bigger than you imagined. You’d spent an embarrassing amount of time thinking about your best friend’s dick, but it still hadn’t prepared you for the real thing.

You wrap your fingers around him and he freezes against you. He presses his forehead to your shoulder as you pump him slowly. A moan rumbles through your chest at the feeling of him so exposed, so primal on top of you.

All he can do is huff out a few quick gasps as just your fingers set his body ablaze. He honestly feels like he might combust with the way his heart is sputtering in his chest. It takes every ounce of his willpower to peel your fingers away from him. He knows he won’t last long and he desperately wants to be inside you.

“Can I...is it okay if...” He doesn’t even know what he’s trying to say. He’s so tightly wound, so high off your presence that he can barely string his thoughts together.

“I have condoms.” You breathe, trying to convey with your eyes how much you want this. How much you want him.

He swallows thickly, hesitating for only a moment before sliding onto the floor to rummage through the bedside table you’d gestured toward. He pulls out a single foil packet and moves to sit next to you on the bed. He glances between his shaky hand and your eyes, suddenly needing reassurance.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” He breathes, heart clenching in his chest at the possibility of you saying no.

Even if you do, he has to give you this moment to decide. He’s painfully aware that both of you are very intoxicated and may regret this in the morning. But he also knows that he’s wanted you for years and it might just kill him to stop now.

You trail your fingers along the side of his face, eyes rounding at the respect he has for you. You really love the idiot sitting in front of you, a realization that makes you lean forward and close the distance between you.

“Stiles,” You mumble against his lips. “If you don’t fuck me right now, I’m going to lose my mind.”

His eyes widen in shock at your urgency and he chuckles, tearing the small package open and rolling the condom on quickly. He reconnects your lips and pushes you down onto the bed gently. You wrap your arms around his neck, playing with the hair at the base of his skull.

Your head tilts back, a long moan escaping you as he enters you in one swift motion. His eyes pinch shut tightly as he braces a hand against your headboard to steady himself. All he can do is grunt and gasp for air as your heat clenches around him. After only a few trusts, he knows he’s going to explode any minute.

He slides an arm under your arched back and turns you both so that he’s now laying on the mattress. Your knees settle on either side of his thighs and his brows furrow as he grips your hips tightly.

“Please...” Stiles groans, not even sure what he’s asking for. You’re everywhere. Around him, on top of him, your delicious smell is enveloping his every sense with his head on your pillow. It’s all too much.

You press your palms onto his chest and swirl your hips, pulling a broken moan from him. You lift yourself up before gliding back down slowly, wanting to see how long you can tease him before he’ll snap. The memory of the way he’d lost control earlier has your core clenching around him. You want to see that again.

“Y/N, I c-can’t...”

You lean down to steal a quick kiss, almost instantly reading his mind. He flips you over again, sliding his tongue along your bottom lip as he starts pounding into you, hard. Your head knocks into the headboard with each of his jerky movements, but you don’t care.

Your stomach tightens and you whimper, not expecting to cum again so quickly. None of your other partners had ever gotten you off more than once in a session. Stiles brings a hand down blindly to rub quick circles over your clit and you cry out against his lips.

Within seconds, you’re both tumbling over the edge, a chorus of moans and shaky breathing the only sound in your otherwise quiet bedroom.

He collapses onto the bed beside you, chest heaving as he tries to make sense of what the fuck just happened. The lustful haze is clearing from his mind as his orgasm fades away. He’s left laying there, his best friend—who he just fucked—only inches away.

He lets his eyes trail over to you slowly, honestly terrified of what he’ll find. He needs to know what you’re thinking. His eyes search yours, but they’re guarded. Unreadable. He instantly starts panicking, heart sputtering in his chest as he bolts upright and quickly discards the condom in your trash can.

Your brows furrow from your position beside him, surprised by his sudden movement. A wave of exhaustion comes over you. It’s a mixture of the alcohol and the mind blowing sex you just had, and all you want to do is sleep it off.

You reach forward to clasp a hand around Stiles’ wrist, stopping him just before he stands from the bed. “Where are you going?”

Your heart falls into your stomach at the thought of him trying to run away from what you’d just done. There wasn’t a single part of you that regretted it. You wanted to do that since you met the idiot, so there was no way you’d be going back on it now.

You honestly didn’t even care if the two of you ever slept together again. You just needed him in your life. You weren’t going to let him disappear on you just because you gave into a night of passion.

“Oh. I-I didn’t know if you...you know, would want...” He stammers, eyes widening at the frown on your face. Maybe he misread the situation.

“Of course I want you to stay, you big dork.” You chuckle, tugging on his arm again.

His lips twitch into a grin, relief washing over him. He crawls back into the bed, peeling your comforter away so that you can join him beneath the warmth. You instantly curl into his chest, his arms wrapping around you in a familiar gesture. You’d cuddled many times before, but never like this. Never naked.

Stiles tries thinking of anything else to fight off his growing erection. Now was not the time for round two. You were basically asleep against him, your breath slowing to an even rhythm. He pulls you in tighter and lets his eyes flutter closed, knowing there’s nowhere else he’d rather be.

The last thought that flickers through his mind before he drifts off is that he could definitely get used to this new aspect of your relationship. He only hoped, come morning, that you’d feel the same.

#stiles stilinski #stiles imagine #stiles stilinski smut #stiles stilinski fluff #stiles x y/n #stiles #teen wolf fanfiction #teen wolf fic #teen wolf smut #stiles stilinski fic #stiles smut #dylan obrien smut #dylan o’brien #dylan obrien x reader #dylan obrien imagine #teen wolf #stiles x reader

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dropsofletters · 3 years

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the beat of a love rhyme [jww]

— summary: up-driven music, blasting parties, glasses of champagne clanking in between drags of smoke—the seventies are wild, but she’s at the peak of her career. part of one of the most popular funk bands of this decade, their vocalist at that, with a fulfilling relationship, rows of people screaming her name…life is good.

until it isn’t.

her band decides to split and she’s left as a solo artist. the only thing she has left is jeon wonwoo, her manager, and the connection that has grown in between them in endless years of accompaniment.

as it turns out, he’s all she needs—saccharine sweet, paradoxical, elegant, kind. much different from the world she had once prided herself for being part of.

— title: the beat of a love rhyme — pairing: jeon wonwoo x reader — genre: funk band!au ; manager!au ; friends to lovers!au ; 1970’s!au — type: fluff ; suggestive ; drama ; angst — word count: 13,740

She once saw the world she had constructed fall down to her feet. Watched betrayal collide against the strong walls of her universe, tumbling it down, masking it in shadows and dust. For once, while standing in the studio, sporting enigmatic and outstanding clothing and a smirk that slowly dissipates, she doesn’t feel like herself. Stardom tastes nothing like the saccharine-sweet dessert she had once thought of it to be.

Music is one of those things—everyone loves it, adores to sensationalize the artists that they listen to on the radio and that they attend concerts of, but they don’t think about how wrong it is. Managers that are manipulators, magazines that are stalkers, drug dealers that are leeches looking to destroy them and earn their money while at it. Of course, how to forget?…band members that leave the group because a lead vocalist is, well, fucking stupid.

They all start the same. The Beatles. Kiss. They are friends that get in a group together and then, they’re no longer as good of friends as they were in the beginning. One person wants to write certain kind of music, another one is too lost in between someone’s legs to even care, then…there’s what her friends are doing.

The Moonlit Dolls are a funk hit. Ask magazines, newspapers, even that one housemaid that lives next to you and bumps her hips and head to the beat of their songs. It happened in 72, when one roll of a song made it to the radio and soon after, they found a manager. Youthful, nervous, just trying to prove his boss right about his sense of music.

That’s Wonwoo, outside the booth that contains the seven women of the funk band that once consisted of friends that drank beers together and decided to make a group. Perform dancing and singing to their heart’s content, with pianos, trumpets, and a whole lot of shiny dresses. She was the lead woman, and now?

“We’re kicking you out of The Moonlit Dolls.” Sunshine, the pianist, says with one hand spread on top of her waist. Her hair is puffy, tight curls accompanied by tinted sunglasses and a body-tight dress, orange under the golden lights.

She scoffs after hearing it the second time. “Yeah, right.” Tugging at the oversized jacket, belonging to her baseball player boyfriend, that rests over her shoulders, a smile appears on her features. “I am The Moonlit Dolls, Sunshine. You ask anyone and the only person they’re going to care about is me.”

Prickling with harsh words will give her a benefit in this fight. Kiara, the chorist and bass player, gasps from her spot. Sunshine is all sex dreams and radiant smirks. Kiara is ignited cigarettes and broken wings. “You can’t say that…”

“Calm down, Ki.” Sunshine says, extending her hand towards the smaller, weaker woman. “I’m not letting this bitch keep the group.”

Why is no one talking? She asks herself. There are two producers and her manager, Wonwoo, outside. Everyone else had decided to switch managers when they reached stardom in 75 with their single “One More Song”, but she had kept to his side.

“It’s my group. I was the one with the idea.” She utters, fixing the microphone and putting on her headphones “So stop whining about and trying to be a leader when I need you to do your job and play the piano, as you should.”

“We’re tired of being your little backup girls.”

She raises her eyebrows at that, bitter as bitter can be. “Maybe, if you worked on some good publicity, you wouldn’t be my backup girls.”

Scandal after scandal had cladded the group, and while being the leader, she had to stand every question and tidying wave. Men in music do it all the time—being in threesomes, being improper outside, doing drugs, smoking cigarettes, screaming to paparazzi but have a group of women singing and playing funk music do it and it’s a fucking headline. And the worst kind.

Her girls just loved a bit of irrelevant, awestriking fun…and she was the one to protect them.

Look how that turned out.

Star, their drummer, screams a bit louder than the rest. She’s a mood-maker, even in the worst sense of the word. “And you’re a good example?!”

“Mention one scandal from me.” The vocalist says, shrugging her shoulders when she spares a glance towards Wonwoo. The man hovers over the sound booth, thick eyebrows perpetually placed in a frown, as if studying the situation.

Star sighs dreamily. “I don’t know, maybe that you’ve fucked the entirety of the country’s baseball team.”

Looking over her shoulders, anger is swallowed down by the lump on her throat. It hurts. The six women that had been there for her these past few years now have turned against her, and even worse, they think of her as some kind of monster. Have someone to lose and you’ll cry them once every blue moon. Imagine having six.

“Oh baby,” She feigns a moan, battling her eyelashes in the process to bring a smirk over her features. “I like men with big baseball bats. Thick. Long. Know what to do with them…is that what you wanted to hear? Is your little businessman boyfriend too little in that department for you?”

“Cock-thirsty bitch.” Star cusses, moving forward as she tightens her fists.

Instead, she chuckles. “Does that make your betraying-bitch ways any better?”

Blood boiling, ears tinged in heat, she doesn’t pay much attention to what she says until she feels Star’s long nails piercing through her scalp, holding onto her hair and tugging at it as shrieks leave her lips. Fighting with them, even physically, would have never crossed her head but hey…

If she’s going to end up having a scandal, she better go all the way with it.

Her hands settle on Star’s slim arms, moving her around and pushing her against the drums, tussled to the ground by her force. Star pulls her down, pushing her body to the ground to tug at more of her hair and just when she’s grabbing onto the woman’s face, fingers digging onto her cheeks, she feels the pressure on her head dissipating, but not leaving her without a headache.

The next thing she sees is a pair of worried brown eyes staring down at her, the golden lights of the ceiling a halo around Wonwoo’s brown hair, soft strands cascading down his face when he wraps his fingers around hers and puts her up, behind his suit-cladded body.

“Stop it.” He says, never one raising his voice. Star doesn’t look any better, tears cladding her vision as she stares back at her. “Do you think it’s fair for her to just tell her now that you’re leaving her out of the group? You’re going to destroy her career.”

“It has always been about her!” Sunshine says, far stronger than Star in her poise. “She’s the one writing, composing, singing, presenting. If she’s so good, she’ll do well…but we can’t be The Moonlit Dolls and the bitch that stands above everyone. This isn’t what a group is about—”

“What is it about?” Her voice lowers, getting away from Wonwoo’s shadow, bottom lip trembling to try to keep strong. But she can’t. She’s losing her group and her sisters. Though, they don’t consider her family anymore. “Talking about me? Judging me? Making decisions without including me? Is it about envy? If you really love someone, you’ll want to see them succeed, not push them to the ground to step on them.”

Sunshine pulls her sunglasses down, rolling her eyes in the process. Silence eats the atmosphere when she says: “You did that to us for years.”

“…Well, not anymore.” Her shaking fingertips wrap around Wonwoo’s, interlocking their hands together to keep sane. The only person that is left of the beginning of it all…and now, she’ll have to start again. “You’ve got it. Be the Moonlit Dolls. I couldn’t give less of a shit. I hope you’re happy.”

“Wait, no—” Wonwoo says, tugging at her. “It’s not fair. We can talk about the contract with them. I’m—”

“I don’t want to work with them anymore.” Her voice is soft, odd for a frontwoman, but when looking into her manager’s eyes, she wants to find solace…peace… “Please, let’s just go home.”

It doesn’t take much more than a nod from him and a tug of her hand to get out of that fucking studio.

###

One rule before getting on a stage or even doing a presentation at school. You don’t think of everyone naked; much less do you take deep breaths. You just of how comforting it will be to come back home to the person that supports you through it all. Now, that’s how she has gotten through stardom.

The beaming lights of the city cast down on her face, shadows highlighting the tears that stream down her face. The sleeve of her sweater, bathed in a citrusy scent, rubs at her tired eyes for the umpteenth time when Wonwoo finally says something.

“They didn’t deserve you.”

Maybe, Wonwoo is the person she wants to make proud, whom she wants to return to, even when they are just friends. A manager on the rising, trying to get his job going, in 1972, when he found a group of women in some bar. At the time, Wonwoo was a lot more youthful, peppering around nineteen-year-old and not technically her manager. An intern? Sure. The man in the small lettering of books when remembering The Moonlit Dolls? Of course. But Wonwoo only got to be her manager five years later. This year, actually.

Now, he’s different from how she remembered him. Wonwoo was a lot shyer, music-loving, sporting graphic t-shirts and carrying CD’s in his backpack just in case. His features were sweeter, of course, less of a frown and more of a curve to his cat-like lips, but Wonwoo has pampered himself well enough. A gray suit covers his tall and slim body on most occasions, tied to his waist to utmost perfection, with his hair smooth against his scalp and sleeked back, with one strand that always escapes it, and of course, he leaves the CD’s in his newer, far better car now.

Sighing, she rests her head against her seat, staring at his profile as the mansions and beaming lights let her know they are nearing her house. “Who are we lying to, Wonwoo?” She asks, voice raspy. “All my shit is getting out now. They’re not the type to keep their lips pursed and all the songs I composed are going to stay with her. I know Sunshine—”

“They’re copyrighted. They can’t do that.” Wonwoo’s voice, warm like a day at the pool in summer, makes her chuckle softly, not even parting her lips to do so.

“Copyrighted under The Moonlit Doll’s name.”

“Then…” Wonwoo trails, fingers skimming over the wheel professionally. Looking at him from the side, Wonwoo doesn’t look half bad. Maybe, that’s why her boyfriend is always over-the-top jealous about her manager. “We can turn you into a solo artist. Elton John did it. John Lennon did it. Hell, every single one of The Beatles decided a solo was good. Even Ringo.”

“Elton is Elton. I’m me.”

“More of a reason. You’re enough—”

“Woo.” She cuts off, leaning over to his side of the car, head resting on his shoulder to seek for the comfort of him. “It’s not about the music. It’s about the fact that those women, my sisters, my girls, decided to just cut ties with me.”

Wonwoo’s breath ghosts over her forehead for a second when he looks over his shoulder to park in her garage. His arm extends behind her seat, the warmth of him seeping through his suit. “So, you can only rise from this. It will hurt for a while, and I’ll give you enough time to heal all you need, but you can’t consider them your sisters. Not after what they did to you. Not how they talked to you, either.”

With that, he parks the car, but she doesn’t move her face away from her spot next to him. He’s the only thing she has left of her old life, before the big mansion, chef, workers, studio albums and stardom.

He calls her name softly, and she hums.

“You don’t consider them your sisters, do you?”

“The kind of sisters that you hope never get written in your father’s will. Yeah. That kind of sisters.”

Her manager chuckles at that, soft and tender. “I’ll support you through everything.” With that, he opens the door to the driver’s seat. “But I need you to sleep the sadness off and for god’s sake, to stop crying. They’re not worth the tears. Sure, it hurts…but this happens. Every group falls down.”

Lumping against the seat, her fingers clumsily hook on the door to open it. “Then, why are they so popular?”

“People love friendships.” He says, and when she turns to look at the side and get out of the car, he’s already holding his hand out for her to take. She does, eyes connected to his as he speaks. “And they love groups of people they can choose from. You know, ‘my favorite was totally Sunshine because she’s hot’ and that’s all there is. Sex sells, but friendship does, too.”

“I have to stay with sex, then.” The door closes behind her, coldness seeping through her legs when she walks towards her spacious mansion. Eight rooms, ten bathrooms, enormous living rooms and parties, and she still doesn’t feel a thing for this place. It’s not home.

“It’s not necessary when you have talent.”

“Tell that to the talented women in this industry that are only paid attention to if their nipples peak through their shirts.”

“…We’ll do anything to make you shine for who you are.”

“I, no longer, have a ‘we’.” She doesn’t tip-toe around the subject, turning around and walking backwards when talking to Wonwoo. “I’m alone! I’m fucking alone and I don’t know what to do. I’m not used to being alone!”

Wonwoo sighs. “How many people does it take to make a ‘we’?”

The question has her frowning. “I don’t know—”

“It’s logic. You do know. The least amount of people you need to make a ‘we’ is…”

His voice trails when her back connects against the entrance of her mansion. “Two.”

“And did I leave you?”

“No.”

“Then, we’re a team. We’ll always be a team.” Wonwoo conquers, his hands coming in contact with her shoulders when he pulls her to the side slightly. “So, I’m staying here tonight and make sure you don’t party until ninety percent of your body becomes alcohol.”

A smile tugs at the edge of her lips. Well, maybe she’s as trashy as her ex-bandmates said. “People like you are always so responsible, aren’t they?”

Wonwoo opens the door with the copies of her keys he has with him, turning on the lights and greeting one of the maids by the entrance. “Tell me you wouldn’t have done it.”

She chuckles. “Oh, I would’ve smoked a cigarette out of someone’s ass right now with how shitty I’m feeling.”

Never would she have thought that would make Wonwoo grin. “That’s a pun?”

Her eyes look up to remember what she said before laughing at her words. “I’ve never eaten ass, but maybe the factor of shit possibly coming out could be the reason why I’ll never try it.”

Something in his eyes is dulcet. You see, silence has its own taste, and there, with her nose clogged up from so much crying and lips burning from so much biting, she basks on the way Wonwoo smiles and watches her when he extends his hand and pats her head. “You’re something else.”

Out of all the times she has heard it, this one feels nice—sincere. “That’s the only thing I have ever been.”

“Go to sleep. I’ll stay down here and arrange a few things.”

“My career?”

“Maybe.” Wonwoo shrugs, taking off her boyfriend’s jacket from her shoulders and placing it neatly on the couch. “Go sleep those tears off.”

Saluting him, she winks at him as a goodbye. “On it, dad.”

Wonwoo closes his eyes tightly, a chuckle ripping through his vocal chords. “Don’t call me that.”

“I won’t…dad.”

She hears him groan as she goes up the endless set of curved, marble-toned stairs and that alone makes her feel like maybe, not everything is fucked.

###

Rule number one of life. Never say never.

Never say everything.

Never say fine.

Just, don’t say shit.

Wonwoo has stayed in her place for the past three days, asking her chefs to make her complete meals, making sure that she—at least—ties her hair away from her face as she relishes on her sadness. Lets it broom and breathe out as she sips on her coffee and reads the newspaper. Two days ago, a man died when swallowing a bone, just yesterday, they talked about the feminist movement and today, she’s in the headlines when she scalds her tongue with coffee.

“Wonwoo!” She shouts out, loud and clear, enough to rip her vocal cords. Anyone who listened to her would have thought two things. One, Wonwoo is her child and she’s trying to scold him to bits and pieces or she’s Wonwoo fan, and hence, absolutely crazy enough to scream his name like that.

It’s not always that the man she loves decides to speak nonsense in the newspaper.

Or rather, break up with her through an article.

THE DEVIL IN A SHORT SKIRT – Why the King of Baseball, Jae Kim, decided to break all ties with most famous female funk singer?

For once, she didn’t know she had broken ties with Jae. Two days ago, to be exact, he was cooing on the cellphone, whispering sweet and dirty nothings of how much he missed her, how he craved to touch her skin, how he had thought of all the sins possible with her in mind. That’s not love, but it’s stardom—Hollywood bleeding the perfection that everyone envies.

Now, when Wonwoo appears in the pristine kitchen, breathing heavily as he had ran all the way through the mansion, she’s reading the article. His picture is there, enough reason to show he had actually been interviewed. Jae throws his head back in laughter, thick and muscular thighs parted with his skillful fingers wrapped around a glass of champagne. His long brown hair is pushed away from his face, his chiseled face, squared jaw and thick lips parted in sweet laughter.

“It was crazy, man.” He said, according to the reporter, with a frown of his lips. “I’d be scared of her, much like the girls were. She was too strong. Too receptive. She tied me up to the bed one night and left me there until the morning. I’m not too perfect but damn...I couldn’t hold on.”

God!

Speak of a fucking bastard!

He was the one tying people up, if she is sure of something.

The rest of the article objectified her, to bits and pieces, enough to throw the newspaper across the kitchen, watching the papers fall apart as a dulling scream leaves her lips, coffee splattering across the walls when she splashes it away from her cup.

“Fuck!”

How could the man that she loved treat her in such a way? Spoke about things that he should have never talked about—bragged about how it was like to bang the hottest member of a girl group, of a funk band. Talked about her consumptions, her supposed addictions, spoke of her as a pair of tits and an ass that he touched and claimed as his but he couldn’t hold onto because a body was a thing…but certainty, confidence, ambition? Oh, that’s too fucking much.

That’s a woman. He wants a maid.

He wants a hole to fuck.

Her hands cover her eyes when she hears Wonwoo speaking, a curse leaving his lips. “This fucker. I told you not to get with him—”

One year back, when Wonwoo was totally right about dating her ex boyfriend’s best friend, Jae Kim, and also another baseball player. Maybe The Dolls weren’t so wrong when they said she had a thing for men like that.

“I know.” She speaks softly.

“Let me call the publicity team and just talk about this. We need to make a conference and throw him to the ground. He doesn’t deserve to talk such obsenities—”

Instead, she extends her hand, waving her fingertips. “Give me the car keys.”

Wonwoo looks into her eyes, studying her, more put together than herself. Did she even take a shower yesterday? She’s not sure. “Why?”

“Wonwoo, I said—”

“I’m not letting you drive anywhere alone.” Crossing his arms over his chest, he keeps his voice poised and she does her best not to stomp her foot like a child. “You want to talk with Jae.”

Maybe, he knows her a bit too much. “He said—”

“Stupid things.” Wonwoo waves the newspaper in the air. “He said things that should have been kept in between two people and he doesn’t deserve words. He deserves—”

“Oh, I know what he deserves.” She waves her fingers again. “So, you either let me go or I’m walking all my way there.”

“Are you going to kill him?”

With a sigh, she tilts her head to the side. “Wonwoo, do you think I would kill someone?”

Her manager blinks a few seconds before chuckling. “No, but I’d support you if that’s what you were trying to do.” He says, throwing the newspaper to the island. “What’s the plan?”

“You let me drive, and you don’t say a thing.”

“…For the first time in my life, I don’t want to stay silent because I don’t know what you’re planning.”

Though, the coldness of the car keys rests against her hands, with enough quickness for her to go to the living room and take Jae’s signed baseball bat in between her fingers, swinging it once and twice before resting it against her shoulder.

“I’m planning to be the kind of woman he’s scared of.”

Wonwoo raises his eyebrows at that. “We’re not killing him.”

“I’m not planning on killing him.” She looks at the bat in between her fingers. “I could get this up his ass, but he’s not in his mansion. He’s somewhere in the country, bragging about how he had me in his sheets so…I’ll do the second best thing.”

The manager sighs deeply, rubbing his temples in the process. “Tell me this will be therapeutic.”

“Oh, this is a before and after.” She whispers, walking over to the door. “You’re about to see the birth of a new woman.”

Jae Kim is one proud son of a bitch. Tall, handsome, with a dimple on his left cheek and an ass to die for. He’s everything she ever thought she wanted—with not enough spice, but with a smile that could make up for his lack of words. Then, he spoke too much and without caring if paparazzi trailed after her, she went over to his house.

They want to see the devil? They’ll get it. Not in a short skirt, not being banged into oblivion in Jae’s car like he had said, but banging his car instead.

The same one that he had spoken about in that infamous magazine.

Wonwoo rushes out of the car when she swings the baseball bat in the air and smashes Jae’s car’s windows. One. Two. Three and then, four. Each and every single one falling to pieces in shreds of glass against her slipper-covered feet.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Wonwoo questions, standing by her side and sheltering her of any sight of paparazzi.

“Destroying the car that he relished about fucking me in.”

Though a small smile appears on his face, Wonwoo clears his throat before it could fully show his thoughts. “While I think he deserves it, this is bad publicity.”

“Woo, one thing,” She says, swinging the bat and hitting the passenger’s door in the process. “You lose all your friends that feel like your family and they out to the world that they’re going to continue to be a group while you’re left alone and the man you love suddenly uncovers that all he thought about you is that you were a vagina with legs that he only stayed with because it feels good, amazing, spectacular to just fuck someone people want to be with…and you have to act well. Because people want you to be perfect. That’s all you are to them. A board to judge, compare to others and…” Hitting one of the lights, the apples of her cheeks lift up. “Fuck that. I don’t need that. The good girl of funk died today.”

Instead of judging her or leaving her alone, she feels Wonwoo’s fingers sliding through the baseball bat before testing the waters and moving it around his palm, rotating it to catch the best hit. “Why do you have his bat?”

“That’s the bat he used for winning on his latest baseball season.” She replies, looking inside her car and getting out the sharpie she uses for signing autographs. “So, I’m ruining it, just like he destroyed my dreams of love.”

The man stays silent when he swings for the first time, destroying the remaining glass at the front as a shaky smile takes over his features. “What are you writing?”

“Just a message for the paps.” She leans over the hood of the car, hair done a mess, t-shirt oversized on her body and accompanied by basketball shorts, leaving everything to the imagination. Completely different from how she was with The Moonlit Dolls. “If they want my response, I’ll give it to them.”

The sharpie writes over the yellow hood of the car, Wonwoo reading the message out loud as she scribbles it down in neat letters. “Rot in hell, trashbag. P.D, you weren’t that good at playing…me or baseball, I don’t know anymore. ”

With that, she throws the baseball bat inside the car, resting her hands in her waist and looking at the mess she’d done.

“Wonwoo?”

The wind whisks against their bodies. Wonwoo, polished. She, on the brink of crying. But she won’t anymore—she’s tired of it.

“Yes?”

“Take me home, please.” She breathes out. “I need to start writing songs for that asshole.”

###

Think of your favorite album. All time favorite. The kind that you’ll cry and bang your head with when you turn fifty and you just need to remember what it was like to be young. And there it is, the nostalgia. The ‘it’ factor that people love and adore.

It takes months to make a great album, but for her, it has never taken this long.

Two months of staring at her ceiling, trying to return to the persona that she had crafted. The lover girl of funk, who sang into a microphone about the sincere, soft love she had for her now ex-boyfriend. For the guy with the bat that swung at her heart, destroyed her career momentarily, and whined like a bitch to the media when she destroyed his car.

One of the many cars he has, at least. He’s filthy rich.

But love songs aren’t as easy to write anymore. Leave it to the ballad lovers and the people who still believe in romance, but she is not one of them. In most occasions, she just goes back and forth, greets her workers around the house, talks to them for a few minutes that turn into hours and then, she uses the excuse of going back to writing. She tries to rhyme something with ‘boy’ and it just ends there.

She’s not in love with music anymore.

The strings of her guitar become lonely, plucked and exchanged for a piano. And there, seated in front of the endless rows of keys, she can’t think of anything either. The same thing happens over and over again, roaming around the house like a ghost only to meet with her manager at the end of the night. On the rare occasion, someone wants an interview…but given that the press coverage given by newspapers and magazines had died down after The Moonlit Dolls came out with their album as six, she’s left wth silence.

Until today.

Wonwoo is a routinary man. He likes his coffee lukewarm. He enjoys the same kind of music he did when she met him. He wears scales of grays, blacks and whites, and they’re always the same shade. His hair never follows after his instructions with that one strand that always stands out on his forehead, so it’s not surprising when he enters her mansion at eight thirty-seven in the night.

With her legs extended on the armrest of her leather couch, she jots down on her notebook, not caring that her short red silky robe had fallen off one shoulder, the lace of her bra barely peeking through when she sends a smile his way.

Pink is not Wonwoo’s shade. Not until today, when his cheeks blare in said color and he puts his hands on top of his eyes.

“Shit, fuck. I’m sorry.” He turns around, stealing a chuckle from her when she sits up on the couch. Wonwoo believes in the rhymes in gentlemanly words still, and she doesn’t know why. Maybe, he’s the only thing left of real men in this world. “I—I didn’t know you weren’t decent…or…can you just tie your robe properly?”

Loud laughter leaves her lips when she fixes the robe around her body. “Sorry. I was just immersed in writing.”

That makes him drop his hands, though the perfect view of his tinted-red ears becomes the least of her worries when he widens his eyes. “You? You’re writing?”

Shrugging her shoulders, she stands up from the couch. “I think I have the title song of my next album.”

Wonwoo nears her when she sits in front of her piano, an angel in the way his eyes twinkle. “Oh, for your solo?”

“I don’t have a group anymore,” She breathes out, turning her face to the side and looking at his features from up close. The scent of champagne clings to her, dizzy in the way her eyes crinkle and her lips purse. “So, it’s my solo. I’m completely alone in this world, so the least I can do is fight in it.”

Taking the seat next to her, he says: “You’re not alone.”

She sighs at those words. “Woo,” She instructs. “Why have you never been in love?”

He raises an eyebrow, silent for a second, before answering: “Who told you I haven’t?”

“You’ve never talked about it.”

“I don’t work with you to talk about me.”

“But you tell me everything.” The singer elongates in a whine. “How much you love your mom, how your hands tremble sometimes, how your stomach hurts when you eat certain foods. That one trip you had when you were a child and how you wish you could go back to your peaceful place…” Her voice becomes quieter. “I just assumed you’ve never fallen in love…or that you’re just not interested in dating.”

One of his index fingers presses to a piano key before chuckling. Soft, tender, with his thin lips wrapping around his perfectly sculpted teeth. “I have. Tons of times.”

“Tons?”

“Like four? I don’t know.” Wonwoo shrugs. “Love is easy to feel. Hate? Even easier. It’s the hold-out that I can’t deal with. There’s always something that ends it all.”

Resting her cheek against the piano, she breathes out the insecurities that had wrapped inside her body. “I think the same way.”

Wonwoo shakes his head at that. “No.” He denies. “You’re too loveable to believe that.”

Rolling her eyes, she straightens her back. “What says that about me? The short skirts? The upbeat songs? The dating scandals? The money? The hits?” Finally, she reaches a peak, hovering her fingertips over the keys. “I want to be loved for who I am when I’m at my worst, when I can’t even get up and out of the bed. I want to be loved with my insecurities, when they take the best of me and make me lose all judgement, all rationality…” She stops. “And that won’t happen. I won’t be loved for who I was, so what’s the point in pretending to be the pretty, sensual, coquettish ex-doll?”

“What do you mean?” Wonwoo questions, voice raspy, worry bleeding on his tone.

“I don’t need men looking up my skirt, people paying to hear the love songs I write about men that never deserved me.” Continuing, she presses down on the keys, a melodramatic tune starting it all. It’s a new beginning. “I don’t want love, Wonwoo, because it’s all I’ve given the media and look how they’ve paid me. I want power, irony, hate, I want to have a voice so strong people like me will start to think that it’s okay to be alone. That we rise when we don’t depend on others.”

In typical funk fashion, the beat picks up and Wonwoo smiles at the melody. “How’s the song called?”

“Still working on the lyrics.” She says. “It starts off slow, the rain after that moment where life seems not to have a continuation and then, it picks up. People want a show? They’ll have it. But they won’t have the real me anymore.”

Wonwoo closes his eyes, shoulders swinging to the beat as a cat-like smirk takes oves his face. “Who are we getting?”

“I want a wig.” She says, earning sweet laughter from her manager. “And a suit. I’m tired of skirts. I want suits of all colors, bright, tight, loose. I want people to judge me for my dancing skills, my singing, not how sexy they think I am.”

“What color? The wig. What color should it be?” He questions, his gaze burning on the side of her face when she continues playing.

Recalling the shade of his pretty cheeks, she turns to him. “Pink.”

He repeats: “Pink?”

“The brightest pink you can find.”

“Okay,” Wonwoo tilts his head to the side, taking the notebook on top of the piano in between his hands and reading the lyrics. “Wait, why is called ‘I Died’?”

“Because the past few months have felt like that. Like I’ve actually died.” She conquers, shrugging in the process and haltering the song. “But I’m ready to be born again and under my own terms.”

“We’re still going with funk?”

“It’s my soul. I can’t leave funk.” She confesses. “But we’re working on an album and next month, we’re releasing it.”

Wonwoo shakes his head. “Oh no, I’m not about to overwork you.”

“Consider it this way,” Smirking, like she always does, ready to bite the bullet that life brings at her, she rests her chin on his shoulder, staring up at him. “I’m overworking you, sweetie.”

###

Wonwoo was once young and stupid. Think about it this way—what nineteen-year-old guy packs a diamond ring on his pocket, bought in the cheapest price he could find, to confess to the woman he loved since he was fourteen that the only person he saw himself with was her? Even if they weren’t together, to begin with, and she had given him all the signs of ‘I’m into anyone but you’?

That would be nineteen-year-old Jeon Wonwoo. Dumb. Stupid. A reader, but the words he figured out in books definitely did not give him more life-knowledge.

While entering backstage to the concert of the singer he represents, he remembers why he didn’t become Mr. Denied that night. He met her. Seated in that old, raunchy bar, he watched as the woman he loved—Joohyun—got off the stage, her long hair swinging on her curved back, each juncture of her clothing with her body almost making him salive until he saw her.

In a short dress, a little bit drunk, jumping up to the microphone and apologizing for the interruption but introducing themselves as The Moonlit Dolls. Seven women together, just having fun, trying to make whatever they were work.

Joohyun was talented—sulky, tender voice and moving hips that had any man to her mercy, but she didn’t have much to her apart from that. Sang Frank Sinatra on the rare ocassion, but could never write, never perform, never compose. The Moonlit Dolls had just that, and while his boss had initially denied Joohyun when he tried to get her a contract, he had a gut feeling that The Moonlit Dolls were right up his alley.

What did he do? He got them to accompany him on the next Monday to his office, and the young intern that was Jeon Wonwoo got his first recognition for finding a hidden gem.

He pulls the curtains that separate the stage to the back, and what he sees is adorable. It warms his heart in every possible way, feeling as though he’s back to when he was nineteen and he had completely forgotten about his unplanned future with Joohyun just to hear her sing. This time around, she’s not wearing her short and tight skirts and the lights of the stage cast down on the bright pink wig that rests above her shoulders. Though, her vocals never falter and her chorists accompany her with as much excitement as her smile plasters for the public to see.

His old boss, a man that now represents The Moonlit Dolls, had asked him a simple question when the group departed her. “Why do you stay with her?” He asked, with his belly shaking with every word he said, his thick moustache rubbed in between his fingers.

At the time, he only answered: “Because she’s my friend.” Though, now that he thinks about it, seeing her there, she bleeds every portion of music. Raw. Enigmatic. Beautiful.

Wonwoo always had a thing for music.

But—

“Jeon Wonwoo,” A dulcet, saccharine-sweet voice speaks over his shoulder and he turns around to see a much shorter woman. Ali, the stylist behind this new change in funk, smiles up at him while she cradles her notebook to her chest. She’s maybe two years older than him, with a rounded face, big brown eyes and her hair almost always tied in two braids. Cute, really. “Didn’t think I’d see you here today.”

“It’s the first concert. I had to be here.” Though, he was trying to calm down the paparazzi outside. Some celebrities had attended and they were trying to see who was the singer’s next love affair. He crosses his arms cross his chest, taut muscles contracting under the suit before he smiles down at her. “The wig is cuter than I thought it would be.”

“It’s a challenge.” Ali says, looking over his shoulder to stare at the woman dancing on stage, feet keeping up with every word she said. “But she makes everything work. Besides, I’d love to be the one behind this new era of funk with her styling.”

“The suit is gorgeous.”

“Thank you. Had to contact a few people to get it perfectly styled, but she rocks it.” Ali’s voice trails at that moment, a smile taking over her rounded cheeks when she swings back and forth on the sole of her feet. “Wonwoo?”

The man hums, quirking an eyebrow in the process. “Yes?”

“You haven’t called me again.”

Wonwoo doesn’t do relationships often. Not because he doesn’t believe in them, but because he doesn’t have time. Try to explain to someone who wants undivided attention that your utmost priority is your client, who is coincidentially a woman that a lot of people desire, very famous, filthy rich, and who is broken down to tears because of everyone around her leaving her but you. You, Jeon Wonwoo. It’s difficult—so, Wonwoo resorts to the easiest thing, a fling or two with close friends and a promise to call again.

He normally does. With how crazy the world is and how little he knows about strangers when having sex, he would much rather have it with people he knows. Someone whom he recognizes he has a connection with.

Six months ago, Ali was it. She practically put candles up when he went over to his apartment and it felt nice, to be treasured and worshipped for once. To be the center of attention, but each time it happened, he scavanged out of the bed and went over to his client’s mansion.

To check up on her. To make sure she was eating right. To just hear her speak, talk about everything and nothing at the same time.

He doesn’t do that with the people he sleeps with and Ali’s speeches are interesting, though not groundbreaking.

He bites his bottom lip, hissing in the process. “Sorry, I was coaching every city we were going to attend to and I stayed over at the mansion a little too much in the process. I—I haven’t really been alone…”

“Wonwoo.” Ali stops him, placing one hand on top of his chest. “Listen, I look like I’m not the type but I’m the kind of woman that says it like it is. I like you, and I’m sure you liked me when we were together because…it seemed like it. You’re not my first, I know how an interested man looks like.” She whispers, long eyelashes fluttering against her wide eyes. “But if you love her, if you love someone else, I can’t be with you—”

I’ve loved tons of people, he told her months ago when she wrote the song she’s closing this concert with.

But how could he love her? The thought had never crossed his brain. Adoration, yes, of course. He doesn’t think he could ever fully let go of her, but loving the singer that had never looked twice his way?

“I don’t love her like that.”

Ali chuckles. “I believe you,” She says. “But anyone would think otherwise. You’re glued to her hip all the time.”

“She’s my client.” Wonwoo proves with a swat of his hand. “I have to be by her side.”

The shorter woman inspects his features, calculating each of his movements before humming. “You sure?”

Smiling, he says: “Or I could just prove to you how little in love I’m with her.” Though, the words leave his lips and they don’t sound quite right to his ears, much less when he hears the melody of a saddened tune, the start of the song that watched her rise again.

He tries his best not to turn around, but his eyes waver towards where she is sitting, playing the piano with utmost conviction.

“I’m alright with that.” Ali says, trailing her hand down to his abdomen before letting go of him. “Call me next time you’re alone, will you?”

Though, the nod he gives is only to stop the conversation, turning around when Ali is gone to look at the woman on stage. The beam on her features is brighter than ever, but he knows better than to trust it. Tears and frowns gather in the worst of days, and he’s not sure if he’s ready to leave her alone just yet.

###

“”Haven’t seen these in a while.”

With his fingers palming around her hair, she looks over her shoulder to capture the glimpse of the man she knows a little too well. Wonwoo looks like he had just woken up from a nap, not quite used to the jetlag of being in a tour bus with her just yet. Years will pass by and still sleep will ride over him in tidal waves, clashing him to the bed and leaving him petrified.

For the past two months of touring, she has been a new persona. Pink hair, eccentric high notes, suits that cover what had once been the reason why she earned so much money—she took the reigns of her life based on what the headlines said. Wrote songs about betrayal, overconfidence, loneliness, ego…and they became hits.

The radio won’t stop talking about her pink locks, swinging hips and hateful words. And that’s what she wanted, until the lights dimmed and she was back in her tour bus, staring out the window to the cars passing by in silence. None of them would stop if they just knew the real her. The romanticist that feels a bit broken.

“I feel the same way sometimes.” Shivering, she rubs over her arms, connecting her gaze to the road once again when she feels Wonwoo sitting with her on the red leather seat. A brown sweater covers most of his body, accompanied by baggy pajama pants. “The character is starting to take over me and when I’m not as confident as I am on stage, it feels…weird.”

Wonwoo rubs at his left eye, sighing deeply when he says: “I don’t want you to become her, the woman on stage, permanently.”

She chuckles. “First time I’ve heard a man say that.” Her voice lowers, resting her cheek against the couch as she looks into his eyes. “Why?”

“You’re fantastic as you are.”

That’s her cue to let out the least lady-like snort. “Oh yeah, what screams fantastic about me?” She asks, turning around to sit properly and not get dizzy by looking at the road for too long. “My waving feelings? My grounding insecurities? The fact that I can’t fully voice out how I feel unless I do it in a symphony?” The words leave her a bit too quickly, and Wonwoo’s lips curl when he shakes his head.

“Try again.” Wonwoo indicates. “There’s good in you.”

Bringing her knees up to her chest, she rests her chin in between them. “I guess.” A mumble leaves her. “But I don’t see it…” Her voice trails. “My sister once told me there is someone for anyone. That person that will love my flaws as much as I hate them…but they always leave after getting a taste.” She says, eyes twinkling with indemn sadness. “Sometimes, I wonder if whoever created the world forgot to create someone for me. Decided that I wasn’t worthy of a fairytale and—”

Her manager back at her, his hand coming up to her cheek and rubbing over the skin. “Do you know you have a mole here?” His thumb touches, softly, almost like a kiss against her face. She closes her eyes tightly, humming in acknowledgement. “I always thought it added something else to your face. It didn’t make you uglier and it didn’t make you prettier. It just made you…you. If the night sky wasn’t tainted by stars, would it be half as sensationalized as it is now?”

She opens her eyes then, leaning into his warm touch. Craving. Needing. Wonwoo feels a thousand times more necessary these days—and she knows she could probably live without him, but she doesn’t want to. They could give her the most perfect man to have as a manager and she still wouldn’t take him…because they are not Wonwoo.

“Maybe, my personality has a thousand moles.”

“All of us have flaws. Some better than others.” Wonwoo whispers, tracing the strands of her hair and tucking them behind her ear. Since when have his brown eyes become her axis, the reason why her anxiousness doesn’t creep up on her? “Maybe, if you loved yourself with as much strength as you loved the people that broke you, you wouldn’t be having these issues.”

Pressing a chaste kiss to his palm, she breathes out a warm gush of oxygen. “I wonder if someone will love you with the strength you deserve to be loved with, Woo.”

A small smile takes over his features. “I sure hope it happens one day.” He confesses.

The singer, however, is more observant than she lets anyone believe. “Maybe Ali is on the way there.”

Wonwoo shakes his head, laughing. “Absolutely not.”

“Oh, come on, Woo. You’re totally getting it on with her.”

Though, she would never understand why his cheeks blare with her but at the mention of having sex with her stylist, he doesn’t react. “…How are you so sure?”

“One, you two got awfully close at the tour and I know when two people are fucking.” She replies, placing her hand on his thigh when she leans forward, as if sharing a secret. “Why her?”

Wonwoo rolls his eyes, but he’s still smiling. “I’m not talking about this with you.”

A whine rips from her throat. “You knew everything about Jae and I!”

“Because the motherfucker got out of your room with his dick out. I didn’t decide to know about you two and your rendezvouses.”

Sighing, she whispers. “True.” Still, her finger pokes his side. “Well, an eye for an eye. Tell me—”

At the repetition of the last two words, incessant, he sighs.

“She’s just there, okay?” His voice is soft in the mellow night. “It’s not the truest romance. We just help each other not feel as lonely. I don’t have the time to have anyone when…”

Her eyes widen, looking up and down his features when she completes his sentence: “When you have me.”

“That’s not what I mean—”

“You’re…God, you’re always taking care of me. That’s why…”

Grasping her face in between his hands, Wonwoo speaks a tad quicker than usual. “I choose to wake up every morning and spend every possible time with you. Not because I’m your manager, but because you’re the best person I have ever met and I adore you to bits and pieces. Me being with you has nothing to do with you.”

Before nonsense could drape from her lips like a shower of insecurities, Wonwoo interrupts her with a kiss on her cheek.

“Now, let’s go to sleep and stop overthinking. You’re giving me a headache and I don’t have to listen to your thoughts all the time.”

Cackling, her fingers interlock with his, dragged somewhere on the tour bus to take a nap…or have a good night of sleep, for the first time in a while.

###

“Maybe, it’s time you move on, you know?”

When Wonwoo was nine years old, he asked his dad what love was. He said it was a long time. His mom, on the other hand, gave him more of a dreamy answer. She plastered a smile on her face and changed what his father had said initially—she mumbled, while scrubbing on the dirty plates of shared dinner, that love was patience. He never asked again, for Wonwoo thought he would never get to understand it fully.

But Ali doesn’t feel like love. Not with her eccentric baby blue dress and the lights of the club bathing over her body. Not with the way she brings her beer up to her lips after taking a puff of a cigarette. Instead, she dangles her legs off the seat she’s perched on, staring at his client and friend as she talks to a tall, blonde man while dancing, a smile forever taking over her face when in public.

Wonwoo stops holding her waist to pull away, leaving his drink to the side to quirk an eyebrow. These parties are not his thing—he hates club as much as a forty-year-old man who just wants to go home does, but he has to attend them from time to time. It’s publicity for his client and connections with other artists come from this in most occasions. Ali just decided to tag along, something about the killer look she put on their shared client that she just had to see.

“What are you talking about?” He questions, but when he takes a sip of his drink, his hands placed on his lap, he studies the person they are talking about and indeed, if looks could kill, this one would take him straight to the grave. A yellow bodysuit covers her body, the wide pants making her hips stand out, just the tiniest bit of skin, enough for imagination, showcased around her chest but the diamond necklace around her neck spoke of expensiveness.

“You know,” Ali says, jutting her chin out. “She’s earned far more as a solo this past year than she did in The Moonlit Dolls and it’s obvious every manager in the game wants her now.”

Wonwoo chuckles. “She wouldn’t trade me.” If he’s certain of one thing it is that they’re here to ride or die in this long road that is success. He will stand by her side until his last breath lets him—

Ali shakes her head, fingertips scattering across the collar of his shirt, her index finger toying around his collarbone. “Babe—”

“Wonwoo.” He corrects, looking at her from behind his rounded glasses. “I told you not to make this too personal.”

The stylist rolls her big eyes. “All I’m saying, Wonwoo, is that she’s talking to Ahn Seojun right now. The son of one of the biggest managers in the game—”

His teeth tighten under the force of his jaw when he stands up from his seat. “I don’t care. I’m sure she won’t—”

“What’s with this blind trust you have with her, Wonwoo?” Ali questions, tipsy when she gets up from her seat, eyes blaring with anger. He stops on his tracks, turning around to look at her, her scent repulsive in tainted alcohol. “She’s no angel, let me tell you.”

“No one is.” He replies, voice vacant of any extra feelings. “I know she wouldn’t leave me for Ahn Seojun or whoever his father is.”

Ali pushes at his chest, a huff leaving her lips. “Get it through your head. What you have with her is not normal! This is not the relationship a manager has with his client!”

Shaking his head in the process, venom bites at his words, but respectfulness is always kept in what he says. “And you shouldn’t care—”

“Wonwoo, I fucking love you, alright?!” The older woman screams at the top of her lungs, tears cradling her vision when she drops the bottle to the side, pieces scattering across the floor. “And all you fucking do, all y—you’ve managed to do all along is love her. I’m sure you’re with her—”

The man in question raises his eyebrows, taking her by the shoulders to stop her from hitting his chest any longer. Well, that’s trouble. Maybe, it wasn’t such a good idea to get involved with someone from the same staff team as himself.

“I’m not.”

“Look me in the eyes, Wonwoo!” Ali exclaims, voice ragged. “Look me in the eyes and tell me it has never crossed your head that you could be in love with her.”

Three seconds of silence follow after his words.

The darkened walls and moody atmosphere of the club becomes more interesting, eyes wandering as he thinks of all the years he had spent with her. When awakening to the sight of her, smiling down at him and asking him to join her for breakfast, had he thought of love? When seeing her in her robe, ready to work on a new album, had he thought of love? When listening to her pleas of forgetting her past, when growing up was harder than even thinking about the future, mixed with the tears of memories she could never get rid of, had he fallen in love?

He’s not sure. He told her once, a little bit over a year ago, that he had fallen in love a bunch of times…but they had never quite felt like this.

“Wonwoo?” Ali’s voice wavers when she questions him again, but Wonwoo simply purses his lips together, a tight line made out of them.

Love is the patience of knowing she would never be his, but for him to wait forever until he saw her happy. Truly contented. That’s what love is.

And he’ll die one day, most likely, telling his children or grandchildren that he had fallen in love with someone once and he never could say it, but that he did his best to have her live her truest love story. With someone who isn’t her manager, of course.

“I am not in love with her.” Wonwoo lies, fixing the coat over his shoulders. “But you’re fired, Ali. I can’t have you create drama between my client and myself.”

The curses that follow after him when he turns around and goes look for her won’t haunt him forever, but they do that night.

###

A gush of air is stolen from her lungs when the new stylists wrap a corset around her waist over her suit, the lacey white material contrasting against the beige walls backtage. She’s about to perform for a show, and they love seeing better—perfect bodies, sculpted smiles, kicking off with an enchanting lifestyle. No one realizes that celebrities are not truly what they show.

“I can’t believe she said that.” The pink wig had been exchanged for a lukewarm blonde, her eyes elongated by thick eyeliner, the shortest stylist fixing the tie around her neck, the dark gray suit matching his own. Anyone would think she inspired herself off him.

Little does Wonwoo know that she did.

“Woo,” She starts. “I would never, ever, think of replacing you with anyone. Much less whoever that Ahn guy is. We were just talking about Queen’s latest album because it was a banger. Can’t blame me for being a bit jealous of Freddie thinking about it before I did—”

“I know you’d never replace me.” Wonwoo conquers, pushing himself away from the wall to get closer to her. The stylists move away when he nears her, his hands resting on her shoulders when she fixes her lipstick, thumb rubbing sightly to make the pink a bit duller. “I’m sorry I made you lose your stylist.”

“You should be sorry about the new stylists wanting me to wear a corset.” She jokes, placing both hands on her chest. “The ladies look good, but I’m afraid I could split in half if I reach a high note with my chest voice.”

The man by her side, with long hair in the styles of The Beatles in Yellow Submarine, widens his eyes when he gasps. “Shit, guys, we forgot about the boots!”

The woman by the tie gasps. “No way!”

“Where are they?” Someone else says.

“They’re in the car. They were too heavy to bring them all the way here. Sorry!”

The singer raises her eyebrows at that. “What do you mean too heavy? I have to dance with those—”

But the stylists don’t listen to her, rushing out of their places to get to that goddamned car. Instead, she chuckles at Wonwoo’s reflection, turning around to interlock their hands together. Typical nature of two friends, right?

“You look beautiful, but this is not you.”

“That’s what people like.” She replies, eyelashes fluttering when she looks up and down his face before humming. “I’m sorry I had you break things off with Ali. I just—Well, you decided it. How could she have thought that you were in love with me?”

Wonwoo becomes silent for a second before a broken smile appears on his features. Maybe, he feels uncomfortable about the situation? After all, he has always been a bit closed up about relationships. At least, that’s what she thinks.

“I would be fucking lucky, Woo.” She says, turning around and bending over the vanity to run her fingers over her mascara-coated lashes, not missing the blush that takes over his features. “A handsome, capable, loving, caring, intelligent and sweet man deciding that I’m worthy of love? His love? I’d die on the spot.”

Wonwoo chuckles at her words, juvenile in its approach, when he rests one hand on the small of her back. “You’ll get him one day.”

“He better hurry, then.” Her answer comes quickly, turning around until her chest is pressed to Wonwoo’s, his eyes lost in something she can’t quite pinpoint. “I’m a romanticist, man. I just…I just need a man who knows that he wants me with so much force that he’ll do anything to make me feel loved. And let me love him back, of course, I’m not as egotistical—”

Anyone who looked at Jeon Wonwoo in all his glory—covered in a suit, with glasses and his hair pushed back, would have never thought of him to be the type to be surprising. Though, when his lips melt against her own in the sweetest of touch, capturing her breath when he closes his eyes delicately and lets his body cover her own, her back digging onto the edge of the vanity, she feels a part of her dying. Dying in the best sense of the word, like how it feels when someone goes to sleep and they disconnect for a while.

Wonwoo tastes like the coffee he had earlier this afternoon, with the stain of his heart dragging across the way his lips softly part and breathe out utmost adoration. Her eyes close when her hands relax against his chest, devoring the feeling of being unique for once. Of having someone, that person, even for just a second. He’s soft, albeit a bit lazy, delicate in the way he approaches the kiss and molds his hand against the small of her back, abdomen flushed against hers.

When she seeks for more of him, he pulls away, his eyes crinkling under the weight of his smile when he says.

“I hope you find someone who loves you like that someday.”

Though, his cheeks blare in all shades of pink when he pulls away, fixing his tie when trying to leave.

“Wonwoo?”

“Yes.”

Before she could tell him anything else, the stylists come back with the huge—just not to say humongous—shoes.

And Wonwoo leaves without listening to what she wanted to say.

I hope that someone who loves me like that is you.

###

All she can think about while seated next to the host show, perpetuated in a beige suit with his bald head shining under the harsh lights of the studio, is the man that stands somewhere behind the cameras and that had kissed the tenderness of romance back into her heart.

So, she crosses one leg over the other various times, tries to laugh a little harder and opts to make everyone believe in the public, both at home and present there, that she’s lurking for her fans, taking in the love that they’ve gifted her after being away for so long.

The vinyl version of her album rests against the wood of the desk that keeps the host away from her, laughter leaving his lips when he points at it with his extended palm. Finally, she stops looking at Wonwoo, whose eyes are trained in the scenery with a soft smile on his face and instead, she tries to think of something else.

Why would Wonwoo kiss her? It’s not like…it’s not like he was interested in her, right?

“This is a big blow for The Moonlit Dolls, ain’t it?” The host asks, looking down at his notes with the eye of a reporter. “Seven times a million seller and on the top list of songs to play on the radio months after its release. How do you feel about it?”

“It’s…stellar. I feel like I’m over the moon.” She replies, voice sultry, aspiring to sound humble even whens he knows her tears and pain is plasterd on that album. “I couldn’t have done it without my fans.”

“Did you know The Dolls’ latest album only sold twenty thousand copies?” The host looks up and her heart gets caught up in her throat. Those are the people she once trusted and sure, she would have loved to see them fail on the first few months of grieving their friendship…but they were talented. Sunshine, now the composer, had continued down the sexy and romantic vibe of The Dolls. “Critics called it a failed try to make music for housewives that want to be sexy after twenty years of marriage.”

She hisses, her smile long forgotten. “They’re talented. I have nothing to say about them.”

The host, however, listened to her album in its entirety. “Nothing to worry about. Your album said enough.” Laughter coming from the public, the man fixes the burgundy tie around his neck. “Why isn’t Jae in the album?”

There it is. She spares one look towards Wonwoo and she sees his smile faltering, his Adam’s apple bobbing when he swallows harshly.

“I’m sorry, who?” Sarcasm drips from her voice when she fakes a smirk, leaning one elbow on the armrest of her chair before pointing at the public. “I want these people with me to feel empowered. We can feel complete without someone by our sides. That’s my message. I may not have pulled it through in the past, but it’s what I stand for now.”

It’s not half a lie, but part of her wondered if she would ever find love. Maybe, it’s closer than she had imagined.

“I agree. I agree…” Though, show hosts are known to be pushy. “But you dated Jae Kim for three years. You two were practically the new Yoko and John. What happened?”

She shrugs. “He’s…” Her voice trails, figuring out if she should say the truth or spit out irrelevant lies. “He’s not the subject of my inspiration, that’s it. I just like to separate my job from my romantic life.”

“He doesn’t do that.” The host says, fixing the glasses that rest on the bridge of his nose when he puts her album down. “He dedicated his latest homerun to you, you know?”

That doesn’t do anything to help her situation, and what she wants to do at that moment is stand up and tell Wonwoo that the kiss meant something. That Jae Kim himself, the man that broke her heart, could come over tonight and she wouldn’t even look his way.

“That’s good.” She says, trying to keep her stardom intact. People don’t like a bit of sass. “I think I’d rather be known as something else than Jae Kim’s inspiration behind a homerun.”

The host clears his throat, a smile on his face. “Would you ever go back to him?”

It’s her time to laugh, but when she looks towards Wonwoo, he’s already taking off somewhere else. Shit. “No.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t believe in second chances.”

“But all your songs were once about him.” The host curls his hand in the air, as if stating the obvious. Her eyes divert towards him once again. “Is it, maybe, that the ex-doll has found a Ken for herself?”

This interview is going horrid. This is the moment she realizes that no matter how hard she has worked for the past year, she will always be known for something. A sex symbol that hung around Jae Kim and sported short skirts. This alone makes the corset around her waist constraint her from breathing properly when she shakes her head.

“I’d be lucky to have someone else.” She whispers, looking towards the public before squinting her eyes. “…But that’s never possible. You’re either successful or in love, and when I choose to have both, it ends up plastered on the media. Consumed as if I’m a product.” Leaning back on her seat, she connects her gaze with the host’s. “You see, I’d love to love someone, but I’m unable to. How can I promise someone happiness in the world I live in, when I’m my saddest ever since I started being a celebrity?” Her voice departs a little, broken, when she plasters a smile on her face and chuckles lightly. “So, I’m free as a bird as of now, and not returning to the past.”

Though Wonwoo hadn’t listened, she wished he would have. For, she would love to have him by her side, but she didn’t want to taint him, break him quite like the media did for her.

###

One month passes by without the kiss being spoken about, but the tension is unbearable.

Sure, Wonwoo should have never tried to kiss her. He was irresponsible, if not unprofessional, or all kinds of wrong adjectives when he had decided to lay his lips on her, caress her skin with his own, want to do nothing more than to unleash her realest self away from the corset, over the vanity and kiss her until her lips were swollen. He would have, maybe, taken her out for dinner later and hoped to lay by her side by the end of the night, with each breath of her own mingling with him.

But he couldn’t. He knows he can’t. Not when he promised to be her manager, with a contract and all, and wanted her to succeed. What would anyone think of him if they saw her with her in front of a camera? Or even worse, what would the media think? She had gone from successful, rich men with snarky tongues and scandalous sex lives to the tamest man she could find.

His pencil taps against his agenda, seated on the passenger’s seat as he reads their schedule for today.

“We don’t have much else to do.” He states, the black, sleek car they find themselves in matching his dark suit. He stares up, studying her profile when he spits out: “The studio has been scheduled for tonight. You can record anything you want until two, and then, we’re off to sleep.”

Though, she doesn’t seem to be listening, her natural hair tied behind her back, sporting baggy clothing when she lifts herself off the seat the slightest to look through the review mirror. “Shit.” She grits through her teeth, sitting straighter and picking up the pace of the car.

“What’s going on?” Suddenly, she’s rushing through the streets, her eyes widened and her jaw tightened in hatred.

“Someone is following us. The paps.”

“What?” Wonwoo has never been in this position. He’s always the one sneaking her away from the paparazzi, not the man caught with her on camera. “Are you sure?”

A short, sarcastic laugh leaves her at that. “I’ve been in this business for long enough to differentiate a normal car from a paparazzi’s.” Though, she’s rushing through the streets, moving away from their normal road towards the studio to lose them. “I don’t want them to capture you in camera.”

That brings a pang to his chest. Of course, she didn’t mind it when it was Jae Kim or one of her love affairs. Not when she’s in parties or drinking to her heart’s content. That kiss meant nothing to her, perhaps embarrassed her beyond a tainted friendship. “It doesn’t matter. People know I’m your manager either way—”

“I don’t want them to talk about you, Woo.” The nickname drops from her tongue sweetly, looking through the review mirror and giving another harsh turn. “I don’t need them to ruin the only good thing left in my life. I don’t want anyone judging you or comparing you to the past because—”

“Why would it matter?” A bitter tone follows his statement. “I’m nothing special. If they talk about me, they will forget about me as well—”

“Goddamn it,” She curses, harshness in her voice when she tries to voice out her concerns. “Wonwoo, listen to me!”

“I just don’t get you!” His voice rises as well, losing his poised tone. “All celebrities are accompanied by their manager!”

“But you’re not just a manager to me anymore, stupid ass!” She conquers, his voice growing tinier when he hears her argument. She manages to lose them with one more turn, not a fit farther away from the city than they were at the beginning, but he can only concentrate on the way the street lights cast down on her face, shadows merged with beauty. “I—I…The night you kissed me, all I could think about is how I don’t see you the same way, Woo. I’ve never been kissed like that.”

His lips remain sealed for a few seconds, before a grin appears on his face. “Whoever didn’t kiss you like you deserved was crazy.”

“I don’t want people to know about you because I want to make things right.” With that, she parks the car, tall trees and shadowed spots keeping them hidden from the eyes of the world. They’re just two people who no one cares about at that moment. “It’s not about the kiss, but it’s about the person, Wonwoo. I want to be able to have you for myself and I would rot in hell with jealousy whenever I saw you with Ali. I want to be able to feel love and give love to you and only you, because you’re the only person I have known and the only one who has wanted to get to know me.” She turns towards him, fingertips spread on the steering wheel as she speaks. “I don’t need a love story, but I want one with you. Because if there is someone in this world that could be my person, that one created for me, it’s you.”

Emotions wash over him so fast he can’t mention them when crossing his head. Love. Adoration. Patience. Resolution. It’s when his eyes look down at her face, at her lips, the clothing that clads her and differentiates her from the persona she is on stage, does he realize that he was never in love with music…or her music. He wasn’t in love with the rhymes or the love songs.

He was in love with her.

If he had to tell this story to his grandchildren, he wouldn’t know who gave the first step and connected their lips. Her hands fist the edge of his jacket, not caring about the uncomfortableness of the cramped car, kissing him with tenderness and patience, but with that air of necessity that comes with the slow movement of her lips. His hands tangle on her hair, tilting her head to the side as he does what he did a month ago…and God, how he missed it.

He doesn’t know how he spent thirty-one days not doing this, not craving for this.

It’s then he realizes that he hasn’t been in love a bunch of times. Or well, he has—he has fallen in love with her in numerous occasions, like a fool would, dragging his hands down to her waist and bringing her over to his lap as he plants seeds of small kisses across her lips, her cheeks, her neck, her collarbone, a shaky breath leaving her when she rests her hands on each side of his face and pleas—

“Please, Woo. Tell me you’ll give us a try.”

###

1972.

“D—Do you think I ask her to go out with me?”

When he recalls the story of how he found The Moonlit Dolls, he almost always forgets Jeonghan was there. For, the man was wasted, as in, he couldn’t even think straight when he looked up from his position on the table and connected his gaze with the singer he had just met tonight, dancing to her will with an enormous grin on her face.

Wonwoo is there for Joohyun—a lover boy through and through, and he knows Jeonghan is the type to get who he wants when he wants it. With his long black hair tucked behind his ears, his stench of whiskey and his intelligent smirk, Jeonghan could try it with the vocalist and see what ensues, but his stomach twists, turns, in a way that comes with a bit of egotistical nature.

Sure, he’s not going to have anything with her. He’s certain of it, but she’s too pretty for Jeonghan. Too unique.

“I don’t think you should.” Wonwoo says, crossing his arms across his chest. “I think she’s way out of your league.”

Jeonghan scoffs at that, long fingers rubbing at his pink, blushed face before asking: “And who’s a good match for her? You?”

With a sip of his beer and a tilt of his head, Wonwoo studies the woman on stage. No. She’s too impossible. A client is more of what he sees in her. “Only in my dreams.” He replies then, a smile taking over his features when Jeonghan swings him by the shoulder.

“You want her for yourself!”

He chuckles. “I totally do not.” But, he stands up before Jeonghan could—not that it is that difficult, his friend is as shit-faced as he could get—. “I just want to be her manager, that’s all.”

Jeonghan takes the last few droplets of his whiskey down his throat before chuckling dryly. “Give it time. You’ll be head over heels for her.”

And that was the night they met.

###

“It’s still surreal at times, you know.”

Laying next to Wonwoo, with his nimble fingers tracing the curve of her shoulder, his arm weighted down by her back as they look up at the ceiling of her bedroom, his naked torso underneath her cheek while she plays with the outline of his ribcage by his side, never once stopping her train of thought.

His chuckle reaches her face, shaking her slightly when he rests a kiss on top of her head, albeit a bit too short. “What does?”

Though, when she interlocks her bare legs with his, looking up into his brown eyes, she only lets out a soft smile, innocence an irony to the situation they had found themselves in minutes earlier. “That I have a secret boyfriend and it’s you. Out of all people.”

Wonwoo quirks one of his sculpted eyebrows, asking: “Would you want it to be someone else?”

Hovering her face over his, she pecks his lips once before shaking her head softly. “I wouldn’t want anyone else but you.” Though, when she lays back on his chest, his heart still picking up its pace even after four months of dating, she questions: “Does it bother you?”

“What do you mean?”

“That you’re kept a secret.” She mumbles, turning around to rest a kiss on his sternum before resting her chin on top of his hard chest.

Wonwoo has to think about it for a moment. Sure, he had always been the kind of man women would introduce to their parents, whom people made plans with on the long run, but he doesn’t mind it. If anything, he would be petrified if he happened to be caught by the cameras.

So his thumb reaches for her chin, lifting her face up the slightest to part his lips and let his tongue softly caress her bottom lip. He delves into the feeling of her, closing his eyes softly and daydreaming about their future when she relaxes against him.

With one hand resting on her back, and the other sparcing across the mole he adored on her face, he says: “I don’t mind being your secret as long as I’m yours.”

###

WOMEN IN MUSIC – Why the most famous funk singer decided to never date again, and how it worked to her favor in her career.

The eighties are crazy, Wonwoo has figured out. Headlines are better for women, at least, but journalists are still very superficial in what consists of getting to know an artist. With a deep brown suit resting over his body and his hair resting under his earlobes after he had decided to let it grow, he watches his fiancé pose for the cover of her third album.

I Chose You, the album was titled, though no one knew about it yet. The blurring sunshine and pink skies behind her were gorgeous as she sported another styling change, not as reckless and seductive as her initiative in music; and he couldn’t be prouder. There, with the sand bathing his stylish and elegant shoes, he sits back and reads the newspaper. About his girl. Claiming that her last love and the man that broke her heart was none other than Jae Kim.

Her heart’s alright, if anyone is wondering.

But what surprises him is how his new assistant takes the newspaper in between her hands, the tall and slender woman reading over the article with studious and small eyes before gasping lightly.

“Shit,” Hana curses, her bleached and long blonde hair cascading down her back and moving with the wind as Wonwoo studies the celebrity that poses naturally in front of the cameras. “I wonder what it takes to get someone like her to cave in…”

The sun masks the faint smile on his face, his hair moved by the wind when he crosses one leg over the other. For once, he feels tranquil, much more when she connects her gaze with his and sends a smile his way.

“I think it takes bravery.” He confesses, though he’s sure Hana and none of their team know about their relationship. They have kept it a secret, through and through. “She’s too much of a woman for most men.”

Hana nods along to what he says, looking down at the article. “And do you think she’ll find someone someday?”

Maybe it’s crazy, but Wonwoo doesn’t think they found each other. He likes to believe all roads would have led them to meet. “Give it time.” He shrugs. “I’m sure someone will come.”

Though, the laughter that threatens to slip his lips doesn’t leave him, he loves the irony in what they are.

Two people who asked each other where their destined soul was, not noticing that they were meant to be.

Or, alternatively, Wonwoo wanted to ask her out that night at the bar when he met her and Jeonghan was about to do it, but bravery never came his way.

Patience brought him all the power to finally kiss her, though silent in his approach, still getting the best outcome.

PLAYLIST: leave the door open – bruno mars ; adore you – harry styles ; lmly – jackson wang ; hold up – beyonce ; maniac – conan gray ; i hear a symphony – cody fry ; japanese denim – daniel caesar ; vienna – billy joel ; someone you loved – lewis capaldi

#wonwoo scenarios #wonwoo #seventeen scenarios #seventeen #kpop scenarios #writing #wonwoo au #wonwoo fluff #wonwoo angst #seventeen au #seventeen fluff #seventeen angst #manager!wonwoo #i had this idea in my head for a whileeeeeeee #and it's a gift for one of my fave wonwoo stans that denies she has wonwoo as her 1 on her bias list #but whateverrrr

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