#no hugs and in-person send offs for all my friends who are graduating this spring | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

alicemitch09writes · 3 years

Text

(un)loving miya atsumu

fourteen.

loving miya atsumu

Dear Atsumu,

I hate how much your face is the first thing that comes to mind when I think about the word - ‘happiness’ and ‘love’. Happiness, because it radiates off your bones, no matter the situation, in court when up against strong opponents, thwarting plays with a setter dump or when you’re up serving, or when pulling off nasty quicks with your brother or any other player, off court when you fight with Osamu over the last ice cream at the convenience store, when you share a stupid joke with your dad, or even when you’re with the people you care about. Love, because you do everything with just the right to too much amount of love, pouring your everything in it, pouring your heart in the things that make you happy may it be volleyball, Osamu, your family, Mika- not a single wasted opportunity to convey your love and happiness. Nobody compares the way you do.

You’ve set a standard for almost everything, which is why you expect nothing for the best to be at the receiving end of both happiness and love.

I hope you know that to me; you are the embodiment of both happiness and love. Because I really hate how you remain the embodiment of these two words I have difficulty expressing.

Your name literally translates to 'to devour' and in a sense, you are someone who happily, readily accepts love and happiness on a daily basis, allowing it to fill you up to the core and share it with everyone.

You are everything that is everything – the sun after a stormy day, the sunshine in my veins, the kiss of the wind against my skin, the light to my darkness, my sunflower. You are everything to me, and to you, I offer, my whole heart, which you don’t have to worry returning, because it’s yours. Always has been.

- (Y/N)’s letter, 1 out of 13

"MIKA!" launching yourself at your big sister, engulfing in a hug, the two of you laughed. Breaking away, you held your older sister an arm's length, taking her in. "You're home! You're here!" The excitement was evident in your tone, a bit of confusion as well, at the joyful arrival of your big sister.

"Just thought I'd surprise you!"

Frowning slightly, you ask again. "But how about school?"

"I'm on break!"

"Alexander and Pien?"

"The family's currently on vacation in Spain," sensing another question coming, she furthers. "the parents were the ones who arranged this trip, because they know it would mean the world to me and I would never want to miss my little sister's big day."

The grin on your face softened, engulfing your sister into a hug again. "I'm just so happy you're here,"

"Me, too."

Despite everything that went down, before anything else in the world, this was your sister – your best friend by design. After months apart, talking to her virtually for a year, having her in person was such a delight. Seeing her home was probably the best graduation gift you could ask more.

Swaying into your hug, relishing in the feeling of her touch, Mika slowly opens her eyes, seeing the twins, finally remembering that they weren't alone.

"Oh, no! I'm so sorry!" dropping the hug, she turns to the twins. "Atsumu, Osamu, hello!"

"Welcome back, Mika-nee," says Osamu.

"H-Hey Mika-nee," Atsumu stutters.

Something unsettled in your belly, coming at a screeching halt at the reunion. You could feel Osamu's eyes on you. Balling your hands into fists, you swallowed that ugly feeling, wearing a smile on.

"Shall we head inside?" Nobody seemed to notice the slight crack in your voice, which you were thankful for. Lowering your head, your eyes easily found your graduation pin, a reminder.

Atsumu, however, seemed out of it. Even in the presence of his first love, he didn't seem the least happy to see her. In fact, he almost looked, dare you say, troubled.

While the three of you were taking off your shoes, the house filled with joyous noises from both families, you turned to the blond-dyed teen worriedly.

"Atsumu, are you alright?"

Is he alright? How was he supposed to feel? Mika was right there! Mika, the person he's been in love with since he was 9. Love, right? She's always been his standard, the perfect girl for some just as perfect as him. Boyfriend be damned. Mika was there. Mika was here. Shouldn't he be happy?

"Atsumu?" At the sound of your voice, he worked on a feeble smile, worrying you even more.

Snapping out of it, he quirks his lips up. Before you can say another word, his grandparents come barrelling down the hall to greet you three.

Atsumu's smile was worrying.

"How I've missed Japanese food!" Mika gushes at the table, eyes bright at the food on display – especially at the seafood, care of your uncle (of course).

Laughing, the twins' father turns to her. "What's wrong with Dutch food, Mika-chan?"

Aside from sushi, there was an assortment of dishes like tempura, sauteed vegetables, salad, grilled meat, roast beef and chicken, and two cakes. With a feast like this, calling for the occasion, it was enough to water anyone’s mouth.

"It's alright, but kinda bland." they laugh at that.

You sat next to your sister, Kaoru on your other side. Across you sat the twins, Atsumu directly in front of you. Catching his eye, he quirked his lips up – smile seeming forced.

Your mom was all smiles, lifting her glass up. “Well now, let’s make a toast to our graduates!”

"To our bright and wonderful children!” your uncle seconds, joyfully, loudly. “To Atsumu, Osamu, and (Y/N)! Cheers!"

"Cheers!" Everyone was clinking their glasses against each other before digging in.

The adults were usually doing the talking, exchanging pleasantries about this and that, while the youngins were on a world of their own. It only made sense why the (extended) table was divided into two – young and old.

Lifting his gaze, Atsumu could see you chatting up with his grandparents, a pleasing and polite smile on your face. As his grandma was sharing about her newest hobby, you were wiping Kaoru’s face clean, much to the younger boy’s displeasure.

“Atsumu, I hear you’ve been scouted by a pro-league?”

Suddenly called by Mika, he was suddenly on the spot. Normally, he would preen, just to keep those bright (e/c) eyes on him. When in truth, he wants another pair of eyes on him.

“Oh, uh…yeah, that’s right.”

“Pfft, what kinda energy is that?” booms his dad’s voice, ringing throughout the room. “Give it more life, Atsumu!” Beside him, his mom pats her husband’s arm, smiling per usual, but had a loving look in her eyes.

“What team are you joining?”

“MSBY Black Jackals,” he replies, staring at his plate. “they’re based in Osaka.”

Atsumu still remembers the day you approached him, shared with him how a scout agent had approached you first, then asked for Atsumu’s contact information. He was so over the moon after you told him that.

“Oh! So it’s close by!”

“Yeah.”

“That’s nice, you don’t have to worry about university and just continue doing what you do best. I’m jealous.”

Atsumu works on a faint smile, happy to hear it.

You watched the whole exchange from the corner of your eye, taking a bite of sushi before washing it down with soda, swallowing down the lump in your throat as well.

“Nee-san,” something pat at the corners of your mouth, Kaoru grinning. “your mouth was messy!”

Smiling, you could only pat his head in gratitude. “Thank you, Kaoru.”

“And how about (Y/N)-chan?” the Miya’s grandmother asked you suddenly, bringing the attention to you.

Now at the center of attention, you set down your plate. “Um…I’ll be studying at Hiroshima University.”

“Hiroshima! That’s four hours away from here?” whines the twins’ mom, to which your uncle and mom shrugs easily.

“Well, it was her decision.”

“Waseda was also in her list, but she opted for Hiroshima University.”

Nearly choking on his drink, the twins’ father turns to you. “Wa-Waseda!?”

“Dad, calm down!” Atsumu berates, embarrassed. Beside him, Osamu just helps himself to another serving, handing his grandfather another, too.

“Don’t underestimate Waseda, Atsumu! That’s one of the most prestigious schools in Japan!”

Atsumu knows that very well, because you told them about it. Just that…

“Well, she didn’t pass.” Huffs your uncle, but goes on to explain rather excitedly. “So she went for the next big thing – Hiroshima University!”

“Dad, didn’t we already tell you this?” Osamu frowns, rice sticking to his cheek. “We also told you she passed the exams.”

Their dad deflated at that, scratching at his cheek. “A-Ah, eh…you know your old man, he’s getting old and his memory’s failing him.” Everyone in the table laughs, even young Kaoru!

“Still, Hiroshima’s a long way from here, (Y/N)-chan,” their grandfather turns to you. “Why not join Osamu at Kobe University? Or Atsumu in Osaka at Kansai University?”

Shrugging, you reached over to refill his glass. “I wanted a change of pace, I guess. Also,” sitting back, you brushed strands of hair behind your ear, exposing your conch piercing. “I had a bit of epiphany when we had our class excursion there.”

The adults smile at your words, Mika, most especially.

“Well, I know you’ll do well there which is why we want you to have this,” from his pocket, the twins’ grandfather produced three envelopes – for you, Osamu, and Atsumu. To say that the three of you were shocked would be an understatement. “Here,”

Ever so carefully, the three of you took the envelope with both hands.

“Go on, open it!” says their mom excitedly, recording with their phone.

“OH MY GOD MOM, YOU’RE EMBARRASSING US!”

“Open, open!” their grandmother clapped her hands excitedly, sharing the same sweet smile as her husband.

Glancing at each other, the three of you seemed to share the same idea.

“On three?”

Nod.

“One,”

“Two,”

“Three!”

Outside the window, the wind blew, sending a draft it in (L/N) household. One glance and you were greeted by a world painted in pink hues, blushes of nature come in falling petals – spring has come alright.

In your subdivision, there was only one cherry blossom tree that was planted in the playground just behind your house. At the epicentre of your neighbourhood, like a heartbeat that connected each household to its beating. When spring comes, it blooms, shedding off its petals, scattering against the wind everywhere – for everyone to see.

A chance to bring spring into their homes, to enjoy moments like these without having to worry about leaving. Like a hanami at home.

“Ohhh.”

“…we got money.”

“Granny, Gramps, thank you so much!”

“Use the money wisely now!”

“I’m jealous,” Mika tells you, watching the twins. “you three got to share moments like these, have been for years. But now,” her smile falters a bit. “you’re off on your separate ways. Will you be okay?”

Your big sister will always be your best friend, one deigned to you since you were born and because of blood. But having friends of your own was another story, especially worth noting just how quiet you can be, which is why when they moved to Hyogo and were introduced to the twins, it made her feel settled. The three of you were inseparable, always together, a bond she envied.

At this point in your life, there was no denying the consequences of growing up.

“We all have our own different dreams and ambitions, so it’s only normal that we chase after it.” Taking a sip of your drink, your eyes catch on Osamu. “Osamu’s not as ambitious as his brother, but he’s just as competitive – especially when it comes to his future and happiness.”

“True, but a shame that he’s not going pro like his brother, they would be such a team!”

It would, years of watching them grow together was enough of a testament. The most powerful twins in volleyball.

“They’ll always have volleyball and each other. But when it comes to happiness, that’s another story.” Recalling Osamu’s soft gaze on the finished onigiri he made, the tale he shared afterwards. “Osamu’s happiness in with cooking and food.”

Humming, Mika takes her own drink, sipping in.

“And the thing with Atsumu is that’s he’s always looking forward, never once settling on the past knowing that it will hold him back. In fact, he’s always looking ahead that he tends to forget what he’s doing in present time.”

“It sounds like he’s taken to heart your club motto, huh? ‘We don’t need memories’.”

It was such a powerful motto – moving and inspiring all at once. From the moment your eyes saw Inarizaki’s banner when you were young to the moment you became manager, that motto has stuck with you the most. You love that motto, love its implication and even took it by heart.

“We can’t always be ruled by our past after all.” You set your drink down. “How else are we going to move forward?”

Atsumu stared at the ceiling before him, having given up tossing and turning for the past few hours. After the third hour, he threw in the towel – he was restless, unable to fall asleep from everything that’s happened today. It’s as though he found himself at an impasse – unsure of what he’s been holding on to, unable to comprehend how he should feel with everything going on.

Mika was home. Feelings he’s had for her…surfaced. He thinks. Atsumu broke into a sigh, sitting up, he was a mess.

Suddenly, he heard rummaging from below him, muted light glowing from below.

“’Samu?” he called out.

“Ah, shit.” Osamu craned his head, meeting his eyes. “Sorry, ‘Tsumu. Did I wake you?”

Shaking his head, Atsumu noted that Osamu was dressed up. “Where’re you headed?”

“Out.” He pockets his phone and wallet away.

“By yourself?” When his brother shakes his head, Atsumu shifts from his spot, asking again. “With whom?”

“…with (Y/N).”

Atsumu was silent for a while, coming to realization how Osamu sneaks out a lot in the past. It shouldn’t be a question and should be easy to tell who he usually hung out with late at night.

“Can I come?”

Osamu’s blinked at that. Atsumu waits, hopes. He watches as his brother looks at his phone, then back to his brother. Eventually, he exhales through his nose, wearing a half-smile as he nods slowly.

“Yeah, come on.”

Smiling, Atsumu feels excited as he gets down from his bunk and quickly changes. Following his brother's lead, ever so quietly the twins trudge out of the house, careful not to make any loud noises (which honestly, they shouldn't even bother for everyone in their family were heavy sleepers), door closing shut behind him. It amazed Atsumu how his brother does it all with practiced eased.

Spring evening was chilly, biting at his skin, nipping his nose. Good thing he thought of putting on his hoodie.

Together, the twins head out their house, bypassing their gate and turn, towards the (L/N) house next door where a figure waited.

Dressed in an oversized hoodie that stopped by your mid thighs, gazing up at the night sky in thought, in waiting.

"Yo, (Y/N)."

Lowering your head, (e/c) eyes widened slightly once realizing your best friend didn't come alone. At this, Atsumu raised a hand in greeting.

"Hey, (Y/N). Mind if I tag along?"

You shrug easily, standing to your full height. "Sure, why not."

Spring night was cool and crisp, biting almost – remnants from winter’s past.

Three teens walk along their quiet neighbourhood, cruising along houses for some few blocks until reaching a brightly lit establishment just next to the main road.

Upon entering the store, the cashier – a smiling, tired-looking woman, nods at Osamu and you, eyes shining in familiarity. A recurrence, it seems. Despite the wee hours of the night, the stillness of the silence, bright lights flooded the establishment with a multitude of goods lined up, budget meals prepped and ready, everything seemed liked a sight for any customer.

Following after Osamu, the two cruised through the aisles, his brother grabbing some chips and a seasonal onigiri, the twins nearly towering over. Reaching the end, he felt a chill, realizing he was by the frozen section, with you eyeing the selection with pursed lips.

"Aren't you full from all the food we ate earlier?" Atsumu laughs, standing next to you.

"Lest you forget, Osamu has a black hole for a stomach. I'm on my period, so I have cravings." Saying this, you stare at the selection of ice cream.

"How about curfew?" You were such a stickler for rules, this was so new to him.

Shrugging, you picked up strawberry and chocolate brownie. "Osamu and I sometimes pass off as adults. Plus, this neighborhood tends to be complacent when it comes to curfew."

He smirks. "So you're using that to your advantage, huh? Smart girl."

Your only reply was bumping your shoulder against his, putting the strawberry ice cream in his hands. Which he decidedly takes.

Over your meals, the three of you share laugh, meals, and talks. Unable to help himself, and taking a page from his mother, Atsumu takes a selfie to commemorate the moment, uploading instantly to his social media.

To any other bystander – or whoever sees Atsumu’s selfie, it was nothing more than a teenage hang out with your childhood friend and brother. Rather picturesque of perfect innocence, measured smiles, occasional banter highlighted only by the lights of the sleepy convenience store, saturated by the spring evening.

A moment that sent a lurch down each of your hearts at the knowledge that moments like these were numbered. Caught up in the moment, Atsumu desperately wished for time to freeze, wishing his life was always like this.

Nostalgia filled the night, between childhood friends – like that year of silence meant nothing. It was enough to choke Atsumu, bring him to tears with how much he's missed this. Memories from his past painted into his present with bright hues and ink, he wanted them to stay, etched on his skin - unready to have them washed away when the morning comings.

Late-night snacks ended up with the twins sneaking their game console to the (L/N)'s household, talks continue even as you three were playing video games until the wee hours of the morrow, filled with more talks that piled conversation over conversation, talking as though they had a clue – leaving you all breaking into fits of silly laughter.

Just as you landed second in Mario Kart, Osamu conked out first.

"I swear, he sleeps like a fucking log," Atsumu says, watching you carefully set Osamu's head on your lap, patting his head gently.

Smiling softly, you carefully take the blanket you snuck and tucked him in, and yourself, too. Atsumu stood to turn off the console and the TV, filling the room in darkness. However, the glow from the moon outside was enough to illuminate the living room.

"You'll be heading off to Hiroshima, right?" he whispers, reaffirming the question thrown to you earlier that day, you nod. "Wow,” sitting next to you, on the edge of the sofa, he settles in. “big step."

"I figured that I'd like to open my horizon, have a new pace."

Atsumu remembered the peaceful look on your face when they had their class excursion there, smiling at the memory and a bit on the history of the city.

"Like a fresh new beginning, huh?"

Nodding, eyes beginning to droop, Atsumu carefully brings your head to his chest, falling back. "Like you...you'll be off to Osaka...for MSBY Black Jack'ls" you slur. "Osamu's staying here..."

Humming, he brushes away hair from your face, listening to your voice against Osamu's snores.

"You seem t'be doin' fine," he almost laughs at how thick your Kansai was when you were on the brink of sleep. "'ve always been." Taking an inhale, through your exhale you say, "you don't need me, Atsumu, you never have." and then you slipped off to sleep.

How he envied the friendship you had with Osamu, the one thing that connected you both in the first place. Taking your left hand in his, fingers slotting together, scarred fingers touching against each other, he noses at your forehead, lips a hairsbreadth away from your skin.

“Oh, you have no idea just how wrong you are, (Y/N).” lips pressed the lightest kiss, the moon and the stars as his witness. “I’ll always need you.”

You must've heard him in your sleep, because you were smiling, adorably. It was the last sight he saw before Atsumu slipped off, as well.

Dawn broke out slowly, as it always did in Hyogo, light streaming, searching almost for signs of life in the living room. With the sun slowly making its way up, light follows upwards, eventually finding three bodies knocked out in the living room - sleeping rather awkwardly with two boys sandwiching a girl, peaceful, lost in silence. Somewhat, it was a familiar sight.

Waking up to the smell of breakfast, Atsumu woke with a start, blinking wearily as he took in his surroundings. Right, he snuck out with Osamu and stayed over at the (L/N)’s.

Lifting his head, a ghost of a smile found its way on his face when a mop of (h/c) came to view, your hand still in his. Strands of hair littered your face, which he quickly swept away, causing you to stir.

"Good morning, sleepyheads!" a cheery voice greeted from the kitchen. "Hope you like pancakes!"

Fresh out of bed, with her hair in a messy bun with an apron on was Mika, she looked pretty, adorable even. Atsumu should've been happy by the sight of this, captivated even. But he felt nothing.

At the mention of pancakes, Osamu sleepily lifts his head, in alert, eyes still pinched close. Slowly, you rose from Atsumu’s chest, having used it as a pillow last night, rubbing at your eyes.

“Mornin’ (Y/N),” he laughs.

Blinking your eyes open, with the sight of Atsumu in front of you, between his legs, realizing your sleeping position from last night, instantly your face heated, darkened. “A-Atsumu! A-Ah…Um…G-Good morning…” folding his legs back, he did a stretch, Osamu slowly coming to beside you. “Did you sleep well? Does your neck hurt? Your back?”

Your concern was honestly adorable – like your morning self, it made his heart warm.

“No worries, I slept great!”

True to his word, the rest of the morning went swimmingly over heaps of pancake and another selfie.

“I fear you’ll be taking after your mother in that aspect.”

“Wow, selfie whore.”

“SHUT IT, ‘SAMU!”

After breakfast, the twins had to head back home, to greet their grandparents while you started packing. When lunch came, the twins were back – freshly changed and all. At the sight of them, your mom couldn’t help gushing that ‘it takes me back!’ to which your uncle laughed at heartily, welcoming the boys in before they both left for work.

“Oi, Kaoru what’re you doing?” Osamu asked, watching how as your brother stood on a dining chair he grabbed, pushed it against the wall as he reached up, tying something by the window.

Squinting, you asked. “Is…that a teru teru bozu?”

“Yep!” he smiled, letting the doll face outside, getting another balled-up doll from his pocket. “Nee-san’s birthday’s in a few days, don’t want it to rain then!”

“Kaoru, aren’t you a little too old for superstitions?”

“I’m only 13!”

“Yes, but there’s no scientific proof that they prevent rain from coming. Plus, it’s spring, it’s not so hot of a season for rain to fall.”

Miffed by your explanation, he turned, nearly toppling over had he not righted himself quickly. “You don’t know that, nee-san!” Kaoru hopped off the chair, pouting at you.

“Yeah, what the brother boy said!” Atsumu seconded.

“Better safe than sorry!”

You could only sip on your drink in reply, hiding the smile. Osamu gave you a funny look, amused.

“Plus, it has to be sunny on nee-san’s birthday! We’re going to-“ before Kaoru could finish, Mika appeared, slapping a hand on his mouth.

“Hey, how about I make us pasta for lunch?”

Instantly, Kaoru’s face brightened. “Yay, pasta!”

“By the way, (Y/N),” she calls to you. “Reiki’s coming over with the pizza you like that his friend makes, the spinach one and garlic shrimp?”

At the mention of the aforementioned pizzas, your lips quickly quirk up. It was so hard to find those specific flavors around Kobe, the last time you had them was probably before Mika left. Thankfully, Reiki, being the social butterfly that he was, knew a lot of people.

“Your boyfriend has my many thanks,”

Mika laughs, making you realize a little too late on the words that left your mouth. Sliding your eyes to Atsumu, you were surprised to find that he seemed relatively fine, cordial even.

When Reiki came with the pizzas later, pasta ready and waiting, you all feasted, but not before Atsumu insisted on a selfie with everyone.

“I swear, you’re turning to Ma and it’s scaring me,” Osamu tells his brother with a disgusted frown.

“Watch your mouth, ‘Samu that’s still our Ma!” Atsumu angrily bites off his pizza. “Is it so wrong to capture moments frozen in time!?”

“Wow, that was a rather poetic way of saying it,” you noted, nodding your thanks at Reiki would gave you two slices each of the pizzas.

“Come on now, let’s not fight!” Reiki says calmly, undeterred by the twins. “Let’s just eat, yeah?”

A long-distance relationship seemed to work fine for your sister and Reiki. Clearly, distance makes the heart fonder with how lovey-dovey they seemed. A peek over at Atsumu, and you’d half-expect him to go batshit crazy. But no. If anything, he seemed perfectly fine.

“Atsumu, do you have a minute?”

As Atsumu walked off with your sister, you could only watch, lips quirking into a smile. For some reason, you felt fine with that, too.

It was probably when they first moved to Hyogo that Atsumu’s eyes fell to Mika, the ever-smiling, ever-kind oldest daughter. There were plenty of reasons to like her: she was pleasant, polite, pretty, smart, athletic, and kind. For years, Atsumu has always set her as his standard for his ideal woman, even assured himself that he was at her level (which shouldn’t be so hard, thanks to his genetics).

For the first time in the forever, he thought of finally confessing to her his feelings, that chance that he’s waiting for so long.

And yet, as the two enter the backyard, the door sliding shut behind him, Atsumu turns to Mika, with a question that’s been burning on to the back of his head for a while now.

"Why did you do it?"

"Huh?" Mika looks up in surprise, letting go of the door handle.

"Why'd you to talk to him?" Atsumu felt his patience running thin, anger building.

Mika's perfect face falls into confusion, exposing the cracks underneath. This was clearly not what she intended to talk about, but Atsumu didn’t care, he was leading this conversation now. Honestly, it feels like he’s finally seeing her for who she really is – for the first time, the rosy lenses he had of her were torn away.

Him, being their dad.

Pressing her lips together, a fist to her mouth, contemplating on her response. "...I just...I wanted..."

"A connection?" he finishes for her, an educated guess.

Mika nodded. "He's still my dad, you know? I just thought...I could get to know him..."

"And that hurt (Y/N) in the process," Atsumu threw out, rather impatiently, almost accusingly. "did you know that?"

Pain crosses over her face, bleeding through from her eyes down to the upturn of her lips, hands fisting on her chest.

"Maybe you wanted a relationship with him,” shaking his head, he thinks of you “but not (Y/N)." Of all his memories with you, one where he's caught your eyes on their dad, feeling his stomach twist at the longing in your eyes, hurt him the most. You may have had your uncle, but having your own father was a different thing. You told him that Mika was studying psychology, he couldn’t help but think how ironic that was.

"I'm not perfect, Atsumu."

Atsumu scoffed. "Don't I know that?"

He was an older sibling himself. Older by five minutes, he was still regarded as the oldest, has as much responsibility despite that minute difference.

"Older siblings aren't perfect," Mika says. "We make mistakes, we hurt people, even our siblings." She very clearly wanted to discuss something else, something that clearly wasn’t this. But now that Atsumu’s taken control, she felt herself lose rights.

"Did you tell him about our graduation?"

Mika fell silent, mouth pulled into a line.

That was enough of an answer.

Atsumu tried to imagine how the young you must have felt, the horrors you had to face, to witness, how your young, impressionable mind just paused and came to a screeching halt, to a horrible realization of how fucked up everything was now - he could only feel immeasurable pain, choking him. When that happened, did it also take away the life and spark in your eyes? The joy of life?

He loved his dad very much, his dad was one of the best men in his life who always encouraged him and Osamu to pursue their dreams, always at the frontline for them, and loved his whole family. Had he done what your dad did, he would also feel just as crushed. What he did was inexcusable – to you, to Mika, to your brother, to your mom. Scums like him didn't deserve a second chance.

"I can't believe you did that."

Without waiting for her to reply, Atsumu walked back inside the house, back to where his brother and you were.

Late at night, you stare up at the ceiling, hugging ‘Inari’ – the fox plushie given to you by the trouble children – close to your chest. Mind filled with thoughts, just swimming over you.

Earlier, Atsumu had walked back in the house, the same worrying smile from a few days ago, eyes losing its usual luster. Yet, he assured you that it was nothing, ruffling your hair affectionately.

Mika then walked back in the house, all smiles – but even she had a weary looking smile. Before you could approach her, Reiki rushed to her side and the two scurried to the kitchen. Thankfully, Kaoru, hadn’t picked up on this, busy trying to beat his two nii-sans in Smash.

Shifting your head to the side, to where Mika’s bed was, your sister was dead to the world, deep in her slumber – peaceful and calm. Lifting yourself from your bed, covers dropping, ever so carefully you dropped your feet to the cold floor. Still hugging Inari, you walked away from your bed and to one of the boxes, staring at the contents – some books, stationary.

Bending down, you dig through, careful not to make a sound. From the box, you pulled out a wooden picture frame, hand painted blue, with sunflowers sticking on the top left, a few petals on the upper and lower. And in frame was the photo of the Inarizaki Volleyball Club. It was taken the moment everyone returned from Tokyo. Smiling fondly, fingers smoothed over the sunflowers, taking in everyone’s smiles.

At the center of the photo was you, sandwiched between Atsumu and Osamu, wearing wide grins. When your juniors handed you the frame, you were so sure you’d break out then and there. But it didn’t end there, because Coach Kurosu – tears spilling down his face, gave you his gift, too. Gently setting Inari down, frame sitting next to him, you plucked a small, thick, black cloth.

Sitting crossed legged, you opened it up, smiling at the familiar kanji of the club’s motto.

‘We Don’t Need Memories’

“Such a powerful statement,” you whisper into the silence.

Kita once shared that he wasn’t a fan of the motto – being a man brought by the small things, on how doing the minimum on a daily basis is already enough of an assurance for any needless worries. Yet, it fires him up when he’s up with his team mates.

Coach Kurosu also mentioned, overly fond of the motto, that nothing should ever hold you back from the challenges that life will hurl at you.

Smoothing over the smooth kanji characters, a wave of memories rushed over you – first stepping into the gym, applying as manager the same time the twins had their try-outs, introducing yourself as manager before the twins engulfed you into a hug, seeing Aran again, meeting Kita and the rest of your seniors, meeting Suna, Ginjima, and the rest of the team, being there when the twins got their jerseys, their first official match, making your way to nationals, the twins debuting their dyed hairs, the incident, Kita’s captaincy, him berating you for resigning and convincing you to stay, the painful and cold second year, walking out during preliminaries, breaking down in the club room, having to tell Atsumu he was chosen for the Youth Camp, meeting Sho-chan at nationals, resigning only to be brought back, arcades with the trouble children, sunflowers given by the juniors on your birthday, training in Asano and Yoshimichi, training the new recruits, warmer days in the club, nationals with with Sho-chan, smacking Atsumu in the face, the retirement and turning over, graduation – so many great memories, good and bad. They were definitely the time of your life, if not, the greatest. A chapter that’s come to a close, but filled with so many turning points.

Patting the banner affectionately, a single tear slips down your face, landing on the banner, what a deep tangent you’ve found yourself in.

March 23, your birthday.

It fell on a Sunday, on a perfect sun shiny day, just as your family had expected.

On your birthday, it was decided that it would be spent at Sunflower Hill Park at Ono. Seeing as it was a special day, everyone had to dress their best – you included, being the birthday girl. Mika immediately busied herself prettying you up, even getting you to finally wear the dress that Kita had gifted you sometime back. It’s been gathering dust in the closet since he gave it, unsure on when to wear it.

“It’s just my birthday,” you grumbled, Mika immediately shushing you busily brushing your hair aside to work on your eyes, her face pinched into concentration.

“It’s not ‘just your birthday’, (Y/N).” she says, lighting brushing over your eyes. Setting down her eyeshadow palette, she picks up a blush set, instructing you to smile, exposing your dimples.

“19,” you say aloud, announcing to the world freely. “I’m at the peak of my adulthood.”

“You know, you’ve always been an adult all your life.” Mika teases, brush circling your dimples. “But that doesn’t mean you should be down on your birthday.”

“Studies show that it’s only natural to have birthday disappointments the older you get.” You rebuke, watching her frown cutely, setting her blush down, brandishing a mascara in her hand.

“And studies also show that you don’t always have to have that kind of mindset,” she rebukes back, twirling her mascara madly before taking out the wand. “Open your eyes and look up.”

Gulping, you do as she says, feeling the wand passing down your lashes.

“Birthday disappointments can also be stemmed from high expectations – either from childhood or from adolescence. And here’s the hard truth: you actually want to celebrate your birthday, but you just don’t know how to tell people.”

Capping her mascara, she instructs you to close your eyes, which you do, before you’re assaulted with a mist-like spray all over your face. When she tells you to open, you find yourself staring at yourself in the mirror – struck at the person staring back at you. Mika did a great job, highlighting your features, brightening your whole face, it was easy to see now the resemblance between you two.

“We’re not mind readers, (Y/N), we’re your family. And because we love you, we want to celebrate the day you came to bless our lives,” Mika smiles, smoothing your hair.

Helping you put on your dress, even lending you her sandals, she added some finishing touches like earrings and a sun brim hat.

“I look like those stereotypical animes shown in the summer.” You comment about your reflection in the mirror, to which Mika rolls her eyes at.

“Would you stop, you look beautiful!”

Taking her words with a grain of salt – seeing how pretty she was in her own dress, you smiled and the two of you walk out the room.

“Are you two done, now- Ah, how pretty!” coos your mother, pressing her hands to her mouth, eyes watering.

“Mom, you’re being dramatic-“

“My girls are so pretty! Especially the birthday girl!”

Beside you, Mika looks pleased with herself, especially at her work.

“Happy birthday, sweetie,” says your mom, taking your face in her hands, pressing a kiss on your forehead.

Swallowing down hard, fighting off tears that have strangely formed, you smile at her. “Thanks mom.”

“Alright, let’s go down now! Everyone’s waiting for us!”

Anxiety rose up, heart in your chest as you three descended the stairs, where you could hear people chatting about in the living room. Everyone was there – your uncle, Kaoru, Reiki, the Miyas, even the twins. It was Atsumu who saw you first, doing a double take, taking you in.

And then his mom squealed at the sight of you. “Ah!!!!! (Y/N)-chan, you look so pretty!” everyone turns to you, much to your horror. “Happy birthday, sweet girl!” she says.

“…thank you, Auntie.” Your voice was quiet, raspy.

Being the center of attention, everyone’s smiles on you was unnerving.

Self-consciously, you duck under their gazes, face burning.

To your surprise, your family had long planned this together with the Miyas. What made it extra special was the fact that it was just days after the three of you graduated and of Mika’s return. An outing of two families, in a field of little suns spread across the field.

At the sight of tall, bright yellow and brown flowers, your eyes sparkled in child-like wonder. Sensing your excitement, Mika, with her uncle’s camera slung around her neck, hooked her arm around yours, giggling and pulling you further in the park, leaving Atsumu and the rest to follow after.

The adults were discussing amongst themselves, discussing where they should set up, Reiki happily stuck around them, ever ready to help around, while Kaoru was running off to join his sisters. Alone with his brother, Osamu elbows him.

"Is something wrong with you and Mika-nee?" Osamu asks him, feeling the breeze against his skin.

On the way to Ono, with the twins, you, Mika, and Reiki, in Reiki’s car, there was a noticeable avoidance between Atsumu and Mika. However, the two easily played it off. Mika was busy chatting up with her boyfriend, Atsumu looked over your shoulder, as you answered birthday greetings.

Even way before that, the two of them were masterful in their way of seeming fine, but when they interacted, it felt rather stiff.

Sighing, Atsumu’s eyes found Kaoru, who was giggling as Mika was getting you to pose in front of flowers, you, clearly embarrassed, tried to talk your way out of it.

"I confronted her about their dad," Atsumu grumbles, hands in his pocket. Eventually, you caved in your sister’s whims, posing demurely, before Kaoru cheered you to try other poses.

Osamu's eyes widened. "Are you an idiot!? Why would you-"

"Did you know that she also told him about our graduation?"

Osamu stopped at that, at its implication, their eyes going to the older (L/N) sister, showing the photos to you.

"Damn."

"I know. Pretty shitty of her."

"Wow, 'Tsumu badmouthing Mika-nee, that's new."

Scoffing, he lifted his head to meet his brother’s. "What the fuck does that mean?"

Shrugging easily, Osamu explains, as their parents walk southward into the park, where an open area for picnic was. "Almost a year ago, you were nothing but praises for her, wouldn’t shut up about her on and on and on.” Breathing out a laugh, he shakes his head when he adds. “Heck, even if she farted you'd think it was cute."

Atsumu's face wrinkles, cringes. "That was before."

“Still,” walking ahead, he stares his brother down, feeling a chill run down his spine. “you never let us forget. Never let (Y/N) forget that.”

Up ahead, the (L/N) siblings were soon joined by Reiki, who took the camera from Mika, opting to take photos of the siblings. (Y/N), who was sandwiched between her older and younger sibling, all smiles for the camera.

“A year ago, it was as though your mission was to make (Y/N) feel so shitty about yourself, all because of your stupid little crush. It took her finally deciding to leave for you to snap out of it.”

Swallowing thickly, Atsumu vaguely remembered that moment of panic, like something had clawed into his chest. Immediately, he feels a sense of shame – for everything he had done to you.

"'Tsumu, you realize that you never said you're sorry to (Y/N), right?"

The hardest pill to swallow was realizing that despite the year he’s had, devoted to making up to you, it just wasn’t enough. Actions may speak louder than words, but just saying those words were just as important. Especially because it was worth noting that, sometimes, Atsumu’s actions can be contradicting to his words and may confuse you. You, who’s suffered quietly all this time, who forced themselves to power through, who unselfishly put others before yourself.

“I’m way past that now,” determination was thick in his tone, strong in his words.

Osamu felt proud to see it, loved to see it. They were nearing their parents – who finally found a nice picnic spot, just right next to the playground hustle.

"Didn't you say that Mika-nee was your one true love?" he couldn’t help but say, egging on his brother, never letting him down on his fuck up.

Osamu nearly fell back as Atsumu tackled him, slapping a hand to his mouth, lest anyone heard it. "KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT, SHITTY 'SAMU!"

"Wasn't she though!?"

"I was a kid!" he reasoned out. "I didn't know shit!"

"Clearly still don't now!" Osamu yelled slapping his brother's hand away from his face.

"FUCK YOU!"

"Now, now, Atsumu, Osamu, no fighting on (Y/N)'s special day!" calls their dad, hands on his hips. Beside him was their mom, smiling as she took photos of the sunflowers all around them.

"Oh, oh, oh, sweetie, let's take a photo with the birthday girl!" hooking her arm around her husband's she didn't give him time to back out before dragging him with her, smiling sweetly at her sons. "And no fighting, Atsumu, Osamu, it's a special day!"

Speaking of special day, Atsumu’s eyes turned to the fields, where you were – feeling his heart settle at your familiar frame, your gentle expression as you gazed at the vibrant yellow sunflowers. He remembered that field trip when they were younger, remembered where your eyes were staring, dug through the display when no one was looking and snuck it in his bag, feeling giddy all over, remembered the smile that came to your face.

It was brighter than any of the sunflowers.

Under the clear blue skies, the sun was shining bright, smiling down on everyone – especially a particular group down at Ono Sunflower Hill Park, circling a girl dressed in white, balloons in hands, all wearing smiles as they sang to greet her.

Their singing echoed out in the field, the wind carrying on their love for the girl in the middle, the girl whose heart was just filled with love with everyone around her.

A simple white cake, decorated in the same flowers that surrounded them was presented to her, and a single candle stood alit, waiting.

When the singing dwindled down, the girl stared at her cake, closed her eyes, and then blew.

She was now 19.

What a lovely day to be loved, feel loved, and be celebrated by love.

Emboldened by his talk with Osamu, brought also by epiphany, Atsumu finds himself carefully approaching Mika.

“Mika-nee, can we talk?”

Reiki, having sensed the mood, excused himself, but not before kissing his girlfriend on the forehead and taking Kaoru with him away from the playground.

Squirming under his gaze, remembering his blow-up on her days before, she fixes him a pleading look. "Atsumu, look, I don't want to fight with you-"

"I'm not sorry for blowing up on you like that, Mika-nee.” He starts, meaning every word. “But I am sorry for intruding into your family business. I just care for (Y/N), she's..." he swallows thickly. "she's been through so much."

Mika’s expression softens, eyes shining. "You really care a great deal about (Y/N), huh?"

“Always have, always will.”

“I’m glad.”

Mika smiles sweetly at him, fiddling with her hands. “It’s just…he’s still my dad, what he did was unforgivable, but the idea of reconnecting with him,” she sniffles, wiping a tear. “how could I not? And then I thought, that maybe (Y/N) would be on board with the idea…” she shakes her head, laughing incredulously. “Clearly, I forgot that I can’t force it on her, can’t fix the trauma he did.” Her face pinches, pained and regret.

The old Atsumu would have rushed and comforted her, assured her that she did great. Emphasis on the old, the Atsumu now just stared, letting her wallow on her mistake.

Covering her face, she groaned into it, before fixing herself up, slapping her cheeks together. “Wooh! How embarrassing of me! Looks like I’ve got a long way to go!” she laughs. Atsumu can’t help but laugh with her.

Even now, her ability to smile through the pain, shoulder her burdens, amazes him. There was a reason he admired this young woman before him, but seeing her open up to her flaws made him admire her even more.

And then he felt it, the urge, something clawing at his chest, words that needed to be said.

“Mika-nee, actually,” the older girl looks up at him, waits patiently. “I…I like you.” Back when he was younger, he had envisioned the perfect confession – something almost like this, with the sun setting behind them, painting them in the afterglow. That was one of his two options for confessing, the other being in the letter he poured his heart in, with your help. “I liked you, Mika-nee.”

It feels freeing to finally say that, to let the person know how much they meant to them. Even if it were no longer the case.

She smiles, sweetly again. “I know.”

Atsumu looks up at her, surprised. Mika’s smile remains.

“E-Eh?”

“I received your letter,” his eyes widen, confusion crawling over. “(Y/N) snuck it into my things before I left for the Netherlands.”

You did that for him? You.

Looking back, his eyes could only widen, realizing that it had been during the incident. Atsumu is assaulted with guilt all over again, brought by your unselfishness, just unsure with what he could say.

“I always thought that it would be the two of you, you know? You three were thick as thieves, enough to rival the three musketeers. But you and (Y/N)? I always felt like there was a great bond between you two.”

“N-Nee-san…actually…I-“ Everything he did to you in the year following the incident came to mind, his self-hate rising, Mika deserved to know.

Instead, she gently shakes her head. “It’s not me you should be telling that to, Atsumu. It’s (Y/N).” taking his arm in her hand, she cups his chin, (e/c) eyes meeting his honey browns, smiling and squeezing on to him arm encouragingly. “Go.”

Coming to, he nods and quickly starts running. Before fully leaving the playground, Mika calls him. “Oh, and Atsumu? Thank you so much for your feelings!”

“Osamu,”

“Hm?”

“Remember when you told me about your first love?”

“…yeah.” He sighs, heavily. “The umeboshi to my onigiri.”

“That’s a funny analogy,” with your arm over his, you leaned against his shoulder as the two of you walked along the pat. “but very fitting for someone you love.”

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it off. What’s yours?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” you look to the field.

“Ah, yes.” Osamu nods, following your gaze. “Sunflowers.”

Leaning against his arm, you murmur. “…he’s my sunflower, Osamu.”

Osamu doesn’t say anything for a while, watching how Kaoru and Reiki raced beside them. Two people missing from their group. “I know he is.”

“And you’re my chicken noodle soup.”

He snorts, looking down at you. “Why?”

“It’s my comfort food, remember? Also, you’re my best friend. You should feel honored.”

“Strange analogy you got there.” He waves at his grandparents, enjoying themselves watch the children play in the fountains.

“Not as strange as your umeboshi and onigiri,” you remind him, teasingly.

Rolling his eyes at that, he can’t deny the gentleness of your voice, its weight and wistfulness.

“Thanks for being my best friend, Osamu.”

Patting his hand over yours, he replies. “Always.”

Breaking away, you smile gratefully at him. He lets you walk off from him, taking a new path.

“Stop sounding like you’re about to die, (Y/N). S’not funny.”

Laughing, you could only tuck your hands behind you. “I’m just feeling nostalgic!”

“Where’re you going?”

“For a walk!”

“Geez, aren’t you tired of walking?”

“Nope,” and you walk further in the new path, Osamu watches you go, but doesn’t follow.

With all his heart, he wishes, for your birthday, all the best for you. Keeping his eyes on white, it slowly shrinks as you walk further and further, away and away, until you were out of sight.

Huffing and puffing, he looked around wildly, searching for (h/c) in a white dress. Atsumu almost cursed at how big of an area the park was, felt pathetic that he was winded out after some runs – he was a fucking athlete, god damn it! About to join a pro-fucking-league-

"Are you looking for someone?" a voice asked him, turning, Atsumu nearly sagged in relief when he found who he was looking for.

You.

"You," he says breathlessly, lips stretched into a wide smile.

Your face scrunched into a light frown, wondering, before producing a handkerchief in your hands, patting his sweaty face. “Have you been running around the park?”

“Nah, just now.” Your frown softens a bit. “Like I said, I was looking for you.”

Tilting your head to the side, confused, you asked. “Why?”

Atsumu opened his mouth, only to stop, realization getting the best of him. Shiiiiiiit.

Suddenly shy, he laughed it off, nervously, uncaring that people were looking at him funny. Concerned washed over your features, which warmed him from the inside, especially with you looking at him all pretty like that. But heck, even without the makeup, you were something else.

“Come on,” you opened a hand to him, an invitation.

Atsumu stared at it, at the scar on your middle finger. Placing his in yours, his larger hand over yours, the two of you began to walk hand-in-hand. You took him by the fields, deep in, as though to hide you amongst the flowers, to be one with them, to a secret place for you both.

For all his life, he couldn’t imagine having to miss out on the feeling, like everything he’s known his whole life is nothing compared to the bright, vibrant yellows and browns around him, in the girl dressed in white, leading him through. And he let you.

How is it that he’s never noticed? Why had he never thought of seeing you? It feels as though he’s led a life blind.

With a tug, the two of you exit the field and into a clearing, all Atsumu can focus on was your smile.

“I’ve always wanted to do that,” you laugh, walking a few steps to the path. “walking across a sunflower field, I mean.”

Atsumu can’t keep his eyes off your smile, even as the both of you sit on the grass, facing the famed 'Sunflower Tower' made of Mikage granite.

The two of you found yourselves in your little hideaway, with nothing but the sky, the sun, the flowers, and the tower, and of course, each other.

“Sounds like something fresh outta a fairy tale,”

Nodding, you fold your legs, drawing your knees near. “Sunflowers are quite tall, after all. Tall and tough flowers.”

“Like me?”

Laughing, your turn to him, staring at him for a while. “Maybe. Especially with your blond dye.”

At the mention of his hair, he runs a hand through it. “…I’m, uh, thinking of keeping it.”

“You should,” your eyes follow his hands carding through his hair, dark roots slowly showing through. “it’ll be your signature look.”

Running a hand through the back of his hair, he fists them there, unable to look away from you.

You.

Amazing, smart, patient, kind, selfless, beautiful you.

“(Y/N)…” your name came easy through his mouth.

Tilting your head, letting strands of hair slip off your shoulders, you parrot back, “Atsumu…”

Just when did everything seem to feel different between you two? And just how long had he missed the way you look bathed in the sunlight?

Fidgeting a little, Atsumu could feel his strength leave him, being at the receiving end of your gaze. However, looking up, he also draws strength from them.

“I, uh, I kept them,” at your frowned confusion, he shyly – oh so quietly, adds, “your letters.”

Immediately, your face burns, feeling goosebumps run all over your spine. “Ugh,” slapping your hands over your eyes, you wish you could also slap the cringe away. “why.”

Atsumu smiles, despite your apparent horror, shrugging easily.

“It’s a reminder, I guess. A reminder that someone actually liked me. Genuinely and truly. Thought of me. Appreciated me. Written and practically poured her heart out in paper, when it’s the fucking twenty first century. Living proof that someone did that for me, but I was the asshole who humiliated her for something so genuine and heartfelt.”

You would’ve argued then and there, having seen the many love letters he and his brother received from his fan club over the years. And yet, the only one he recognizes are yours.

“Atsumu,” words were failing you, so you just sighed. “that’s behind us now.”

But the look on his face wouldn’t go away, eyes darkening – a dangerous storm brewing, festering.

"You can't return my feelings,” you say kindly. “that's not your fault neither is it your problem."

"Y-Yeah, but I could at least try to-"

"Atsumu, stop. Just, stop.” Turning to him, you take his hand in yours – the one with a scar, fingers rubbing comfortingly. “Please.” You’ve thought about it for a while, a long while, it needed to be said. “I'm not going to force you to like me back, it's not right and it's just wrong. Just because I liked you doesn't mean you're obligated to return my feelings when you clearly don't like me like that. That's that."

"B-But-"

"Besides, I've already accepted it – that my feelings can't reach you." swallowing down it all - the heartache and pain, you lifted your gaze and offered a smile. "If all you're worried about is me forgiving you, rest assured that I have."

"But I don't deserve your forgiveness!" he all but screams, shocking you, his eyes were wet and filled with so much remorse, pain, helplessness, and regret. "I've been an ass to you, (Y/N)! I hurt you while you were already hurting," he remembered having to listen to your cries, muffled behind your hands, the forced smiles, the pained look in your eyes, your back turned to him, his panic of not being able to find you during practice. The realization of the distance between both of you because of him. "I walked around you even though you were breaking from the inside. I might as well be worse than your deadbeat, asshole of a father because I wasn't there for you. I hurt you just as he did! I failed you! I-I-"

A gentle hand touched his elbow, shaking him, he looks up, meeting your kind (e/c) gaze. And that smile, that same kind smile that stretched to your eyes, reflecting an oh so loving gaze he knew he didn't deserve. Even without saying a word, you understood everything he wanted to say, all the sorries that's been resting on his tongue, heavy with the weight of his sins, of the burdens of hurting you, of the love he's had and continue to have for you.

He didn't deserve you.

You didn't deserve him.

But you both loved each other just as much.

"(Y-Y/N)," his voice was barely a whisper, wet and croaking. "I'm so sorry...!"

Enveloping you into a hug, he cries into your shoulder, repeatedly saying “I’m sorry” over and over again.

And you just hold him, caressing his head with your other hand.

“I’ll always love you, Atsumu,” your confession just tore at him, tears leaking more. “you will always be my first love, and that will never change.”

Atsumu hugs you tighter, cries harder. “I love you, too.”

When you let go, there was a smile on your face – a radiant, bright, reflected in your eyes that it brightened up your whole face. Like a sunflower greeting the sun, Atsumu found himself smiling, too. Released from the embrace, in his eyes, he feels his heart fill with a bittersweet sense of warmth and twinge.

Despite it all, it still felt good. It felt really good. Talking to you, settling things with you, loving you – it felt right.

Certain people come into our lives whether we like it or not, and you were no exception.

Sadly, just because you came into their life doesn’t automatically guarantee that they’ll stay with you forever. You can only have them for a time.

One of them may end up as your first love, but it's not guaranteed that they will be your last. They'll be just that - your first love, the first person you offered your heart to, but not the person who gets to keep it.

You were his forever person, the first love he realized too late.

end.

237 notes · View notes

rulerofstars · 3 years

Note

do you write in modern!au? i have an idea about an angst of him confessing/proposing to his s/o but because they were too shocked, he thought he was being rejected and he left them, (cutting their contacts off and such) then they meet again after some time coincidentally and they got to talk about it and his s/o got to finally answer him (sorry if its too long!)

Le quattro Stagioni

Pairing: Levi Ackerman x (Fem) Reader

Genre & Warnings: Modern AU, angst, fluff, swearing, mentions of alcohol

Word count: 4,950 words

Angel: I am so sorry this took so long, anon. Thank you so much for requesting, I hope you enjoy this one. Play the songs in order upon seeing the little hearts (♡) that I’ll put, but only if you guys want. All the love.

Songs:

Two is Better than One by Boys Like Girls

Back to December by Jake Coco (or TS)

You and Me by Lifehouse

The tepidity of June danced along the slightly cool breeze that blew a few strands of your hair away from your face. Numerous messages from Hanji made your phone go almost crazy and overwhelmed by the bombardment of notifications. Several questions about what would you wear, what time will you go, or should they pick you up.

A sigh escaped your lips upon opening your apartment door, the cold feeling of being alone grazed your cheek, sending shivers down your spine even though it was summer. Walking to your room, you grabbed the makeup pouch on top of the dining table along the way, replying to your friend’s messages.

Tonight is a special one. After five long years, a highschool reunion is initiated and organized by a few of your batchmates, and the venue is at a small garden event place—where everyone experienced their first prom when in third year. Your lips formed a smile upon the memories brought by the sudden reminisce, it was your first everything.

♡

Highschool is a period where people often experience every kind of shit an individual has to go through to enjoy their teenage years. We get drunk, we smoke—well not everyone, but a majority has tried taking one drag and regretting it afterwards, we lie to our parents, we cut classes. It doesn’t always happen to everyone, and not every single person can relate, but the point is, highschool brought us to situations we never knew we could get through. It introduced us to unfamiliar feelings, it gave us the chance to quench the curiosity that formed within the depths of our minds.

It doesn’t always happen to everyone in high school, but in your case, you fell in love.

Being friends with Hanji allowed you to become one with their own circle, too. The ever so responsible Erwin, Mike, Nanaba, Moblit—Hanji’s best friend, and you didn’t know if they noticed but there’s something else in the man’s eyes whenever he stares at Hanji, and of course, Levi. . . Every single one of them had their own idiosyncrasies, and it wasn’t hard to get along with them, especially with the man with the jet-black hair and slanted eyes.

As a transferee from another school, you chose to go along their group, because being with them makes you feel at ease. They weren’t intimidating at all, Levi was, at first, but their warmth and how they welcomed you in their circle will never be forgotten by your heart.

Everyone has their own “partner in crime”, except for Erwin who could ace high school on his own, but he did help anyone who needed a hand, and because of his duties as a class president, he doesn’t always have the chance to mingle with you guys. And so every time you had afterschool shenanigans, Mike and Nanaba would have their own little world, Hanji would be blabbering their rants to Moblit, sometimes Erwin too, if he’s not too busy with his responsibilities, and you are often left with Levi. It’s not that you hated it—you never hated it.

“Do you want me to walk you home?” He asked, one day. It was three months after being friends with you when he first held your hand, just because an over-speeding car almost hit you while you were walking your way towards our house. His hand felt nice on yours, and the concern that dwelled in his eyes was enough to make your frail heart dance with the crispy, orange leaves.

It was in the final term of first year when the attraction towards him grew into a little crush and little did you know how he became more fond of you than he did with the others, too.

“Do you want me to get you soup?” The busy cafeteria was filled with hungry students, lunch time only allows you to have your break within an hour. Yes, fuck school, but thank God the canteen wasn’t so far away.

“Yep,” You answered, while waiting outside of the line as you waited for Levi to finish ordering your food while you held his bag, and the utensils.

“Go find us a chair, I’ll come to you.” His bored eyes darted onto yours, nodding his head, insisting that you should go and sit. Hanji and the others found you soon after being separated for a while, they sat anywhere but the seat in front of you. Because, it’s Levi’s spot if it is across yours, and nobody can change that.

The unexpected bond of you and him had grew into a light sense of puppy love, and you really didn’t have a clue about what you were feeling, but it did feel right, he felt right.

“Do you like Levi?” Nanaba interrogated you one time when she and Hanji had a sleepover at your house, and a sleepover isn’t one if you would not talk about crushes and such. Apparently, something is really going on in between her and Mike, and she talked about how it all began in middle school. Hanji, apparently, is too caught up with fictional creatures like Titans, and they spoke about not having time for crushes.

“Yeah, do you like him? Because he liiiikes you,” They teased and you brushed it off, avoiding the question by changing the topic immediately.

“Don’t be silly.” You laughed.

Of course, of course you did.

He is the snowflakes of your winters.

It was the autumn of sophomore, when you first went into Levi’s house, along with your friends, of course. You met his lovely mom who welcomed you warmly and cooked the nicest food you’ve ever tasted outside of your house, and then you met his uncle who acts as if he’s always drunk and calls Levi a little runt.

“Tch,” Kuchel showed you his baby pictures, and you stared at his annoyed face, picturing if he had not cut his long, dark hair. Maybe he could tie it into a manbun? “Mom, stop that.” You laughed, amused how he managed to snatch the album away from the grip of his mother as he ran towards his room while everyone giggled because of his reaction.

“That brat was never the friendly type, we’re glad you were able to adopt him to your group,” Kenny snorted. Behind his harsh words were a sense of gratitude, you knew that Levi’s uncle may appear as harsh at first, but he was kind, and you were pretty sure where Levi got his attitude from.

Kuchel patted the top of your heads before sending you off that day, thanking you for how well you treated Levi, “You take care of my son, okay?” She said, and it might have appeared as usual to others, but not to you. You’d never forget how she looked into your eyes the moment she spoke, as if she was pertaining to you.

What you thought was puppy love had bloomed into something deeper, something stronger, more serious, and bigger than the both of you.

-----

It was the spring of junior year when you first made out. His room was dimly lit, the curtains were closed, his bed was soft, his tongue on yours—and how you wrapped your arms around his neck just to pull him closer to your body.

The seasons flew by quickly, you knew how well your heart and mind begs for him, and he is well aware about how a single touch of you could make him falter. You weren’t dumb, and it wasn’t that hard to figure it out, what was hard was to admit.

“What do you feel about me?” You asked, staring into his eyes and getting lost within the ardor the dwells upon his irises whenever he looks at you. “Do you love me, Levi?”

You would never forget how his ears turned red at that moment, placing soft kisses on your face while holding you in his arms, never ready to let go. “Tch, what do you think?”

“I think you do, too.” You smiled, pressing your lips against his and closing your eyes, feeling his warm breath on your face, his long eye lashes against your skin, and the scent you’ve grown fond of for years.

His eyes trailed to the necklace he gave you at prom, tracing the cold silver chain that rested upon the smoothness of your neck, “Then why’d you ask?”

And he would never forget how your eyes gleamed when he told you that, as if every star in the universe exploded and the smithereens fell onto your face. “I’m right, then?”

“Mhm.”

“I just want to hear you say it,” You pouted, kissing on his forehead and studying the cosmos in his eyes. You have always wondered how his eyes looked so pretty whenever you stare at them, never had you noticed how it only dazzles that way just because he is looking at you.

“I am in love with you.”

And it’s just a matter of time when the both of you realized that “you and me” was meant to be an “us.”

Everyone knew about your relationship when you were in high school, you were a power couple, lowkey but sweet. You never fail to capture almost everyone’s attention whenever you do the slightest things, hold each other’s bags, when you give him your food, when you share food, when you share a smile, most especially when you took every breath away at your first dance in prom. The relationship was private, but it shook everyone’s world. You kept things to the both of you, leaving people extremely curious about it.

The graduation was emotional, almost everyone was crying while they hugged their friends. And tears were flowing from your face, too, while Hanji and the others enveloped you into a group hug.

“I’m going to miss you all, oh my God.” They cried.

“There, there, it’s okay.” Erwin shushed them, earning a glare from your brunette friend.

“Shut up! You’re lucky you’d be going to the same university as Levi and Mike!”

You shook your head at them, spotting your boyfriend and walking towards where he is. A small smile formed on his lips upon seeing you approaching.

“Hey,” You smiled, kissing his cheek. Good thing, the lipstick you’ve used is waterproof.

“We made it, huh?” He kissed your forehead, and seldom are the times that he is willing to be affectionate in public. You closed your eyes for a while and caressed his cheek gently.

“We did,” You grinned, reaching out to his palm and intertwining your fingers together. “Hold my hand?”

He let out a light chuckle, and you swore, you fell in love a bit more. “Always.”

While you are the flowers of his spring.

♡

Just like how high school was, college flew by quickly. After years of being emotionally, physically, and mentally drained, you couldn’t believe how you managed to reach the last year of suffering. You wouldn’t lie, but the pressure and the amount of knowledge you’ve compressed into your brain made you doubt yourself. The path towards reality was extremely horrifying, and you felt like you couldn’t take it. You doubted your own capabilities to the point wherein you almost didn’t believe in yourself anymore.

It was the winter of senior year when Levi asked you one question that almost made your heart stop.

The snow fell from the empyrean that day, the heater felt useless because of the extreme cold that crept upon the spaces of your apartment. Your boyfriend was there while you burned your eyebrows trying to work on your final requirement.

You wouldn’t lie if you would say that the stress that had been introduced to the both of you didn’t put a space between him and you. Numerous quarrels have made you stronger, but this. . . it was as if you’re aware that you are drifting apart, and you weren’t doing anything about it, and fuck how it scared you. You wouldn’t lie if you were to say that the love wasn’t as warm as it used to, it wasn’t as fluttery as before, and you understood that it could be because of college. But the thought of letting go of the man that you love just because you are so damn scared of opening up teared your heart to pieces, and so you made your mind.

“C-can we talk?” You asked, approaching Levi who sat on your couch while scrolling through his phone. He nodded, standing up and following you to the dining table where all of your papers and laptop sat, while you shivered underneath the sweater that you stole from him.

“I have to tell you something,” Your hands gripped the hem of the sweater tight, while your boyfriend lean against the backrest of the chair.

“Yeah, me too.” The coldness of his voice added to the ice that formed because of the freezing weather. Was he this cold or were you not used to anymore?

“I-”

“Marry me.”

The ice struck your core like a billow enraged with fury and no mercy. You couldn’t speak nor react as your stared at him while time remained suspended in the frost. Your mind could not process his question, and confusion glazed your eyes while your heart pounded like crazy. The grip of your hand against the hem of the sweater weakened while you couldn’t believe what you just heard.

You thought he’s calling it off. You thought he was going to break up with you, you fucking thought you were done. But you are so taken aback that you can’t even talk. You sat frozen until seconds turned into minutes. You were sandwiched in the conundrum of stress, pressure, anxiety, and doubt.

“I see,” The words that left his mouth struck you in a different way as you watched his body walk out of your apartment. You wanted to scream, to punch yourself, to hurt yourself for not being able to function. You are trembling, but not because of the cold. A part of your soul shivered upon trying to understand what just happened.

“O-oh, my God.” You whispered, rushing outside without even bothering to put on more clothing. Winter’s kiss felt like a ghost on your skin as you sat in the middle of your snow-coated staircase, seeing how he had already gone.

Trepidation slowly crushed your heart as hot tears trickled from your eyes, down your face. Realization crept in the depths of your system as you understood that what caused you to be terrified never involved anything about the future, you’re not crying because he left, because whenever he does, he always comes back to you. What scared you the most, was how he felt before leaving. It felt like goodbye.

-----

The summer dress fitted your body perfectly, putting on a small smile while staring at yourself in the mirror. After some time, you finally finished getting ready. Pink stained your juicy lips, and you topped it off with a gloss. A spritz of perfume, earrings, mascara, everything felt like complete but deep inside, you knew that something was missing.

Your eyes darted on your neck, that is why, feeling nothing around your neck was weird, because you were so used to wearing the necklace that he gave you back when you were in high school. Sighing, you found yourself opening one of your drawers and taking out the necklace once again, you never threw it away, how could you? You just stopped wearing it. Cold and pretty, it sat on your skin. It never looked weary despite how old it was, because you took good care of it. You took good care of the presents Levi gave you.

Memories of how you broke down and how Hanji and Nanaba hugged you so tight while you sat in the middle of Levi’s empty apartment tore a piece of your heart once again. How you begged Erwin and Mike to help you with finding Levi, but they were clueless, too. It hurt so much, he left without a word, cut everything off, he was gone in the wind, and never in your life had you been so confused, so hurt, desperate for answers, desperate for chances.

Before thoughts of him could fill your mind, you forced yourself to think of something else. It has been six months since then, but you would be lying if you were to say that you don’t miss him. Because in reality, you fucking do.

A doorbell woke you out of your daze, “Coming!” You shouted, double-checking everything before heading out the door. Various thoughts filled your mind upon seeing the staircase that was once buried in deep, white, snow.

“Come in, girl!” Nanaba shouted from the backseat, and you smiled upon seeing their bright faces. In the front was Mike, and Moblit’s in the passenger seat, Hanji and Nanaba sat next to each other in the backseat, squishing you in a tight hug once you got in. You missed this so much, it has been so long. You never imagined that you could cherish a friendship like this, one that could last long. One that is worthwhile.

The garden is filled with various decorations inspired by the summer. Flowers of different kinds greeted your vision, every decoration turned the same, old, and boring venue into a decent one. You smiled at every familiar face you’ve encountered with, grinning awkwardly whenever they asked you about Levi, and your heart ache. You sought for answers, and they were never given to you.

“Where’s Erwin?” You were curious about the blonde man’s whereabouts, he’s probably busy with work. He immediately got into a company after graduating. You were in their graduation, and Levi wasn’t there. Thoughts of how you panicked that day filled your mind once again, how you cried to Erwin and Mike, telling them how you’ve ruined Levi’s life. But they were comforting, telling you how the man could have transferred when in the final semester in the last minute. Still, everything’s just a possibility, you didn’t know.

Hanji scrolled through their phone, “Probably late because he’s busy,” They answered, looking at you to check if you are okay. Their hand caressed the exposed skin of your shoulder, sending comforting warmth to fight against the cold of the night. “I’m sorry if everyone’s asking about. . .” They trailed off, and you smiled at them, assuring them that it is okay, even though it’s not. How the fuck will it be okay?

Nanaba hugged you from the side while you were sitting, you leaned your head against their shoulder, letting a few tears fall from your pretty eyes.

“I’m sorry, it’s just how they knew you. . .” She whispered, caressing your back, “You’re (Y/N) of Levi.” A bitter laugh escaped your mouth as you chewed on your bottom lip.

“Hey, don’t talk like that,” You giggled, forcing the tears to stop. Mike handed you a glass of water that he fetched from the mobile bar, and you thanked him, carefully drinking from the cup. “Thank you, for being with me.”

“Always.”

Everyone had fun with games and such, the food was great, you had to go back to the buffet table two times, not minding your diet for the night. It was in the middle of the program when Erwin came, nodding at the men and hugging you girls.

“What did I miss?”

“Everything, dude. Where the fuck did you came from? Narnia?”

The spotlight is suddenly on Erwin, shocking the man who is currently eating the food Moblit got for him while he was gone, the Microphone person, Oluo, decided to interrogate Erwin, being the class valedictorian of your batch. People laughed when he was forced to take one shot of pure tequila before making a short speech first. You weren’t sure if Erwin was one of those who organized the event, but he did told you that he was added into a groupchat by a person from another section—you think Nile was the name.

Erwin was indeed, super late when you realized that it is time to for the most fun part of every prom you had in high school—the party portion. The man ate first before he joined your group’s rowdy-ass partying, you had fun as if you were back in your teenage years, except, you had unlimited alcohol this time. You’re pretty sure that either Hanji or Mike would come home late because those two doesn’t know the word limit.

Amidst the part where everyone’s being wild, from disco music to cheesy ones that you actually danced to when you were. . .

♡

A few couples filled the dancefloor, as others went to the mobile bar, ready to get drunk. It was one of your favorite love songs which played, as if it’s mocking you for not having your long-time partner. It’s mocking you for being single, fuck, you don’t even know if you are single or not.

Your boys formed a circle, they always do this every time a sweet song plays from the blasting speakers, mimicking a cotilion, but jumping to the part where everyone switches partners by forming a circle. You get partnered with Mike first, making funny faces to him like how you used to when you were young, and as he twirled you around, you found your self in the gentleman’s arms—Moblit, he told you how pretty you looked as he let you spin, passing you onto Erwin.

His eyes darted on the necklace on your neck, smiling upon the sight of the familiar jewelry, “You look beautiful tonight,” He told you, swaying you along the rhythm of the music. Your lips formed a slight smile, knowing that the reason of his stare is because of the necklace. “Don’t even think about teasing me, Erwin I swear I’ll punch-”

“Woah, easy there, I won’t do that to you.” He laughs at your glare, this man is probably drunk, you thought. While the two never knew their limits, Erwin’s a fucking weakling when it comes to alcohol. He twirled you around with so much force that you ended up not being catched by Mike and so you closed your eyes and braced yourself for the impact, but you didn’t fall.

Warm hands caught your frail body, whoever it was wrapped their hands around you, and between the the searing touches of this stranger, you felt yourself froze, feeling the familiarity of the unfamiliar touch. The clean, musk scent that had you enticed and whipped for years is recognized by your system.

There’s something about you now. . .

His warm hands embraced you like he used to while you get lost within the music that you first danced to.

I can’t quite figure out.

“I missed you.” He whispered, and you couldn’t open your eyes. You buried your faces within his chest, and how you also fucking missed it.

While various emotions filled your core, the tears that failed to escape your eyes before the party started, found their way back into your tear ducts. You didn’t know what to feel, how to feel, what to think, you are once again clueless while you let yourself drown within his touch.

Everything she does is beautiful.

But one thing is for sure.

Everything she does is right.

You are glad that he’s back.

He is the chill that makes you shiver when autumn comes by.

“F-fuck you. . .” You cried, sobbing onto his shirt and gripping onto the fabric. Levi’s hands caressed your back, pressing you closer, harder onto his chest. Fury crept upon every crevice of your heart, but you can’t let him go, you’re scared to let him go.

The love that you have for this man is so tremendous, that you can’t stand to hate him. Slowly, you felt yourself being pulled away from the crowd of dancing couples, distance made the music sound so soft, and the only sound that blasted you to bits was the sound of your heart beats with his.

“I hate you, I fucking hate you, how dare you—how fucking dare you!” Your fists came in contact with his hard chest, the feelings you have kept to yourself for six fucking months blasted like a waterfall. The force was too much, and you let yourself get carried out. Just this once.

His soft eyes never left your tipsy state, you were perfect. Still perfect.

Levi gladly took every punch you threw, every curse you spat, every slap you gave, because nothing could ever deny the fact that he deserved it. He was so fucking dumb, as Erwin and Mike told him.

“Leaving after proposing? Are you a sick fuck? Who does that?”

He received words from his friends after knowing what happened between the both of you. Curses, advices from Erwin, words from Hanji, the disapproval of Moblit, Mike’s punches, Nanaba’s disbelief.

“How d-dare you leave me! Y-you told me you won’t leave me. Fuck you, I-I love you. . .why did you leave me. . . Y-you know that I hate it when you leave me.” You sobbed, not knowing if you should continue hurting him or if you should go and hug him.

Levi’s lips pressed softly against your forehead, holding you tight, under the unforgiving solstice of the night.

“I almost failed my major. . .” He whispers, hugging the vulnerable you, while he buried half of his face onto the crook of your neck. And fuck, how he had missed this, how he fucking missed everything about you. “I never told you, because I know how anxious you were. . . I don’t want to become a burden.”

Your breathing was unsteady as you choked on words you could never say because of what he just said, your grip on his shirt tightened as you felt more tears streaming down your pretty face.

“I felt us drifting apart. . .and fuck, it scared me, (Y/N),” He paused, breathing deeply and running his fingers through your hair. “And when you asked if we could talk, I thought you wanted us done. So I asked you to marry me.”

His warm hands found their way to caress your tear-soaked face as he brought his face closer to yours, staring deeply into your eyes. “And I really wanted to marry you, baby. Fuck, I even had the shitty ring with me that time. . .” He gulped, biting his lip upon seeing the pain in your eyes. He could feel how fast your heart beats, he could feel the ache you’ve gone through for six months. “But I freaked out, And I really thought I. . . I already lost you.” He closed his eyes, he couldn’t bare seeing you cry because of him again.

“Erwin told me that I don’t deserve you, and I realized that really fucking don’t.” The cold wind kissed your skin, contrasting the heat that his body radiates. Steel grey eyes you have fell in love with years ago and until now darted on the silver necklace that sat pretty on your skin, and how it made his heart pound faster that it does. “But I am in love with you. . . The six fucking months, I’ve spent all of it trying to make myself a better man for you.”

His eyes, the gloss that reflected the beauty of the moon stared into yours once again. It’s been a while since you’ve seen the way his eyes look more pretty whenever you stare at him, because it has been a while since he last saw you.

“And whatever decision you are going to make, I will accept.” He whispered, pressing a soft kiss on your tear-stained face once again. “I am in love with you.” A small smile formed on his lips, as if he was already assuming that you’d leave him, and you hated that smile, you hated everything.

As if you fucking could.

“Marry me.” You muttered.

Gone was the fragility that dwelled upon your starry eyes, every doubt, every question, every ounce of fear that once settled deep inside your heart vanished along every meteor that crashed into the abyss of nothingness. Gone was the hate, gone was everything else except for the both of you.

‘Cause it’s you and me, and all of the people, and I don’t know why, I can’t keep my eyes off of you.

He nodded at you, speechless upon your sudden question. And he knew that this is right, he is sure. He is sure of you.

“I’m sorry.” His kisses sent butterflies and made you grew flowers on every inch of your body as he carefully slipped a ring on your ring finger. “I will make it up to you.” His words are coated with finality, and your heavy-lidded eyes felt warm once again, his slender fingers wiped the corner of your eyes before the tears could stain your face once more.

“D-don’t you leave me again.” You choked, admiring the ring that he got you. It fitted perfectly on your finger, just like how your hand fits perfectly with his.

“I’ll stay with you, always.”

“I never stopped loving you, Levi.” Your soft voice was melody to his ears, as the summer night reminded you both of how everything started. How you first met, how you first held hands, how you slowly fell in love, how you first made love, how you both thanked the cosmos for leading you to each other’s arms.

“I’ll never not love you.”

And you will always be the warmth that completes his every summer.

#attack on titan #attack on titan x reader #levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #levi ackerman x you #levi x you #aot #snk #levi imagine #levi aot #levi angst #levi fluff #rulerofstars

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haifengg · 3 years

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Victon Falling for their Childhood Friend

Summary: He’s known you since you were kids and because fate moves in mysterious ways you have never been apart from each other for long.

Genre: Fluff! // Crack if you squint

-> Seungwoo. He is very career oriented. Because he loves what he is doing. It plays a very important role in his life. Well, it actually is his life more or less. But that also means that he barely ever gets to see his parents and therefore hasn’t seen you in ages. But when he did one Christmas Day he was so surprised about how much you changed. Not just physically but also mentally. The two of you met at the grocery store where your mother had send you to get more ingredients for dinner and he bumps into you in the frozen aisle. At first you didn’t recognise him but then you start to chat like in the old days. Of course you had heard about his career but when you tell him that you never found the time to check it out or google it he gets a little sulky. But you clear it up quickly: “Its not that I am not interested! Your job sounds so interesting! Its just that I have been insanely busy ever since I graduated … you know we are launching this new collection next spring and I am still up our suppliers .. well you know-“, you sigh. “I will definitely go and check it out once I find the time somehow!” After listening to you carefully and reassuring you that he fully understands how it is not having time for anything he asks you if you like your job and your eyes suddenly sparkle. “I do! Yes, I really do. It is very different from what I thought I would be doing but its very interesting and every day is different. There are so many things to learn and to take care of, I really feel needed, you know?” Even though the frozen peas in his hands start to melt he would let you go on and on about it because he suddenly realises that you are just like him. In love with your job. Something he never thought he would see on someone else. That exhilarating passion. Being 100% committed. Then suddenly he notices all these other little things about you. He truly started to see you in a different light.

-> Byungchan. One day he sits on the porch of his parents’ house, having ice cream like a grown-up. He’s home because of a huge birthday in his family. Just sitting there and watching the neighbours getting some gardening done, as suddenly an actually pricey car pulls up in the drive way next door. Some woman gets out and he Is fully taken aback to the point where he forgets about his ice cream. It is like this scene in movies. The protagonist sees someone special and their breath is completely taken away. Except that’s no. movie, Byungchan is no protagonist and that person he is looking at is you. Which he notices himself the second you take off your sunglasses and wave at him.

“Byungchan! You’re home?”

You walk over and up the path to his house in your office work clothes and Byungchan has to gather all his remaining brain cells to form a: “Y/N? Is that you?” You nod and pull him into a hug as you reached him. Like you always did when you were kids. “Yes of course! Oh my god you got so tall what did they feed you in college?” His heart dropped as you wrapped your arms around his neck and he laughed nervously.

What was he supposed to reply?? All he could think about was how gorgeous you had become. How independent you looked. Not to mention how impressed he was by that car lmao.

-> Seungsik. Since he was your neighbour all the way back, you have seen each other growing up. But more importantly: Seungsik has seen your error and trial progress of learning how to cook. Its not that you invited him over to cook for him but as teenagers he would randomly come over and by chance witness some of your great failures.

But now you were living in different cities, not being neighbours anymore but still close friends. One night he calls you, asking if he could come visit you next week since he was in town for a meeting. Of course you happily agree, promising him to cook dinner. After hanging up and the entire following days Seungsik was anticipating his visit, curiously awaiting to get to experience your now probably very good cooking skills.

Eventually he arrived at your place 20 minutes early because there was less traffic that he was calculating with. And when he rang at your door you just bolted there to open it, quickly gave him a hug and ran back into the kitchen. Because there was smoke everywhere.

“What’S going on?” He asked following you but all you replied was: “Can you take the batteries out of the smoke alarm? I don’t need the fire department to show up at my door again.”

“Again??” He did what he was told and eventually the two of you stood in the kitchen, eying a briquette like something int the casserole.

“I am so sorry. I really tried my best this time. I wanted to impress you. But we can absolutely order something! My treat.” You say and chuckle completely embarrassed. But Seungsik waved it off. “Don’t worry. I can make something?” Even though you insist on ordering in he sat you down on your own sofa and somehow magically created something very home made to eat for the two of you within 15 minutes.

Who are we kidding? This is not how Seungsik notices he likes you but you notice that you like him.

-> Sejun. I don’t know how to put this into many words because it is very simple: Even after graduating high school and only seeing each other a couple of times a year in your home town - you’re still kicking his ass like you used to too. But now you’re hot. It’s as easy as that. During elementary and middle school - even in high school - the two of you were best friends who never ever thought about having feelings for each other. Of course some of his friends asked you out occasionally and most of the girls in class envied you for your relationship with him and the other boys but you never thought much of it and neither did he. But now that you’re in you 20s and still act around him like you used to things begin to change for him. Especially since you fought in your parent’s kitchen over the last piece of honeycomb your mother made. You held him headlock and he was not just turning red because the blood was rushing to his head but also because he was smothered by your boobs (that he now had to acknowledge). When you led go of him he was out of breath because of your awesome headlock technique. And because he now looked at you teasing him about the honeycomb and he, for the first time ever, noticed saw you as a woman. Not just as his friend.

-> Heochan. It had probably been 4 years since you last saw each other at the high school graduation. And you were close friends back then. Maybe not best friends but very close. And he probably always had a thing for you but either a) Never admitted it to himself or b) never went after it.

But when he saw you at the pre-school he knew he had to. Because you somehow transformed into his ideal type. He stopped by the pre-school to surprise pick up his nephew. And he never thought he would meet you there overseeing the pick up of your students.

“You became a teacher?” He asked you before even greeting and as you turned around your eyes lit up. “Heochan! Oh my god I has been so long.” You chat for a bit and he explains why he’s there. Eventually you were still at work and busy but you agree on meeting that weekend for coffee. So you got back to work but Heochan didn’t actually leave right away but observed you talking to the kids and the parents until his nephew begged him to finally go home.

In the car his nephew went on and on about his day and what sort of dirt he ate at the playground but instead of being worried about his nephew, his thoughts were still caught up with you. He was thinking about the clothes you wore and how the dress and cardigan was making your whole appearance look very soft and calm… Yes he was definitely love struck.

-> Hanse. You see each other frequently. At least once a week meeting for coffee at a local non-chain coffee shop became your tradition. It was shier luck you entered the same college and therefore never lived far apart from each other. You both equally valued and cherished the possibility to talk to and vent with someone you have known for a long time and who knows you very well. One thing you always did was venting about your job. And Hanse loved hearing about it because the way you talked about your boss or some other issue was always very direct and comically. So he enjoyed it a lot. He would listen to you all smiley and snickering. And one day he noticed how much the topic of your bickering had changed. Back in the day it would be about how unfair your shifts were and how much you had to do. Lately it was more about how your male colleagues treated you at work and how sexist it was. You tend to notice more subtle and passive aggressive behaviours of them and tell Hanse about it. Which made him notice how mature you became.

“I am telling you, and this is no joke, he came to work and walked by the window of my office. And the first thing he did was ask me how I was doing and as I said ‘fine’ he gave me this look. This Are-you-really-fine-or-are-you-becoming-an-emtional-stress-mess. I swear to god one day I will end him. Also the other day one of the guys at the ware house actually asked me if I was down spending an hour or two with him with this smug look on his face.”

Hanse raised a brow: “What did you tell him?”

You shrug and take your cup, knowing well what effect your next words will have on him: “I told him even if I was down spending the with him he wouldn’t be able to afford me.”

He just loves how sassy and mature you got and how well you handle difficult situations.

-> Subin. For Subin it would take a while to notice his feelings for you because it is very subtle and simple. Both of you didn’t enter college so long ago and even though you weren’t freshmen or sophomores anymore college still was confusing. At least for him. He likes his major and the field of study he is in but he can’t say the same about his class mates. To be quite frankly: He gets along with them well for the time being but they aren’t his friends. In fact he doesn’t have that many friends in the first place. At the end of the day he would always rely on you for sensible topics or when he needs advice. He can talk to comfortably and even after all those years you have known each other you still get him in a way no one else does. Eventually he realises how he does not have that many friends because all he needs is right here with him. It’s you. He isn’t looking for anything in other people because he already has it.

Taglist

@jeonghanmoon @soleilsuhh @kpopsnowball @purplepsycho03 @himitsu-luna

Masterlist

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jjuzoir · 3 years

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graduation gift [o. tooru]

summary: on your last day as oikawa and [name] aka that one couple from class 3-B, you both realize something.

word count:

a/n: bark bark horimiya has completely destroyed me i am in love with both izumi and kyoko someone help 💕 i’m now projecting their relationship everywhere thank you 🙇‍♀️ catch me writing for them too >:( anyway! take this as a thank you for sticking around my shitty schedule (TT)

“And with that, let’s say goodbye to our third years!” The voice cheered into the crowd, and just like that – you were done; you had graduated.

If you’d been at the ceremony with the rest of your classmates, you probably would be tearing up by now as you hugged your close friends and bid farewell to those not so, but you weren’t hugging your friends or bidding farewells because you weren’t at the ceremony. You weren’t in the chair that had your last name labeling it as your own, you weren’t even near the gym. Instead, you were running with your high school diploma on one hand and Oikawa’s hand on the other, – where off to? Neither of you knew.

The sun was bright, painting your surroundings in saturated colors, the smell of spring and new beginnings on the tip of your tongue. You could feel the wind dancing over you two as you made your way down the empty streets, most people were in the ceremony or attending their kins own, and into wherever your feet led you.

“So, Tooru, any idea where we’re going?” You ask, throwing him a curious look from in front of him.

“Nope.” The brunet laughs at the confused double look you send his way, “What? You’re the one who dragged me out.”

“And you haven’t stopped to ask me why or where we’re going, have you?” You roll your eyes but never once do either of your steps falter, you’re both going forward – not sure where, “Is there seriously nowhere you wanna go?”

“I don’t think so?”

“You don’t think so?” You laugh, “We’ll be running forever if you don’t tell me to stop.”

“But we’ll be together, right?” He asks, his grip on your hand suddenly feels a little tighter.

“Yeah.”

“Then I wouldn’t mind.” He concludes, causing heat to rush to your ears and cheeks like a flood.

“Haha, very funny, Tooru.” You look forward once

more in an attempt to hide the way your cheeks felt like they were about to burst.

“I’m serious, [Name],” he whines but you can hear the playfulness in his tone, “I wouldn’t mind doing anything if I got to be with you.”

“...” Your heart is beating too fast for the casual tone in which he spoke, but how could it not? The guy you liked, the one you’d been dating for a little over a year and thought about getting married to more than once, just insinuated he’d like to spend the rest of his life with you, what were you meant to do? “Geez, you’re so cheesy, Oikawa.”

“Ah? Very rich coming from the person who stole me away from the graduation ceremony to spend one last day with me!”

“Don’t act like you didn’t like it.” You huff, you try to sound annoyed but Tooru can still hear the smile in your voice, “Ah, ‘m getting hungry… ‘Kawa, wanna go eat something?”

You start slowing down into a steady until you’re both standing under the shade of a tree and he follows, he takes in your surroundings as you continue talking – you weren’t running but you were still moving, just slower.

“Like what?” He asks.

“Something sweet!” You decide, catching your breath – you hadn’t willingly ran so much in a long time.

“Something sweet, huh?” He repeats, tapping away some unknown melody into your knuckles.

Neither of you say anything, Oikawa was busy thinking of a place to take you out and you were suddenly overtaken by the memories and realization of what exactly was happening today.

From this day onwards, you weren’t a high schooler anymore. So many things had happened from your first year to today, it felt like you’d lived a lifetime and a half. It was weird, so weird to think that this was the end. But you’re weren’t alone –, you think as you look down to the hand still gripping yours. You felt a pain in your chest, you’d have thousands of memories from your time at Seijoh and your classmates but you’d never get to relive these days again, you’d need to make every memory count so that when you’re older you can relax knowing you lived your youth well beside the boy you’d grown to love, right?

And before you know it, you’re walking once again – pulling a surprised Oikawa behind you. This was your last day together as high schoolers, your last day as Oikawa and [Name], the couple from class 3-B, and you wanted to savor it – so you could look back on it with him and laugh.

“Thank you, for being with me,” you smile, as you continue walking, your boyfriend could feel you growing tired from having run around, even he was getting worn down – but not once did he think of stopping you, you turn around and face him properly, still holding his hand, “and for loving me, Oikawa.”

“I wouldn’t have done it any other way,” he laughs, “If I could go back in time, I think I’d do it all again.”

To Oikawa, you were amazing, a force to be reckoned with. He couldn’t help but watch in awe the way you carried yourself, the way you walked and talked – the way you lived life enamoured him and had him wrapped between your fingers in ways you didn’t know.

If only he could gift you the way you made him feel, warm as if the sun was in his hands, loved and comforted in ways he’d only wished possible back when he was younger and lonelier. You had shown him the sun, you had taught him to find joy in the summer breeze and fun in the spring rains. Whenever he felt his thoughts drift into the unknown, you were there to hold his hand and lead them back down, back home – back into your arms. All the things he’d envied those around him for knowing, all the memories and emotions he’d long since decided he wasn’t getting, he now had a map for — he had you.

But as he looks at the hand intertwined with his he knows you’d probably prefer cake, the type they sold in the bakery at the corner of the road before his house. And he was happy to give you that too.

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y2katsuki · 3 years

Text

you changed me

angst angst but also traitor!y/n :o i also left the quirk part empty, so you could envision any quirk you want to have

word count: 2124

“You will go in, collect and report. Nothing more, nothing less. Fail and you do not see tomorrow.”

“Yes, father.”

Father stood tall, his 7′1 figured your 5′5 figured. You learned from day one that you were born to be a pawn, not to be loved. Looking straight, lifeless, your father placed his hands on your shoulders before leaning to say something before he left.

“I blessed you with some of the All For One, use it wisely. You have always been a fast and smart learner. Don’t fail me.”

You woke up gasping. Covered in sweat. A hand crept up, gently pulling you into a hug. You look up to see the blonde boy.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. I’m here.” He soothes you. You hug onto him. Just close your eyes tightly.

The day is upon. The day, your father and his league will come. A day that is supposed to be the happiest moment, graduation. You came into U.A. as a regular student, meant to collect and observe the upcoming heroes. That was your mission, nothing else. However, something did happen. Emotions and feelings happened. Being trapped with brats for a couple of years, when you had no exposure to people, is overwhelming. Your father would tell you to detach from any sorta feelings, it will only obstruct goals. He never showed any emotions as he beat up down to build you up to the perfect pawn. He never calculated how being with others during a period of emotions will affect you. After all, you are still a kid.

“I’m okay. I just...it’s an old memory now. It’s okay because you are here.” You sadly smile.

Love. Love was a scary emotion you experienced. The only emotion you experience was fear. So when your heart tightens, skipped a beat, or felt full, you thought you were dying. Only to find out that these feelings were love. You were in love with the angry boy in class 1-A, Bakugou Katsuki. He was first a rival, a strong one. You observed him and his childhood friend until you realized that your eyes only followed the explosions.

“I will always be here, dumbass. I know I don’t say it much, but you are truly the person I care and love for.” He squeezed you. Your guilty eats you up.

“I love you too. I just want to be with you tonight, please. Last day as students, am I right?” You bury your face into his chest and he laughs. The two of you lay.

Bakugou sleeps, as you lay restless. You slid out quietly before putting on some shoes. You walk the halls of the dorm, in taking everything. Might as well, you will be dead tomorrow. Walking to the places that you and Bakugou spent time at. Where you built memories, became friends with others, and more. Never realizing that tears started to flow out. So this is sadness, extreme sadness.

Tomorrow One For All will come. When the heroes will least expect it. You didn’t want to go, you didn’t want to help him. You wanted to stay with your friends and boyfriend. With the people who loved and accept you. You also didn’t want to die without apologizing and giving an explanation to those you loved. Even if they decide to forgive you, you know that One For All will hunt you down, troubling everyone.

“So he will be here tomorrow.” Lifting your head, seeing All Might, in his smaller form.

“Y-yeah. I-I don’t know....wh-what to do?” You cried.

All Might had found you out after the sports festival. He recognized that quirk anywhere. His enemy, All For One. You couldn’t hide it anymore. The guilty was finally eating you whole. You told him everything. You told him how you didn’t want to do it. That you had grown to love everyone. He listened. He couldn’t blame you. A child, born to be a pawn. Instead, he hugged you. Told you that he would take care of it. That you will get to live old with your classmates, happily. After some time, you and All Might when to a private room to talk.

“There are only two options. I die in my father's hands or...I will be arrested and hate by those I love. To be quite frank, dying is not a bad option.” You spoke after calming down.

“You won’t be arrested, I will protect you.”

“Yeah, but everyone I love will hate me. I-I don’t want that. Especially Bakugou. Dying not that bad, I won’t have to deal with him. But...I do want to leave something for everyone.” Reaching into your pocket, you pull out a crumpled up letter. “After everything, whether I die in his hands or lose everyone. Please give them this letter, if they are willing to listen to anything I said.” You hand the letter, you struggled to write for the last few days, to him.

All-day Bakugou asked if you were okay, saying you looked pale and sick. You told him it just because you are nervous about the ceremony and sad that this was the last day all of your classmates will be together. You were on edge. There was nothing to do but go with your father, to avoid any of your friends to get hurt. You could feel the air grow colder.

It happened in a flash. People screaming, loud sounds. Villains. The only word that you could hear from the screams. The class and pro-heroes spring to action, running towards the commotion and helping people get somewhere safe. You see everything in slow motion before feel Yaoyorozu grabs your hand.

“Let’s go Y/N! We have to help.”

The two of you running to the action, seeing the pro-heroes fighting off the villains. You spot All Might, before running towards him. Before reaching him, you were knocked down. You look up to see the youngest member, Toga Himiko.

“It’s been a while y/n.” She bends down to your level, smiling. “Time to go home.”

You strike her. She looked surprised, before getting instance to fight you. She laughs, the reason why clicking quickly in her mind. She runs towards you, with her knife ready in her hand. You dodge before kicking her down.

“Don’t tell me you pity these heroes. That gold coming from you!” She screams while taking jabs at you. You grab her wrist twisting it, her weapon falling. Twisting her around, pushing your knee in her back, and pinning her down.

“You know nothing about me.”

Looking up, you see All Might struggling with your father. You get up, leaving a laughing Toga on the ground. With All For One back towards you, you charge up your quick. Taking a chance to land a hit on him. He looked back and sees you there.

“Ah, there you are.” All Might stands next to you. Everyone’s eyes moving towards. “You are making this harder than it should be y/n.” The villains back away, retreating to One For All side.

“I won’t allow you, to hurt my friends.”

“We didn’t drag them into this, you did.” His hand reached down to grab you. You were frozen in fear, remembering that he is still more powerful than you and he could easily kill you and your friends without a second thought.

All Might aims for a hit, to protect you, only for your father to avoid it. Sending All Might a distance away. You look in total fear. You see all your classmates and heroes look at you. Until your eyes meet Bakugou’s.

“Y-y/n. Come here.” He said, voice shaking. Your heart breaking in the process.

“She won’t.” You feel the presence of your father behind you. “We don’t want to fight you heroes, we just came to collect something that belongs to us.” His hands fall on your shoulders. The looks of your classmates and teachers scared you more than death.

“I-It’s not true! R-right....y/n.” Bakugou stepped up.

“I’m s-sorry Katsuki.” His face made you want to die. “I-I had too, b-but you guys changed me. You changed me. I want to fight along with you. That’s why I will prove it.” You felt a flame ignite inside you.

You wanted to at least have the chance to prove that you choose them. You chose to change. You want to try to prove that your feelings were real. Your quirk started to flare up, as your emotions got stronger. You grab onto your father hand, that laid on you should before turning to place a hit. You abruptly stopped, your hand being a few centimeters away from his chest. You look down, seeing the open wounds on your abdominal region. You let a shaky breath out before looking up to meet your father’s eyes. For the first time ever, you see your father’s eyes, lifeless, and no emotion.

“Worthless.” Was the only word he said, before dropping you. Your vision started to darken, your body getting colder. You watched has your father and his league leave. Your arm reached out towards him.

You feel a nudge, slowly turning your head over. All Might tried to apply pressure on your wounds. His mouth moving but nothing is coming out. You then see your classmate approach you, Bakugou coming closer to your darken vision.

“I-I tri-tried...” Was the only thing you could mutter.

“Kid, I’m so sorry, I thought I could protect you.” All Might look at you, knowing you were slipping.

“Can I?” All Might looks up to see Bakugou. He nodded, as he backed away. Bakugou falls onto his knees, placing his hand on the wound. You grab his hand.

“I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you every day...I wa-wanted you all to know how you c-changed me....” You couldn’t finish due to coughing up blood.

“Stop talking dumbass. Focus on living.” Bakugou’s watery eyes meet your dull ones.

You slowly reach into your pocket. Grabbing the letter you wanted to give Bakugou before leaving. You shakily pass it to him. You take his hand again, and with your last breath, you spoke your last words.

“I love you, you changed me for the better. Now go and become the best hero...”

Bakugou’s tears flow out, as your eyes lose the last bit of light. He screamed your name, as the medic team covered your body and took you away. Kirishima and Deku grabbing Bakugou, stopping him from trying to hold you from everyone.

It’s been nearly a month since your death. Bakugou looks at the letter, that is still covered in your blood, you left. Never once opened it, until today.

Dear Katsuki,

If you are reading this, I have either left or died. You probably already know the truth. Let me start from the beginning. I was originally born and raised to be a pawn for my father, the plan was for me to collect information and report it back. I had nothing to live for, no meaning in my life. My father took all hope and meaning in my life. That was until I meet you. You arrogant, mean, and loud idiot, gave me a reason to live my life. Being at this school gave me a lot of first. My first time having fun, having emotions, having memories, and having my first love.

Now, I want to apologize. Every day the guilt ate me, it killed me. Every day I wanted to tell you everything, but the thought of you hating me was worse than death. Maybe dying isn’t so bad? I’m not good at expressing my emotions. However my love for you, I could write you a book. I won’t bore you with my word though.

Katsuki Bakugou, I love you so much. I love to see you smile and be a softie when no one is around. I love being the big spoon, even though you won’t admit that you love being the small spoon. I love your ambition to be the best hero ever. I love everything about you. Even if you cannot forgive me, I want you to know that everything I felt for you was real. My feeling for you was never fake, it was the most real thing I have ever felt.

I love you so much.

-Y/N

Bakugo finally lets the tears he has held in since your death. He hugged the letter close to his heart.

“Dumbass, of course, I forgive you. I love you too. Watch me become the number one hero.” He spoke to the framed picture of you two, that sat next to his bed. He laughs, as his tears stain his face.

#mha #my hero academia #bnha #boku no academia #mha imagines #bnha imagines #mha headcanons #my hero academia imagines #bnha bakugou #bakugou katsuki #bakugo x y/n #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugou imagine #bakugou headcanons #kacchan #bakugou katsuki headcanons #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou angst

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blackmissfrizzle · 4 years

Text

No One Has To Know- Part 2

Part 1

Pairing: Angel Reyes x black!reader

Summary: The reader gets a real graduation party.

Warnings: Smut

A/N: I finally got my Girls in the Hood inspired fic out! I hope yall enjoy!

Now this was a party. Your best friend, Bryce surprised you with a graduation party the pool party edition. The only thing missing was your boyfriend and his friends. They had club business to attend to that had them running late.

Aisha, a fellow graduate was complaining about how she didn’t know how to ride dick, so you gladly volunteered to show her. On que, Shake That Monkey came on and you laid Aisha on the lounge chair. Getting on top of her you began twerking on her.

Bounce that ass up and down to the floor

Shake that shit till you can't no more

Twerk that monkey, lemme see you get low

Freak that nigga till your shit get sore

Too busy twerking on your friend, you didn’t notice that Angel and his friends arrived. Angel couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Your ass on display, eating up your bikini bottoms, moving up and down to the beat. You were definitely riding him later on tonight.

“FUCK IT UP!” You heard Letty’s voice cheer you on.

Turning around you saw the young girl, surprised at how she got there. Her dad beat you to the punch to questioning her. “Leticia, what the fuck are you doing here?!”

You couldn’t pay too much attention to the argument because suddenly you were picked up from Aisha.

“Where’s the clothes at, mi dulce?” Angel asked, biting your ear. There were too many eyes on his girl. He’ll pull his gun if he had to, he just had to do it secretly to keep the mood right.

“This is a pool party, Angelito. Clothes are unnecessary. In fact, you got too many clothes on.” You turned to tug at the ends of his kutte.

“It’s because I knew you wouldn’t be able to keep your hands to yourself.” Angel joked, sliding his hand to grab your ass.

Bryce walked past the two of you and forced drinks into both of y’alls hands. Apparently, you were too sober for her. Just as you were about to comment about how good the drinks were your song came on. You and Bryce ran towards each other, hyping the other up as you screamed the lyrics together.

Fuck bein' good, I'm a bad bitch (Ah)

I'm sick of motherfuckers tryna tell me how to live (Fuck y'all))

Angel stood behind and just watched. He loved just watching you be carefree. The pressure of being the perfect daughter not weighing on you.

Jumping in Angel’s face you began singing the lyrics towards him, dancing along to the song.

In the mall with him, I'ma have a ball with him (Yeah, yeah, woah)

Somebody call Rihanna, I'ma buy some drawers with him

He fuckin' with Thee Stallion 'cause he into wild women (He love wild women)

Put them legs on his head, now he love tall women (Yeah, yeah, ah)

You'll never catch me callin' these niggas daddy (Nope)

Angel smacked your ass as a warning to tell you to quit your shit. On multiple occasions you’ve called him daddy and he wasn’t about to let you act like you didn’t just because you were singing some lyrics.

The little smack you got, prompted you to twerk on Angel. You never really had this opportunity before and now that you can you’re loving it. You wanted to show off Angel as your man.

I'm a hot girl, I do hot shit (I do hot shit)

Spend his income on my outfit (On my outfit)

I don't text quick 'cause I ain't thirsty (I ain't thirsty)

These bitches mad, mad, they wanna hurt me (Ah, ah)

While sipping on your drink, you looked over your shoulder all innocently like you weren’t just making your ass clap against Angel’s erection.

Yeah, he call me Patty Cake 'cause the way that ass shake (Yeah, yeah, ass shake)

I'ma make him eat me out while I'm watchin' anime (Wow, wow, anime)

Pussy like a Wild Fox, lookin' for a Sasuke (Yeah, yeah, ayy, yeah)

The friction of his clothes and you twerking on him made Angel’s hard on unbearable for him. He had to get a little taste to hold him over for the rest of the party. Picking you up he led you into the house.

“Angel! Where are we going?” You wrapped your arms around his neck to secure yourself.

“Somewhere I can watch that ass shake on my dick.” Angel found the nearest bathroom and set you down on the counter.

Kneeling before you he ran his nose against your core, making you wetter than you already were.

Tugging on his hair, you tilted his head so he could look at you. “I thought you wanted to see my ass shake?”

Untying your bottoms, Angel stuck two ring adorned fingers inside of you. “Yeah, I do but first I wanna feel your legs wrapped around my head. Is that okay with you, baby?”

“Fuck yes,” you moaned, enjoying the feel of Angel’s fingers stretching you out.

There was no teasing. Angel dived in, eating your pussy like it was his last meal. He knew how to get you to a quick orgasm, and he was pulling out all the stops to get you there.

And sure, you love the head he was giving you, but right now you wanted to cum all on his dick. “Baby please I need you inside of me.” You tried to push away from him, but instead he wrapped his arm around your waist tightly and pulled you closer to him.

Angel’s tongue was expertly switching between flicking and sucking on your clit while fucking you with his fingers. Once he applied more pressure to your clit and angling his fingers, you reached your peak, beating on his back from how explosive the orgasm was.

Standing up to his full height, his beard and lips glistened from your juices. Crooking your finger, you beckoned Angel to bend down so you could get a tiny taste. The taste of your essence mix with Angel was heavenly like none other.

While kissing him, you unbuckled his jeans and pulled them down with his boxer briefs just far enough for his cock to spring out. You only got a couple of strokes in before Angel stopped you.

“Who am I?” He asked, his hand around your throat, lips ghosting over yours, and dick a half an inch away from sheathing itself inside of you.

“Daddy,” you whimpered, trying to scoot closer to his dick.

Angel lightly slapped your face. “Don’t forget it and don’t you say something stupid like that again. I don’t give a fuck even if it’s in a song.” Angel referenced to your sing along to Megan.

“Yes Daddy.” Normally you would be a bratty little shit, but Angel fucking you was the only thing you could focus on.

After slipping on a condom and turning you to face the mirror, Angel rammed into, making you cum on the spot. He rested his head on your shoulder and kissed it right before he bit it. “Make a fucking doctor’s appointment and get on that birth control, because after today you’re only gonna be coming on my cock with nothing between us. Understand?”

You nodded your head in agreement. Angel didn’t care that you didn’t give him a verbal answer, he was too caught up in how tight you felt around him.

“Shit, I don’t care if you don’t get on birth control. I could fill you up and you can have my babies. Do you wanna have my babies, mi alma?” Angel whispered against your ear, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine.

“Fuck yes, Daddy.” You looked back at him and he saw the fire in your eyes. He knew right now you would let him rip the condom off and shoot all up inside of you. The selfish bastard in him wanted to, but he remembered that you’re still young and that y’all had plenty of time to make babies later, so he kept the condom on.

Angel grabbed you around the neck and flushed your back against his chest. “Congratulations, graduate. I fuckin’ love you, you know that, right?” He asked, his lips peppering down your cheek.

Reaching behind you palmed his face. “I do, Angel. I love you too.” The sounds of your sex contradicted the softness of your proclamation of love, but soon the softness was replaced with roughness as Angel ordered you to cum with him.

Bishop was pissed and nervous. Him along with Taza and Hank came to the party to drop off a present for you. He didn’t expect to hear you and Angel having sex and now he wanted to rip Angel’s head from his shoulders.

“Calmese,” Hank advised his friend and president.

“I know in my head that she’s grown, and I can’t tell her anything, but hearing Angel fucking defiling my little girl is driving me crazy.” Bishop had to be careful holding the gift. He was so agitated he almost wrinkled the bag.

Taza slapped him on the back. “It’s ok. You’re going through 24 years worth of parenting in less than a month.”

“What if she doesn’t like it?” Bishop asked, now worried about the present instead of you and Angel. Both Hank and Taza assured to their friend that you would love your gift. It would no doubt become useful and it had a secret personal touch to it.

Seeing the older Mayans at the party, you drugged Angel along to say hi. “Hey, guys! Thank you for coming.” You hugged each man.

“We’re just dropping by. This is a little too young for us.” Bishop joked, fiddling with the bag in his hand. “Anyway, this is for you.”

Eagerly, you took the bag from him. You weren’t expecting a gift from him. Removing the tissue paper, you discovered your own helmet. Even though you were scared to ride Angel’s bike, you knew one day you would, and you would need a helmet of your own.

Jumping into Bishop’s arms you thanked him profusely.

To have his daughter in his arms warmed his heart even if she didn’t know the truth. “You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

Angel couldn’t hold back the tinge of jealousy. Of all the girlfriends the Mayans ever had, none of them ever gotten a gift from Bishop, especially a gift that’s meant to be given from a boyfriend.

“Angel, can I talk to you for a bit?” Bishop asked, not even waiting for Angel to agree before walking off.

Once they were ducked off in a corner away from everyone else Angel spoke up. “What’s up, prez?”

In full and president authoritarian mode, Bishop warned Angel. “Respect her, you understand me? Keep your dirty shit in private.”

What the fuck was this, Angel thought. The only time Bishop gave any of them shit about screwing around was when they were in the clubhouse bathroom and someone needed to use it. Other than that it was jokes all around. Did this have something to do with you being the mayor’s daughter?

Angel’s rebuttal died on his tongue when he saw Bishop’s face. There was no arguing with him about this at all. “Got it, prez.” Angel nodded his head in agreement and then left in search of you, secretly wondering if his president had a thing for his girl.

Tags: @angrythingstarlight @briannab1234 @starrynite7114 @marvelmaree @thickemadame @chaneajoyyy @woahitslucyylu

#black!reader #angel reyes #angel reyes x reader #angel reyes x black!reader #mayans mc #mayans mc fandom #mayans mc fanfic #angel reyes fanfic #bishop losa #frizzlefic #frizzlesfic #frizzlewrites

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random-mha-thoughts · 4 years

Text

Greedy (Shinsou x Reader)

Pairing: Shinsou x Reader

Genre: Fluff/Comfort, College!AU

Summary: You’re an extremely touch-starved college student, so you ask your friend Shinsou to help you out.

Word count: 2,282

Tags: @yuki-osaki @liviitehe @iamsoftsodonttoucheume-blog @bunnythepipsqueak

a/n: I may or may not be projecting on this one...

This took way longer to write and it ended up way longer and shittier than I expected. Not to mention I fell asleep in the middle of writing last night, so I’m sorry this wasn’t up sooner!

I was debating between Shinsou and Todoroki on this one, but I haven’t written for Shinboi in a while, so why not? (If you guys want a Todoroki ver, I’ll write it too!)

I hit 500 followers 2 days ago! Thank you guys again for liking my posts and my content, I really appreciate it! I’ll work hard to give you better stuff in the future!

I said in my milestone post that I would start a new tradition of spotlighting other writers/artists in the community that I follow to spread some love around, so I’m promoting @lovingshoto once again! If you want some floofy headcanons and one shots, go check her out!

Alright, I’m done talking, enjoy lovelies~

My friend blinks at me. He's practically frozen with fear at my proposal.

"Come on, it's not that bad! Why are you looking at me like I asked you to hide a body for me?" I whine.

"It's not that." He puts down the drink he almost choked on. "It's just...very strange."

I'll admit, it's a very unconventional request I asked of Shinsou, but it's very rational, I swear. "I have scientific evidence to persuade you. Science agrees that it helps lower depressive symptoms and stress. And it releases Oxytocin and makes you happier. Which I really think both of us can benefit from."

My friend sighs. "It still sounds really weird."

"And it improves sleep." I give him a pointed look.

For the first time in our conversation, Shinsou finally seems interested. "Alright, I'm listening."

A grin splits my face in two. "We can start at twice a week! That way, it won't interfere with both of our busy schedules too much."

The violet-haired boy crosses his arms over his chest. "What's so great about cuddling anyway?"

My jaw drops to the floor. "Shinsou, are you telling me you've never cuddled anyone before?" When his face turns red in shame, I know his answer. "You poor, touch-starved boy. How about tonight we give it a try, and then you can give me your answer?"

Shinsou levels a gaze at me. I can't read what exactly he's thinking, but I'm hoping I'm pulling him to my side. Spring is start to hit and I'm feeling both the emotional and physical consequences of so-called cuffing season. Long, hot showers, wrapping myself in blankets, and clothing myself in hoodies and fuzzy socks to survive winter aren't cutting it for me anymore. I want to say I'm becoming influenced by the amount of couples I see walking around campus, but it sounds more intelligent for me to say it's a natural instinct of animals.

But I know it's just an emotional thing, I'm lonely and touch-starved myself.

Shinsou rubs the back of his head. "Where and when is this happening?"

The poor, confused boy stands in front of my bed. "What am I supposed to do again?"

Huffing, I pull his arm into me. "Just get in here and hug me. I'll help you."

I don't blame my awkward friend for being hesitant. He's not usually one for invading personal space and he's definitely not the hugging type. Unfortunately for him, I am a hugger and physical touch whore.

"Just lay back like this, arm out." I position him on his back before laying on my side, using his arm as a pillow and wrapping an arm around his torso, almost like hugging a life-sized teddy bear. Feeling his warmth radiating from him, I hum in satisfaction. "Just like that."

Shinsou eyes me, stiff as a board. It's a cute expression, watching his face tinted in rosy blush. "W-What now?"

I shrug. "We just talk. Or we can just stay here silently." But he's still panicked about the whole thing, so I decide it might be easier for him to be distracted by conversation. "How was your bio test yesterday?"

"It was...okay." His gaze darts back and forth between me and some other object in the room. "I think I messed up on one of the answers."

His arm under me hasn't relaxed from his tense state. "Are you having trouble in class in general?"

"Yeah, but the bio department in general is out to get all of us anyway. Something about narrowing down the huge number of pre-med kids."

I nod slowly, but Shinsou still looks completely nervous. "Hey, is this making you too uncomfortable? I don't want to force you to do something you don't like." Maybe I went about this the wrong way.

He finally looks down at me. "No, it's not- Damnit. It's just... I'm not used to it. I don't really know what I'm supposed to do, and I'm not much of a hugger, and I don't think I'm the best person to do this for you."

My heart melts at his candor, guilt eating at me. I get up from my position. "I'm sorry, it was selfish of me. I didn't even think- I guess it's a little pathetic."

Shinsou sits up and hugs me. "It's not pathetic, don't think that way." His large hand strokes the back of my head.

I'm taken back by the sudden gesture. "Look at you, being all touchy-feely now."

"Shut up, you're obviously trying to make this work, I should put in an effort too." The tempo of his head pats slows. "Also, is it...strange that I kind of missed your warmth when you pulled away?"

Something flutters inside me as I smile to myself. "I think I've made you a believer."

"So, how did your presentation go?" Shinsou strokes my hair from behind.

His soft touches coupled with the warmth radiating from his chest on my back is a magic relaxation spell. My eyes are already closed in bliss. "Went great, especially since my group stayed up late the night before to practice like 500 times. I'm just glad it's over."

"You think you did well?"

"Yeah." I feel myself already drifting off from his hypnotic gesture.

His deep chuckle resounds in my ear. "If you were a cat, you'd be purring right now."

I snuggle closer into his chest. "I can't help it, I'm just so tired and you're putting me to sleep."

Shinsou has really warmed up to our twice a week cuddles. We thought it would be best to have a Friday night cuddle to wind down from the week and a Tuesday night cuddle to energize in the middle of the week. If either of us end up being busy one of those days, we said we can either postpone it a day or just wait until the next cuddle day, but nothing has every come up yet. It's settled very nicely into both of our routines.

He seems to enjoy it more than me sometimes, sending me eager texts or showing up early to our cuddle sessions. It's not uncommon for him to end up sleeping until morning as we embrace. It warms my heart knowing he's realized the benefits of cuddling.

"Can you turn around? My arm's about to fall asleep," Shinsou asks, and I lay on my other side, letting him fold that arm near his head and wrap the other around my torso.

Speaking of warmth, I never imagine I would feel a different kind of warmth when I'm near him. It's not the kind that comes just from the sharing of heat. It's the kind that sends tingles or goosebumps through you from just under the surface of your skin, makes you a different type of cozy, the feeling of sweetness without the taste.

Our relationship grew deeper than I think we both expected. Slowly, we've opened up to each other about deeper things we wouldn't have normally talked about. Late into the night, if we were both still awake, we would open up about out innermost thoughts, secrets, and demons.

Most importantly, I'd say it definitely improved my mood overall. Not only did it give me something to look forward to, but I feel happier. Even on nights where Shinsou ends up leaving for his own room, I'm left with an afterglow buzz, sleeping with a smile on my face for the rest of the night. Thinking about it during the day sends another wave of warmth through me. It's as if all my stress melts away when we're in each other's presence, basking in each other's scent and low breathing.

Though, there is something about cuddling Shinsou that makes me want more of him. I don't know if this is a side effect of the warmth, but I understand his eagerness to spend more time interlocked as we do. All I want to do is snuggle closer to him until there's no more space left. The afterglow of the cuddle sessions would easily be replaced with a cold emptiness, leading me to crave his touch during the day. I'm a starving child who's become a greedy glut for nourishment.

Shinsou's scent is stronger now that I'm facing him. I press my arms into his chest, allowing me to lean in closer to his neck, gradually morphing into a ball against him. I don't know how I survived without this before.

This week has been absolute shit. I'm so close to screaming at something, my lungs feel like they're going to burst. A mix of anger, self-loathing, loneliness, and melancholy bubble underneath the surface. I failed a test in one of my major science classes, I have a paper summary due sometime next week, and two written assignments due in two days. On top of all of that, as part of a pairs assignment in one of my classes, none of the "friends" signed up to be my partner. And these are the same "friends" continuing on to graduate school with me. As if that wasn't bad enough, I'd left my umbrella in my dorm and it poured rain today.

Trudging up the stairs of my dorm building, I open my door and slide my bag off my damp shoulders without moving inside. A familiar tickle in my eyes, heaviness in my chest, and overall loss of warmth in my body almost starts overtaking me.

I don't want to be along right now, I think desperately, closing the door and practically sprinting down the hall, up another flight of stairs, and finding another room. I don't care if it's not Tuesday or Friday, I can't be alone right now.

I slam the door open, thankful that he never bothers to lock it. But I turn the bolt closed.

Shinsou jumps up in surprise. He's sitting at his desk, textbooks and laptop open. I would feel bad for intruding at a time like this, but I'm too far into my feelings to care about things like shame or decency.

"What's wrong?" he looks up at me as I rush over.

I don't respond, grabbing his arm and harshly yanking him out of his seat only to throw him onto his bed. His eyes widen as I climb on top of him, one of my knees between his legs. We haven't used this position, but I just don't care. Once I collapse my head onto his chest, he audibly breathes out a sigh of relief and relaxes, settling one of his hands on top of my slightly dampened head and the other on my back. "What happened?"

His warmth and fresh scent that normally calms me right down makes me silently sob into his chest. I don't hold anything back from him; all my feelings ranging from my past mental health to my childhood quarrels with my parents to the existence of time being a curse for not being enough of it in a day burst from my lips messily. I probably sound a mix of drunk and deranged.

Shinsou doesn't say a word, only alternating between stroking my wet hair and patting my back gently, even as I make a mess of his shirt. "It's been a tough week, you deserve to rest before you even try to tackle it. Those people aren't your friends, you don't owe them anything and you shouldn't expect anything from them either. They don't deserve how great a person you are. You're doing great, trust me. You're hardworking, friendly, trustworthy. Anyone would know you're an absolute gem to be with."

His words evoke a shift in me. This warmth is different from the emotional bursts I've felt before. Hearing compliments from him hits differently.

And that's when it hit me. I'm not just greedy for his cuddles, I want Shinsou as a person. As my boyfriend.

My eyes snap open and I lift my head up. I meet his confused stare. "Do you...mean that?"

One of his eyebrows lift up. "Of course. You're amazing, why would I lie about that?"

I feel a slight rush of heat. "Would you... Do you see me... in some other way?"

He blinks once before a tint of pink coats his cheeks. "Well...maybe I do? I didn't want to say anything about it, but since you're asking, I won't hide it from you." The color saturates more. "I like these cuddles and everything, but...sometimes I think I want more of you. It's...we're already doing this whole thing together, it feels like we're already a couple." His arms constrict around me. "Sometimes, I want to hold you like this and call you...k-k-" He coughs, embarrassed of his next word. "Kitty."

My own face gets infinitely hotter as my stomach tumbles at his term of endearment.

"Y-You already nuzzle into me like one!" he adds defensively. "It's not weird, I swear!" I looks cute to see him all flustered like this.

I kiss his nose instinctively and he turns tomato red. "I think it's really cute," I mumble. "You can call me that if you want. I'll be your kitty."

Shinsou seems like he's in a panic, arms frozen as they constrict around me. "Wow... That sounds better than I thought it would," he mutters incredulously.

I chuckle. "You said that out loud, Hitoshi."

One of his large hands cups my jaw and I nuzzle against it. "My precious kitty." It rolls off his tongue so naturally. He presses a kiss on my forehead. "I'll keep you happy with my cuddles."

I smile against his touch. "Aren't you happy I showed you cuddling? Aren't they great?"

"They're the best, especially with you, Kitty."

#Shinsou x reader #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #shinsou hitoshi #college!AU #shinsou fluff #comfort #gender neutral reader #shinsou imagine #shinsou scenario #mha shinsou #bnha shinsou #mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha fanfiction #bnha fanfiction

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zabiume · 3 years

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I think we can all agree that this year was Not Great, but I personally made a few good fandom friends and re-kindled my love for a) writing and b) writing about the things that make me happy, so I decided I wanted to spread a little early holiday cheer by sifting through my drafts and handing out little fic presents for the lovely people that made this year so great. @nneefa, as a fellow IchiHime dirtbag, I think it’s only fitting that this one goes out from me to you <3 Happy Holiday season, hope you’re staying safe!

Title: Make My Wish Come True

Pairing: Ichigo Kurosaki/Orihime Inoue

Set in the time-skip, angst & fluff, 2k. Read on AO3

Summer rolls into autumn and it’s almost like there’s an undertow of something there, just beneath talk of graduation, and cram school and college. They return at the tail end of the final semester in a blaze of quiet victory, and like always – the world is a little tilted off axis than when they’d left it.

Senior year is quiet, spare the occasional study date or two, the roundtrips to Orihime’s bakery, her apartment, and back. Her presence by his side has somewhat been cemented, underclassmen no longer surprised when they exchange greetings in the hallway, when greetings turn to walking to class together, each moment lingering, spilling into the next. Something integral has shifted, fallen into place in a quiet way, subtle – as it usually is with them.

Sometimes, he notices the way her eyes hold his a lot longer than they used to. Sometimes, he teases her a little bolder than he’d usually allow himself, just to see the crackle of warmth in her eyes when she laughs.

Or at least, that’s what he thinks it is. When acceptance letters arrive and he hears from Tatsuki that she’s decided to go to Nagoya, he’s a little more than surprised he didn’t hear it directly from her. He’s happy for her nonetheless, because the farther away from him she goes, the safer she will be – and he cradles this thought like a knife wedged between his ribs, pretends his heart doesn’t bleed a little every time he pushes it further.

They meet a few times soon after that, but it’s all brief because she’s always got somewhere to be and he’s always got somewhere to return to and soon enough, they’re at the train station and Tatsuki’s cordoning off everyone else until the air is quiet between them – them alone, like they haven’t been for weeks, and he doesn’t quite know what to say. His throat feels thick.

“Thanks for being my friend, Kurosaki-kun,” she whispers, when eventually one of them – Orihime – gathers the courage to press their bodies into an awkward hug. It sounds an awful lot like good-bye, an awful lot like déjà vu, but it’s sincere in the way that only Orihime knows how.

He’s still unsure of how much he’s allowed to touch her before it borders on disrespectful, but the stiffness of his body probably sends a different signal to her. When his hands are just barely about to touch her shoulders, she draws back with a misty smile.

“Write to me, if you’re not too busy,” he manages, around the block in his throat. He doesn’t want to take too much of her time; there are other people who are going to miss her – Orihime is a missable person.

She pauses, like there’s something else she wants to say, but she’s shaken out of it by a sobbing Chizuru, a distraught Keigo, some person or the other who needs her warmth a lot more than he does at the moment.

So he steps away, watches in reverence as she irradiates the room for one last time.

She leaves on a train headed north and he feels like he stares after its smoky silhouette long after it departs.

❅ ❅ ❅ ❅ ❅

Winter arrives, and it’s as bleak as the last – perhaps bleaker. There are unsent letters crumpled in Ichigo’s waste basket, drafted emails in his inbox, half-written sonnets in a journal he keeps tucked in a far corner where Yuzu doesn’t think to clean in fear of finding something that will taint her image of her older brother.

It’s something, alright – just…not what she’s probably expecting.

He goes on dates with shy, doe-eyed girls and he’s so consumed with guilt that, when he starts to count down the minutes until he can get home and call her, he stops going on them entirely.

When he hears from Tatsuki that ‘there’s a guy...,’ though, he debates booking the next train to Nagoya to go scope him out.

(out of concern, he tells himself, and not at all that he’s a little envious of a guy that managed to capture her heart before he did).

He feels lovelorn and stupid, all the unspoken words dying on his tongue when they talk over the phone, the distance bridged with stories of new cats she befriended, new professors that don’t mind the colour of his hair as much as they do his opinions on Shakespeare.

She laughs, all quiet and hushed, around two days before Christmas and he can see it – the way she’s probably folding laundry or making dinner and he realizes with horribly embarrassing clarity that he misses her.

“Are you coming home anytime soon?” he asks, cutting her right through her narration of how she nearly set her kitchen on fire trying to follow Chad’s frittata recipe. It’s a good story – funny in a way that only she knows how – but his heart hurts and he doesn’t know how many more phone calls he can take before going a little stir crazy.

There’s a pause, and he feels color fill his cheeks at just how blunt and forward his words sound. He’s about to apologize, to take it all back, when she speaks very slowly into the phone.

“…Who told you?” she asks, almost reprimanding. “Was it Tatsuki-chan? ‘Cause she’s always telling me I can’t keep a secret, so it’s a teensy bit ridiculous that – “

His head spins. “Wait, Inoue, hold on,” he interrupts, squeezing his eyes shut. When they open again, his heartbeat flares. “What?”

“I’m coming down to Karakura very soon.” She giggles. “I was going to surprise you, but –“

“When?” he demands, already shuffling through a mess of papers and his laptop to look for his calendar. His university let off on Friday, so that still gave them –

“Uhm, tomorrow…?” She pauses, then weakly laughs her way through a very nervous, “Surprise!”

Ichigo freezes, his heartbeat now thundering loudly in his chest. “Why didn’t you didn’t tell me!”

“That’s the point of a surprise, Kurosaki-kun,” she says softly, almost teasing.

It’s embarrassing how high his heart soars.

He doesn’t ask her how long she’s staying, or when she’s going back or any of the other questions that remind him of this wide gulf between them. Just bullies her into giving him her itinerary, her train ticket details and how many bags she’s bringing with her so he can cajole his dad into letting him borrow his car.

“What are you hoping to achieve exactly?” Karin drawls, eyes narrowed at her brother, who has all of a sudden developed a scary spring in his step.

He doesn’t answer her, just lets Yuzu know he’s heading out –

(–to buy bread, he doesn’t tell her, knowing full well what reaction that would get) –

“A Christmas miracle, probably,” he hears Karin mutter as he slams the door behind him.

❅ ❅ ❅ ❅ ❅ ❅

It’s a little more than obvious that all their friends have resorted to taking a wide berth when she arrives. Ishida mutters something about his residency, Chad tells her he’s running errands, Tatsuki promises a late dinner before she heads back. Ichigo, though. Ichigo shows up at the train station at dawn, a bag of bread in his hands.

(“he’s misses you so much,” Tatsuki had told her, and it takes every iota of strength to stomp down old butterflies from springing back.)

They’ve taken to walking around town, perhaps nowhere in particular, perhaps to their old haunts – the stairs by the river, her apartment that’s not so much her apartment since she moved out, Karakura High.

There’s an old tunnel by the back where she used to go, and it’s all too instinctual to take him there. Show him this part of herself that existed before him.

Ichigo is tall now – taller – and he’s sharp everywhere, from the edge of his jaw to the tips of his unruly hair. But his eyes are soft, soft as they’ve come to be (maybe always were) when he looks at her.

“Here,” he says, handing out a slice of bread to her as they lean against the wall. “I know it’s not the kind of scrap you’re used to, but I figured you’d like it.”

Orihime smiles, the warmth of an old joke shared with an old friend not lost on her. Their fingers brush and it’s almost like she’s the Orihime of two years ago, all shy smiles and bolts of electricity from even the smallest moment shared. She loves him that much, and the distance has taught her that she isn’t embarrassed about it at all.

When Ichigo’s fingers linger on the back of her hand a little longer, she wonders if he feels it too. If this is something beyond what it used to be when they were all white shirts and grey coats – young and deer-eyed in this world of chaos and war and growing up. If the Ichigo of today has something in his eyes that the Ichigo of two years ago didn’t.

They circle back to town, watch the snow feather down and shower them in gentle, cold prickles. Ichigo has grown quiet, the cadence of their collective footsteps the only sounds on the way back to the clinic. When they arrive at his front porch, he grabs her shoulder before she can venture into the house.

His grip softens, and he smoothens the crinkles on her sweater with his fingertips.

“Sometimes, I have a hard time saying what I feel,” he starts, the nervous bob of his Adam’s apple belying the steady darkness of his eyes. His fingers run warm circles over her clothing and she holds her breath. “I want- I mean I do feel things, I just don’t know how to –” He cuts himself off, makes a frustrated noise, turning his head sideways like he’s too ashamed to face her.

Orihime pauses for one whole second, then drags him by the collar down till their noses touch, hoping to God she hasn’t read this situation wrong. That she isn’t entirely off the mark. Her heart beats so painfully loud and when his lips come down to brush tentatively against hers, it’s all she can do to not squeak. The kiss is clumsy – his lower lip trembles against her upper one – but it radiates warmth all through her chest and the only thing that stops her from pulling him back and kissing him again is the fact that his dad is probably watching from somewhere behind the curtains.

Ichigo’s cheeks turn dark and he coughs into his palm and she can’t help but feel a little bashful herself.

“Was that okay?” he asks softly and she feels herself falling for him all over again, just as head-over-heels as it used to be. Like watching an old favourite movie and finding new favourite parts to love.

“It was more than okay,” she whispers, licking her lips with a small smile. “It was very good.”

His mouth edges up in a warm smile and this time, she doesn’t try to fight back the butterflies.

#i realize in retrospect this isn't about Christmas at all #oh well #ichihime #myfic #bleachmas 2020

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cloveroctobers · 3 years

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HARRY ZHONG (MITCHELL-WHITE)

IG info/bio: @/heedful.harry | 15.6k followers| hi, I’m Harry and I’m a business major. No, You don’t have to hold your applause 🧐

21 years old

From York, England

Cancer sun + ARIES MOON energy

He and his younger brother, Archie were foster children in the Mitchell-white household

which consisted: Harrison Mitchell and his daughter from a previous marriage, Briony, Piers White and together they had a surrogate carry their child, which gave them their second daughter, Pippa

Later they came to the decision to adopt Harry and Archie Zhong, if only that’s what they wanted too

It took longer for Harry to warm up to the family since he was still waiting and wishing for his mom to come back for them

He was diagnosed with IED around 15 years old

Goes to therapy for it and meetings with others with similar issues...he dreads the meetings since it makes him feel like he has a problem or something, which HE DOES but it makes him feel like a...but he knows that’s a ignorant way to think

He’s currently a business major and loves telling people about it *yawn* (don’t drag me lmao)

He’s thinking he’ll be a Financial analyst or a Marketing manager

The type of person who’s done a lot in his short life that it’s often unbelievable ex.) telling the villa he’s driven one of the cars that was used in the fast and furious franchise & getting pissed when bill and everyone else didn’t believe him

Harrison is a train driver and is normally bubbly + wears bright preppy clothes

He also loves Broadway, much to Harry’s annoyance...if he hears one more Hamilton song he’s gonna slam his head thru a wall stg

Piers is a music producer and is more reserved or “stand-off-ish” until he gets warmed up to you + his aesthetic is a rocker, yeah he’s got the whole tattoos and boots thing going for him, after all he was in a rock band

Piers makes the most $ and is of high status, which brought him and his family perks but is not a snob about it...it’s whatever ya know?

Harry’s closer to piers, feels he understands him more & can be kinda rude to Harrison when he’s in one of his moods but tries to be better at responding to him since he made him cry once years ago — yes he felt like complete shit afterwards

Harry is anemic so he always finds himself cold, experiencing fatigue, irregular heartbeat, and if he gets up too fast or moves too fast? Let the bodies hit the floor, let the bodies hit the floor, let the bodies hit the—FLOOO000R! (I’m making this joke as a person with anemia)

Likes cold weather since everyone else can feel what he feels on the daily

Plus he loves dressing for winter season, trench coats, wool coats, turtle necks, thermal t-shirts, fleece pants, rolled up beanies that keeps his ears covered and his hair glued to his forehead...you name it!

On the regular? He’s a khaki’s kinda guy, dress shirts, and loves wearing suit and ties...he’s not the biggest fan of jeans. He loves dressing fancy unless the measurements are bloody awful

I’m going by the alternative design for Harry and...whew! Then he’s 6’1 if we’re talking about the one they gave us then we all know he has a baby face, so I’d say he’s about 5’8

He’s got long legs + arms and hates how majority of his pants barely fit around his ankles

has dry scalp too

I feel like he’s pretty intelligent and sometimes it can come off as a know it all, yet, he’s always down to help people & isn’t condescending while doing so

He knows how to make soaps and would sell them on his etsy account in highschool where plenty shat on him for it so for awhile he stopped the hobby until Harrison encouraged him to keep at this if it was what makes him happy

Harrison is the type of parent you go to for comfort and hugs even if it might feel like he’s smothering you

Piers is the one who lets you come to him when you’re ready to talk about it, no pressure

Harry went to a high school that focused on technology so he’s all into the latest gadgets

This is a secret but he only got a apple watch to feel like a true spy

His intelligence got him somewhere with a few ladies ;)

He’s a certified freak, 7 days a week and had a handful of hookups and about 4 gfs in his life so far

He’s kinky!!!

& has a f**t fetish

His past relationships were not long relationships, which sucked but Harry felt like...this might sound arrogant, but it’s either their lost — although there was never any bad blood with his breakups! or his person was still out there somewhere...

I haven’t fully played his route (AJ stole my ass since I couldn’t romance seb or Nicky sorry) but I’ve seen screen caps and he’s a total sweetie if he’s really committed to you, you might be his “true love”

He’s nervous opposed to his usual confidence when he’s chatting to other ladies with ease, with you it’s different, it’s magnetic, nerve-wrecking, butterflies, electric, and exciting all wrapped in one

I feel like he shows his love language with quality time but also enjoys physical touch from his partner

Picky eater

But he was worst as a child! Barely ate anything which led to him being lanky or it’s in his genes but mostly he wouldn’t eat a damn thing

These are a few of his favorite things: figs, green tea, and almond milk

makes the best spring rolls with the rice paper, those are superior than fried! “Fried food will kill u u know!” “Okay bill.” “Iona, don’t know if u had too much to drink but, erm I’m Harry.” “R/WHOOOOssssh! And you’re s’pposed to be the smart one, yeah right.”

outside of the villa he found himself continuing his friendship with bill—even tho he pisses him off sometimes since he’s always got some shit to say but they’re probably the closest, Iona she’s always honest and is always a good time to be around when they hang out, Then there’s Camilo and Miki that he hangs out with too

Is the first one sharing about his day in the group chat with all of the villa, he can feel half of them rolling their eyes at him since many feel he tends to exaggerate

if he’s not endgame with mc...he kinda feels a way that Genevieve found her happiness in seb instead of him, it’s not that he’s bitter—he genuinely liked her and felt like maybe they didn’t try hard enough but deep down knows relationships can’t be forced. It’s just his ego trying to control things that’s all! plus he was comfortable with vieve even if it felt more on a platonic side...oh well

once slid into jen from s1’s dms one dark stormy drunk night & admitted on live that erikah kinda gave him some tips before going on the show... & that he thought one of the new girls that entered the villa was a better fit than one of the originals from s2 which caused him to get blocked by said original OOP

Has a circle of close friends outside of the villa, they’re all brainiacs and have something going for themselves

Enjoys action films and biographical drama films like: James Bond, John Wick, and the social network

Isn’t ashamed to admit that he loves using sheet face masks but isn’t the greatest at following a consistent skincare routine

Has his own back massager that he spent a lot of $ on since it wouldn’t go on sale and then a week later...it went on sale

sends a lot of “🙃🙂” texts when you piss him off

probably worked at GameStop, the apple store, Godiva, and currently works at a electronic repair shop for a side of cash but is looking for a internship since he’ll be graduating next year

Always Keeps cough drops on him?

is a huge cuddler & falls asleep easily

His brain is always active, experiences REM sleep often

fav video games are tekken & hitman

owns a drone now 😏

also loves strategic board games & riddles

Took quarantine life seriously, did his research before it completely broke globally and started buying shit excessively in person and online that he sent most to his family before the campus shut down

Is the friend that will check on his friends :)

Keeps his dorm and his room back home CLEAN af, is OCD about everything being in order/organized. Will know if you touched his shit, Archie felt his wrath many times before

Has a life goal board in his closet, & plans to be fully established by 25. More power to ya Harry!

Celeb crushes: Victoria justice, Jesy Nelson, Deepika Padukone, Brec Bassinger, jasmine tookes, and princess Mae

Who does he listen to? oceanfromtheblue, Galimatias, Ta-Ku, Aries, Tyler, the creator, rich Brian, NIKI, viji, & AJR

Anthem = DPR IAN, “So beautiful”

#litg #litg3 #litg s3 #litg harry #litg genevieve #litg bill #litg seb #litg mc #litg oc #litg moodboard #litg headcanon #litg headcanons #yes I’m still doing these and it’s kinda challenging but at the same time not?

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heartau · 5 years

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Domaine de la Romanée | J.JH [M]

Genre: rich kid!au - angst, smut, slow burn-ish, pining, fluff Word count: 41.2k (i am so sorry.) Comments: ok.... i got rly engrossed in the plot and world building so i went super buckwild on this. i apologize for that. i worked on this for a whole month + 2 weeks so .... enjoy! i’d love love looove hearing some feedback! also UNEDITED. Warnings: very, very, very explicit sexual content - rough sex, choking, throat-fucking, degradation, dirty talk, oral sex, dom!jaehyun, sub!reader, overstimulation, unprotected, breeding kink | strong language, various sexual scenes, infidelity(? kinda).

Even the most pure become tainted when their eyes meet his. This was doomed from the start; you knew it was dangerous, you knew it was bad - but all those thoughts left your mind the second he made you feel good.

[ ⚠ ] This piece involves a very problematic scenario (ie. infidelity). Please note that I do not promote nor advocate it. This is a work of pure fiction, involving a plot that is compelling to read and write about. Please read the trigger warnings listed and assess if you are comfortable to proceed - I do not wish to harm or trigger anybody. Adding on, while this work of fiction features real people, I would like to remind you that how I portray them does not, in any way, correlate to how they truly act in real life - I am just using them as characters for a plot. I do not wish to defame or insult anybody, I am just here to practice my passion in writing and entertain you.

Domaine de la Romanée - Field of Romance

You eyed the roses placed within the glass vase situated in the center of the table and wondered to yourself when this monotonous gala will reach its conclusion. The Versace gown that hugs your body has already started to itch at your skin and the corset that your stylists forced you into before leaving for the jubilee eludes you from making numerous rounds to the dessert table, but your mother’s joyful grin and welcoming arms lead you to believe that the night is far from reaching its end. Unable to slouch over in your seat, all you are able to do is sit stiff against the backrest of your plush velvet chair, fingers pinched at the stem of your glass of wine, swirling the liquid of domaine de la romanée-cont.

This gala was all your mother’s proposal for her new Spring collection releasing just a few days prior, ensembles of pastel and bold colours rolling out onto the runway and fostering a flock of people to rush into your boutiques littered across the globe. Your great-great-grandmother was the founder of Decoré, established in the year 1882, and the brand overtook the fashion industry by storm, raking millions and millions of dollars into your family name. She, who passed the company down to her daughter, who passed it onto her own daughter, who passed it onto your mother, were all eager with the idea of leading their own business. Forthwith, in a few years time, it’ll be your own turn in leading this empire - and you couldn’t be more than fervent in finally having the brand in your own two hands.

Of course, your mother thinks the same, as to why this celebration doubles as a matchmaking service for you, her only child.

“(Y/N), dear!” she calls your name, hushed by the constant classical music reverberating from the string ensemble. You turn to meet her direction, eyes automatically moving to the man she was pulling along with her, and for the nth time that night, wished that you weren’t stuck in such a tight corset so you could guzzle up every wine bottle in sight in order to avoid the imminent doom. “There is someone I’d like you to meet!”

Yukhei “Lucas” Xuxi Wong the IV, whom most people know as Wong Yukhei, whom most people refer to as only Lucas. The amount of names that the man holds equates nowhere near the amount of distaste you hold for him; if it weren’t for the grossly iniquitous personality that you have come to know and hear by virtue of the internet, you would have already been charmed by his sharp, dusky eyes and spellbinding smile. Your poor mother, far too oblivious, beams in what you could only describe as acceptance.

“This is Yukhei Wong the IV,” your mother grins as Lucas pulls a chair out for her to sit on. He smooths down his tan Hermés suit before sitting down in the plush seat on your other side, already attempting to send provocative eyes your way. “He is the next in line for the chief executive position of the Wong Institute of Medicine, you know, the beautiful university in New York? Yukhei, this is my daughter, (Y/N)!”

“It’s very nice to meet you, Yukhei.” you say, feigning a kind smile as you outstretch your hand towards the tall, handsome man.

“Please, call me Lucas,” he coquettes, taking your hand and leaning down to press a kiss on your knuckles. For a split second, you are unsure if the cause of the slight taste of domaine de la romanée-cont travelling back up your esophagus was induced by this wanton or if it’s due to your corset digging into your stomach. “It’s very nice to meet you as well, dear. You are just as beautiful as you are in the photo shoots I’ve seen. Even more so, really.”

You throw him a simper as you gently pull your hand away from him, rejection clear on your expression but unbeknownst to him. You’ve read up on countless articles about this man, how doomed the reputation of Wong Institute was going to be once he gets ahold of the company; limitless cheating scandals, a myriad of DUIs, and multitudes of other alleged crimes, you’re almost confused, if not horrified, at how on earth your mother would think he’d be a perfect candidate for you - but the glimmering chandelier that must have cost millions above you is the token answer to that.

“Lucas was telling me about how the last of his father’s inquiries are wrapping up before KIM is being passed onto him. Isn’t that right, Lucas?” your mother urges the man, who looks at you with a type of hunger in his eyes that you’d rather not question him about. “You two youngsters have a chat, I have to go welcome my guests!”

“Yes, of course!” Lucas tears his eyes off your body for the first time since meeting him only seconds ago, sending a kilowatt smile at your mother, who pivots on her heel before walking back towards the entrance hallway. “My father is such an inspirational man, he’s built an empire of medical resources. So many of the world’s renowned doctors graduated from our institute - but, to be truthful, I’m terrified of taking that empire into my own hands without someone I can call my wife by my side to cheer me on.”

You try all you can to stop yourself from rolling your eyes. “Is that so?” leaves your mouth in bitter fashion.

Ever since you had become of age five years ago, your mother has been desperately trying to match you with a whole slew of men to wed from her business networks, planning blind dates for you and offering you their numbers. From medicine, to theatrics, you have encountered every type of man possible in just the last few years and yet, none of them come quite close to your savour. Either they were far too goal-oriented for you to envision a loving future, far too dull for you to envision a happy future, or far too… abhorrent for you to envision a healthy future. Perhaps your mother knew of Lucas’ true colours but only considered the business venture and the large percentage of the stock he would inherit from the Wong Institute - but other than that, you are stumped as to why she would even contemplate a marriage between the two of you, fields of expertise far too wide and vast from each other.

“Yes, it is,” Lucas says, eyes casting down as if he were reenacting a monologue of a play. “But it’s hard, you know? I haven’t found the perfect woman to marry yet; they’re either far too childish, or are plain gold-diggers, which, frankly, isn’t really my taste.”

“Hm.” you answer bluntly, taking another sip of your savoury wine.

As he continues to drone on and on about his ideals and morals, none of which you are inclined to believe at all, you find yourself falling short from the wine in your glass, having already drunk all of the liquid.

“Would you like me to get you some more, (Y/N)?” Lucas asks, cocking his head to the side, a gummy smile stretching on his face.

You shake your head. “It’s alright, I’ll get it myself. I’m in need of a refresher, anyways,” you stand, legs slightly numb from where your corset pinched your waist. “It was very nice talking to you, Lucas.”

“Of course, of course,” he says, standing up as well. “Can I see you again sometime?”

You scrunch your nose, and for the first time since meeting him, he flashes a dejected look in his eye. “You’ll have to book an appointment with my manager.”

And with that, you pivot on your heel and head towards the refreshments, leaving a stunned Lucas in your wake, praising yourself for finishing your wine rather than dumping the remnants of it over his Hermés suit. You let out a sigh as you find solace in the classical music, reading the labels of each wine bottle displayed in rows on the table. Finding the bottle for domaine de la romanée-conti, you request one of the caterers to fill your glass, and within seconds, you find yourself standing in the corner of the venue, far from where you originally sat. You studied the decorations adorned throughout the hall, very much in theme with your mother’s Spring collection - fabrics of pastel silk and decorative flowers suspending from the ceiling above, causing chandeliers to look like floweret bulbs and to emit a slight, coral glow.

“Quite peculiar that the great (Y/N) (Y/L/N) is standing in the corner and not conversing with the guests of her mother’s own gala,” a merry voice causes you to look up from your swirling wine, breaking out into your first smile of the night at the sight of your best friend.

Joohyun “Irene” Kim, is the granddaughter of the founder of Bae Institute of Fashion, a very renowned university of design established in the hills of Beverly and Hollywood. You had met her the first year you had gone to school, automatically sticking to each other like magnets. Although she may be a quiet woman herself, she was relatively much more confident than you were as a growing child; she had helped you bloom from your shell. You are an only child, but ever since meeting Irene, you only feel as though you’ve grown with a sister.

“Irene,” you smile, crossing your arms over your chest. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

“Of course I came!” she giggles, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “How could I miss the unravelling of Decoré’s Spring Collection, especially so, since some graduates of the institute collaborated on the subject. I actually saw you not too long ago, conversing with Wong Yukhei,” she leans against the wall beside you. “Anything juicy?”

“Not so,” you let out a sigh. “It’s just mother trying to get me to meet another man for marriage. Although, I’m not sure why she would think that man is a good choice.”

“Evidently so, last I heard, he splurged half of his institute’s money on a night spent in a hotel in Italy with dozens of women on his arms,” Irene sighs, shaking her head. “Why does your mother insist on you marrying? You’re still a young woman, you have a life to live first - and besides, it’s not like any of the guys she’s found for you are all that interesting either.”

You let out a snicker, shaking your head. “You have no right in lecturing me, Irene, aren’t you engaged?” you quirked an eyebrow at your best friend while she rolls her eyes at you. “Frankly, I’ve never seen you so happy than the night Seokjin proposed. It was quite a sight, really.”

“Oh shut up,” she pouts, lightly hitting you on your shoulder. “Once you find the man you’ve been waiting for, you’ll know the feeling exactly.”

The rest of the night is spent with you glued to her arm, following her around the venue as she greets the people that she knows. Irene has always been just a little more social than you have ever been, and now with an engagement ring on her finger, it only brings more topics of discussion with her. You had the chance to meet her fiancé, Kim Seokjin, as well, proving himself a good and commendable man; he held admiring eyes for only her and had an air of genuinity - you felt the inkling of envy building in your stomach, not because you wished for Seokjin to love you, but because your best friend had found a good man to settle down with, something that doesn’t seem at all possible for you.

As the night continues on, you find yourself seated at their table, watching as individuals adorned in brand names from Vuitton to Marchesa walk past you with high chins and flutes of liquor. The string ensemble has shifted their focus from classical and moved onto jazz, and you’re almost sure they’ve been playing the same measure for the past twelve minutes. Sighing as the couple beside you converse as if they’re in their own world, you continue to look around the room, finding your mother rearranging a pot of decorative flowers to her liking right next to a panoramic window. Your eyes shift to the other side of the window, and you instinctively sit forward in your chair.

Clad in a dark grey suit by Hemsworth and a black tie tucked behind his blazer, a handsome man of tall stature does the same thing as you, watching individuals walk past and interact amongst themselves, swirling cheval blanc in his wine glass. His hair, an ash blonde, a dye job that works wonders for his creamy skin tone, is slicked back messily, a few strands of hair slipping through the layer of gel and hanging in front of his forehead. His face, square in shape, held a juxtaposition of features, sharp eyes, but a soft nose; sharp lips, but a sleek jawline and fleshy cheeks. He looked stunning, far more stunning than the men you’ve met throughout the last five years; he looked as if he walked out of an impressionist painting.

Just before you were about to tear your eyes off of the man, his head turns to your direction, automatically meeting your eyes. For a split second, his gaze tears, only to return boring into yours again, which causes you to gasp slightly. His face remains expressionless as he continues your eye contact, before he surely looks away from you one last time. Your hand bunches up the soft blue silk of your Versace gown before spinning towards Irene.

“Irene.” you grab her hand, diverting her attention away from her fiancé.

“Yes? What is it?” she turns to you. You let out a puff of air before continuing your sentence.

You turn your head again to see if the man is still there, to which he was, eyes back to focusing on the rest of the crowd lining the halls. “That man over there, in the dark grey, next to the window,” you whisper to her. “Who is he? I’ve never seen him before.”

Her eyes follow your line of sight with an expression of joy since at last, you’ve finally found a man you showed at least an inkling of interest in, but once her eyes land on the man in question, her expression falls.

“No.” her voice turns grave, much to your panic. “(Y/N), don’t you dare even think about it.”

You widen your eyes in confusion, searching her face to find clues if she were just joking - but her expression remains serious. “Why?” you ask her. “Who is he?”

“That’s Jay Jung,” she tells you, grasping your hands. “Better known as Jung Jaehyun. He’s next in line for the position of CEO for Jung & Associates, you know, that really famous law firm? They’re a family full of lawyers - they come from old money, (Y/N), they’re extremely powerful. They’re not here to play dress-up like the rest of us.”

You furrow your brows. You’ve heard about Jung & Associates before in fleeting conversations. Always on the topic of them winning innumberal cases and trials, or articles that litter your ears during outings of his father merging with and overpowering other law firms. You recall hearing your mother talking about Jung & Associates on the phone while you sat in the lounging area scrolling through your Twitter feed, just a few weeks ago.

“What? We come from old money as well, Irene.” you urge her on, not quite understanding her rejectful view of the man. The two of you also come from old money, Decoré and the BAE Institute have been established for generations and still continue to stick around by blood lineage, so you were unsure why she seemed so rattled by the man and his family name.

“Yes, but we’re different,” Irene pauses. “Our companies collaborate with each other, because we can, and because our environments and industries are light-hearted enough. Jung & Associates does not collaborate - they purchase the smaller companies, no matter what field of expertise the company aims for, and whether they like it or not.” She glances back towards Jaehyun, who had begun to walk back into the lounging area, walking past the plush velvet chairs. “I know that Jung Jaehyun holds the ego of five men, he thinks of himself as if he is on a pedestal.”

You watch as the man gazes at the decorations strewn across the gallery, a flat expression gracing his angelic features. It’s quite disheartening that a man so attractive as he could possess such alleged revolting qualities - but you aren’t shocked; throughout the years of being taught by your mother on how to pull the ropes of a company as a woman, it isn’t like you’re unaccustomed to men forging their own skills in order to get to the top. You’ve learned that the hard way.

“Why does he look like that? He looks miserable.” you scoff, eyeing him as he continues to walk past an array of your mother’s guests, avoiding their widened eyes and hushed whispers. He looks as if he’d rather be anywhere else but to be present in this gala, which is a feeling you associate with, but you would never say that out loud.

“I’m not sure, he usually has the semblance of a smile on - but that’s mostly when he’s with his brothers,” she says, watching him along with you. “It’s peculiar that he’s here by himself.”

The faintest feeling of apprehension bubbles up in your stomach once more, but you shake it off. This man is still young, the law firm hasn’t been passed down to him yet - he’s probably just here for his own amusement and pleasure, and was wholly disappointed by the lack of fun and the droning jazz music. Whatever the case, you still find yourself unable to look away from him, taking in his beauty, finding yourself wish, just for a split second, that the rumours about him are nowhere near true. He seats himself at a table near the center of the ballroom, and his eyes flashes to yours once again, his gaze lingering on your eyes. This time, you’re the first to look away.

-----

The silk chiffon robe that adorns your body designed specifically for you by Montenero is a price that even your shoes tucked away in their own walk-in closet cannot reach. The hush humdrum of french chatter originating from people passing underneath your hotel balcony is calming to you, having growing used to the booming noises that come with residing deep within a city. October is your favourite time of year to visit Bordeaux, France, as the pesky throngs of tourists finally dwindle away and due to the sun deciding to emit heat much gentler than any other season. Even the staff of Hôtel Le Palais Gallien bear a jolly expression this time of year.

It is occasions like this when you would find yourself sojourned in this city for a breather from your hectic work life, photoshoots and fashion shows demanding your occupancy more than seventy hours per week, the cool evening air kissing your cheek bones as you breath out a blissful sigh. Just on the 7 rue Ferrere inside an old warehouse building built of cobblestones and brick, was an exhibition held by your favourite photographer, John Suh - rather than flashy ornaments strewn over sets and models posing themselves in an avant-garde manner, he always pursued natural lighting, habitual individual quirks; simplistic, comfortable, authentic. You had always wished to collaborate with him on a photoshoot, but his schedule would always turn up booked; you would have to wait years to be able to book an appointment with him.

You smooth down the slightly scrunched fabric of your lilac Rachel Parcell summer dress, leather satchel by Kate Spade in tow as you step out of the sleek black car; you had told your chauffeur to meet you at the same spot in about two hours and a half, wanting to experience the exhibition in full on your own. Journalists and cameramen have already bombarded the entrance, yelling multiple queries for you to answer, ranging from questioning your enthusiasm on the upcoming exhibition or if your mother has any plans releasing a new collection before the year ends. You are only thankful for the Tom Ford sunglasses that you pull down to perch on your nose, blocking the frantic flashing lights of cameras, making your way into the cobblestone building with the help of the doorman.

When the wooden doors close and the yells of journalist cease behind the doorways, your ears are calmed with the sound of classical music, playing faintly along the gallery. It echoes against gravel walls, the effect soothing to you, encompassed in art. The photographs, stuck against large, plain, white boards, lit with dim lighting, is your first priority, slipping your sunglasses off and perching them back on your head. You study each one, carefully, analyzing each snapshot eagerly.

“(Y/N)!” you hear a familiar voice, and you quickly spin around, meeting the cordial eyes of your best friend’s fiancé. Seokjin strolls towards you with a casual gait in his step. “Fancy seeing you here!”

“Hello, Seokjin,” you smile and nod your head towards him. You take note of the wine glass pinched between his fingers, telling yourself to make rounds to the beverages soon. “I never took you as the person to enjoy fine arts.” you joke, watching him chuckle in response.

“I am the grandson of the guy who founded Kim Productions,” he tells you in a light tone. Seokjin’s grandfather is the chief executive of Kim Pictures, a prominent production company known by their several high-grossing films and featurettes; he doesn’t show it on his face nor in his attitude though - he is down-to-earth, which is admirable; men in this environment seem to forget their manners and morals. “However, I’m really just here to support one of my best friends.”

“You’re friends with John Suh?” you question him.

He nods, pressing his lips together which causes his cheeks to puff out slightly. “Yep!” he answers. “We went to the same university together, took the same courses and whatnot. One of the nicest men I’ve ever met. He actually goes by Johnny - he uses John to sound more professional.”

You nod your head in understanding, attempting to keep your excitement under wraps. You couldn’t bare risking your clean repute to be tainted by pestering Kim Seokjin for a collaboration with your favourite photographer. A smile finds their way on your lips before you open your mouth again. “I’m a very big fan,” you tell him. “His pictures are some of the best I’ve ever seen.”

“Really?” Seokjin asks you, lifting his wine glass to his lips and taking a momentary sip. “I never took you as the type to be engrossed in photography.”

“I am a model.” you laugh, using the same tone he had used with you prior.

“You got me there,” he jokes. “Johnny’s actually doing an interview for Aesthetica right now, but perhaps once he’s finished I can take you to meet him!”

“Are you willing to?” you ask him, unsure if he feels as if he’s forced to do so, or if he’s genuinely happy to let you meet his good friend. He nods, an authentic smile gracing his features, and you push back the will to grin in a cheerful manner of excitement, a small, thankful smile finding its way onto your face.

It takes all for you to keep that calm, serene beam on your face though, when you finally come face to face with one of your heroes. He stands tall, taller than you would have ever imagined a person to be, with long brown locks that sway in front of his face and square shoulders that slightly protrude forward due to endless nights of editing his own photos. A knit black sweater by Valentino curtains his body, fit beige trousers covering his endless legs and ending with polished black shoes that you can see your reflection in.

“Ah,” he says, clasping his hands together in excitement. “You’re (Y/N) (Y/L/N)! I’ve seen you in many advertisements and fashion magazines - my husband is a very big fan!”

You are in heaven at the sound of your idol recognizing you, finally letting your excited grin show on your face as you consent to his kiss upon your knuckles. You had heard of John Suh being cheerful and pleasant through many accounts, you are aware of his philanthropic duties, constantly bringing awareness to the troubles around the world. Often does he donate the money that he’s cashed in from his projects to multiple charities - these moments seem to be the chit-chat that takes place around garden parties and other functions frequently. His husband, Chittaphon, who is known solely as Ten, is a prominent model of whom he had met during a shoot with Vogue. You remember their love story being placed on television, articles littered all over your social media; a charming model known for his playboy repute has fallen for a peaceful, relaxing photographer - their love story is something you could only dream about and desire as your own.

“I’m so excited to meet you,” you tell him, face red with enthusiasm. “I'm a very, very big fan of your works - I’ve always wished for us to collaborate.”

He lets out a deep laugh, hand resting on his stomach. “Actually, I’ve always tried to book an appointment with you, but your manager would only tell me of dates years into the future.”

Your jaw drops. “No way,” you let out a laugh. “I’ve been doing the same thing for you!”

The three of you, including Seokjin, converse like old college friends, quickly becoming close as you exchange laughs and slight quips; you and Johnny excitedly make plans for a shoot, promising to clear out the least important schedules in your itinerary. Wholly excited, you’ve got to owe everything to Seokjin, who was able to make this possible for you. As the event nears its end, people beginning to clear out of the warehouse, you find a new friend in Johnny, thankful for the opportunity to make acquaintance with him.

You leave briefly in the midst of the two men’s conversation about their college days to make rounds to the beverages, letting the server pour domaine de la romanée-conti into your wine glass, letting the heavenly liquid attack your taste buds and closing your eyes in delight. The knowledge of your mother not being present with you, having stayed behind in Seoul to run the reigns of the company building thusly not breathing down your neck to keep your eyes open for a potential future husband, is something equivalent to freedom. You listen to classical music playing softly along the gallery for a few seconds, Franz Schubert absorbing into your eardrums, before opening your eyes to find your way back to Johnny and Seokjin.

You only find yourself frozen when your eyes open to familiar ones staring back at you.

His hair is still an ash blond, styled much like the first time you saw him, a few loose strands escaping the net of hair gel and kissing the front of his forehead. His lips, which were pulled into a slight scowl when you had first seen them, had the slightest sight of a smirk, the corner of his lip raised faintly. He’s dressed in a fit, pressed, light grey suit by Ted Baker, Daniel Wellington watch peeking from his exposed wrist when he pulls his hand to his lips to sip from his veuve clicquot champagne. Yet, even with the details of his dress and face, you find your eyes stuck on one feature; his eyes. Never tearing from yours, his brown eyes hold an emotion that you cannot decipher.

It takes you a nanosecond to shake yourself out of your trance, averting your eyes away from his gaze as you pivot on your heel, making your way back through the gallery towards Seokjin and Johnny. You are unsure as to why Jaehyun is here, much like the first time you had seen him at your mother’s galal; you recall Irene talking about his personality and morals, he does not seem like the type to enjoy fine arts. A heat crawls up your neck upon realizing how you must have looked like a deer in headlights upon meeting his eyes, cursing at yourself for being so brash with your staring, feeling the heat cloud your cheeks when you realize he probably must have recognized you from the first time you had seen him - there is no way he will not recognize you now.

“There you are,” Johnny says, raising his glass when you return. “I was starting to think you had gotten lost. I was going to ask one of my guards to search for a short woman in lilac!”

You shake your head fervently, bubbling up a laugh that didn’t sound so nervous much to your favour. “No, no,” you smile, letting out a sigh in attempt to let go of what had just happened. “I just got distracted.”

You will yourself to catch up on the conversation that you had missed while you were stuck staring into the umber eyes of Jung Jaehyun, but it is all that you could think about, finding yourself falling quiet and finding interest in the way the wine in your glass swirls. The two men did not really notice as they were in deep conversation, and you did not mind. Hushed under your thoughts, their voices become familiar enough for you to decipher - until a new voice began to cut through a conversation.

“Brother,” a deep, booming baritone voice sounds, and you grip the stem of your wine glass with tension. You glance upwards, Jaehyun right in front of you now, hand on Johnny’s shoulder, whose entire body has gone stiff. His eyes are cast at Johnny, deftly avoiding yours. Brother?, you wonder. They are related? “Father called, he’s had a flight booked for the both of us back to Seoul tonight. We should get going now.”

“Jaehyun, it seems as if you do not understand that this is my exhibition,” Johnny turns to the slightly shorter man. He seems to visibly relax but his fist that hangs loose on his side is still clenched. “It will be rude of me to leave the guests that came to support me so early. You go on that flight. I can handle my own payments, I’ll catch the next flight out.”

Jaehyun huffed, his jaw clenching. From a distance, he was beautiful, but up close, he looks unreal; his lips much plumper and skin similar to porcelain, spotless. You look towards Seokjin, unsure of how to act, but even the confident, humorous man finds solace in staring into his wine glass. “These are father’s orders,” Jaehyun tells him, voice authoritative. “He wants us home by tonight.”

“And we will be,” Johnny says through a grit smile. “I’ll just be late. Please, Jaehyun; tonight is my night. Don’t let your family business ruin this for me as well.”

You are confused as you listen to them, still reeling from the information that you had uncovered that Johnny and Jaehyun are related to each other. Your family business, you repeat in your head. He words his sentence as if he was not a part of the family, and judging by his body language, it seems as if that is what he wishes. Your thoughts are interrupted when Jaehyun lets out a loud sigh, eyes dark as he glares at Johnny. He backs away without a word, before he pivots on his heel, and in a fleeting moment his eyes lock with yours; you suck in a breath as the nanosecond passes you by. His lips, this time, do not form into a smirk, but are pressed into a thin line. Withdrawing back into the crowd, he is the first to tear his eyes away.

“Sorry about him,” Johnny breathes after a few moments of silence, perching the glass of wine atop a table beside him. He reaches to scratch the back of his neck, grimacing. “My brother is not usually like that. It’s just... he’s stressed about the law firm.”

You nod, listening intently, hoping for Johnny to continue into a discussion about his relation to Jaehyun, wanting to know more about the Jung family, desiring answers to the questions that you have conjured in your brain, but he does not mention it again after that. As the night comes to a close, you have already eased up from the short moment you shared with the enigmatic man; as the night comes to a close, you find yourself exchanging numbers with Johnny, proving him to be a friend you will keep for a long time; as the night comes to a close, the dark, impenetrable eyes that lingers on your form is something you stay oblivious to.

-----

The heat of the Philippine sun beating into your skin is nothing short of pleasant, the scent of salt water lacing its way into your nostrils. The grains of sand that dig into your skin bears no competition to the softness of your carpeted bedroom floors back home You are in paradise; actually, you are in Cebu, Philippines, tanning underneath the blazing sun in Plantation Bay, which is most possibly the closest to paradise you will ever meet. It is after you and Irene had finished volunteering at a children’s center situated in the middle of Cebu City, finding solace in making friends with the children and helping them with whatever you could. Children have always been a soft spot for you, you absolutely adored them and were a natural with handling them, so you jumped at the chance to experience this when Irene father had brought it up in conversation with the both of you.

“There is a live band playing tonight at the Palermo restaurant,” says Irene, voice deafened by the loud crashing of the ocean waves in front of you as well as the clamorous yelling of children and other people staying in the resort around the pool area. “We should check it out. It’s been a while since I’ve heard music other than jazz and classical being played live.”

You nod, agreeing to her plans, before the two of you rest in peaceful silence once more, taking in the heat of the sun. You find yourself hours later, in the hotel room that the two of you shared, placing a Salina crop top by Reformation atop your Burberry printed bikini top, and high waisted denim shorts you had acquired from a fast fashion brand while scavenging through one of the malls. Placing some lip gloss and mascara on before ensuring that Irene was ready, the both of you eagerly leave to head to the ground floor, where the restaurant is situated.

As soon as you step foot into the restaurant, the air is filled with nothing but of music and the smell of savoury foods. You had acquired a taste for many of the dishes, finding it fitting to your tastes, so you were excited to have a full meal and enjoy some music that night. A band composed of four people stand atop a panel, jamming out to local music, people singing along joyfully, which makes you grin in delight. You do not know how to speak in Bisaya, knowing only a few short phrases here and there, but the tune is familiar to you, and so you hum along.

You and Irene sit in one of the tables on the elevated level of the restaurant, just a few more feet away from the band, enjoying a space that isn’t so crowded.

“Seokjin tells me that he took you to meet Johnny Suh at his photography exhibition in Bordeaux,” she mentions to you after the waitress had left with your orders. “Tell me, how did it feel meeting your hero?”

“It was amazing,” you giggled, recalling the feeling of meeting someone you had looked up to that happened just a mere few weeks ago. “We actually became good friends - we have our own group chat and everything. Tell Seokjin I said thank you, he’s such a kind man.”

Irene laughs, waving you off. “Anything else interesting that happened on that trip?” she asks. “Hooked up with any French boys? I heard that the hotel you stayed in proves to be a beautiful place to have sex.”

You roll your eyes at her as you take a sip of your water. “No, Irene, I did not bone anyone,” you tell her as she snickers. You suddenly recollect memories of meeting Jaehyun’s eyes; the mere thought sends jolts to run through your nerves. “However, Jaehyun was there.”

“Really?” Irene asks, wonder on her face, before she let out a gasp, bringing her hands to her cheeks as she grimaces. “Goodness, my apologies, I forgot to mention that Johnny and Jaehyun are half-brothers, how could I forget!” she seems to beat herself up momentarily but then calms. “Did anything happen with him?”

You gulp down the urge to tell her about his intense staring. “Not anything special,” you lie. “He and Johnny got into a heated discussion about going back to Seoul, something about their father needing them back at that very moment. However, Jaehyun left before it could get worse.“ Irene seems to relax in her seat as you play with one of the dining utensils placed in front of you. After a few moments of silence, you open your mouth. “Irene, tell me about the Jung family. I’m curious.”

Irene seems to be taken aback from your question but hums, recalling some facts that she may know of. “From what I know, Johnny is the child of Mr. Jung’s first wife, who had left him for one of their butlers. Jaehyun, and their youngest, Jaemin, are the sons of his second, and current, wife,” she pauses. “Apparently, Mr. Jung is still furious about his first wife leaving him, which is why he promised Jaehyun, his second son, the company, instead of Johnny.”

“Oh.” you whisper, heartstrings tugging at the sad story - spite causes people to make the most hurtful actions.

“Seokjin met Johnny in university, they’re very, very good friends,” Irene continues. “From what he’s told me, Johnny and Jaehyun have always had a strained relationship - he’s unsure why, really. I guess you can tell from the way Johnny still continues to bear his mother’s last name. Anyways, Seokjin told me that it was never Johnny’s dream to run a law firm, and when Mr. Jung appointed Jaehyun as the next chief executive officer, the hateful tension between them raised a little bit more.”

“Why?” you find yourself engrossed in the story, waiting for her to tell you more about the Jung family, but she shakes her head.

Irene sighs. “I’m afraid this is where my knowledge reaches its end,” she says, and you will yourself not to pout, relishing in the newfound information. “Why do you want to know about the Jung family so much, though? Don’t tell me you’ve taken an interest in Jaehyun, (Y/N); he’s devious, please remember that.”

You shake your head fervently, heat rising up your neck. “No! No, of course not,” you tell her, waving your arms in front of your face. “I was just curious as to why he was so snippy. It was quite rude, really, to see him talking down on his brother like that at his own exhibition.”

She hums in response, not quite believing your tale, but your orders arrive before she could say anything else. The two of you enjoy your meal and converse, talking up a storm like the two of you usually do whenever together. When you are halfway into your meal, the calamares fritos proving heavenly to your stomach, Irene stands from her chair with her purse, excusing herself to the bathroom. You nod, letting her go as you continue to eat your meal alone, instead, facing the screen of your phone. Woefully finishing your meal before Irene can return, you take this time to relish in the atmosphere. The music, now traded for a softer sound with velvety guitars and smooth bass, calms the environment, people around you had went from a jovial bellowing to conversing calmly in their circle groups. To your right is a panoramic window that is painted over with watercolour. You study each stroke as you rest your chin on top of your hand.

“Excuse me, miss,” the waitress’ hushed voice catches your attention, and you turn towards her. “Domaine de la romanée-conti, from the gentleman at the bar.”

You nod your head at her in thanks, curiously accepting the glass of wine. She sets it down on the table in front of you, and you are stumped. Domaine de la romanée-conti is your favourite, and although it was commonplace in many wine enthusiasts’ palates and collections, it was very expensive to purchase. You look around the restaurant, hoping to catch sight of whomever had, not only splurged their money on you, but had correctly guessed your favoured vin dus pays, eyes dashing around each individual until you land on a gaze that causes your breath to hitch.

His smirk is more distinctive now, even under the dim lights of the restaurant. His ash blond hair was not slicked back this time, instead swept aside on his forehead in messy layers. He is dashing even in casual attire, Commes des Garçons fit on his upper body, short sleeves revealing the veins that run through his muscular arms and tight black jeans that capture every curve of his thighs. The look was appalling to you, having grown used to seeing him clad in nothing but expensive suits - but even when you bite back the gasp from seeing him in the area, your eyes are still locked on his.

He grabs the glass that he had situated in front of him, filled with veuve clicquot, before standing up from his chair and approaching you. Your eyes never leave his; you still cannot pinpoint the emotions stirring inside them, even when he takes his seat in front of you.

“It’s funny that we see each other so often, but we still have yet to introduce ourselves to each other,” he starts, the voice you had heard almost booming at Johnny’s exhibition a few weeks ago is at a much gentler tone now. He reaches his hand over the table, expecting you to grab it. “My name is Jung Jaehyun, of Jung & Associates.”

You stare at his hand for a few seconds, not knowing whether you should accept it or not. You interrogate yourself in your thoughts, recalling Irene several warnings; but his gaze is far too intense for you to reject it - and even then, you do not wish for sour feelings between the both of you; even if Jaehyun’s moral compass was wrong, you know Decoré would be ruined the day you decide to act antagonistic towards him. You reach your hand over the table as well, taking his and shaking it lightly, memorizing the smoothness of his hands.

“I’m (Y/N) (Y/L/N) of Decoré,” your voice is kind, sending him a smile. You remember the time you had given Wong Lucas the same tone and face when he thought he could have a chance with you; it’s almost deja vu when you send it towards Jaehyun - almost. “It’s very nice to meet you, Jaehyun.”

“Same to you,” he begins, a charming smile on his face. He has dimples, and you gulp as your breathing begins to falter. “I know that we met at my older brother, Johnny’s, exhibition, and I just wanted to clear up any misunderstandings you might have from my character that night. I’m sure we can try again, right? A friend of Johnny’s is a friend of mines.”

You press your lips into a thin line; when he’s dressed in casual attire, he takes the appearance of a casual, everyday boy, someone you might have met in college, someone in a different social class - someone authentic and normal, yet he still has the same intensity that he holds in suits worth millions by Hemsworth, even in comfortable clothing. “Of course we can,” you tell him, to which he relaxes, a wider grin displaying on his face and urging the dimple on his cheeks to form deeper. “Thank you for the domaine de la romanée-cont, by the way, it’s my favourite.”

“Just a lucky guess,” Jaehyun smiles at you. “I remember that was the drink you held both times we came across each other.”

You ignore the feeling of your heart slightly skipping a beat, gulping down a sip of the wine down your throat; Irene’s voice is booming within your head now. “You have a very good memory, Jaehyun.” you say, taking a sip of the sauvignon, the familiar taste flooding your tastebuds.

“Just the important things,” he says, chuckling to himself as he takes a sip of his champagne. “So, what brings you to the island of Cebu?”

He talks to you so casually, but his eyes drip with intention, staring into your own eyes and unending; it was as if he was mocking you - mocking the lack of power you had compared to him. “My friend, Irene, and I volunteered at an orphanage in Cebu City,” you tell him, setting the glass of wine down in front of you. “What about you, Jaehyun? Are you following me?”

Your eyes widen when you hear the words fall past your own lips, bringing a hand to your mouth in shock as you yell blasphemous words inside your head. You watch his face, waiting for his reaction to your rudeness, but he just lets out a lighthearted laugh, eyes forming into crescents as he bellows out whimsical notes. “I’m actually here for a business venture,” he tells you after his laughter calms down. “But perhaps I should be the one asking that question, hm, (Y/N)?”

His voice is teasing, a smirk playing on his lips; you swallow your words instead trading them for nervous giggles. “Maybe we just have the same mind, and similar thoughts.” you tell him, adding a small smile at the end of your sentence, looking directly into his eyes. He raises his eyebrows for a nanosecond, as if an expression of surprise took over his face, before he lets out a deep chuckle.

“I hope so,” he says with a simper, voice slightly deafened from the sounds of guitars and basses reverberating off the walls of Palermo. Just as you open your mouth reply, his phone emits a loud ringtone from his pocket, causing him to tear his eyes off of you. He digs for his phone from his jeans pocket, glancing at his screen and seeing his face fall for a split second before he stands up. “I’m afraid our conversation might have to end early. It was nice seeing you here, (Y/N). I hope we can meet again soon.”

You ignore the slight disappointment emerging from the bottom of your throat, taking in a deep breath. “The same to you, Jung Jaehyun,” your voice is hushed. He nods once, smile bright but brown eyes concentrated, a juxtapositioned expression. His action is delayed, eyes lingering on your for one more second, before he pivots on his heel and marches towards the doors of the restaurant. After watching his retreating figure through the glass doors walk around the corner, you let out a sigh of relief, looking down at the glass of wine he had purchased for you, the liquid now sitting near the bottom. You question yourself on the emotions you felt while conversing with him, chalking it up as a side-effect of constant travelling and having no sleep.

“Hey, sorry, I’m back, Seokjin called,” your best friend finally reappears, taking her seat in the seats Jaehyun had been in just a few mere seconds ago. Before she turns to hang the sling of her purse on the backrest of the chair, she notices your half-drunk wine glass and eyes you with sharpened eyes. “Started drinking without me, hm?” she quips.

You simply just let out a laugh, fingers twirling the stem of the wine glass as you avoid Irene’s gaze, terrified of her knowing, because you cannot form words. Not when the only image that lingers in your mind is the enigma of Jung Jaehyun’s breathtaking, umber eyes burning into yours.

-----

If you had to pinpoint out the few days you dreadfully loath in a year, you would pick the days Fashion Week is active.

It is not that you dislike Milan; it is an alluring, beautiful, celebrated city, with copious choices of museums such as the Sforzesco Castle, architecture and cobblestone roads rather gothic yet stunningly vibrant and electrifying, and how could you possibly forget the beautiful view of the Navigli and Darsena districts when the lanterns are lit the moment the stars come out, the sight alone bringing back memories of European romance movies and dialogue to begin playing in your mind. It is a beautiful, wonderful city - but just the name being simply uttered, along with New York, Paris, and London, brings flashbacks that you would rather avert.

The warmth of the sunlight spilling through the crème curtains would usually leave you energized and ready for the oncoming day, yet, somehow, it only puts a kink in your attitude as you groan dismally, longing for just a few more hours of sleep. Perhaps it was your alarm tone whose snooze button you kept missing everytime you would reach for the device, the obnoxious tone emitting constantly, or perhaps it was the horde of screaming stylists and the feeling of your manager pulling your legs out of bed, but you couldn’t bare to close your eyes again and instead of the smile you often wear on your risen face, a slight scowl plays on your lips. Sitting up on your plush mattress with knotted muscles, your stylists have already begun to pull you out of bed, along with your cries of lament. You had barely even rubbed your eyes to rid of the rheum that lined your eyelashes from your few hours of sleep before they had forced you down in a makeup chair, pressuring you to look at yourself in a circular mirror lined with LED lights.

Oh, how horrid, you thought.

This years theme was Bridal, much to your mother’s dismay - she had believed in an old superstition that wearing a wedding dress before you even have the chance to get married only brings bad luck in your love life; but after she had seen the paycheck that would be wired into her account after you walk down the runway, her mind seemed to forget about the superstition altogether. You eyed the several pimples that had found their way onto your forehead in scrutiny, knowing that the makeup artist will most likely opt for a lighter look to fit the theme.

“Don’t worry, the pieces you will be wearing will take the attention away from your newfound friends.” a teasing, familiar voice makes their way into your ears as you feel two hands resting on your shoulders. You perk up at the voice and look past your reflection to see Johnny’s friendly face, grinning ear to ear as he laughs at his own joke. Rolling your eyes, you lightly slap his hand on your right shoulder, cracking your first smile of the day.

“I didn’t know you were coming, Johnny!” you exclaimed, turning around to face him. He was clad in a Raf Simmons cropped sweater with black trousers by Helmut Lang, the sense of casual attire yet the prices of the simple looking fabrics were more than ostentatious. He ruffles your unstyled hair with a mischievous grin. You and Johnny have grown closer in the months since the two of you met, constantly texting each other back and forth; it has gotten to the point where you consider him a best friend, right beside Irene. “You should have texted me!”

“That would have ruined the surprise!” Johnny laughs, walking towards the table in front of you and leaning against a spot where makeup wasn’t littered everywhere. As the makeup artist begins their work on your face, laying and spreading out tones of beige and browns and the slightest hints of pink, you and Johnny converse naturally.

“So are you the only one that came?” you ask as you watch the makeup artist brush the slightest of coral toned blush onto the apples of your cheek; you’re unsure if it is Johnny’s presence that helped you become fully awake or if it’s due to the work of the artist, but you are positively impressed with how you look so far.

“No,” Johnny pauses while he digs through one of the bags of makeup opened on the desk. You had solicited constantly to meet Johnny’s husband, Ten, only ever hearing about him through Johnny’s own words and stories - you wanted to meet him, especially since you had heard he was a big fan of yours. You gasp in surprise at his answer, joy setting down on your shoulders when you realize you might be finally meeting your friend’s lover, but it is swept from underneath you in just milliseconds. “I brought Jaehyun with me.”

“Jaehyun?” you repeat after a few beats, to which he nods.

“Yep, you know, my brother,” Johnny says, an unknowing smile gracing his features when he glances at you. “He had actually told me that the two of you bumped into each other in the Philippines; he wanted to come to fashion week to support you.”

“Oh…” you respond, trailing off. “Well, that’s very nice of him.”

“It is,” Johnny confirms, returning the nude lipstick by MAC back into the unzipped bag before digging around again. “It’s quite peculiar, really. Ever since father appointed the chair to Jaehyun, he’s been… quite antagonistic towards me, but ever since his trip to the Philippines, he’s been… alright. Perhaps the merger with PunoLaw went splendidly.”

You ignore the flip that your heart makes in your chest while the makeup artist sweeps streaks of highlight upon your cheekbones; there could be a number of reasons why Jaehyun’s temperament had gotten better - a simple exchange of greeting and a purchased drink of wine means nothing in a business trip to a foreign country.

“Johnny,” you starts off, and he hums in response. “You don’t have to answer, but… have the both of you always had bad blood?”

“I’m sure as someone next in line for the CEO of a company, you have obligations, right?” Johnny lets out a soft sigh, his top teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he patently probes his mind for the correct words. He sets down the lipstick tube that he had been toying with and looks straight at you, a serious expression on his face. “Well… Jaehyun deals with these… obligations... differently. He’s always been a rambunctious man. He grew up thinking that the company would be passed down to me, so he didn’t care much for his own image - so when the news came out that he would be leading Jung & Associates in the future, he just… lashed out, he became slightly more antagonistic to everyone around him. He was never trained for that position, and he still doesn’t know what he’s doing,” Johnny pauses. “He’s just afraid.”

“Ah…” you hum after a short pause, your voice hanging in the air. As next in line for the executive position for Decoré, you are responsible in retaining your clean reputation; you were to be immaculate with your choices, you were expected to stay absolute and virtuous, they wished for you to hold a record that is the epitome of every parent’s wet dream. The constant demanding of these obligations, as well as the constant invariable conversations of marriage and children from your mother, takes a toll on your own wellness daily; you can never say what you truly want to say, you can never do what you truly want to do. You can never underestimate the press when they hone into your every action, words, glances and body language forged into the world with printed ink and a mass of pixels. One slip of character, and it could mean the end of the empire that your great-great grandmother had established. As you stare into the mirror, hairstylist taking over as they brush your hair with a flat comb, you think to yourself; perhaps Jung Jaehyun is just misjudged, perhaps his true reasons for his actions may not be what the media observes. Irene was not the sole heiress to her family’s fashion institute, so she does not know of the demanding expectations that comes forth with preparing for an established company to be in your hands; perhaps she heard of idle conversations of those envious and took their words of spite as gospel.

As time passes, you quickly come to when find yourself lined up backstage along with other models walking the catwalk. The show had just started, the piercing sound of classical piano music blaring through the speakers deafening to your ears as stylists make last minute touch ups on your makeup and dress. You are adorned in a beautiful metallic white dress by Valentino; the top made entirely of chiffon, with a low cut neckline, diamonds formed to cover your chest area. The skirt, made of tulle fabric, is decorated with strewn diamonds, every move you make sending each jewel to swing, making it look as if you had just bathed in a pool of gems. The billowy sleeves are also strewn with diamonds, you can already see the brilliant reflections of light against the harsh LED bulbs above.

Your hair is pulled back into a braided low bun, your veil, attached to the bottom of your bun, trails behind you for meters, acting like a cape.; you can feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand up as you draw closer towards the front of the line. You suck in a deep breath; you’ve walked countless runways in the past, it’s like a fluent language to you - straight back, intense eyes, just an inkling of attitude - yet, your mind seems to be in a haze, and you can comprehend exactly why. As the last model before you makes her way back behind the stage, you close your eyes momentarily, letting out a puff of hair, before setting off through the doors.

Your fists relax, hands swaying by your side as the bright lights pointed towards the catwalk causes your dress to glimmer in ways you would only predict ever seeing in fantasy movies. You keep your face monotonous, taking in the audience’s gasps of delight and pleasure at the sight of your dress, the familiar sounds of cameras clicking over and over again proving louder than the booming violins blaring through the speakers. Your lips are flat, and expression featureless as you make your way to the very front of the catwalk - this is the dress’s show, and not yours. You see Johnny in the audience, camera in hand as he takes a few shots of your walk, but it is the man beside him that causes your eyes to slightly widen.

He looks far too beautiful, as if he should be the one walking the runway. His ash blonde hair is slicked back but in the way as if he had forked his dry fingers through his locks rather than wet with gel. He is dressed in a suit made of crushed velvet, also by Valentino, trousers highlighting the curves of his thighs, a pure black button up shirt underneath his velvet blazer. The people seated around him were focused on observing him and attempting to catch his attention rather than to give their attention to the piece that you displayed for them; but he - not paying one glance to your gown, not one glimpse to the veil that flowed behind you, not even regarding the rude chatter emitting around him sparked by his presence - keeps his eyes gazing into yours.

The feeling alone is enough to make you lose your breath, the sight of his deep, teasing eyes causing you to open your mouth slightly, urging you losing track of where you were supposed to be. But just as your lips lightly part, you force them closed in panic of feeling your muscles twitch at the movement; you watch as an amused smile plays his lips, before he crosses his arms over his chest. You tear your eyes away from his, pivoting on your heel as you make your way to the back behind the stage - but even through the chiffon fabric of your veil, you can feel the all-too familiar feeling of Jung Jaehyun’s eyes lingering on your form.

The after party is far too congested to your liking, and even though the air was rich with air conditioning, your skin feels moist to the touch after having to weave your way through hordes of people dancing and chatting with each other. You had traded in the wedding dress that you wore for a shorter light pink chiffon dress by Valentino that ended right before your knees, your feet are already sore from the heels that you’ve been wearing the entire day. You wonder if Johnny might be present at this party too, but you aren’t sure if you’re willing to weave deeper into the venue through more crowds nor are you sure if your feet have enough vitality for a couple more steps.

“Leaving early?” a distinctive voice causes you to halt before you can walk through the exit. You turn your head, ready to face impact before facing Jaehyun. He has a small smile on his face, cradling a coca-cola can in his hand. “If so, can I leave with? I lost Johnny in the crowd.”

A smile appears on your lips. “Johnny is over six feet tall, I find it hard to believe that you lost him, Jung Jaehyun,” you tell him, quirking your eyebrow, to which he lets out a chuckle, glancing down at his coca-cola. “But yes, you may join.”

The next few minutes are a flurry of exchanges with the guards at the door and retrieving your coats from the lobby. As you walk through the exit doorways, you can only sigh in content when the cool, December breeze kisses the clammy skin of your neck, sweat accumulated from the overcrowded afterparty. It is twelve at midnight, and the streets house only a few people walking up and down the cobblestone roads. You’re glad that your manager had packed a pair of Tory Burch flats for you in your purse, your heels finally getting the rest they need as you turn towards the direction of your hotel, but the reminder in the form of a person speaks before you could hobble off.

“How long will you be staying in Milan?” Jaehyun finds a pace in walking beside you, hands shoved into the deep pockets of his black Burberry trench coat. You take your arms and pull the front lapels of your tweed coat by Gucci.

“I’ll be leaving tomorrow morning,” you tell him, looking at the streets in front of you. The stars were on display in the night sky, and lamps have lit up, dimly illuminating the roads. You can feel the heat radiating off of Jaehyun as he listens intently to you; your stomach flips with an emotion that you cannot decipher. “Mother wants me back in Seoul before she begins clearing the pieces for her collection releases by Spring. And you?”

“I’ll be here until Tuesday,” he says, in a tone of dread, the both of you slowing down your walking pace. “Jung & Associates are establishing a branch here, I’ll just be doing the finalizations - then I’ll be back in Seoul.”

You look at him in surprise. “Really?” you question. “How interesting.”

“Perhaps we’ll bump into each other again on the streets of Myeong-dong.” he grins, kilowatt smile spreading across his face causing his dimples to form on his cheeks. You eye them before looking away, feeling your cheeks begin to heat up - you still had to be careful around him, you are unsure as to what his true character is really like.

You let out a hum. “You know what, Jung Jaehyun?” you start off in a hesitant teasing tone, unsure of how to interact with him; you didn’t want to accidentally set him off, in case Irene was actually correct with her hypothesis, however, you weren’t sure if Johnny was telling the truth either, details far too vague for your liking. “I’m starting to think you’re actually following me.”

He lets out an amused puff of air as the two of you round a corner, the Navigli canal coming into view, lit up by the streetlamps that litter beside it; it was breathtaking scenery, it never fails to cause your heartbeat to quicken whenever you catch sight of it - everything about the view is romantic. He walks towards the body of water, strolling to the concrete railing. He halts, growing silent, eyes fixated on the number of stars illuminating the night sky. Even through all the dim light posts, you are still able to see the glimmering spots shining outside of the Earth’s atmosphere. You watch the back of Jaehyun’s head as he shoves his hands inside the pockets of his coat. Hesitantly, you approach him, coming to a pause beside him just as you see the profile of his face; his eyes are trained solely on the stars, the ghost of a smile teasing his lips. Turning your head to look at the stars with him, the both of you stay in a comfortable silence for a few minutes.

“Sometimes,” you’re the first to break the silence, eyes still training on the stars. “Whenever I stroll past this canal, I envision those classic movies filmed in Europe; a confession of love near the body of water, a kiss in the rain surrounded by romantic architecture.”

You are unsure as to why those are the first words that fall past your lips, but you let out a dreamy sigh, scenes of Audrey Hepburn to Marilyn Monroe, recollecting portrayals of old-school love play in your mind. Jaehyun looks away from the sky, switching his gaze towards you, a small smile playing on his lips.

“You yearn for love?” he questions you, and you giggle softly, crossing your arms over your chest as a chilling breeze kisses your neck.

“Doesn’t everyone?” you question him, eyes trailing along the gothic architecture of the streets of Milan. “I’ve dreamt of it since I was a little girl, but everyday, it seems as if my chance at finding it grows more impossible.”

Jaehyun is silent for a few seconds, you can still feel his eyes lingering on your face. “And what if you’ve already found your love?”

You gulp, biting down on your bottom lip. Your eyes cast downwards towards the body of water before you open your mouth. You aren’t sure why, but your heartbeat bangs against your chest painfully, and your ears are heating up despite the fact that the air is chilly. You let out a sigh, fog of condensation escaping your lips. “I mustn’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because my mother will defy the man I choose,” you pause, a pitiful smile finding its way onto your face. “I know that I will be forced to marry someone from her inner circle to ensure Decoré’s future. I don’t have a choice in this matter anyway,” you let out a chuckle before turning to him, his eyes training on yours. “The position comes with disadvantages, and it makes me rethink my options even though I’ve ached to lead Decoré all my life.”

“But that does not mean you shouldn’t live,” he trails off. “Just because your life is led by responsibility… doesn’t mean you should avoid love.”

“There’s no other way, Jaehyun,” you tell him. You extract your hands from deep within the pockets of your tweed coat and press your palms again the concrete railing before you form them into fists. “I’m sure that you understand as well, your company is being handed down to you - you have an image to uphold, right?”

He grows silent. “Yes, I do.”

“Love is a risk that I’d rather not make.” you say. You have dated in the past, once in middle school, with a boy named Jeon Jungkook, a short relationship that lasted for only three days, and your first year in college, with a boy named Kim Mingyu, which lasted deftly for eight months - both relationships, of which, weren’t serious at all. Kim Mingyu was your first kiss, and first time; you remember the crushing disappointment at the lack of sparks that flew between the both of you each time your bodies were pressed against each other. Additionally, your name has been caught in multiple articles since the beginning of forging your model career that articulated dating rumours with you and innumerable celebrities and other of the elite class, all of which had been false. The feedback that you received during those times were immensely painful for you, and you worked hard to keep your reputation clear since then.

“But life, itself, is a risk. Is it not?” Jaehyun’s voice is hushed, but his eyes are not directed towards you, instead training on the Gothic buildings situated opposite from where you are standing, on the other side of the canal. You press your lips into a straight line, furrowing your eyebrows together as you think of his sentence, not knowing how to reply.

As you open your mouth to finally answer, a familiar tone emits through the air. He reaches into the pocket of his coat and grabs his vibrating phone, letting out a sigh when his eyes land on the screen of his phone. Turning to you, he outstretches a hand towards you for you to shake, a gracious smile on his face, dimples in full view, but his eyes are still dull. You take your hand and enclose your fingers around his, deja-vu as you memorize the warmth of his skin around your cold hands, before weakly shaking his fist.

“I have to go,” Jaehyun says, putting his phone back into his pocket, not accepting the call. You find that peculiar, but it is not your business, so you do not press. “I’ll see you when I get back to Seoul?”

You smile at him, nodding your head. “Yes,” you tell him. “I’ll see you then.”

And as you turn to part ways, he lingers his gaze on you only for a second more, before pivoting on his heel. Just outside the doors of your hotel that you stayed in while in Milan, the only image that clouds your mind is of the last gaze that he had given you, almost certain that he held longing in his pupils, and as you think of the lasting image that haunts your brain, you are reminded of your heart beating wildly against your ribcage, this time, accompanied with the slight excitement that rises in the pit of your stomach.

-----

The cool, frigid, January air laces into the studio, entirely made of hard concrete, excluding the various set pieces spread around the area. You lay on top of a long, woven seat, bare legs, hair standing up in defense of the chilly breeze, hanging off the side of the arm rest. You are draped in only an oversized, pure-white shirt, the fabric blanketing your sighs and sleeves barely able to hang onto your shoulder; clickings of camera ensue, underneath the humming bass of the Frank Ocean song blaring through the speakers. Today was the day you had finally scheduled your photoshoot with Johnny, eager for the outcome as you let your head slightly hand from the other side of the woven seat.

“Point your chin just a bit upwards, (Y/N),” Johnny tells you from off the set. Johnny uses a particular method of photography, using natural lighting from outside to create an authentic ambience in his photos - the only window in the studio was a large, panoramic one that had the most beautiful view of the garden. His studio is located on the Jung premises, in its own little estate behind the main house; when you had walked through the main gates you had felt completely intimidated by the domineering aura of the house, much larger than your own - it took up nearly two football fields, and it was then when you realized how powerful this family really is. “Okay, there, perfect!”

The humming of the bass of songs emitting from Johnny’s playlist as well as the clicks of his film camera are the only sounds that emit between the both of you as you try out different poses, boudoir poses come naturally to you. Johnny had given you one of his own shirts to use as clothing, the oversized fabric hanging off you loosely. A break ensues halfway through the shoot, at five p.m., almost three hours since you had begun posing. The sun has already set an hour ago, winter nights a longer span than winter mornings, and you desperately had the urge to pee, having downed an entire bottle of water before the shoot due to your adrenaline.

“Hey, Johnny?” you ask while he reviews his photos. He looks up towards you in curiosity, letting out a hum of acknowledgement. “Where’s the bathroom?”

“Oh,” he says, setting his camera down before he begins to use charades as a way to give you the directions. “Down the hall, on the third left, fifth door on the right side. If you want, the lower bathroom is a lot more cleaner.”

“No, it’s alright,” you let out a laugh, before walking out of the studio. When one would say the Jung Estate was big; it was big. Multiple hallways and multiple doors make up the interior of the estate, and it wasn’t even the main house on the Jung premises - this estate was only slightly smaller in size compared to the large castle-like structure that stood before the front gates. It seemed a little silly to you - who needs this many rooms? You were almost sure that Johnny and Ten, who you finally had the fortunate chance of meeting earlier that afternoon, were the only two who resided in this house - yet it’s so vastly empty, not even one inkling of a server or butler.

You follow the directions that Johnny had given you just a few minutes ago to no attempt because before you know it, you are lost in a daze of paintings and golden decals. He said third right, right?, you thought to yourself as you look around. You weren’t even sure which direction your had come from, the diminishing sunlight from outside beginning to darken the hallways. You let out a sigh as you take a chance, figuring that if you were wrong anyways, you’d just be greeted to an empty room and you’d have to force your bladder to not erupt for a few more minutes until you’d finally find the bathroom. You push a large, mahogany door open, the creaking reverberating off the marble walls of the hallway, and then you pause.

“Jesus, Johnny, can’t you knock?” his voice seems aggravated while he’s hunched over a desk, face buried into a stack of paper. “I told you, I’m doing paperwork right now. I’m b-”

His eyes automatically widen when he looks up towards the door, eyes snapping to yours. A plane of glass covers his eyes, entwined with a golden frame as they perch neatly on his nose, ash blonde hair in messy ruffles, obviously having had his fingers run through them numerous times throughout the night. He wears a simple, basic, white button up shirt, with simple black trouser bottoms, the most casual attire you have ever seen him wear; yet, he still looked stunning. However, his eyes are boring right at you, the pen in his hand freezing from writing letters as his pupils begin to slowly move down your body.

“Jaehyun,” you finally let out a breath, stammering as you slowly back away from the doorway. “Sorry, oh my gosh, I’m doing a shoot with Johnny right now and I was trying to find the bathroom… um, I got lost.”

His jaw visibly clenches and you see his adam’s apple bob against his throat before standing up and lightly swipes his hands on his thighs. “Don’t worry about it, I just got taken aback.” he gulps, as he begins to walk towards you, adjusting the glasses that perch on his nose. “Why are you wearing my shirt?”

Your face immediately flushes, eyes, if not already at their widest, widen even more as you let out a gasp. You have never felt a fabric of clothing cause your stomach to explode in your life, yet, for some reason, that was the only feeling you could muster as you feel the fabric of Jaehyun’s shirt brush against your thighs. “I’m sorry,” you apologize once more, letting out a breathy laugh. “I didn’t know this was your shirt. Johnny said it was his.”

He lets out an amused puff of air. “The nerve of that man, he still continues to steal my clothing for props,” he shakes his head, tsking. “Here, I can show you where the bathroom is - this house has so many unneeded rooms, it’s silly.”

You follow him through the corridors; the sun had already set completely, the moon now shining above that casts into the hallways through the lined windows. The sound of Jaehyun’s shoes swiping against the floor and the dull sounds of the pads of your feet hitting the marble flooring is the only noise heard in the air between you both, your face still sprinkled with hues of red from the feeling of the hem of Jaehyun’s shirt brushing past your thighs. He walks you into the other hall across from where you had opened the door to his room, and stops right in front of a door similar to the ones around it.

“Here you are,” he says, pivoting on his heel and pushing the door to the bathroom open, the door creaks as it slightly cracks ajar. You let out a sigh of relief, grinning at him. “You just turned the wrong way, but fortunately you found me, or else you’d probably still be lost in the hallways.”

“Thank you, Jaehyun.” you tell him graciously, pulling the front of the shirt you are wearing to make sure that your sleeves don’t slip past your shoulders and show them bare. He gives you a silent nod before he begins to walk back to his study room, but you gasp and grab his hand, slightly pulling him back, to which he freezes, turning towards you.

“What is it?” he asks you, eyebrows furrowed in concern. You are only thankful that the hallways are dim, you can practically feel the heat of your cheeks radiating off your skin.

“S-Sorry,” you stammer; you seem to be apologizing to Jaehyun repeatedly that night.“I didn’t mean to touch you - that was really rude of me. It’s just… can you wait? Um, I don’t know how to get back to the studio and it’s… really dark, and the hallways are slightly creepy.”

His worry sets on his face for only a second longer before his lips form into a small smile, eyes forming into slight crescents as he nods. “Of course,” he says. He rests his back against the wall beside the door to the bathroom. “I’ll be right here.”

You give him a grateful smile before walking into the doors of the bathroom - you first catch yourself in the mirror, face a deep shade of red as you inwardly cringe at how fast the boy had taken you off guard. Slapping your hands on your cheeks in an attempt to calm your heartbeat panging against your ribcage, you let out a few gasps of air. Washing your hands before opening the door again, you only will yourself to keep your stance calm and cool around Jaehyun, but you know that will all crash to the floor the moment you turn the doorknob.

When you step out, you see that Jaehyun is still waiting beside the door, his back pressed against the wall as his thumbs swipe at the screen of his phone. At the crack of light that emitted from within the bathroom, he finally looks up at you with a smile, turning the screen of his phone off with a click and standing upright. You are unsure of what to say, words seem to be caught stuck in your throat every time you look at him.

“I can walk you to Johnny’s studio,” he lets out a laugh as he shoves his phone into the pocket of his trousers before he runs his hands through his hair, ash blonde locks falling onto his forehead one by one. “I never thought you’d be the type to be afraid of the dark, (Y/N).”

Again, you are unsure of what to say, only letting a giggle fall past your lips in response. Fortuitously, your stomach seems to be dashing around in circles as you watch his eyes trained on yours, shadows of the corridor darkening the edges of his face and the pale moonlight from outside causing his cheekbones to come out even more angular. His eyes are darker than ever, as he watches you, and even though it is dim, you are almost sure the corner of his lips twitch upright. Your breath hitches in your throat and in blushing panic, and so you twirl around, hoping for him to simply catch on and lead you back towards the studio - but his booming, baritone voice, much like the first time you had heard him speak at Johnny’s exhibition in October, causes your step to falter.

“Are you going to do something with the way you look at me?”

It’s ironic how the weight of a few words can change the entire dynamic of an established acquaintanceship; merely a pin dropping on the ground and detonating into flames to burn down the walls that had already been put up, built with blocks composed with intimidated hesitance and lethal attraction. The inflection of his voice weaved through the air like a ribbon made of silk before devouring your nerves, sending jolts through your body in ripples, breath becoming hitched in your throat as an all too familiar emotion that you’ve been forcing to push down, that you’ve coaxed yourself into feeling mystified about, begins to rise in the pit of your stomach. His words echo through the long, dark corridors before they come to a halt, silence seducing the air between your bodies, but you stay frozen, and your lips stay unmoving. You hear him step closer, the heel of his shoes slightly clicking against the marble flooring, and it sends waves through your body again.

“(Y/N).” his voice is low, stern, the same voice you had heard the night you had heard him speak at Johnny’s photography exhibition.

Your breath shakes when you finally part your lips. “Yes, Jaehyun?” you stammer.

“Answer my question.” he whispers. He stands close, you can feel the heat of his body through the thin fabric that drapes your body. The tension that dances between the both of you is thick, emotions of both excitement and yearning burning in your chest. You feel his breath on the back of your neck, and it urges you to squeeze your thighs together to combat the aching need between your legs.

“I should be the one asking you that, Jung Jaehyun, since you practically fuck me with your eyes every time we meet.” the tone of your voice is surprising to you when it falls past your lips, your hand snapping to your mouth as you widen your eyes - you hear him chuckle lightly behind you just seconds before you feel the pads of his fingers dance on the back of your neck, gently moving your hair onto one shoulder.

“I didn’t know you were capable of speaking like that,” his voice juxtaposes his actions, laced with intent. He presses his warm hands against the white fabric on your collarbone before he slides it down to bare your shoulder, the cool air of the corridors causing your thin hairs to stand up. “Always so polite and careful, I wanna know what other noises fall past those pretty lips of yours.”

He roughly turns you around, as if a switch were flipped inside him - it’s only now when you have taken in how tall he was, even if he were slightly shorter than Johnny, his physique was large compared to yours, and that excites you. His umber eyes penetrated yours as he takes his glasses off and sets them on the top of his head before he uses his forefinger and thumb to force you to look at him, proud smirk playing on his lips. His domineering attitude, and your want for challenge - they both crash together like fire, flames licking at each other to create even larger chaos. As you gaze into his eyes, breath rattling your ribcage, you are finally able to discern the emotion that swam within his pupils, an emotion that had befuddled you since the first time your eyes landed on his. Desire.

“You make me go so fucking crazy,” he whispers before his lips dart to your neck, peppering wet kisses along your jawline. You let out a gasp when he nips at the skin of your neck, the ache in your panties growing stronger every time his tongue flicks out to soothe a spot. He cradles your cheek in his hand as your lean your head back to give him more space, yearning for his touch. You feel the warmth of his hand he had used to cradle your cheek cascading down your body roughly, hovering over your breasts as he continues to lap at your neck. “God, ever since the first time I saw you, the things I’ve been thinking about doing to you - and now here you are standing in one of my shirts, and, fuck.”

You buck your hips, cupping his cheeks as you push him away from your neck to force him to look back into your eyes - his eyes, sharp, cuts into yours, the meager sight causing an aching throb to pulsate through you once more. “Tell me the things you’ve thought about doing to me,” you whisper, tracing your thumb over the plumpness of his bottom lip, you bring him closer to your face - you feel his hot breath on your lips. “Tell me, and then do them to me.”

A sigh escaped his lips before they finally come to meet yours, enveloping yours against his own in a flurry of desperation - you hadn’t realized how much you hungered for this moment until the feeling of felicity settled within you, your longing moan dancing into his mouth. Perhaps it was his own desperation too that had been building up for months leading up to this moment, perhaps it was the sound that escaped from deep within your lungs that excited him, but his hands rush to cup your sopping panties causes a gasp to escape from your mouth. “I’ve imagined you like this,” his voice is a whisper when you pull away at the sensation of his fingers pressing against your clothed pussy. “Whimpering for me, begging for me, trying to keep yourself quiet.”

Short gasps escape from you as he continues to work against the thin fabric, adding more and more pressure as he moves his hands in circular motions. “J-Jaehyun,” you moan, trying your best to keep yourself quiet. You don’t want your whimpers to travel down the hallway and possibly lace into Johnny’s ears - the act would be mortifying to you. “What if Johnny sees us?”

“I don’t give a damn,” he grunts, hand roughly toying with your clothed clit. Your hips buck against his hand, and if it weren’t for how needy you felt, letting this man have his way with you, you’d be ashamed at how wet you’ve already become, soaking through your panties. Slowly, he moves them to the side before he glides a finger along your bare entrance; sensitive already, you shudder. “Fuck, look at you, so fucking wet and ready. You want me that bad, (Y/N)?”

You sink your lips into your bottom lip, looking into his eyes through your eyelashes. Your face is hot, blushing as his tongue flicks out from between his lips to lick them. He continues to glide his long finger against you, eyes boring into yours as he does, watching as every expression of eagerness flashes across your features. His forefinger mockingly dips into your entrance for a fleeting moment, the sensation of him inside you one second and gone the next causing you to mewl out in frustration. He lets out a dark chuckle as you furrow your eyebrows, willing yourself to keep it together.

“I asked you a question, darling.” he mumbled darkly, dipping the tip of his forefinger inside of your sopping heat once again. “Answer my question and you’ll get your prize.”

“Yes, Jaehyun,” you bite back your moan when he dips his finger inside you again, taunting you. Your breathing becomes heavy with every dip he makes, aching for him to do something about the need inside of you, bucking your hips against his hand, soaked with your juices. “I want you so bad, I want you so fucking bad. Please, Jaehyun, fuck, please.”

He lets out a dark chuckle beside your ear before he plunges the fullness of his forefinger inside of you, a gasp escaping you at the sudden entrance. He pumps the single finger in and out of you with ease, spreading your legs wider with his knee; he has large hands with long, slender fingers, the sensation of just one doesn’t meet your fancy, but it’s enough to relieve the itch that had begun to build inside of you. “Fuck!”

“So fucking tight,” he grunts, watching your face contort into pleasured expressions, condescending smirk turning into an enchanted one, lips parting and eyebrows turning upward. He adds his middle finger, spreading your pussy wider as he begins to pick up the pace of his thrusting, arm flexing as the moonlight hits the veins that decorate along his forearms. “Shit, (Y/N), has your tight cunt been fucked before?”

All you could muster out was a whine as he continued to fuck his fingers into you, your mind nothing but a fog of haze while he reaches deeper and deeper into your core, as if he were planning to leave his mark inside of you. You had been fucked before, by your last boyfriend, Mingyu, but not like this - never like this. Foreplay was never on his mind, giving you pleasure was something he had never thought of doing; you barely even remember a time he had given you a leg-shaking orgasm, which, if Jaehyun continued to reach inside of you like that, you’re sure you’ll have your first one by tonight. “So fucking tight, all for me, isn’t that right, darling?”

“Fuck, Jaehyun!” your voice is thin, still attempting to keep yourself hush, not wanting the immoral act to be known to your friend just a few doors down the hall, still waiting on your return from your break - but you’re almost sure that the lewd, wet noises of his palm slapping against your wet cunt that echoes against the pillars and golden framed paintings that line the corridors may prove your wish hopeless. Jaehyun’s fingers brush against the spot that causes your legs to shake, and with a knowing glint in his umber eyes, he continues to brush against it. “Jaehyun, shit, right there, fuck! Fuck, yeah, just like that!”

He heeds to your words, the tips of his fingers grazing against your g-spot repeatedly, and you feel yourself unravelling. It takes all for you to not let your eyes roll to the back of your head, screwing your eyes shut as you focus on his fingers stretching your walls out in a steady, rough motion; walls beginning to clench around him, you feel your desired orgasm coming. “You’re gonna cum, (Y/N)?” he questions you as your walls quiver around his digits. “You’re gonna cum just from the use of my fingers alone? Dirty girl, tell me who owns this cunt.”

A hot sigh leaves your lips, barely focusing on his voice due to the yearning of your release. Whining, you open your eyes again to look into his, begging with your pupils to get him to continue, but his face is monotonous. “J-Jaehyun,” your voice is weak. “I’m gonna cum.”

“Answer my fucking question, (Y/N), or else I won’t let you cum at all,” his tone is dark, which gives you all the more to whine as he picks up the pace of his fingers, sinful noises filling your ears. The act alone causes the knot in the pit of your stomach to unravel just a little more, and Jaehyun leans down to bite the skin of the crook of your neck. “Fucking tell me who owns this dirty little cunt, (Y/N).”

“You do,” you whimper, voice juddering with every thrust his fingers make. “You do, it’s yours, it’s all fucking yours! P-Please!”

“It’s all mine?” he taunts you, he’s panting now as well, digits flashing in and out of you at a speed you weren’t even aware that a human can make. “What is? What’s all mine?”

“Fuck, Jaehyun!” you whine in aggravation. The aching need to orgasm causes the strain you’ve put on your words to escape, voice loud against the marble walls. “It’s yours! This cunt is all yours! It’s fucking yours! It’s yours to fuck and, and, it’s yours t-to… fuck! I’m coming!”

It hits you in waves, the feeling of pleasure enveloping your body as you feel your pussy pulsate against his hand. You crane your neck back as he continues to lap at your neck, leaving memoirs of his presence in the form of soft-red markings across your skin. As the orgasm leaves your body, you are left with quivering legs, barely mustering the energy to hold yourself against the marble walls, much to the man’s amusement. It’s obvious what the two of you had done; his hand glistens with your juices against the light of the moon that travels through the planes of glass across the hall; the fabric of the shirt that he had adorned was wrinkled from your pulling and clenching of fists; your lips, that had been painted a deep shade of red prior, were now a lighter red, and Jaehyun seemed to have the same shade on, and the lingering fluid that escaped from your cunt during your orgasm lines across your inner thighs.

As you come down from your orgasm, his lips find their way to pressing against yours once more, gentle in touch this time. Your hands find their way into his hair, pulling him close, closer than you had ever thought of him being. You feel pricklings traveling through your nerves as his tongue enters your mouth, and you find yourself yearning for more just before he pulls away, panting heavily. As he parts his lips to speak, you hear footsteps walking down the hall, and you gasp, pushing him off of you and adjusting your attire and hair, letting the hem of Jaehyun’s shirt fall past your thighs to cover the residue of what had just happened. Jaehyun watches you with an amused smile on his face, wiping his hands on the back of his trousers and grabbing the glasses that stayed atop his head and perching them back on his nose again, carelessly brushing his pure-white sleeve against his lips that causes the dark lipstick that you had stained his face with to rub off.

“(Y/N)!” you hear Johnny’s familiar voice call just before he comes around the corner, the flashlight of his phone dashing around the corridor. He turns to the corridor you and Jaehyun both stood in, jumping in shock for only a second - possibly thinking he had come across ghosts - before visibly relaxing and walking towards you in his confident gait, his phone still flashing in the darkness. You squint, terrified that he might be able to deduce what happened between the both of you with the torchlight. “God! You were gone for so long! I heard yelling! What happened?”

“She got lost trying to find the bathroom, and I scared her.” Jaehyun lies with ease, shoving his hands into the pockets of his trousers. You eyed him for a few seconds, gaze lingering his body - he seemed so casual, as if what had just happened sprung only in your mind, but you are still able to detect a trace of your MAC lipstick on the side of his lips and the messy waves of his hair that your hands were entangled in. Yet, you were still appalled at how easy the lies fell past his lips. “She started yelling at me, it was really funny.”

“Jaehyun, you bastard,” Johnny sighs, sending him a sharp eye before turning around and patting your hair down. For a second, he squints towards your lip, and you fear that he found the first clue of what the two of you had been doing, but he seems to ignore it, eyes flashing back up to yours. “If you want me to beat my brother’s head in with my camera, I’ll be happy to do it.”

You open your mouth to answer but Jaehyun’s voice interrupts you. “Hey, if it weren’t for me, she would still be lost in your stupid winding corridors,” he gruffs, crossing his arms over his chest; the action highlights the muscles underneath the thin fabric of his shirt but you will yourself to look away. “She’ll just have to owe me. Isn’t that right, (Y/N)?”

His voice has a hint of amusement in it, tone lighthearted as he sends you a smile with crescent-shaped eyes, and your heart jumps in not lust, but with something else you have yet to figure out - but you’re aware of the hidden connotations of his sentence, the feeling that Jaehyun had reached into your core slightly coming back at the thoughts that race around your mind of images of him. You only nod, throat going dry, before smiling simply.

“Yes, Jaehyun,” you heed his words, and for a fleeting second, an amused smile on his face shone with a lordly flame. “I owe you.”

-----

The night that you laid in bed trying to daze into slumber after your first encounter with Jung Jaehyun proved a sleepless one, one that kept you rolling over and over again in your plush bed, constantly flipping your pillows and kicking your duvet out of sheer frustration. The memories of Jaehyun’s sinful words and breathy grunts, recalling his fingers flashing in and out of you, brought back the itch inside of you like no other; you only fell asleep after finding solace in your own fingers, and even they couldn’t cause you to reach the heights Jaehyun had shown you.

You do not tell Irene; you couldn’t tell Irene, and you shouldn’t tell Irene, because you are certain that she will blow a gasket the moment the man in question’s name leaves your lips because you did not listen to her. You have never lied to your best friend before, nor have you ever kept a secret from her - but it is for the best for the situation. Besides, you and Jaehyun were only using each other for each other’s body, to let desires that shouldn’t be exhibited in public out - at least, that’s what you believed, and your best friend doesn’t have to know that. Yet, each time she walks to your side with an indication of concern in her brow, you find it hard to keep your secrets locked within your lips.

“Is everything alright, (Y/N)?” asks Irene, her voice muffled underneath the soft chatter of a high-end lounge she had invited you to. You stare down into the liquid of your tonic water, choosing something non-alcoholic in order to keep your honesty and deceit under control. “You’ve been really quiet lately. Is there something troubling you?”

“No worries, Irene,” you muster a small smile, genuine enough to see her body relax as you swish your water in your glass. It’s grating to know how effortless it was for you to lie to her. “Nothing is the matter. I’m just a little tired from my schedules lately, I’m really sorry if it’s been making you uncomfortable.”

She pouts slightly, not quite believing your tale. “(Y/N),” she tells you, grabbing your hand. You felt guilt shake through your nerves at her touch - but you cannot tell her about you and Jaehyun, even if your life depended on it. “Don’t worry about me, okay? If something is the matter, tell me, okay? I’m your best friend - your sister - for a reason.”

“Of course, Irene.” you say, the fib falling past your lips and disappearing into thin air. She nods once, a concerned gaze lingering on you for only one last second before she tears her eyes off of you to look back at the menu on the bar in front of her. Irene had invited you to accompany her at a new lounge that had opened up in Myeong-dong, apparently owned by a good friend of hers named Lee Taeyong. Seokjin was due to show up in a few minutes after a scheduled meeting, and according to Irene, may have in tow a friend of his that ‘you may be interested in.’

As she turns her attention towards the menu, you find yourself gazing back down at your tonic water, watching as the liquid swashes against the clear collins glass, soon becoming bored with it. Your eyes then find themselves exploring the sight of the lounge in front of you - you and Irene sat right in the middle of the lounge, at the bar, the sleek black marble table rounded as baristas around inside the circle juggle around alcoholic drinks and other platters to deliver to their patents. Outside of the circle, there are multiple seats with tables, occupied with several gentlemen in suits and ladies covered in Dior. The extravagance of it all was very familiar to you, for having grown up in an environment much like it, regardless; you would be lying if you were to say you hadn’t grown tired of it.

“Oh, they’re here!” Irene’s voice causes you to snap out of your daze and look towards the entrance in front of you, Seokjin’s familiar face coming into view as he hands one of the servers his Burberry coat; behind him is a man not much shorter than him, jet black tufts of hair and sharp observant eyes. For a second, you feel your heart race in your chest - whoever Seokjin had brought is definitely a beautiful man, and perhaps Irene was right about taking an interest in him, however, you shouldn’t jump before you had talked to him.

“Hello, darling, hello (Y/N),” Seokjin embraces the two of you before he stands out of the way to pull in the man following idly behind him. Upon closer inspection, his facial features are some of the most sharpest you’ve ever seen - his eyes, obviously sharp from a distance, are cutting up close, jawline whetted and embracing against his sleek lips. You feel as if you’ve seen him before, but you can’t pinpoint where. “This is Kim Doyoung, he’s currently filming a movie under Kim Productions right now.”

The familiarity hits you like a train as you recall seeing his face on your screen many times - he’s a very celebrated actor in South Korea, especially so since he had broken into the Western film industry. You weren’t much of a big fan of movies, finding yourself falling asleep no matter the genre or amount of stars the movie acquired, but you know a famous face when you see one. After he greets Irene with a kind smile, you stretch your hand outwards to address him, a gracious simper on your face. “It’s very nice to meet you, Doyoung. I’m (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

You and Doyoung are quick to become close, letting the engaged couple next to the two of you converse to themselves. As the night drones on and as people in identical Brunello suits and Dior dresses pile in and out of the lounge, you and Doyoung share stories of your childhood, finding out that he wasn’t born into the world of money like you were, instead having to find his way up and through the industry by making sacrifices. You discover that he has an estranged relationship with his parents, instead finding familial solace in his brother who is also an actor, named Gongmyung. You learn of his hobbies, that he enjoyed singing and reading, and find out that before he had pursued the world of acting, he had thought of heading into the direction of law and government.

For an hour and a half, you find yourself delved into the person that is Kim Doyoung, realizing that this is discussion prevails information of most people you know other than your two closest friends. In the middle of a conversation on the topic of college, you begin to abandon the lingering memories that had been taking up your mind by the man who had left remnants of himself in it. Perhaps, you spoke too soon.

“Kim Doyoung,” the familiar voice sends jolts through your body as if it were an involuntary impulse. You tear your eyes from Doyoung’s sharp, yet friendly gaze and let them sink into Jung Jaehyun’s soft, but intense ones. He is dressed in a plain black button-up shirt, his sleeves rolled to his elbows as he cradles a glass of cheval blanc, arm adorned with his Daniel Wellington watch, hand deep in the pocket of his black trousers. His hair is slicked back but to the side, few strands swaying against his forehead. A smirk plays on his lip, and the sight of it makes your thighs clench in response. “It’s been a while since we’ve last met.”

“Jung Jaehyun, long time no see,” Doyoung’s voice holds restraint when his eyes meet Jaehyun’s, a look of revolt flashing in them before he stands to his feet to bow. “I heard that Jung & Associates will be under your command soon. Congratulations.”

“Yes,” he concurs, taking a sip of his champagne as he pulls up a chair next to Doyoung. He has not looked at you once since arriving into the conversation, but something about his tone of voice leads you to think he is blatantly aware of your presence, such as you are of his. “And I heard that you starred in a film that was nominated for an Academy award? How delightful. It was the one with the zombies, right?”

Doyoung sets his glass of sauvignon blanc onto the bar, gulping down the liquid. “Yes.”

“Well, congratulations to you.” a haughty smirk guised as an amiable smile makes its way onto Jaehyun’s face before his eyes finally land on you, training on your face for a few seconds before they begin to slowly make their way down your form clad in a tulle minidress by Marchesa. “(Y/N), a pleasure to see you here.”

“Jaehyun.” you nod once, tightening your fingers around the stem of your wine. “It’s nice to see you here too. The two of you know each other?”

Doyoung looks up from his glass, towards you. “The two of us were in multiple classes together during college, before I dropped out to pursue acting,” he explains. He seemed apprehensive, and you acknowledge why - the presence of Jaehyun is far too strong to bear. “We are very close friends. I see the both of you are close, as well.”

Jaehyun opens his mouth to speak but you interrupt him before he says anything. “Actually,” you say, correcting him. “Jaehyun and I are just acquaintances - we know each other through his brother, Johnny.”

“Ah, I see.” Doyoung nods, before he begins occupying himself with sips of his wine. Through the awkward silence, you turn your gaze to Jaehyun, whose eyes train on you with an emotion you can only decipher as need, a knowing glint in both of his pupils. Flashes of his fingers disappearing in and out of you play through your mind, and you cross your legs together to combat the growing feeling in the pit of your stomach.

“So what brings you here, Jaehyun?” you ask the man after he orders himself another glass of cheval blanc; Doyoung, in between the two of you, stays silent.

“I just finished a meeting with Park & Kim Law, and was about to head to the exit when I saw you and an old friend conversing, and I thought, why not?” he says, leaning forward on both of his elbows to direct his gaze fully onto you without the diversion of Doyoung’s head. You quirk your eyebrow for a nanosecond at the fleeting thought of a law firm meeting taking place at a lounge, but you let it go. “And you, (Y/N), what brings you and Doyoung here? A date, perchance?”

His voice is soft, but with the slightest inkling of venomous jealousy, quirking his eyebrows as the words leave his mouth. “No!” you find yourself saying far too quickly, an amused smile making its way onto Jaehyun’s face. “Doyoung and I actually just met, we’re here with Seokjin and Irene.” you turn around to face the engaged couple who were sat next to you, deep in conversation as if they were in their own world. You turn back towards Jaehyun, whose eyes were not looking at yours, but are now gazing at someplace lower. “Actually, I was just about to leave. I have a schedule tomorrow morning.”

“I see,” Jaehyun hums, his top teeth sinking down into his bottom lip as he listens to you. He turns to Doyoung, resting his jaw against his fist, almost taunting him. “Will you be accompanying her, Doyoung? Drop her off at home?”

Doyoung lets out a sigh as he takes another swing of his wine, looking up towards you, the nervousness behind his eyes since Jaehyun had arrived replaced with a flame. “I’m afraid I still have business to discuss with Seokjin,” he says apologetically, straightening his back and turning his body fully around to ignore Jaehyun’s presence. “If I could, I would gladly drive you home - the streets aren’t safe this time of night.”

“It’s alright, Doyoung,” you let out a laugh, setting a hand down on his shoulder - as you do, you feel Jaehyun’s eyes burning through your hand. “I’ll just call my chauffeur, which, speaking of calling, may I ask for your number?”

He complies, and you let out a shaky breath as you feel Jaehyun’s gaze lingering on your skin growing stronger and stronger; just as Doyoung hands you your phone back with his newly added contact, Jaehyun stands from his seat. “I can drive you home.”

You raise your eyebrows in surprise before a slight smirk makes its way onto your lips. “You don’t have to, Jaehyun, really,” you tell him, letting out a breathy laugh. “I’ll just call my chauffeur - they are always on duty.”

“No, I insist,” Jaehyun speaks, far too quickly to save face. The tips of his ears are red, much to your pleasure; he’s jealous. “Doyoung is right, the streets aren’t safe this time of night, and I think it would be better for you to come with me considering that we already do have an established knowledge of each other - plus, it’s what Johnny would want for me to do. What’s your address?”

You simply quirk your eyebrow at him before standing up from your seat and collecting your things, reciting your address as Jaehyun puts it into a GPS app on his phone. As you turn towards your best friend, deep in conversation with her fiancé, you apprehensively tap her on her shoulder. Irene turns towards you in the middle of a sentence with a look of wonder on her face when she sees you ready to go. Searching for the will to lie to her face once again, you force your shaking breath to calm. “Hey, Irene, I have a really early schedule tomorrow - I’ll be leaving, alright?”

“Oh, is Doyoung taking you home?” asks Irene, eyes flashing to the jet-black haired man still seated on his stool, staring into his glass. You shake your head.

“No, Jaehyun will be taking me home,” your voice is nonchalant enough to not raise suspicion, but Irene’s eyebrows raise in disturbance the moment his name slips from your lips. She leans forward to spot Jung Jaehyun on the other side of Doyoung, already throwing on his tweed coat as he sends her his usual gracious, kilowatt smile. She leans back to you and parts her lips to ask why he had appeared seemingly out of nowhere, as well as why you were so casual in leaving with him, but you cut her off. “Don’t worry, Irene. If anything happens, Johnny will beat him up. It’s fine, don’t worry.”

“Are you sure, (Y/N)?” Irene is wholly worried, grasping your forearm as she pulls you forward, closer to her, speaking in a hushed tone. “Seokjin and I can drop you off instead.”

“Irene, I’ll be fine, don’t worry. I don’t want to ruin your night, okay?” You let out a sigh, straightening your back again and giving her a radiant smile of deceit to tell her that you will be alright. She lets out a huff of air in defeat, nodding her head. As you pivot on your heel, you keep your head turned towards Irene as you begin to walk towards Jaehyun, hands already buried in the pockets of his coat. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Of course.” Irene says with a tight lip. Your eyes flash towards Doyoung, who watches you with eyes filled with an emotion you cannot decipher, before you flash him a smile.

“Doyoung,” you nod your head. “I hope to see you soon, as well.”

“Of course.”

The cool January air obnoxiously hits your exposed legs the moment you step out of the lounge, the VIP parking lot littered with snow as you trail behind Jaehyun’s large form. You hear the jingling of his keys and the tone of his car beeping not too far ahead; he was quiet, and it caused a tension to seduce the air between the two of you. He opens the passenger side of his sleek noir Mercedes to let you climb in before rounding to his side, slamming his door closed. The purr of the engine is smooth as it glides down the city streets, flashes of flight originating from the tall buildings above decorating the skin of your thighs. A few moments later, you’re the first to part your lips.

“Jaehyun,“ you start, voice calm, but your intentions are clear; teasing lightly laces your words.. “Is something the matter?”

He takes a few seconds to answer, you see his jaw clenching before he opens his mouth. “No,” he simply says. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” you can’t bear to keep the growing smirk off your lips. You play with the hem of your Marchesa dress, the tulle thin between your thumb and forefinger. “It just seems as if you’re… angry. A little tense.”

“I’m not,” Jaehyun’s voice is calm, harmonized by the low purr of his engine. “Just a little confused as to why you seem so interested in Kim Doyoung.”

You quirk your eyebrow as you listen to his tensed words, as if he were keeping himself contained within his body. You let out a scoff. “I’m not interested in him,” you trail off, watching the city pass you by as Jaehyun begins to near your estate’s territory. “I’m just… a little curious.”

“I can promise you, (Y/N),” he mutters. “There is nothing about that man you should be curious about.”

“Really?” you challenge him, turning to look at him again. The lamp posts that litter the streets highlight his facial structures in a way you have never seen - sleek cheeks cut from his high cheekbones, warm brown eyes cast shades darker; you never really noticed how long his eyelashes are, kissing his under eyes. “The way you jumped to steal me from him leads me to believe that there is.”

You watch as his lips slowly curl into a wry smirk, letting out a huff of air as his grip on the steering wheel tightened. “Are you presuming that I’m jealous, darling?” he lets out a chuckle, eyes turning into crescents but his tone is sinister. You press your thighs together. “Is that why you were suddenly so pursuant in flirting with him in front of me? You want to make me jealous? Because I saw you moments before I arrived and you were merely chatting with him like a normal friend - it wasn’t until I sat on that stool when you began to feel his arms through his blazer.”

An amused smile plays on your lips as you look back out the windshield window, seeing that he has arrived to your gates. The guard that mans the metal doorways only wakes up from his slumber to press the button that opens it, Jaehyun slowly driving his Mercedes through your gateway.

“The fact alone that you had been watching me and analyzing the touches I gave him says a lot, Jung Jaehyun,” you say in a hushed voice as he pulls up at the front of your house. The lights of your home were all turned off, signifying that your mother isn’t home, and neither are any of the maids - it is a Saturday after all. You turn to him, a teasing smile on your face, seeing that he had already been gazing at you. “But if you’re not jealous, then maybe, just maybe, I’ll let him fuck me until I can’t walk.”

When Jaehyun’s lips mesh into yours in a flurry of desperation, the words that you had let fall past your lips fly out the window, his hands on the back of your neck as he pulls you closer towards him over his console. He unbuckles his seat belt before he turns his entire body to you, lips parting as his tongue enters your mouth; you let out a moan as he does, combing your fingers through his ash brown locks.

“Not here,” you whisper, pulling away, his eyes opening before he looks at you in worry. “I want you to fuck me in my bed.”

The seconds it took for you and Jaehyun to climb out of his car, walk up your marble stairs, fish for your keys inside your purse blindly as the two of you continued to kiss each other before finally unlocking the door proves worth it as the rashness of his actions heightened the moment you shut the door behind you; he presses you against the whitewood and attaches his lips to yours again, hands set on your hips as you ring yours around the back of his neck. He smells of saffron and jasmin, slightly quiet moans escaping from his throat.

“Fuck,” he says, playing with the hem of your dress, trying to pull it down your body but the handmade strains deem too sturdy. “Get this shit off.”

“It’s Marchesa.” you pout, his eyes lingering on your lips, plump from kissing his own.

“I don’t give a shit what it is or isn’t,” Jaehyun grunts. “I want it off of you. Now.”

You heed to his word, reaching for the zipper on the side of your waist as you connect your lips to his again, the neckline of your dress relaxes, and as his tongue dances with yours, he slowly begins to slide your dress down your form. He pulls away to look at your figure, wearing only a lace black bra with matching panties, and he lets out a grunt.

“So fucking beautiful,” he whispers, hands travelling up your body to cup your breasts through the fabric of your bra. His lips are close to your ear before he begins to kiss spots on your neck, tongue moving languishly against your skin. “God, I can’t wait to fucking ruin you.”

His words cause you to suck in a breath as you tighten your thighs together, and he seems to notice, a deep chuckle forming from his throat. You lean your head to the side to allow him more space to your neck, your hands travelling from his broad back to the front of his chest, trailing down towards his jeans. When you feel how stiff he is through the denim material of his pants, you pull away from him. He looks at you with wonder, your hooded eyes and smirk ringing clear to him as you slowly begin to push him towards your staircase, having him sit down on one of the carpeted steps while your knees touch the cool marble flooring of your entrance hallway.

“You said it yourself, I owe you, don’t I?” you whisper as you unbuckle his belt. He watches you as you do, enchanted with the way your fingers moved to free his cock from their strain. When you finally release his stiff shaft from his underneath his boxers, you practically salivate at the sight - he was long and thick, the tip of his head pink in desperation. When your lips wrapped around his cock, he sinks his upper teeth into his bottom lip to keep a moan from escaping his mouth, eyebrows furrowed as your tongue slicks around his throbbing tip.

You keep your eyes trained on his face, taking in every sinful expression that makes way on his angelic features; it should be a sin to look as angelic as he is but have the most sinful sounds fall past his lips - but the thought excited you. Ever since you had first seen him, Jung Jaehyun had looked like nothing else but like an art piece from the Romantic era had come to life ; with his gentle yet captivating umber eyes, to the way his lips curl as if he was always hiding a secret - to see him in such a filthy, obscene circumstances caused you to yearn for more. Even as you begin pumping your mouth around his cock, you yearned for more; for him to bury himself deeper into your throat.

“Fuck! Yes! Yes, fuck, that’s it, take my cock into your pretty little mouth,” Jaehyun grunts, raking his fingers through your hair to form a makeshift ponytail, holding your head steady against his crotch. He begins to slowly rock his hips up and down, his cock sliding in and out of your mouth, lewd noises emitting from the back of your throat; you look up at him through your eyelashes with pleading eyes. He fucks into your mouth slowly, making sure he doesn’t hurt you, but deeply, hissing at the feeling of your throat spasming every time the tip of his cock grazes against it.

“That’s it, darling, fuck, your throat feels so good.” he grunts as he does one long thrust, feeling your mouth around the entirety of his cock, burying it deep in your throat for a few seconds. As he keeps it there, relishing in the spasming of your tongue and the swishing of your saliva, your gag reflex threatens you, and you clutch at the flesh of his thighs for support, screwing your eyes shut. He slides out, strings of saliva connecting your plump lips to the base of his cock as you cough out in strained breaths; your eye makeup has already began to run down your face. “Such a good girl aren’t you, letting me fuck your mouth?”

Your eyes are trained on his when he stands up from his seated position, keeping your position kneeled down on the marble floors; biting your lips stained with saliva and lingering droplets of Jaehyun’s pre-cum, you nod meekly which causes a smirk to spread on Jaehyun’s lips. Your eyes trail down to his cock again, wanting it back in your system, but he seemed to have other plans as he hauls you to stand up by your hair. His other free hand makes its way to your clothed pussy, pressing against the moistened fabric, taking in the way your eyebrows furrow in hunger.

“Look at you, such an eager whore,” He chuckles, hot breath pressing against your ear as his middle finger slides against the thin fabric pressed against your sopping heat. Your hips buck against the teasing single digit, and he lets out an amused laugh at your desperation. “All this just from my fingers? All this because I fucked your throat? Who made you this wet, darling?”

You only focus on his finger sliding against your clothed folds, your eyes hooded as you clutch your hand against Jaehyun’s forearm. It’s when he tugs on your scalp again, forcing you to look into his eyes, when you realized he had asked you a question, dark eyes burning into yours. You open your mouth, breath shaking at the little contact. “You did, Jaehyun.”

“Shit,” he grunts. “Where’s your bedroom?”

“Upstairs, left, very last door.”

He wastes no time in sweeping you off your feet, letting out a light gasp as he effortlessly carries you up the stairs, following the directions that you had given him, your legs dangling while you wrap your hands around his neck, lips attaching to his skin. He kicks your bedroom door open, and throws you on top of your blankets. When your back hits against your familiar plush mattress, you spend no time in recognizing the comfort you had grown up in as Jaehyun quickly pulls your panties down your legs, getting onto his knees on your carpeted floors.

The moment you feel his warm tongue glide through your wet folds, you gasp out his name, throwing your head back at the unfamiliar sensation. Your toes curl as Jaehyun’s tongue circles around your clit, nub sensitive causing you to buck your hips forward; your fingers make their way into his hair, grabbing at his ash blonde locks to bring him closer. Your ex-boyfriend, Mingyu, had never given you this type of pleasure before, your few times together only ever resulting in a quick blowjob and dull sex that would only last for a few minutes - you have never been on the receiving side of oral, nor have you ever felt your body ache with pleasure at the most bare minimum things. Every touch Jaehyun puts on your skin spreads through your body like fire, and you want it more and more.

“Fuck, baby, you taste so sweet,” Jaehyun peppers the inside of your thigh with memoirs of his lips in the form of deep red bruises, the tip of his middle finger slowly tracing over your slit, coating his digit with your juices and of his saliva. You shudder at the familiarity of his fingers against sliding through your folds, having yearned for them inside of you again since your own couldn’t reach as far as he could - and when he eagerly slipped two fingers inside of you, you couldn’t help but let out a gasp. He grins as he hears the sinful sound. “Jesus, so fucking tight.”

He leans forward once more, reattaching his lips to your pussy, his tongue sliding against your clit in circular motions while begins to move the digits in and out of your slit, already having found a certain spot that led you whimpering his name. “J-Jaehyun,” you breathe out in short gasps, furrowing your eyebrows together as the sensation of his long fingers spreading you out racks your mind. “Fuck, Jaehyun, right there.”

He continues to fuck you with his fingers, tongue flashing past your clit in lewd motions - his hand travels up your body, goosebumps adorning your skin with each touch before he pulls down your lace bra, your nipples hardened against the cool air. He rolls your nub with his free hand, eyes trained on your face and taking in your expressions as the pleasure overtakes your body. He continues to graze the pads of his fingers against your spot, and your back arches off your mattress, sucking in a sharp breath.

“Are you gonna cum, darling?” he pulls his mouth away from your pussy, but his fingers continue to fuck into you. He looks up at you with taunting eyes and the sight only brings you to the edge further. The sight is enough to take you over the edge, the pads of his fingers grazing over your spot just one last time before your orgasm rakes through your body, your hips bucking against his still moving fingers - you mewl at his presence in your sensitive core. “That’s right, cum all over my fingers, just like that.”

Your breathing is faltering, but Jaehyun wastes no time before he kneels onto your bed, the mattress dipping as you attempt to catch your breath. He peers down at you with a soft smile on his face, juxtaposing the lingering remnants of your juices and his saliva that frames his plumped lips. You only find peace for a fleeting moment at his tranquil expression before you feel his throbbing tip slide against your slit, the expression on Jaehyun’s face transforming into a teasing one.

“Look at you, you’re a mess,” he taunts you, sliding his tip against your pussy, coating his head in your juices. You shudder at how close he is to finally plunging deep inside of you, but still being so far away. You whimper as he continues to do it, and although you’ve already had your orgasm, the aching need that had occupied the pit of your stomach since you had left your first encounter forming in your stomach again. “Jesus Christ, what will become of you once I give you my cock?”

“Fucking hell, Jung Jaehyun, just fuck me already.” you let out a frustrated whimper, wrapping your hands around the back of his neck to pull him closer, his body falling on top of yours as your lips move against his. He chuckles against them, before he positions himself against your slit, slowly pushing in. You pull away from his lips when he enters you, a gasp falling from your slacked jaw as he stretches you open.

“Jesus fuck, (Y/N), you’re so fucking tight!” he grunts when the base of his cock hits the mound of your pussy. You can do all but speak, eyes screwed shut as you clutch onto his forearms on either side of you. You’ve observed that he’s large before, but he stretches you out so well - he slowly begins to move his hips, and the slight pain begins to subside, transforming into pleasure. As you relax your body, you let out short gasps every time he thrusts back into you again. “Shit, you feel so good around me.”

You hear Jaehyun’s baritone voice, but it seems as if it’s located a million miles away, you floating bliss as you relish in the sensation of his cock sliding against your walls repeatedly. Each time he thrusts all the way back before slams inside of you again, you let out sharp gasps; his cock reaches into your core even further than his fingers already had, and it feels so, so good.

“Look at you,” Jaehyun breathes as he picks up the pace of his hips, rutting into you at a faster speed, his arms pinned on either side of you. Your hair, usually styled and perfectly placed around your face, is splayed out in messy fashion against your cream sheets; your face is flushed with excitement and lust, jaw slack as profane noises fall past your mouth and into the hot air between both of your bodies; your eyes, usually so focused and attentive, are glossed over with desire, hooded as your tits bounce with each thrust Jaehyun drives into you. “So fucked out already. Doyoung could never fuck you this good, right, darling?”

“J-Jaehyun.” is all you are able to whine as he continues to fuck into you, hard and deep; the sounds of skin slapping against skin harmonized with the sound of the both of you breathing heavily is what occupies the space between the two of you. He pulls your hips higher, throwing one of your legs over his shoulder, allowing him to fuck you even deeper - the sensation of the tip of his cock grazing against you sensitive spot causes your nails to sink into the skin of his forearms.

“Tell me again, darling,” ask Jaehyun, his hand moving towards your throat and gently wrapping his fingers around your neck. As he continues to drive his cock into your tight pussy, his voice comes out in strained grunts. “What did you want Doyoung to do to you?”

“F-Fuck,” you could barely form a word, each thrust he gives you causes all your thoughts to melt into obscurity, sentences jumbled into whines and moans. His clutch on your throat tightens and you’re almost sure your eyes are about to roll to the back of your head in pure bliss.

“I asked you a question,” he growls, slamming into you again and again. “I expect you to fucking answer me.”

“I-I wanted him to,” You manage to squeak out a few words. “Fuck m-me until I c-couldn’t walk.”

“And tell me, darling, who’s the only one who can do that?” he ruts his hips even faster than before, your bed squeaking as your mattress moves with every push he makes into your pussy. At this new angle, his the tip of his cock hits your spot perfectly, over and over again, a sensation that induces you to scream his name as you arch your back off the bed.

“Jaehyun! Fuck!” you yell, hearing your voice echo against the walls of your bedroom - he doesn’t stop though - as you scream his name, laced with foul words, repeatedly, his cock continues to drive deep inside of your pussy, making sure he leaves a mark inside of you that only he can give.

“Fucking tell me,” he pulls his hand away from your throat to grab onto your face, forcing you to look at him. Tears of pleasure have began to spring against your waterline, falling past your lower eyelids and staining your bedsheets; your face is streamed with marks of your mascara and eyeliner, your lips plump from biting into them to refrain yourself from screaming his name. “Tell me, (Y/N), who’s the only one who can fuck you? Who does your tight fucking cunt belong to?”

“Y-You-” you whimper out in a quiet voice only to scream again when Jaehyun moves your hips higher, his cock driving into your deeper and harder than before. His grip on your waist is tight as he moves his hips; you’re sure to have bruises the next morning but all you could focus on at that moment is your nearing second orgasm. “Fuck, Jaehyun! You! It’s yours! Only you can fuck me, shit!”

“That’s right,” he leans back, yet another angle racking over your body, his throbbing tip hitting your sensitive core rhythmically. Sweat begins to drip from his forehead, his face glistening in the dim lighting of your bedroom - even now, even through the indecent circumstances the two of you were in, he is beautiful. “Your pretty little cunt is mine, only mine.”

“Y-Yes, Jaehyun, it’s yours,” you whimper, clutching at your bed sheets. What had started as a lonely night had quickly become one filled with the sound of slapping skin and a creaking bed, Jaehyun’s deep grunts music to your ears as you feel your walls spasm around his cock. A knot had formed in the pit of your stomach again, a sense that only Jaehyun had ever given you, and you feel your mind haze over. “J-Jaehyun, fuck! I’m cumming! I’m cumming!”

“Cum for me baby,” Jaehyun whispers, and your eyes to roll to the back of your head as the feeling rakes your body, sending goosebumps over your skin - you hear Jaehyun’s moans becoming louder as you cum but they are muffled with the stir of your pleasure, seeing stars in the darkness behind your eyelids. Your body goes numb, core sensitive, but Jaehyun continues to fuck into you through your orgasm. “Fuck, baby, are you on the pill? I need to cum inside you.”

You only simply whisper out a yes, voice shaking and broken from the screaming you had done all night, still caught in a daze from your orgasm, before feeling Jaehyun’s hips falter as he lets out a low groan. His thrusting slows and his jaw becomes slack, eyes directed downwards, at his cock connected to your pussy, ash blonde hair sticking to his forehead and cheeks flushed with both lust and exhaustion. He fills you up with his cum with shaking breaths, it is when he pulls out when you feel the warm liquid slip out of you.

He wastes no time in leaning down to kiss you again, lips molding together as if they were meant to be pressed against each other - his hands, now gentle, caressing your hair and your hands cupping his face. The two of you have left memoirs of each other on the other’s body, and although you aren’t sure what the two of you quite are, the tranquility that fills the air when you look into his eyes after he pulls away from your lips, a gentle smile making its way onto his face before he pulls himself beside you against the plush pillows if your bed, only brings you an emotion you haven’t felt in a very long time.

“You’re so beautiful.”

That night, when you fell asleep in Jaehyun’s warm embrace, as his heaving breaths slowly transition into a soft, rhythmic snoring, you are happy.

-----

Jung Jaehyun, to put it simply, is like a drug to you. If his presence is elsewhere, your body aches for him, almost begging for company even without your knowledge, and he knows it. The haughty smirk that you had grown used to ever since the first time your eyes laid on him had grown wider now, even more when his name is all you’re able to say whenever he drives his cock into your core. You’re selfish; almost every single night is a night spent with him, with your bodies pressed together in a dance between the sheets of your bed, or his bed, or whatever environment the two of you occupy.

There was one time, only a day after the first time he had fucked you, when he had picked you up from your home - your mother believed that you were leaving for Irene’s house to pay her a visit, but she was awfully incorrect. You and Jaehyun never made it to where he was planning to take you, having parked deep in a bundle of trees, somewhere far where no one could find the both of you, before fucking you in the backseat of his noir Mercedes. His windows were tinted and the steam that had accumulated on the glass would prove it difficult to look through if anyone were able to find his parked car, but the rocking motion of his automobile probably would have proved your theory wrong.

There was another time, a week after the first time he had fucked you, when you visited the Jung & Associates tower deep in the heart of the city during the evening, when almost all of their employees had left. That night, he bent you over his mahogany desk and drilled into you ruthlessly, his necktie disposed of, wrapping it around your neck to keep you on your knees on top of the table, your soaked panties shoved into your mouth to muffle your whines and screams in case a few employees loitered around the office on the other side of Jaehyun’s door.

And another time, your favourite time, when you had a flight to Los Angeles to oversee a branch of Decoré’s boutiques and their dodgy revenue, when a knock reverberated on the door to your penthouse, and upon opening it, you were greeted with the familiarity of Jaehyun’s lips on yours. He promised to fuck you on every surface, eager to see you coming undone on top of each piece of furniture laid out in your penthouse. You could barely remember that night; having had innumerable orgasms, each memory is a blur of lust and pleasure - but you can recall being pressed against the panoramic window that blessed you the view of all of Hollywood as he fucked into you from behind, deep voice reminding you of your blasphemy while people went on about their day below the two of you.

Your life is filled with responsibilities and expectations - you are expected to have a beautiful posture, a graceful expression, careful movements, and wise words; never to have a cuss word fall past your lips, never to have a revolted expression grace on your face. If you were to make one wrong move, the future of Decoré may be in peril - but with Jaehyun, as obscene as your actions with him are, you feel as if you are truly yourself. With his throbbing cock pumping in and out of your core, all your thoughts of maintaining your prim and proper reputation are pushed out of your mind, instead focused on raking your fingernails down the skin of his back.

Today, your hands are occupied with tugging on your Hermés scarf that you had wrapped around your neck, concentrated on cloaking the marks forged on the skin of your neck that Jaehyun had left with his lips the night prior. Today, there was yet another gala that you were invited to, some politician that your mother is acquainted with. To be excited is nothing close to how you really feel, knowing of the dull and tediousness that the rest of the night will consist of - you’re only thankful that your stylists didn’t force you into a corset again. You aren’t even sure why you had to attend, having no connection to the point of the gala except for your mother - you would much rather be at home, perhaps reading a book, watching a movie, telling Irene to accompany you, or perhaps texting Jaehyun to come over once again.

Your prediction for the night proves correct when you find yourself sitting alone in the corner of the venue, against the royal blue crushed velvet chairs as you stare into the liquid of your wine glass. You are adorned in a pure white dress by Elie Saab, and you were far too afraid to drop any of the desserts on it in fear of a stain, so you settle for just a simple drink instead. Tchaikovsky drones from the weary looking orchestra at the top of the stairwell, and you’re almost sure you’ve memorized each flat or sharp were located in the flurry of notes. Your mother, the social bird, is off conversing with other people that she’d acquainted herself with, a large, yet fake, smile on her face - it seemed as if no one your age was present, so you were grateful at the fact that her matchmaking business for you will be closed for the night.

You let out a sigh as the night drones on, the conclusion for the evening seemingly never arriving. You are unsure as to how the people around you seem to be enjoying themselves - Do people enjoy boring things as they grow older?you think, but you would never say it out loud.

“I like your scarf.”

The tone of voice automatically causes you to sit up straight, turning your head towards the direction it originated from. The man in question pulls up a seat next to you, a kind smile on his lips before sitting down on the crushed velvet padded seat. You quirk your eyebrow in surprise at his presence - you’d assume that he’d be someplace else, enjoying his night, but as you thought more about it, the environment fit his field of expertise.

“Thank you - it was a last minute choice, considering the circumstances.” you quip, setting down your glass of wine to tug at the scarf wrapped around your neck, careful to not expose the hickeys that dance against your skin. You’re unsure on how to act around him in public, you’re so used to letting your desires with him known that acting in your usual grace is unnatural for you. “What are you doing here?”

“Actually,” Jaehyun cocks his head to the side as he smiles, a dimple forming in his cheek, quirking his eyebrow as he lifts his champagne glass to his lips to take a sip. “I have a reason to be here, darling; the man who constructed this gala is a client of Jung & Associates. I should be the one asking you that.”

“Really?” you ponder on his sentence for a few seconds as you twirl the stem of your wine glass between your fingers. “Hm, first time I’ve heard of someone’s lawyers attending an event that their client hosts.”

“Well, he’s a very corrupt man,” Jaehyun says, turning his gaze towards you. Even just his stare causes you to feel a lustful desire - you cannot comprehend how much power he has over you. “You didn’t hear this from me, but he’s evidently guilty in a case of embezzling money and drugs underneath the guise of his campaign.”

Your eyebrows slightly raise in shock, gasping lightly. “Oh my gosh, really?” you ask, before furrowing your eyebrows in wonder. “Why have you accepted him as a client knowing that he’s guilty?”

“I was not the one who accepted him, darling,” he says, resting his cheek against his fist. His stance is relaxed, but his tone of voice seems to hold weight that you cannot pinpoint. “My father did - they were college buddies back in the day. Plus, you know what our kind desires - we all just want money, right?”

Your eyes slowly trail from his eyes to your drink, pondering on his words. “I guess you’re right.”

“Speaking of my father,” Jaehyun’s voice is hushed now, and uncharacteristically panicked. “Here he comes. Try to act casual, can you do that for me?”

“Of course.” you whisper back, getting ready to put your front on again, lifting your gaze just in time to spot the tall, broad-shouldered man walking towards your table. It’s a little jarring, really, seeing Jaehyun’s father for the first time; it’s as if Jaehyun had aged several years and had gone bald - the image in your head causes the corner of your lips to quiver humorously but you contain your laughter.

“Jaehyun, I’ve been looking for you since we entered this gala, there are people who would like to congratulate you.” his father’s voice is gruff, evident of experienced smoking. He barely pays attention to your presence, his eyes set on Jaehyun only, and the man beside you, whose gait is always dripping with confidence, seems to wane. You gulp as you look between Jaehyun and his father, the tension in the air appearing seemingly out of nowhere - bad tension.

“I’m talking with a friend, father.” Jaehyun’s voice, all the stern that you have grown used to since hearing it for the first time, is softer. His father finally tears his glare at his son, his pupils snapping towards you, and suddenly, you understand why Jaehyun was acting menial. His father squints his eyes at you, observing you with scrutiny, and you let out a shaky breath before parting your lip.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Jung.” you outstretch your hand over the table for him to shake, and the older man simply glances at it before setting his eyes on your face again. Your front almost falters, your hand retreating back into your lap as you burn with humility.

“Who are you?” he asks you, voice imperious.

“She’s (Y/N) (Y/L/N) of Decoré,” Jaehyun answers for you. His tone of voice recovered slight dominance but his stance stays humble beside yours. “I’ve told you about her, remember?”

“Oh yes,” Mr. Jung answers, jaw square as he peers down at you, familiarity in his eyes. “That fashion brand. How is that going?”

You’re confused at his question, having never met him in the past, but you answer anyway. “It’s going alright, thank you.”

He nods once, finally tearing his weightful glare from you and returning back to his son. “Come now, Jaehyun,” he says, turning his body as a way to signal his leaving, waiting for Jaehyun to follow him. “There are people I’d like you to meet before your birthday next week.”

You turn your head to Jaehyun in surprise. “It’s your birthday next week?”

Jaehyun slowly stands from his chair, eyes slightly irate and training on his father, but his voice is gentle when he answers you. “Yes, on Valentines day.” He finally looks towards you, gaze softening when they land on your features, and you furrow your eyebrows in confusion - why is he acting like that? “I have to go now, (Y/N). I’ll talk to you soon, okay?”

“Of course.” you nod once, lips pressed tightly together as you watch Jaehyun’s form walk towards his father around the table. He gives you one last glance, a look that you cannot decipher, once again, appearing in his irises, before he turns his entire body from you, leaving you to sit alone.

As you watch his retreating form, you think of the newfound information that you had uncovered about Jung Jaehyun, of his birthday, and you realize that, although you know of Jung Jaehyun, that you know of the rumours surrounding him, and know of his body and what he’s capable of from the nights you’ve spent with him for the past month, you don’t sincerely, truly, know him.

-----

Jung Jaehyun does not talk to you soon; after the gala reached its conclusion, your phone remained silent for the following week, aside from Irene’s text messages as well as your mother’s phone calls to ask you how the house is going while she’s on a brief New York visit to oversee one of Decoré’s branches. Even Johnny, who would usually spam your notifications with the latest of internet memes, has been silent. For the following week, you wake up every morning to see if Jaehyun had contacted you, met with disappointment when you’re unable to find his name in your notifications, and you head to bed every night, hoping that maybe, just maybe, he’d text you before you fall asleep. You are reluctant on whether you should worry or not - perhaps he’s busy, he is taking the clutches of his company from his father’s grasp, but it’s on his birthday, when you greet him with a text only to be met with a notification that he’s read your message, when dread begins to pool your stomach.

“Is there something the matter?”

Irene’s voice causes you to snap out of your daze while you stare at the screen of your phone. It brings you a case of déja vu for only a second before you finally look up at her, a strained smile on your face.

“Hm? No, nothing’s the matter,” you act nonchalant, setting your phone back down in your lap as you cross your legs over each other. The two of you are seated in your bedroom, Irene splayed out on your bed as she hugs one of your pillows, and you at the stool of your vanity. “I’m fine, Irene. Why?”

“(Y/N),” Irene sighs as she sits up, putting the pillow she had been cuddling down against your plush mattress. “You’ve been acting different since your visit to Milan.”

“Have I?” you continue your front. It’s disgusting how easy you lie to her. “I feel fine, though.”

“Look, (Y/N),” Irene lets out a sigh, and you inwardly cringe - you know that she isn’t buying your words. “It’s fine that you don’t want to tell me, I don’t wanna pester it out of you because it’s your business. However, just know, no matter what it is, I’m here to talk to you, okay? If you told me you killed a man in Milan, I will back you up. I’m basically your sister, I’m here for you always. Please remember that.”

Her words eat at you with guilt, and you tear your eyes away from her, suddenly finding solace in your hands folded in your lap. “I know, Irene,” you whisper, voice shaking. “When the time comes, I’ll tell you. I promise.”

“Okay, now put your phone down,” Irene hops off the bed, a grin on her face. “It’s Valentine's day; you’re single, and my fiancé is in New York. Let’s go eat ice cream and watch romance movies.”

The rest of the night is spent lounging on the large couch in your sitting room with your best friend, nostalgic scenes of love confessions and innocent touches playing on the screen of your large television. Your mouths were filled with spoonfuls of ice cream, giggling and squealing at the scenes, as if both of you hadn’t already memorized every line from watching it repeatedly since your early teens. When the main character finally melts into the kiss of their love interest, Irene grabs the cushion next to her and doesn’t hesitate to hit you in the shoulder with it, whining at how romantic the setting was, and you giggle loudly as your spoon falls from your bucket of ice cream onto the floor, the metal clanging against the marble tiles. For a few moments, you forget about your lingering thoughts, phone abandoned in your room upstairs, sitting on the cold wood of your vanity’s table.

“Oh gosh,” Irene jumps to her feet when she looks out the window after the two of you finish your third movie. The rain pangs against your window pane harshly, coating the glass in thick rainwater. “It’s raining so hard, I should call my chauffeur.”

“Just stay over,” you tell her, still seated on the couch. Your home is like her second home, and her home was your second home; the two of you grew up surrounded by each other’s childhood, so her sleeping over isn’t anything new. “You can call in your chauffeur tomorrow, it’s raining really hard.”

She lets out a sigh. “I know, but I have to get up super early tomorrow in time for my bridesmaid’s gown fittings,” she takes a hand through her hair as she fishes for her phone in her pocket, hitting the contact for her chauffeur on her screen. She holds it to her ear, and apologetically, asks for them to pick her up from your home. After apologizing profusely and thanking them through her phone, she ends the call and lets out another sigh, grabbing her coat that she had splayed over the arm of your couch. “They’ll be here in a few minutes.”

You frown, but nod, standing up as you grab the empty buckets of ice cream on the coffee table and push your feet into your slippers. You head to the kitchen to dispose of the garbage and to wash the two spoons before putting them in the rack to dry. Your maids weren’t home, as it is a Saturday once again - you favoured cleaning your home though - although it was rather large, you find it relaxing. As the few minutes pass by, Irene’s ride has arrived at the front of your doors; she gives you a warm embrace before she takes her leave.

“Remember what I said, okay?” she reminds you of her words in your bedroom, to trust her with anything, and you nod once.

“Of course,” you tell her. “Have a safe drive home, alright?”

When you close your door, you let out another sigh as the silence of your home overtakes your presence. The juxtaposition of the hustle and bustle of the nearby city, hearing honks of cars in the distance, is ironic to you as you head back to your kitchen; you felt as if you were isolated from the outside world. Having grown sheltered, with only a few close friends in order to protect your reputation, you’ve naturally become a homebody - when you’re not travelling for your own interests or for affairs pertaining to your job, you’re almost always found at home, sitting in silence.

You sigh as you take out a nearly empty bottle of domaine de la romanée-cont from one of the cupboards in your kitchen, pouring just a little into a glass that you’ve found in another cupboard. Your mind flashes back to Jung Jaehyun once again, wondering if he’s enjoying his birthday, if he’s enjoying his Valentine’s day, pondering on why he hasn’t contacted you since you last met. You think, perhaps Irene’s words at the beginning were correct - he’s had his fun with you, and now he’s left you to pick up what he’s left behind; you quickly push the subject from your mind. After downing a sip of your wine, you dispose the glass into the sink, not bothering to wash it, opting to do it tomorrow, your mind occupied with getting ready for bed. Just as you turn into your entrance hallway to walk up the stairs towards your room, your doorbell rings. You let out a hum - Irene must have forgotten an item of hers before leaving. Your fuzzy slippers swish against the floor as you walk towards the white door, unlocking the latch before pulling the heavy door open. You part your lips to greet Irene, but what comes falling past your lips is a gasp instead, the sight of Jaehyun standing on your porch a shock to you.

His ash blonde hair is doused with rain water, droplets falling from the wet strands and kissing his shoulders, adorned in Saint Laurent that clings to his skin tautly. He’s panting, as if he had ran all the way to your house, and at the sight of his chest rising and falling rapidly, you believe that that’s exactly what he did. He steps into your home, his frigid, wet hands automatically cupping your face before he pulls you towards him, your lips crashing into his cold ones in desperation and ache. For only a fleeting moment, you melt into his kiss, but quickly regain your composure, pulling away from him.

“What are you doing here?” you question him, pushing his wet hair away from his face. You look into his eyes, they seem red and swollen - like he’s been crying.

“I came to see you.” he answers you, voice aberrantly frail - his breath is shaking with each inhale and exhale he takes. “I missed you.”

“Jaehyun, what’s wrong?” you whisper, wondering why he’s acting this way - it’s his birthday, he should be happy, yet he seems so desolate, so crushed. “Have you been crying?”

“Darling, please,” his voice is hushed, cold hands still cupping your cheeks as he searches your eyes. “I… I can’t tell you yet.”

“Why?” you urge him on, desperate to know more about what he’s feeling, about what he’s thinking.

“I… I just can’t,” for the first time, he’s unable to come up with an answer to your questions - the doom in your stomach pools even deeper, but you hold onto the last lingering hope that burns in your heart. “Please, I just need you. I need you right now. I need you badly.”

It’s humiliating how simple words that slip past his lips could cause you to obey so quickly, pulling him in for a deeper kiss as he closes the door behind him. Your lips crash against each other in a flurry of teeth and tongue while he grabs your ass, urging you to jump, before wrapping your legs around him. In haste, he carries you up the stairs, memorizing where to go after having been in your home several times in the same circumstances, before throwing you onto your bed.

“God, you’re so fucking beautiful,” he whispers against your skin, kissing down your neck while he undoes the lace that ties your silk robe adorning your body. He unclasps your bra quickly, and you let out a sigh when he uncovers your chest, his tongue kissing the valley between your breasts before slowly enveloping his tongue around one of your nipples. “So fucking beautiful, so fucking innocent, so fucking good to me.”

You run your fingers through his drenched locks, brushing them back away from his face as his tongue flicks over your sensitive nipple repeatedly, his other hand doing the same to the other one, rolling the nub with the pad of his thumb. The sight in front of you, Jaehyun’s dark eyes boring into yours while his lips are occupied with your breasts, is breathtaking; your thighs press together intuitively, but once his free hand lets go of your breast, he gently pushes them apart.

“Jaehyun.” you whisper when you feel his hand slip past the waistband of your shorts and panties, middle finger toying with your clit. He continues to lap at your nipple in circular motions, the sensation of his touch against your nubs causing you to breathe heavily. Slick with your juices, he dips a finger into you, watching your face when his middle finger penetrates you core. You let out a whine, an aching desire for his girth not met by his single finger, but it grazes against your spot which causes your whine to break into a whimper.

“So sensitive, always so fucking tight,” he pulls away from your breast, taking off his drenched shirt before kneeling lower to position his face in front of your sopping heat, slowly beginning to pull your shorts and panties down. In just a few minutes, you had already become drenched with lust underneath Jaehyun’s touch, heat rising in your cheeks when you feel his lips peppering kisses along the inside of your thighs. “I’ll take care of you tonight, darling.”

You still haven’t grown used to the pleasurable sensation of his tongue against your folds, finding yourself gasping in shock every time you feel him lick a strip against your opening. Your hands automatically find their way enlaced in his wet locks, bucking your hips against his face when his tongue grazes your clit. He pushes your legs further apart, lewd noises emitting from his mouth and your sopping core, hushed by the heavy rain hammering against the walls of your home.

“Jae!” you let out a sharp gasp when you feel his tongue dip inside you, your fist clenching his hair to bring him closer as a low chuckle emits from his throat. Usually, he’d pull away and taunt you for being so eager, and continue to tease you by barely paying attention to the spot you needed him the most, but tonight, he continues to fuck his tongue into you, grip on your thighs to spread your legs apart burning. “Shit, that feels so fucking good!”

He replaces his warm tongue with two of his fingers, coated in a thin sheen of saliva before he pushes into you, tongue lapping at your clit. He knows your body so well, he knows what to do to push you over the edge and now, in just a few minutes, he’s already got you on the brink of your first orgasm.

“Jaehyun, fuck!” you scream as he rapidly fucks his fingers into you, tongue violent against your clit. You spasm around his fingers, tugging at his scalp as your hips begin to tremble. He continues to fuck you, eyes casted downwards towards your fucked cunt, focused on bringing you over the edge. He pumps his fingers in and out of you at a quick speed, his digits disappearing inside of you one last time before you scream once more. “Shit, I’m cumming!”

He slows his fingers down as you come apart around his digits, finger fucking you through your orgasm. As you let out one last sigh, he pulls his fingers out, wet with your lust, before climbing back up to your face to kiss you, lips wet with saliva and your juices. He moans into the kiss, hands needy as they knead your breasts, his tongue entering your mouth hotly. You flip your bodies over, you on top of him now, his hands moving down your waist to cup your ass.

You lean back and he watches you with adoration - your heart flips in your chest for only a moment before lust fills your mind again when you feel his stiff cock against your thigh through his jeans. You move down, your turn to kneel on the floor in front of him as you begin to undo his pants. He watches you with his teeth buried in his bottom teeth, brushing your hair away from your face as you pull his cock from his boxers. You let out a breathy giggle at how pink his throbbing tip is before circling your tongue around it, earning a hiss from him before you fully engorge it into your mouth.

“Fuck, yes,” he grunts, pushing himself up on his elbows to get a better view of you wrapping your lips around his cock, raking his hands through your hair. “Yes, just like that, suck my cock just like that.”

He goes crazy at the sight of your lips wrapped around him, the sight is enough to nearly push him over the edge - your innocent eyes, your hands that clutch at his every time you pump your mouth into him deeper, the way your eyebrows furrow when you gag on his tip. “So beautiful,” he whispers, his thumb caressing your cheek, a sweet act that juxtaposes the situation. “Just like that, your pretty mouth takes my cock so well.”

You continue to suck his cock, your hands pumping the parts you aren’t able to reach - you can almost feel how desperate he is every time his tip hits the back of your throat, the throbbing clear. You weren’t used to Jaehyun being needy like this, being so gentle, taking his time - but the thought made you excited.

“Shit,” he grunts when you pull away from his cock with a pop, moving your head lower to pay attention to his balls before licking a strip up his shaft. Just as you are about to wrap your lips around his cock again, he sits up, cupping your face. “Fuck, I’ll cum if you keep doing that.”

His lips find yours once again and this time, he’s the one to flip the both of you over. He rids of his jeans that had pooled around his ankles before he climbs into your bed, hovering above you as you spread your legs open, aching for him to finally be inside of you. You had waited for him for a week, you yearned for his presence all those days - and now you were finally being filled by the man you wished for.

He slides his cock deep inside of your cunt before he begins to move his hips slowly, leaning forward to attach his lips to yours. You could never get enough of his cock, it was as if he was made to fit inside you just right, his tip grazing against your g-spot repeatedly as his tongue dances with yours. You moan into each other’s mouths, your bedroom filled with obscene sounds of saliva and skin slapping against skin.

“Mine,” he whispers against your neck when he pulls away, hips gently rocking against yours. His cock hits you in just the right places, whines emitting from your lips as he continues to speak. “I want you to be mine.”

“I am,” you answer, wrapping your legs around his hips in an effort to get him to thrust deeper. He nips at the skin of your neck as he ruts into you. “I’m yours, Jaehyun. I’m all yours.”

Jaehyun doesn’t answer, only responding in deep groans, as he leans back to grab your legs, pulling them over his shoulder to find a better angle in fucking you. When he leans back, you’re almost certain you see tears formed in his eyes, but with you hips slightly lifted from your bed, the angle proving perfect as his cock hits your g-spot even more accurately, you find your thoughts slipping out of your mind when your muffled whines to turn into louder mewls.

“Jaehyun!” you gasp loudly when he begins to pick up the pace, fingers gripping onto the skin of your thighs so hard that you’re sure they’ll leave marks the next day. You feel your walls begin to spasm around him, eyes rolling to the back of your head as your vision slowly begins to turn into a blur. “Jaehyun, I’m going to cum! Fuck!”

“Don’t cum yet, baby,” he says through strained grunts. “I want to cum together. You’re on the pill right?”

You let out a meek yes as you attempt to hold your orgasm under wraps, finding it hard to do so as the tip of Jaehyun’s cock hits your spot over and over again - your body felt numb and all you wanted to do was to let go, your blurry vision suddenly becoming decorated with stars. “J-Jaehyun, I-I can’t hold it.”

“Yes you can, darling,” he cooed, bringing a hand down to draw circles on your clit with the pad of his thumb. The action has your legs trembling, breath hitching in your throat at the overpowering sensation takes your body. “Hold it for me, you can hold it right? You’re so fucking good to me, that’s why.”

“Jaehyun!” you let out a ripping scream, loud enough to hear it reverberate out your opened bedroom door and down the hallway. Tears begin to form on your waterline at the frustration of your waning orgasm as well as the desperation to let go, letting out a sob as he continues to fuck into you savagely. He drives into your pussy with full force repeatedly, pulling all the way out and snapping back in, and you find it so hard to keep your orgasm under control. “Jaehyun, please!”

“Fuck, baby,” he moans loudly, feeling your walls spasming around him in a frenzy. “Fuck, I love you so fucking much, fuck, cum for me. Cum for me, darling.”

And you do as he says, finally letting go of your built up orgasm, the sensation ripping through your nerves and causing you to see an entire galaxy behind the darkness of your eyes. The tips of your fingers and toes burnt as if flames kissed them and your body is both sore and numb but with the greatest pleasure. Through the fog, you feel Jaehyun continuing to thrust his cock into you before stalling deep inside your core, spurts of his cum shooting into you and filling you up before he pulls out, streaks of white pouring out after him.

The both of you come to, panting heavily, before his lips fall onto yours once again, bringing you into a passionate kiss. His lips are familiar to you now, and you cannot even begin to think of a time where they didn’t belong to you. He wraps his arms around you to bring you closer, head resting against your plush pillows before he pulls away. There’s a stray tear that falls from his eye, and you are unsure why it is there.

“I love you, (Y/N),” he whispers, caressing your cheek with his thumb. “I love you so fucking much. I hope you know that.”

“I love you too, Jung Jaehyun,” you whisper, a smile forming on your face, kissing his forehead. The words feel right when they leave your lips, as if they were meant to be said by you and to be heard by him. “Happy birthday, my love.”

You press your lips against his for the final time that night, the electricity clear through the air when he relaxes into you. He smelled like roses, he felt like warmth, and he moved like honey. When you pull away with a gentle smile formed on your face, your thumb wipes away his stray tear, unknowing of the burning pain that had formed them in the first place.

——-

Waking up to the absence of Jaehyun’s warmth, the bare sheets holding nothing but the outline of his form, is nothing new to you to start the day with - often, after your affairs at night, the moment sunlight cracks through the night sky, Jaehyun would rise early to sneak back into his own estate in order to avoid a quarrelsome conversation with his father. Instead of waking up with his arms wrapped around your form and kisses against your forehead, you’d only be met with the kisses of sunlight that slips through your creme curtains grazing against your skin, and although you can’t deny the slight disappointment that brews in your stomach at the sight of his absence, you wholly feel a bit relieved every time you’d come to find a note that he’d left you just before taking his leave.

Recalling your memories of the night prior isn’t an activity that you’re new to, either; you rejoice in the ghost touches left by their former presence as you reply the scenes of pleasure in your mind - Jaehyun’s lips against yours, tongues dancing together like wild flames, his hips rocking into you and fervent as if he wanted to become one with you. As your memories of the night before come to an end, your heart beat waned slightly upon remembering the way Jaehyun had acted. You recall the sight of tears lining his waterline, eyes red and movement filled with desperation and longing. You had fallen asleep before you were able to ask him about it, and he had left far too quickly for you to ask him after waking up.

When you tossed your legs over the edge of your plush mattress, the pads of your feet meeting the carpeted flooring, you had glanced towards your bedside table to see if Jaehyun had left you a note that morning, excitement bubbling in your stomach; the notes that he’d leave for you to read in the morning would range from the most romantic poetry, nothing but sweet nothings written on the page, to the most obscene, filthy string of words, degrading scenarios that he wishes to act upon the next time he sees you which would usually cause a throb to emit in your core early in the morning. Upon looking at your table that morning, though, your bedside table was empty; nothing but your usual reading lamp and phone resting atop the wood. You had furrowed your brows together in confusion at first before pushing the thought out of your mind, deciding not to ponder too much about it. Instead, you eyed your sleeping phone on the table, the device rousing awake with a text notification that had you reaching for it automatically. You had hoped it were the man in question that had occupied your mind since waking up, but you were met with a mere sigh when you see that it’s just your manager, reminding you of the day’s itinerary.

Another day, another gala that you had to attend, and although this gala may prove to be important to your rise to the head seat of Decoré, you couldn’t help but feel tired of the constant jubilees you had to go to. Since returning back to Seoul from your short trip to California to overlook your boutique’s Los Angeles branch for your mother, you had delved into the planning and designing of your first few clothing pieces - you were excited, you truly were, since you had notebooks upon notebooks filled with your sketches and ideas for clothing pieces that ranged from gowns to the most simplest scarves. Yet, nervousness and apprehension is what eats at your stomach when you realize that your first ever piece, a gown the tone of lavender made entirely of tulle and lace, strewn with colourful flowers as if the sheer fabric had been dragged through a garden, is making its debut tonight. You were unsure what the event is for, only having heard from your mother that it reigns important for the history of Decoré; you knew what she really meant - it brings the company vast amounts of money. Even now, when you sit in a rounded table in the venue with Irene by your side, who had accompanied you for your own encouragement, you can’t seem to stop your fingers from twirling the glass stem that holds your wine.

“Irene,” you concur to your best friend, gulping down vast amounts the liquor Irene had fished for you. Your other hand was preoccupied from fisting at the Christian Dior dress that adorned your body, the strewn golden pendants that hung against the noir silk digging into the skin of your palms. Irene’s hands find their way to yours, snaking her fingers through yours for comfort as she looks at you worriedly. It isn’t that Irene’s presence doesn’t give you a sense of peace, because she’s been slightly successful at her attempts of giving you comfort since the night had started, but perhaps if your mother was here you’d feel a lot more at ease - but, evidently, the weather in New York seems to disregard your feelings, cancelling your mother’s flight back to Seoul that morning. “I don’t think I can do this.”

“Yes you can, (Y/N),” Irene says in a hushed whisper, careful that other patrons that attended the jubilee won’t bear witness to a future chief executive going through a mild breakdown. She rubs the back of your palm with “You’ve dreamt of this all your life, and you worked so hard on creating this dress. Once the dress is revealed, your weariness will go away, I promise.”

You let out a deep breath at her words, genuinely thankful that she’s there by your side to help you. As you gulp, you nod at her. “Okay,” you huff. “You’re right… you’re right. I can do this.”

The gala itself is nothing different from other galas you’ve been to - men dressed in their uniform fashion of black and white suit and ties, ladies dressed with the most expensive fabric that sweeps against the floor coupled with their moussed hair and glamorous eye makeup. Unlike most events that you’ve attended, the people that sit around different circular tables housing wine glasses in their palms are unfamiliar to you - you grew up in a social network underneath your mother’s doing, Irene is a part of it, Lucas, who you had met formally several months ago by virtue of your mother, is also a part of it; each and every gala you have been to were filled with people you or your mother knew of - so the unknown characters around you right now, coupled with the unrevealing of your first ever design, ultimately terrifies you. You can pick out a few faces; Irene, of course, your manager, who had been gracing the dessert table for the past hour, and two of your stylists who continuously kept an eye on your hand that had gone back to fisting at the fabric of your dress, weary at wrinkles.

“(Y/N)?” a familiar voice rings which causes your ear to perk, turning your head to the direction of the tall jolly man who lugs his shorter husband around, and another boy, a much younger boy, follows behind the both of them. Johnny has a quizzical look on his face, as if he were pondering the reason on why you were present - you must have had the same expression too, because he lets out laughter. “It’s peculiar to see you at an event such as this.”

“I should say the same to you, Johnny.” you say, hand relaxing in Irene’s clasp. She relaxes her fingers and lets your hand go, consequently wiping her hands with a napkin as she makes a teasing quip about how clammy your hands are. You let out a pout at her comment before turning back around towards Johnny - this doesn’t seem like an event he would usually attend as well; he’s more of a youthful socialite gathering type of man, even more peculiar that he’d bring his husband along as well. “Ten, nice to see you again!”

Ten rings out a smile to you as he leans down to give you a hug, before taking a seat at your table. The younger man who follows behind the two of them is a little awkward in stance, but he doesn’t fail to give you a warm, dashing smile, a calming grin stretched out on his face.

“I’m Jaemin,” he introduces himself, reaching his hand out for a handshake. “You must be (Y/N) (Y/L/N) - Jaehyun and Johnny talk about you a lot.”

“Is that so?” you let out a laugh, quirking your eyebrows at Johnny who gives you a deadpan look, causing you to giggle. “But it’s very nice to finally meet you, Jaemin!”

The five of you drown the droning sound of classical music through small-chatter, catching up with each other from the past few weeks. Jaemin is a kind boy - charming, but level-headed and mature, he seemed wise beyond his years, and his manners were prim and proper. For a fleeting moment, you had wondered where he had gotten his personality from, seeing as Johnny is a loud, silly man while Jaehyun was more enigmatically rambunctious, but you push the thought out of your head. You think about what he had said when introducing himself to you - Jaehyun talked about you to him?

“So, when is the wedding, Irene?” Ten asks as he sinks the teeth of his fork into a red velvet cheesecake, sliding the fragment it into his mouth before setting his fork back down on the plate.

“You’ll find out through the invitation cards,” Irene gives him a kilowatt smile, her eyes softening at the mention of the future event. “But it will be next Spring - we have yet to decide where the venue shall be, but when we do, like I said before, you’ll find out through the invitation cards.”

“Oh, to be married,” Johnny cooed teasingly, as if he weren’t sitting next to his husband. “What a wonderful thing to imagine - finally becoming one with the love of your life during a beautiful ceremony. One can only dream.”

“Johnny Suh,” Ten deadpans, causing you and Irene to let out giggles. “I will not hesitate to shove this entire cake down your mouth, if that’s what you’re trying to hint at.”

Johnny lets out a loud laughing, bringing his husband close for a hug as the shorter man, pouting, takes another bite out of his cheesecake. “I’m just joking,” Johnny says. “Being married to you is like a dream for me every single day.”

You watch the couple with admiration as they slowly begin to begin to chatter into their own world, gentle smiles and soft gazes exchanged between them; you’ve grown used to seeing the people around you amorous with their partners, but you still cannot deny the feeling of envy that creeps up in your stomach every time you were faced with a happy couple. It’s not that you want them to break up, because you would never wish for a beautiful pairing to split, no matter who they are, but it’s because you’ve still yet to find the one who could bring you into your own little world. You tear your gaze away from them to let them have their own privacy, bringing your attention to your fingers decorated with rings that range from Daniel Villegas to Swarovski, but an emptiness pools in your heart when you realize none of them truly holds a significant meaning to you.

For a fleeting moment, Jaehyun’s face flashes in your mind, but you push it out of your thoughts as quickly as it had arrived.

You quickly come to when you hear the dull tapping of a mic blare throughout the grand hall, a hush falling over the attendees as they redirect their attention towards the front of the venue, towards the mini platform that had housed the mini orchestra. Two men stand atop the platform, each clad in a dark grey suits by Johnston; you squint your eyes just slightly in order to make out their faces against the harsh spotlight that had shone onto them. One man seemed familiar, his hair greying and thinning, wrinkles of age outstretching the skin of his face, and you identify him as Mr. Jung, whom you met at the politician’s event last week. You are quizzical as to why they are here, wondering if this was a gala hosted by the Jung family. As you wondered, your eyes turn to the man beside him, only to find his eyes already on you.

You gasped slightly when you see Jung Jaehyun, the ash blonde tone of his hair long gone and replaced with jet black locks, slicked away from his forehead and styled much like the first time you had seen him - he stands tall, as he always does, hands firm at his side and facial features juxtaposing each other as if he were modern art, but his eyes, the eyes that you’ve grown used to seeing desire, confidence, and adoration, are instead filled with nothing but alarm. He stares at you with widened eyes, his jaw visibly tightening as he seems to stop breathing for a fleeting moment, and at his unusual gait, a sense of doom rises in your stomach.

“I’d like to thank you all for coming tonight,” Mr. Jung’s gruff voice blares through the speakers while he holds the microphone close to his mouth. “Today is a very, very special night for Jung & Associates; a very special night for my beloved son, Jaehyun.”

Jaehyun finally tears his eyes from yours to look at his father, flashes the audience a kilowatt smile, as if he hadn’t looked at you with such alarm just mere seconds ago.

“As we all know, my time as CEO of Jung & Associates has already come to an end, and I figured, with one last bang, why don’t I announce my son’s rise to the chair with a celebration?” he turns towards Jaehyun, whose lips are pressed tightly in a line. “I know that he’ll prove to be an amazing chief executive; he’s responsible, articulate, and intelligent - he is the son I have always dreamt of, and he is everything Jung & Associates has aimed for in our empire.”

You see Johnny‘s jaw clench from beside you against the dim lighting, and on the other side of the table, you see Jaemin gulp, and you couldn’t help but frown at how much pain their own father’s words must have caused the both of them. You reach out in an attempt to squeeze Johnny’s arm as a sense of comfort, as he is much closer to you physically, but a voice that causes your nerves to run wild inside of you blares through the speakers, causing you to pause mid-action and look back towards the platform.

“Thank you, father,” Jaehyun says when the older man gives him the microphone, he toys with the wire before clearing his throat, looking back into the audience. “I’m very excited for the journey I’ll be taking with Jung & Associates; this has been my dream since I was a child, so I’m really happy to be here today.”

There is a pregnant pause in the air, and he takes a hitched breath. “As well for another announcement,” Jaehyun continues. “I’m very excited to announce a new era for Jung & Associates - we have merged with Kim & Park Law, an honour as we move into a bigger empire. Helping people is what both of our firm’s prioritize, so it only felt right.“

An applause breaks out in the crowd, and politely, you clap too, although you are unsure as to what was going on. You wondered how your design was going to be shown, when it will be revealed; you should have inquired your manager before arriving - this doesn’t seem like the correct environment for a revealing.

“That being said, I have one last announcement. I’m sure all of you are wondering just why I’m talking about the future of the merge between Jung & Associates Kim & Park Law, when we’ve merged with plenty other companies in the past. Well, it’s due to the fact that the worries of the future does not only pertain to the company, but to my personal life as well,” he pauses, and he looks around the room for a fleeting moment, but when his eyes land on yours, it seems as if the moment had lasted for years. A woman, a beautiful woman of tall stature with glowing blonde hair and skin kissed slightly by the sun walks up to the platform to stand next to Jaehyun, and adorned on her form is your design, with its lavender fabric that shines against the spotlight as if it were painted onto her skin, whose flowers decals swept against the floor in youthful, yet graceful, wonder. When Jaehyun finally tears his gaze from yours to look at her, she gives him a smile filled with love, and Jaehyun, with his dimples carved deep into the corners of his mouth, smiles back.

“Chaeyoung Park, the beautiful daughter of one of the co-founder of Kim & Park Law, is to be my wife. Tonight, I am announcing our engagement.”

The doom that had been brewing in your stomach for the past few days had penetrated into your heart when the words absorb into your eardrums; the sinking feeling inside of you and the twisting pain that had erupted in your chest drowned out the applause and cheers of duress that had taken over the sound waves of the hall, your breath hitching in your throat as you wish only for the ground to swallow you whole. Johnny and Ten turn towards you, their eyes widened in horror as they open their mouths frantically, but you are unable to hear what they are saying. Irene, beside you, grabs your hand once more and rests her other one atop the back of your hand, and when you turn towards her, when you meet her heartbroken, pitiful gaze, when you realize that you and Jung Jaehyun, the man who had not only taken your opportunity of glory by taking away the attention from your first ever design, had also decided to tear your heart and soul apart in the most painful fashion.

The last thing you had remembered before your eyesight became a blur was forcefully standing up, the screeching of the legs of your chair hushed by the audience’s celebration, and walking out of the hall with Irene running after you as you will yourself to not let the tears spill past your waterline.

You come to when the moonlight that casts down into your dark bedroom causes your interior to glow ethereally; perhaps, if it were your usual day, you would stop to admire the setting - but even the most extravagant view is dust to you now as you wreak broken sobs of dismal into Irene’s comforting arms.

“He’s not worth your tears, (Y/N),” Irene comforts you, motherly hand caressing your hair as she lets you sob. She hums soothingly as she does so, your body trembling in ache. “He’s just another ignorant, immature boy. He’ll bring the end of this stupid law firm while you’ll continue to reign with Decoré.”

“It hurts so much, Irene,” you sob into the fabric of her Elie Saab garment, guilty that you’re staining the silk with your heartbroken tears. “My heart hurts so much, he told me he loved me just last night and I told him I loved him back. I should have listened to you, how could I have trusted him? How could I be so thoughtless?”

“Shh,” Irene’s voice is soothing as she pushes you back to look at your face. “I will say, I did warn you. However, you can’t control your curiosity nor who you love, (Y/N). And yes, although you fell in love with a man of whom I want to do nothing else to but murder, you were not being thoughtless. You just did what you thought was right.”

“Nothing I did was right,” you wipe the tears that streamed down your face. “If I did what was right, then I would have never caught sight of him that first night, then I would have never met Johnny, then I would have never kept running into him in different countries, and I would have never fallen in love with him.”

She tucks a hair behind your ear before wiping your tears with her thumb, smearing some of your mascara and eyeliner underneath your red, swollen eyes. She smiles with a bittersweetness. “Everything happens for a reason, (Y/N).”

You change out of your dress, hem stained by grass and dirt marks from walking carelessly through the front garden towards the entrance when you were leaving the gala, and Irene stays outside your door as she informs Seokjin that she’ll be staying over at your home. She doesn’t tell her fiancé what had happened, deciding to keep it a secret between the two of you, and Johnny and Ten. You let out a sigh as you remember the two men’s shocked faces when they had turned to you, anger and denial clear in their faces; were you and Jaehyun not as discreet as you had thought? Your stomach twisted in pain when you think of more options; had Jaehyun lied to you about keeping it a secret?

“Irene?” your voice is meek when you reach out to her arm as the two of you lay beside each other in your plush bed hours after your sobbing had calmed down. She hums, flipping her sleeping mask away from her eyes as she looks at you. “How did you know about Jaehyun and I?”

She waits for a few seconds, as if pondering on what to say. “The tension between the two of you was claustrophobic,” she says after a few seconds. “You also both held these... certain gazes towards each other. Gazes that I gave Seokjin when I pined for him, and gazes that I still give him now.”

Your stomach twists once more as tears spring against your waterline. Perhaps asking wasn’t the correct decision. You sniff, in an attempt to calm your emotions. “Oh.”

“It’ll be okay, (Y/N),” Irene sighs, her hand on top of yours in an effort to comfort you, acknowledging your shaking voice. “It will be hard, but you can find a better man. A better man than Jaehyun had ever been.”

“Of course.” you whisper. “Goodnight, Irene.”

“Goodnight.”

Later that night, when Irene’s soft snoring emits from her form beside you, you reach for your phone that slept against your bedside table. When you rouse it awake, a dull pain seeps into your heart at the sight of the notifications that lined your screen; all of them were from Jaehyun. A tear escapes your eyes as you unlock your device, willing yourself to not read the countless messages he had sent you, almost enraged at his ignorance for even thinking of doing such a thing - was it his goal to mock you, to taunt you of how your body was under control of his lips?

You think back on his actions towards you for the past year you’ve been aware of his existence, filled with aching eyes and desired touches, small exchanges of soft smiles and slight smirks. Had that all just been an act, for him? Had he looked at you with lust, only to go back home and give his girlfriend, his fiancée, the same ones - only this time, with authentic emotions? Had he spent the last year making it seem as if he were the one pining after you, when in reality, you were the one that had those feelings? Had he doused the three words he said on your last affair in a brew of lies before letting them absorb into your eardrums? Had wickedness glowed in his heart when you uttered the same three words back?

Because, as you continue upon thinking more about the situation, late that night, you realize that his fiancée was not the one that hurt you - she probably had no clue about all of this, just as you had been.

You were the other woman.

Your heart clenches in your chest sending a wreck of pain through your nerves, biting your lip to muffle back a broken sob as thoughts fly into your mind at a pace you had never encountered before.

Jung Jaehyun knew you; he knew all your secrets when you uttered them in his ear when you would lay next to him in bed, he knew of your quirks that would slip out when trying to keep your relations discreet in the public eye, he knew of the facade that you would put up after stepping past the gates of your house, he knew what your body liked and craved and how to get you to slip over the edge when he would fuck you, he knew of your goals, he knew of your wishes, he knew of your desire for love and marriage - but you knew nothing about Jung Jaehyun.

You swallow once in an attempt to calm the increasing regret that begins to fill your stomach before tapping your screen one final time that night, the block button that sits underneath his contact emitting a light blue before his number finally disappears from your device, deleting your text conversations, erasing every lingering retention of Jung Jaehyun.

-----

The plain taste of water fills your mouth and you think to yourself, perhaps you should have ordered a much more tasteful drink to accompany the savoury meal in front of you, of different breads, seasonings and pastas. Your shoulders are straight as you sit in the chair of crushed velvet, corset at a comfortable tightness as you keep a watchful gaze on the people around you. A sigh escapes your mouth when you spot a lovely couple seated a few seats away from you, hands outstretched and on top of each other against the wooden table, love full in their eyes as they gazed at each other in admiration.

Perhaps coming here was the wrong idea.

Three years ago, you were brought to the chair of Decoré after the sudden passing of your mother, a tragic event that graced headlines much to your grief in utter remembrance - the year of her death was an ache to you, every person you turned to would bring it up, which would only spark tears in your eyes and pain in your chest. Becoming used to the chair was not an easy task at all either, having to give up the modelling career that you had forged from a young age in order to focus fully on the company’s strings - and you didn’t have your mother to help you either. As the years went by, you formed into a different woman; long gone was the girl who put a mask in front of the public in order to keep her reputation spotless, long gone was the girl who calculated her movements in order to keep an outrage from sparking - however, sometimes, when all the lights in your lonesome penthouse are turned off and all you can hear is the distant buzz of the streets below, you would silently cry to yourself, wishing like a child that everything hadn’t changed so drastically.

You and Irene are still in contact, as close as ever, and you had the will to have invited you on your trip - but due to her growing family and growing pregnant belly, she was most likely unable to accompany you on your planned rendezvous’ these recent days; Johnny, ever the positive man, also continued to contact you as well, albeit sparsely - but the incident that had happened caused a strain to form on your friendship - he treated you like a ticking time bomb, careful with his words in order to not let a memory spring in your mind. Last you heard, he had adopted two little twin girls with his husband. You, on the other hand, admittedly have had your nights of pleasure, hooking up with random men dressed in fancy custom suits that you’d meet at random lounges and events, but they were never serious. They would always leave right after your affair ends. Your ring finger bears no band, and you’re unsure if it ever will.

Presently, you sit at a lounge, someplace in Milan, celebrating the opening of a new boutique in your favoured city, lonesome. In due fairness, you were planning to ask your secretaries and closest employees to accompany you, but after the hard work they had put into opening the new branch in a foreign country, you opted to give them the rest of the day off instead. As crowds of people chatted amongst themselves in duress, all you can do is sip hesitantly at your water and pick at your food, regretting the idea of coming here alone. It seems as the universe is mocking you, as well, decorations of hearts and and cupids littered against the walls of the restaurant, as today is Valentine’s day - everyone around you is on a date, perhaps their first or one of many, and you are sitting there, alone, completely out of place.

Yes, coming here was definitely the wrong idea.

Yet, you couldn’t bear to let the food you had ordered and had people put their backbone into making to go to waste, so instead of standing up to retrieve your tweed coat hung on the backrest of your chair, you continue to eat quietly, by yourself, underneath the guise of being distracted by your phone screen. As you ponder about the what-ifs, thinking about having ordering room service from the comfort of your hotel room instead, a waitress props a tall, skinny glass of a familiar liquid in front of you.

“Domaine de la romanée-cont, Ms. (Y/L/N),” she greets you with a gracious smile, bowing her head slightly. “From the gentleman at the bar.”

You furrow your eyebrows together in bewilderment at the glass before thanking the waitress and sending her on her way. You study the flute intently, gazing at it’s red liquid that seemed to glow against the yellow lighting of the restaurant, before wrapping your fingers around it to take it towards your lips. The bitter taste of domaine de la romanée-cont graces your taste buds when the liquid engulfs your mouth and you think to yourself, perhaps the theory of a maturing palate is true, you do not favour the taste of the wine that you would eagerly look for at events when you were younger and in your old household - but it also brings another memory to you, a distant recalling, eyes that you have not looked into for the past few years embedding into your brain when the taste hits your tongue.

Jung Jaehyun is a distant name to you now, the taste of his name slipping off your tongue becoming a foreign feeling as each day passes, fingerprints he left on your skin slowly eroding away through time. Often, you’d see his face on the screen of your television, read his name on front pages of magazines that they’d display at those corner stores you’d idly pass by, or hear his name in hushed chatter from people around you engrossed in their own conversation - but as quickly as he had nearly ingrained himself into your life once more, you’d change the channel, or flip the page, or tune out of the conversation. Although no parts of you hold no bearing of the memoirs of Jung Jaehyun, sometimes, you’d find yourself laying awake at night, wishing for the memories that still lay in the cavities of your brain to come to life once again, to feel his fingerprints burn into your skin much like they had five years ago - but as a chief executive at the age of twenty-seven, all you can do is tell yourself to grow up, and force yourself to do paperwork instead of wishing for something that will never come true.

So when you spot Jung Jaehyun sat at the dark mahogany bar after looking for the man who had paid for this drink, with his umber eyes boring into yours, you are unsure on how to act.

He is as beautiful as the first time you laid eyes on him, his facial features a stunning juxtaposition as the dim overhead lighting of the bar accentuates his sleek cheeks and soft jawline, his sharp lips and soft, brown eyes. His hair, remaining a jet-black, much like the first time that you had seen him, is brushed over his forehead messily. He wears a simple white button up shirt, the first two buttons undone, tucked into a pair of black trousers adorned with a belt. On his wrist, as he cradles a glass of champagne as he watches you, is a golden watch from Louis Vuitton, His mouth is pulled into a straight line, and in his eyes, hold observe, as if he were waiting for how you would react. Even now, when he approaches you and sits in the chair opposite from yours, his eyes still hold a deep meaning.

Upon meeting his eye, it seems as if all the memories you have buried deep into your brain becomes uncovered, images flashing before your eyes in montages like an old film movie; his eyes gazing into yours with desire, fingers pressing into your skin as to leave a crater of himself on your form, lips ghosting the crook of your neck when he used to roll his hips into you - the act alone is enough to make you gasp from both shock and hurt, tears slightly beginning to tease your waterline, but you take note of the environment around you and decide that you shouldn’t act out.

“Jung Jaehyun,” you finally speak, keeping your tone unwavering. “It’s been a while.”

“It has.” he speaks, setting the bottom of his glass against the white cloth. Jet black strands fall past his eyes and he brushes them back, before meeting his eyes with you again. “I hope you have been well, (Y/N).”

“I have.” you answer him, switching your gaze back and forth between his eyes - what was his goal in speaking to you like this; you do not hold an inkling of care for him as you once did, was his plan to taunt you of your old affairs? You decide not to thank him on his greeting, nor return it, and continue to speak venomously. “Why are you here?”

He seems taken aback from your blunt answers, stilling for only a fleeting moment before parting his lips again. “I’m here to oversee the Milan branch,” he answers you in a strain. “I was just enjoying a night out when I saw you, and I wanted to greet you again.”

“Alright.” you simply give him a simper, setting your fork down before you push the avoided glass of domaine de la romanée-cont towards him. He watched your action with puzzled eyes. “I don’t like the taste of this wine anymore; you should have just kept your money in your pocket.”

“Oh,” is all he could say. “I’m sorry.”

You don’t say anything, instead, you begin to pack up your belongings into your purse, quickly arranging the utensils of the finished meal in front of you to help the waitresses clean your table easier for when you leave. You avoid his gaze when you finally stand up, taking your tweed coat hanging off the backrest of your seat and sliding it on, brushing your hair out from being tucked into it.

“Goodbye, Mr. Jung.” you tell him, still not attempting to hold his watchful eye as you turn on your heel and walked towards the exit, not wanting to hear any words slip past his lips. You are appalled, could a man really be so ignorant, to attempt to mock you in front of your face, even years later? Perhaps he still held himself in high regard from the past, and though a small part of you wreaks with hurt, slight tears springing to your eyes when the February air kisses your cheeks as you walk past the doors, anger still continues to move through your nerves.

“(Y/N),” you hear his voice following after you as you walk through the cobblestone walkways, the calm waters of the Navigli canal that was located right at the exit juxtaposing the emotions that stir inside of you at the sound of his voice. “Please, I just want to talk.”

You continue to walk away from him, hearing his fast footsteps a few meters behind yours. “You had the chance to talk to me years ago before that night.” you simply say, pushing your hands into the pockets of your coat from the cold air. “I’m afraid you’ve lost your chance.”

“(Y/N),” he sighs, and you hear him begin to jog to your side, and once he comes into view, all you can do is bump past him in a fit of aggravation. “Please, listen to me. Just let me talk.”

“I don’t have time to talk. I run a company. Don’t you?” you say in a hard tone. You hear his footsteps come to a stop and you let out a relieved sigh at the thought - you just wanted to leave past him and never see him again, just as he had done to you all those years ago; his voice causes you to halt, just seconds later.

“I do not.” his voice is a few meters away from you but the tone of his voice causes your step to falter, and you widen your eyes at the discovery.

You furrow your eyebrows together before pivoting on his heel to face him, finding his form closer to your body than you had anticipated. “What do you mean?”

“Jung & Associates isn’t under my command anymore. I gave up the position to my youngest brother, Jaemin, who was more ready than I ever was,” he tells you, eyes dark, voice genuine, but the wall that has built before your heart causes your form to stay rigid. “Have you not seen the articles going around, (Y/N)? I did this nearly two years ago. I want no responsibility of the sort - father nearly kicked me out of the family for my choices, but I’m just Jung Jaehyun now.”

You weigh the options of believing him and avoiding his words for a few seconds, opting for the latter as you let out a scoff. The calm waters beside the two of your forms stays moving in slow waves. “Don’t expect me to believe your lies, Jaehyun.”

“I’m not lying.” he says. “I have never lied to you.”

“Don’t give me that bullshit,” you spit, and a sense of hurt flashes in his eyes - you want to slap him, how dare he feel hurt at your words when he’s caused you greater hurt than you’ve ever felt. “How can you expect me to believe you when everything we’ve ever done together was based on false words?”

“Don’t say that, (Y/N),” he says, reaching out towards you but you slap his hand away - retracting his arm as more pain pools into his pupils. You feel the tears finally begin to tease your waterline the moment you had touched him, letting out a soft cry. “What we had was real, and you know that.”

“No, it wasn’t.” you tell him, attempting to keep your tone unwavering. “Don’t you dare fucking lie to me again, Jung Jaehyun. I was the other woman, and you never had the audacity to tell me. You never had the audacity to at least give me the chance to end whatever... we were.”

“(Y/N).” he says, simply, but you only tear your eyes off of him, letting out a sigh of annoyance as you look at the calm waters of the canal beside you.

”Please, just leave me be. Don’t you have a wife to take care of?”

“I don’t,” he tells you, and his words cause you to look at him again with puzzled eyes. He parts his lips again to speak. “Me and Chaeyoung were engaged under business terms - it was never real between us, I couldn’t bare marrying a woman I didn’t love, nor could she, so I ended the merge and our engagement, which cut my ties to the chair.”

You let out a breath at listening to him, eyes falling downcast to the ground, attempting to keep the tears from slipping down your cheeks, but you fail, the streaks hot against your face against the cool air.

“Why would you do that?” you ask him in a hushed tone.

He whispers back. “Life is a risk, isn’t it?”

Silence seduces the air between the two of you for a few seconds, the only sounds heard is the distant soundtrack of cars moving past the roads and the slight sloshing of the bed of water beside the two of you. His shoulders rise as he takes a deep breath, and then he parts his lips open.

“The first time I saw you,” he says, taking a step towards you before bringing a hand up to wipe your tears from your face, his presence so close to you. “It was at your mother’s gala, that one spring. I was there due to my father’s orders to coax your mother into having us buy Decoré. I knew who you were, after researching the revenue of your company - but when I saw you... I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I came home that night, my father was angry that I couldn’t go through one task he had asked me to do - and he gave me a choice. Buy your company, or merge with another company by marriage.”

You keep quiet, letting his words pour into your ears as you listen intently, every syllable hard hitting to your chest as you feel your stomach begin to pool with trust.

“I remember I kept bumping into you in different cities,” he lets out a soft chuckle, juxtaposing the tears that are welling up in his eyes. “Bordeaux, Cebu... I remember butterflies going wild in my stomach when I saw you at the resort in Cebu, but my mind was set. I needed to talk to you, and so I ordered you your wine, and I finally was able to.”

You let out a shaky breath as you continue to listen to him, your mind swirling with thoughts but becoming silenced when he cradles your cheek in his palm.

“And that night in Milan,” he pauses, his hands cupping your cheeks now, an action burning into your skin much like the first few times he had done it long ago. “When I saw you walking down the runway with that wedding dress, walking towards me at the end of the runway… it all just made sense.”

You gasp lightly, widening your eyes at the realization of his words, and it is at your reaction that causes his tears to finally fall from his own eyes, staining his red cheeks with wet streaks. It is an action that causes you to recall the last time you had been entangled with him, wiping his tears away as the both of you whisper the three words that you’ve become so scared of uttering.

“Do you want to know the reason why I held such detest for Johnny, all those years ago?” he asks you, and you do not answer, continuing to look at him in bewilderment. “It was because I was jealous that he could live a life freely while I could not. It was because I was jealous that he could start his own career from what he favoured to do, and I had to take on the responsibilities of the family. It was because I envied the fact that he could marry whomever he wanted,” he paused, only for a brief moment, but it felt like millennia when all you could feel at that moment was your nerves exploding at his words.

“And that I could not marry you.”

His lips are like home to you, warm against yours and sending a frenzy through your nerves, and you realize, perhaps you never really did forget the way his lips meshed against yours, and how it felt to feel his presence burn into your skin. Even as tears streamed down both of your cheeks as your lips mold into each other with both yearning and passion. You are unsure of how many moments you stand like that, still, hearing the water move beside the both of you quietly, the stars above you twinkling in their delight much like the lamp posts that litter the street, lips dancing against each other. Your hands are tangled in his hair, each strand brushing against your fingers and palms in a familiar dance, as his hands cup against your mouth - and you realize why you have grown to dislike the taste of domaine de la romanée-cont, the wine you use to favour - it’s because you have found your favourite taste in Jaehyun’s lips.

You find your hands having a mind of their own when you pull him by the collar of his coat, bringing him closer to you, and within seconds you are hastily leading him through the walkways towards your hotel. Your lips are still molded together at the front of the hotel, at the entrance of the lobby, the warm yellow lights that emit from the chandeliers inside spilling out to your forms. Perhaps, years ago, you would never do such a brash act in public - but at present, you could care less for the possible paparazzi loitering around the area, you could care less of the stares that the both of you attract when you drag him through the lobby towards the elevator shafts, stepping in, never once moving away from each other. When you pull away with panting breaths, he presses his forehead to yours, his eyes closed as his tears calm. His hands are still placed on your waist, unwilling to let go, and the both of you relish in each other’s presence for a moment, letting silence overtake you; slowly letting the other settle back into their life, dwelling themselves in the space that they had used to take.

“I want you,” he whispers, the ghost of his breath brushing against your nose as you let your hands fall from the strands of his hair and onto his cheeks. One of his hands make it on top of yours, warm against your skin. “I want you so fucking bad.”

“You have me now,” you whisper, hands trailing from his cheeks towards the hardening member underneath the fabric of his trousers. “So please ruin me.”

Both of your bodies deem impatient when the bell sounds with a ding!, announcing that the two of you had arrived to the floor of your penthouse - you are only thankful that the immediate first step from exiting the elevator is already your lounge room, discarding your coat onto the ground as you swiftly push Jaehyun further into your penthouse. His hands have transitioned from gentle touches to rougher grips, arms wrapped around your waist now, letting you lead the way as his slick tongue slips past yours. He moans into the kiss as you push him down towards the suede black couch that decorates your lounge; your knees are on both sides of him, straddling him, never once breaking your kiss. You run your fingers through his hair as he leans back against the backrest of the couch, fingers tracing down your clothed spine and then cupping your ass through the fabric of your noir Dior dress. You pull away from his lips slightly to let out a moan that had been building up since you had last seen him - you hadn’t realized how much your body ached for his touch.

“So eager...” he whispers as you pant out, his lips attaching onto your neck, reminding your skin of what his tongue had felt like. He slowly moves his hands underneath your dress, rolling the tight fabric up over your bottom, your bare-skin now exposed to the cool temperature of your penthouse. His hands are warm against your flesh before he raises his hand to smack your pad of skin lightly, the contact causing a sound to ripple through the air as you let out a soft gasp. You feel him smirk against your skin. “You like that, darling?”

The nickname that slipped past his tongue causes your core to throb, having not heard those words from him in so long - it’s laughable really, how you were still underneath Jung Jaehyun’s five years later, even after you swore never to pine for him again. Your cheeks heat up as he continues to smack your ass, leaning back now to watch your facial expressions, a smug smirk on his face. “Look at you. You like being spanked, darling?” he taunts you, and your core throbs once more.

You bite down on your lip to suppress a moan as you nod your head, his hits slowly begin to turn harder, pain burning into your skin - but you love it all; Jaehyun puts his mark onto you again, this time, they’ll never fade away. He spanks you sharply, and you let a yelp emit from your lips. “That’s it,” he grins when he hears your whine, his black hair brushing past his eyes. “Let it out, darling. Make the entire hotel know what I’m doing to you.”

You find yourself rocking your hips slowly after every spank, rutting your wet panties against the swelling hardness in Jaehyun’s trousers. You hadn’t realized what you had been doing until he lets out a low groan, craning his neck backwards at the sensation of your clothed heats grinding into each other. He grips his fingers into the flesh of your ass as you continue.

“You’re so fucking hard already,” you whisper, the outline of his cock against your core causing shudders to rake through your nerves. He bites down on his lip as his eyes flutter shut, causing you to smirk; you rut your hips faster. “Don’t tell me you’ve gone sensitive, Jaehyun. It would be such a bummer if you cum so early in our affair.”

He seems to snap back into reality at your sentence, eyes opening and craning his neck straight to look towards you, umber eyes turning a shade dark before one of his hands find their way against your clothed heat. “You’ve gotten brave,” he says in a hushed tone. “Just because I haven’t fucked you in a while doesn’t mean you can take control. That’s not how it works, darling.”

“I can take control over you whenever I wa-“ you start, but your sentence is cut short at the feeling of Jaehyun pushing your thin panties to the side before harshly pressing his long fingers into you, causing you to lean forward at the sensation that you have yearned for so long. In the corner of your eye, you see him smirk in arrogance, but you cannot say anything - not when he’s already began to fuck his finger into you. “Fuck, Jaehyun!”

“Finish your sentence.” he whispers calmly, as if his digits weren’t doing something so obscene. “You know how much I hate it when people don’t finish their sentences. You can take control of me? Is that what you were gonna say?”

“J-Jaehyun!” you mewl, legs buckling as you lose your balance on top of him, your hips having a mind of their own as you begin to rock your hips against his fingers. He moves you swiftly, so that your back is against his chest, legs spread with the help of his own, his fingers pushing in and out of you so deliciously.

“Answer my fucking question, slut.” he says, baritone voice deep in your ear.

The name causes you to gasp, sinful words and the sensation of his long, thick digits spreading you apart after so long already having you see stars in your eyes. “J-Jaehyun,” you whimper, voice wavering with every pump he fucks into you. “I was w-wrong. Y-You have control over me. I’m yours.”

You feel him smile against your ear. “Good.” he praises you, the pads of his fingers brushing against your sweet spot that causes your toes to curl and for you to let out a sweet mewl. “Now tell me how good of a whore you are and if I should let you cum or not. Did you let other people fuck your cunt while I was gone?”

You bite down on your lip as his digits pick up the pace, moving in and out of your hole with sopping sounds; the room is filled with a sinful soundtrack of Jaehyun’s dirty words, your breathy whimpers, and the sound of his palm slapping against your cunt. He brushes past your spot again, which causes you to buck your hips, letting out a louder mewl. He pushes your waist down with his free hand, wrapping his legs around yours to bring them wider, fully having you encompassed in his body. His fingers do not stop though, they ram against your sweet spot repeatedly, earning high-pitched moans to emit from your throat; all that you are able to say, is his name. “Don’t you fucking listen?” he growls into your ear, digits ruthless as they continue to fuck into you, stretching your walls out the way you like. “Tell me. Did other people fuck your cunt while I was gone?”

You bite onto your lip and weigh your options, whether you should tell him the truth, or not. Throughout the past five years of not wanting to face Jaehyun, you have accumulated quite a list of men that you had hooked up with for the enjoyment of one single night - many of them left you unsatisfied, but anything was better than you being left to your own devices. Tears begin to spring your eyes at the doubled speed Jaehyun was going now - you had forgotten how ruthless he is in bed, just the way you like it.

“Yes.” you decide to tell him the truth, although, you come to regret it when Jaehyun pulls his wet fingers out of you and slaps your cunt, your sensitive clit hit with dull thud of pain before he plunges his fingers deep into you again.

“Dirty whore,” he spits, but you’re unable to answer at the amount of pleasure overtaking your core. “Who? Who fucked you while I was gone? Tell me all of them or else you won’t get to cum.”

You tighten your walls around his fingers when he brushes past your spot for the nth time but he pulls his fingers out of you before you are able to be pushed to the edge, the built up high slowly fading just slightly before he plunges them back in again, a mewl emitting from your lips when realizing that your orgasm has to be built once again. “Jaehyun!” you whine, bucking your hips in aggravation against his ruthless hand, but he tightens his grip on you.

“I fucking said, tell me who fucked you,” he says through grit teeth. “Or else you won’t be able to cum at all.”

“N-Nakamoto Yuta,” you whisper. Your walls spasm around his fingers again, when he brushes the pads of his digits against your spot. You let out a moan as the pleasure rakes through your body, but you continue to power through, aching for your orgasm to rip through your limbs. “Kim Taehyung, L-Lee Minhyuk,” his fingers seem to bear no ending as they continue to fuck in and out of you while you recite each name that you are able to recall under the circumstance, but all that comes to and end when you utter the last name. “Kim Doyoung.”

He pulls his fingers out of you and hastily grabs your hair, forming it into a makeshift ponytail as he pulls your head closer to him. His grip on your scalp is tight and you let out a cry of pain as well as annoyance at your ruined orgasm - yet, you wanted more. He slowly moves you to the side, standing up from the couch and setting his feet in front of you, towering over your form, and you feel your heart sink in both fear and excitement.

“Kim Doyoung?” he chuckles lowly, slightly tugging on your hair harshly before redirecting your gaze to his belt, and your breath hitches in your throat at the realization of what he wants you to do. “So tell me, darling. Did he fuck you until you couldn’t walk, just like you wanted?”

Out of all the men that you had found yourself in bed with, often random strangers who believed it would be a stepping stone towards achieving your empire by your side, Kim Doyoung was one that you were not expecting. After running into him in a jazz lounge in New York City; the both of you caught up on what the other had missed, apologized for not staying in contact - and as each glass of liquor passed by the both of you in blurs, you quickly come to when both of your forms were barely able to make it to his bed, having bent you over the kitchen counter of his penthouse as he drilled into you from behind.

Just like Jaehyun, Doyoung was ruthless - he left marks on your skin that you had to cover for almost a week before you were certain they weren’t to be seen by the media, and for the entire day after the ordeal, you had deemed too sore to walk, having to call into your headquarters to inform them that you would be working from home that day. However, unlike Jaehyun, you held no connection with Doyoung - his gaze, though filled with lust and desire, held no longing and yearning for who you really are; his touch, though pleasurable and able to bring you to the edge, did not light fires against your skin.

As you pull Jaehyun’s pants down, his throbbing cock slapping against his stomach, the memories of that night are pushed out of your mind at the expense of your desire. You quickly wrap your hands around his shaft, thick and large - your core twitching at the thought of his cock stretching you out again. You part your lips before you swirl your tongue on his pink tip, the sensation of your slick tongue slathering around him letting a low groan emit from his throat. “Shit, baby,” he groans, relaxing his grip on your hair, pushing stray strands away from your face to get a better view.

“Fuck, I missed your pretty little mouth so much.”

You had forgotten how big he was when you attempt to take all of him into your throat, a gagging sound reverberating off the walls of your penthouse, which causes him to groan louder. “Shit,” he hisses, and he begins to rock his hips slowly. “Yeah, that’s right, choke on my cock like the dirty little whore you are.”

His throbbing tip hits the back of your throat in repeated beats, tears springing into your eyes as your gagging causes more saliva to flow out your mouth. He slowly begins to thrust faster, craning his head back at how good your throat feels around him; the grip he held in your hair tightens once again, keeping your head in place as he fucks your mouth. “Mmm, shit,” he grunts. “So fucking good. Such a whore, letting me fuck your throat, hm? Fuck! I missed you so fucking much.”

Obscenities fall from his lips as he continued to rut into your mouth, lewd noises of saliva against flesh emitting throughout the room; tears stained with mascara line down your face but you keep your hands trained on his hips as support - you’re almost sure that your sopping heat has begun to stain the fabric of the couch you sat atop. He thrusts once more, slowly this time, a guttural grunt sounding from his chest as he stuff your mouth - the tip of your nose tickles the base of his cock, and you screw your eyes shut to combat your gagging reflex, before he pulls out, strings of saliva connecting your lips to his cock.

“Please fuck me,” you beg him, leaning back into the couch as you desperately spread your legs apart, inviting him to your wet pussy. You pout at him through teary eyes, not bothering to wipe the saliva that lines your mouth, not bothered at the saliva that had stained your expensive dress, wanting nothing more than to be fucked already. “Please fuck me, I need you so bad. Please, Jaehyun.”

“Such an eager whore,” he chuckles as he moves in closer, positioning his cock against your pussy before he reaches to the top of your dress. He uncovers your chest roughly, you’re almost sure you can hear the slight ripping of fabric when he does, but you don’t care - not when his cock slides between your folds like that, barely attempting to plunge in. “I thought you were busy running a business? Looks like you have plenty of time to fuck.”

“Jaehyun, please...” you whine each time his tip passes by your entrance, but he continues to slather your lingering saliva and his pre-cum all over your pussy. “Please just fuck me, Jaehyun. Please.”

He smirks in arrogance before he drives into you with no warning, knocking the air out of you as you barely have time to readjust to his size before he begins to slam into you repeatedly, causing your voice ripping through the air as you scream his name repeatedly. “Jaehyun! Jaehyun!”

“You’ve become such a slut while I was gone, darling,” he grunts as he grabs onto your legs for balance as he stretches out your cunt, spreading your legs further. You are certain your body will never forget this sensation now, just as delicious as the first time he had done it, your eyes nearly rolling to the back of your head. “Did you forget who your cunt belongs to?”

You are unable to form a sentence as each push into you just continues to knock the air out of your lungs, mewling in pleasure at his cock sliding against your slick walls. His hands gripped at your waist roughly, watching you bounce underneath him in your glory; your hair splayed around your face as if handpicked like fresh daisies. You feel your orgasm nearing, but Jaehyun seems to have no qualms for stopping, continuing to pull out of you entirely before snapping back in even as he feels your walls quivering. “Cumming already?” he growls, voice strained as he rocks his core wildly. “What a fucking slut.”

Gripping at the sheets is all you could do in that moment to keep your sense of self occupied, your orgasm finally ripping through your body, arching your back as his name emits through the air that you’re sure the hotel’s inhabitants would hear from the first floor. “Jaehyun, I’m cumming! I’m fucking cumming!”

He doesn’t stop though, if anything, his hips move faster and rougher against yours, the only sound accentuating your screaming are his hips slapping against your cunt - even as you come down from your orgasm, your body numb as you settle, he continues to fuck into you, face contorted into pleasure. Your legs tremble with each time he brushes against your spot, hips bucking wildly each rut he pushes into you. “Fuck, you’re still so, so, fucking tight,” he grunts, voice deep and filled with need. “I missed you so fucking much. Are you on the pill, babyl?”

“No,” you moan into his ear when he pushes into you deep and rough. “I don’t care. I want your cum inside me, please. I want it so bad.”

He groans at your words, his hips beginning to roll faster, holding you in his arms and burying your face in your neck as he does. “F-Fuck,” the vibrations of his voice tickles the skin of your neck. “You want my cum, baby? You want me to fuck a baby into you? Hm? Is that what you want? Get you pregnant to prove to you who your cunt really belongs to?”

“Yes!” you practically beg, hungering for your second orgasm. At this point, you are unable to even comprehend what slips past your mouth, your voice a montage of lewd noises and gibberish as his hips snap against you. Your sight has darkened, all your senses have gone numb, all you are able to focus on is his cock driving further and further into you over and over again, and his voice that seemed miles away even while he whispers the most sinful things into your ear.

“Mmm, fuck! I’m gonna c-cum, baby, fuck!” he groans loudly, reverberating off the marble walls as he leans back; his hips begin to stutter against yours, feeling him twitch inside you as he fills you up, moans of your name and other crude words slipping past his tongue. You let out breathy pants as he slowly pulls out of you, his cock coming out of your cunt as his cum follows soon after, the fluid warm against your abused skin - he takes his long fingers and swipes up some of the drip before plunging his fingers deep into your cunt again, causing another moan to rip through your throat.

“Oh my fucking god, Jaehyun,” you squeal, reaching down to grab his arm to keep his fingers from pounding into you again, but the overriding sensation has already taken over you nerves, your pleads of mercy turning into moans of pleasure. Your toes curl as the lewd sounds of his fingers pumping his cum back into you reaches your ears.

“Take it,” he grunts, watching your red face, hot with gratifaction. “Take all my cum, baby. So, so pretty carrying my baby. You’ll be glowing, so fucking precious and beautiful. And everyone will know that I’m the one who got you like that, yeah? Right, baby?”

“Y-Yes, Jaehyun,” Your eyes roll to the back of your head when you feel your third orgasm of the night approaching, his fingers relentless against your cunt, making sure none of him leaks out. He brushes past your spot one last time, sensitive and numb, before you throw your head back into the cushions of your couch, final orgasm ripping through your nerves, unable to do anything else but moan quietly at both the plain and pleasure. “O-Oh my god.”

When your orgasm finally settles, he slowly pulls his fingers out of you, grinning from ear to ear as his eyes progress from the darkest you have ever seen them back to their normal, soft umber tone, leaning up to kiss you softly. You have tears in your eyes from what your body endured, and you’re far too sore to move your limbs, but you kiss back, relishing in the feeling that you have missed for so long - he picks you up from the couch, your legs hanging in the air as he holds you close as he successfully finds your bedroom. He lays you down on the plush mattress and reaches to the bedside table where a box of tissues laid, wiping your body down, his actions mellow and calm, as he utters sweet nothings to you. “You’re so, so beautiful. You’re so good to me. You’re my entire world.”

When he finally finishes cleaning the both of you up, he wastes no time in getting into the other side of the bed, holding you close against him. Your breathing had finally calmed, your chest rising and falling in tranquil beats. You lay your cheek against his chest, relishing in the still environment that occupied the space around you.

“Jaehyun,” you utter, after a few moments of silence. “You won’t leave, this time, right?”

“Never,” Jaehyun assures you, his hand running through your hair. “I have never left in the first place.”

A soft smile makes its way onto your lips as you close your eyes, delighting in the thudding beat of his heart in his chest. His fingers continue to play with the strands of your hair, his breathing calming to your ears, lulling you as if it were a lullaby.

“Please talk to me,” you whisper, just a few seconds before sleep overtakes you. “Tell me about yourself. I want to hear your voice.”

He takes a few moments of pause, before you hear him breathe in. “My name is Jung Jaehyun,” he starts. “I am twenty-seven years old, I am the son of Jaejin and Shinae Jung, I have three brothers, my favourite colour is white, I love spring, I like to sing,” he pauses again, and you feel him press a tender kiss against the hair on the crown of your head.

“And I am in love with you.”

-----

The rising sun is warm against your face as you gaze at the gradient sky above you, hues of purples turning into deep oranges before coming together into a light blue. The clouds move laggardly against the beautiful sky; in the distance, you can hear the ocean waves crashing against the shores of the Amalfi coast, the scent of salt-water calming to your nerves as you take in a deep breath. The sky drenches you in an orange hue as you wrap your satin chiffon robe around you tighter, the slight breeze that blows against your form causing the foliage decorated on your balcony to dance in groups. You hear the sound of the door that separates your balcony landing from your hotel room, and a smile teases your lips when you feel strong arms wrap around you from behind.

“You’re up early,” his breath his warm against you ear as he holds you tightly, eyes gazing at the view alongside you. “What are you doing out here?”

“Just enjoying the view.” you reply, resting your head against his as he slowly begins to sway you back and forth. Your hands snake around his arms wrapped around your waist, his fingers ghosting over the wedding ring wrapped around your finger. “Are the kids still asleep?”

“Yes,” he whispers, his arms secured around your form. He chuckles lightly against your ear. “The two of them were snoring before I walked out here. It was adorable, actually.”

“How cute,” you coo, smiling fondly. “Maybe we should take them to the beach today! It’s been a long time since I’ve swam in the ocean.”

“We should; for now though...” he answers, voice turning low. “The kids won’t be up until a few hours.”

“Oh shush, you pervert,” a giggle passes your lips as you lightly hit his arm, which only causes him to chucke once more before tightening his hold on you slightly. “Let’s just enjoy this beautiful view for now.”

“This view is nothing compared to you.” he teases you, amusement clear in his voice as you feel his smile against your ear.

“Goodness, Jung Jaehyun,” you tsk. “You’ve gotten so corny.”

To wake up every day to the sight of Jung Jaehyun’s face is something that you would have only thought of as a dream years ago; to feel his hands wrapped around you in safety as sunlight pours in every single morning is a sensation you would have never thought to have. Gone were the early mornings of his absence, acknowledgements and memoirs only left behind with a crude or romantic note, traded with the blessing that adorned both of your ring fingers.

The wedding was held at a small, humble chapel, held only a month after the both of you had found each other again. Guests of those who are important to the both of you attended with their valour and blessings - Irene, at first, was shocked with what had turned out, but after conversing with your now-husband and realizing that all that she had heard was nothing but false words, only tears of happiness lined her eyes when she saw you walk down the aisle. Johnny and Ten were there as well, joy clear in their demeanours as they congratulated the both of you - you had also discovered that both Johnny and Jaehyun had mended their brotherly relationship, laughs and kind gestures traded between them at the following reception. You had wished for your mother to be there as well, perhaps to show her that you really were able to find love that isn’t fake, as she had believed, or perhaps to see her bear tears for your happiness.

And although your wedding was rushed and deftly planned, a few quirks showing up throughout the ceremony and reception, you couldn’t ask for anything more. Especially the moment when you finally sealed your love with a kiss at the front of the altar, the sensation enough to drown the sounds of your guest’s cheering in front of you.

And as the years passed, you only found yourself falling more and more for Jaehyun, the same excitement gracing your nerves every day you were to hold his gaze, to point a smile at him, and to press your lips against his. Even now, after becoming parents to two of the most beautiful children, another one on the way; even now, when the slightest of crow’s feet line the sides of your eyes, and the first inklings of gray hair are beginning to grow from his scalp; even now, when you’re so used to waking up to his calm face in the early mornings - you still find yourself falling ever the more in love with him.

Jaehyun chuckles slightly, the vibrations of his voice tickling the skin of your neck as he presses tender kisses against it, his hands slowly ghosting over the slight bump that began to protrude from your stomach’s form.

“Only for you, Mrs. Jung.”

And as you stand there, relishing in the view of the beautiful golden sky whose ocean underneath casts a reflection that is enough to make your jaw drop as well as the warmth of the man whom you love and loves you just as dearly back, you feel an emotion that you haven’t felt in years; an emotion that you know will stay with you for a long time.

You are happy.

FIN.

#pls dont hesitate on sharing ur thoughts!! im always open to feedback<3 #jung jaehyun #jaehyun #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun smut #jaehyun angst #nct 127 #nct #nct u #nct dream #wayv #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct smut #nct jaehyun #nct angst #nctwriters #heartau

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girlwithshipsshitshow · 3 years

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Part 25

(Misaki Kneeled in front of his parents grave, tightly holding Usagi's hand, even though his tie had just been fixed before they left they house, it was somehow already crooked. He had no idea what to say, should he start by apologizing that he hadn't been to visit in the last fourteen years? Or introduce Usagi first like it's just a normal conversation.)

Misaki: (lets out a long sigh, Usagi Squeezing his hand for encouragement). Uh, hey mom, dad. This feels weird, I know I never really came to visit, mostly because for the longest time I thought your death was my fault, a-a-and I know that sounds dumb but it's true, so I never came, I'm here today because I lot is happening. I'm graduating!, I'm also getting married, to this guy. He's the love of my life, if you guys we're alive I'd think you'd love him. (He smiled gently at Usagi), His name is Akihiko Usami, but I call him Usagi. He's amazing, the best thing that's ever happened to me. I'm so lucky to have him, I want you to meet him.

Usagi: Um hi, I don't know how to introduce myself, should I say Usagi? (He ducked his head), No that sounds weird, I'm Usami. Misaki says he's the best thing that's ever happened to him, but truthfully, he saved me, I would not be this person without him. Before we met I was kinda an awful person, I never let anyone in, I was a mess, I almost died a few times, I never ate properly, I never really opened myself up to anyone, I had al these walls up, then Misaki came and I was this a different person. (he chuckled softly), Some might say softer. Misaki is the only person I've truly felt combatable with, he's my soulmate and best friend, the best person you could ever ask for, he's doing okay, he's happy, I'm so grateful for him.

Misaki: (softly), Usagi... (He wrapped his arms around the older man, leaning into him), I love you.

Usagi: I love you too. Thank you for bringing me here.

Misaki: Thank you for coming.

Usagi: You're parents would be so proud of you.

Misaki: How do you know?

Usagi: Because I'm so proud of you, how could they not be.

Misaki: Thank you.

(They stayed there for a while, in a silent embrace paying their respects, Misaki was happy he decied to come, he needed it. He was so grateful to have this man in his life, and really needed the support today.)

Monday March 16, 2020... six days before graduation.

(Misaki woke up feeling beside him, the space was empty, he was confused, usually this early in the morning Usagi would still be asleep, he rubbed his eyes, blinked a few times then gave his eyes a few seconds to adjust to the light, turning his head towards the alarm clock he realized it was only eight am, yeah Usagi should definitely still be asleep).

Misaki: Usagi?! (He called loudly, his voice was groggy from just waking up)

Usagi: Good morning, (He smirked entering the room with a tray of breakfast consisting of coffee, eggs, hash browns, and bacon).

Misaki: (Smirks): What's all this?

Usagi: (Sitting on the bed carefully placing the tray between them, he hands Misaki the cup of coffee and places a kiss on his cheek). I made you breakfast.

Misaki: You didn't have to do that. (He takes a sip of coffee, the warmth wakes up his body, he smirks, taking Usagi's hand), You're amazing.

Usagi: I know it's not a trinational bra-

Misaki: Stop it, I love it. (He smiles, taking a bit of everything), It's great.

Usagi: I'm glad you think so.

Misaki: So why are you up so early?

Usagi: A man can't wake up early to make breakfast for his fiancé?

Misaki: (Smirks, giving him a knowing look).

Usagi: Um, Isaka called last night after you went to sleep-

Misaki: How rude, Doesn't he know not to call in the middle of the night?

Usagi: I agree, but he's my boss.

Misaki: He's your friend, and as your friend he should know not too.

Usagi: He wanted to talk to you, but I told him you were asleep.

Misaki: Why does he want to talk to me?

Usagi: He wants to have a meeting with you today about us, and you being my assistant.

Misaki: Um, why now? I'm not starting until like the begging of may.

Usagi: I don't know, but he want's to meet at noon, so eat up.

Misaki: I'm supposed to tell you to do that. You're still recovering you know.

Usagi: So, feed me.

Misaki: (Smirks, feeds Usagi a piece of bacon, the older boy takes his hand lacing his fingers through his, pulling him into a kiss, knocking the food on the bed). Usagi!

Usagi: We can clean it up. (He pulls Misaki on top of him, running his hands through his hair, they kiss passionately), Hey, (he pulls away breathing heard, pushing hair out of Misaki's face, (wanna take this to the shower?

Misaki: I don't know Usagi... (He trailed off, he Missed having Usagi inside off him, he missed being inside of Usagi, but they only had six more days till they could have sex again, surely they could wait it out right?)

Usagi: I know we have six more days till we can have sex again but.. I can help you shower right? (He grinned kissing Misaki's neck, the younger boy moaned.)

Misaki: Um, do you really think it's a good idea to show up to a meeting with love bites on my neck?

Usagi: That's okay, I can put them other places.

Misaki: We can shower together, but maybe nothing that will cause a delay in getting ready?

Usagi: Fine, (He sat, gently pushing Misaki to stand), But you owe me.

Misaki: (Grins leaning down), We have three whole weeks alone once I graduate, that trip you planned, I know where it is by the way, not in Tokyo, we'll have plenty of time to do other things.

Usagi: (Wraps his arms around Misaki's neck), Good, and we are never leaving the bedroom.

Misaki: Okay. (Kisses Usagi, then pulls him up leading him to the bathroom), Now help me wash my hair, I love when you do it.

Usagi: No problem.

(Misaki Stood outside Isaka's door he was nervous, he kept messing with his tie, it was crooked again. Usagi glanced at him, fixed his tie, and his hair).

Usagi: Sweetie, you have to relax, you already have the job, trust me, being my assent will be easier for everyone. (He kissed him softly on his forehead). Just go in, he's expecting you.

Misaki: You should come to, I'm sure he'd loved to see you.

Usagi: I can't help you with this one, he told me I wasn't allowed.

Misaki: (Sighs), Okay. I love you.

Usagi: And I love you. You're amazing, you can do this. I'm going to bug Eri.

Misaki: Leave her Alone.

Usagi: She loves me.

Misaki: Usagi-san!

Usagi: TOO LATE (at the elevator), I'm already here! Good luck! I believe in you!

Isaka: (Opens door): Misaki! (Hugs him tightly), Get in here! Lets talk.

Isaka: You already have the job, this is just a formality. No one wants to be his assistant.

Asahina: No one.

Misaki: (Angry): No one asked you lover boy.

Isaka: Things you can't do in public, Holding hands.

Misaki: What about y'all?

Isaka: You already know about us.

Misaki: When I start the Job, everyone will know the two of us are engaged.

Asahina: Fair point, even so, you can't be all over each other.

Isaka: Keep it professional.

Asahina: To be fair Isaka; If you had it your way, we would be all over each other at work, but you don't so.

Isaka: Anyway, Meetings, he still hates them.

Misaki: I know, but he has to have them, we need to keep them to an hour, book signings and releases should be at least an hour and half not all day events, although if I'm there we can probably get them for two hours, he won't do much more than that, even if I'm with him. Events that have to be longer, he would only do a day long event, no matter what, he hardly wants to be at my graduation, I don't even want to be there.

Isaka: What about b-

Misaki: Book tour? That's a joke.

(Isaka and Asahina glanced at each other, frowning).

Misaki: A BOOK TOUR? NO WAY WHY?

Isaka: He wrote four books, we want all of them out at the same time, we figu-

Misaki: Okay, some of those we're written under his pen name you can't-

Isaka: Maybe it's time for him to come clean about that.

Misaki: What?

Isaka: He came out, you guys are going to come out as a couple, I'm sure he'll be fine with it, plus he would probably make more money if people knew the books were about you two.

Misaki: The early ones weren't. He doesn't want my brother finding out about that. (Misaki blushed he was turning beat red, this was not happening).

Isaka: Him, or you? We'll just call him up here and ask... (He picked up the phone, dialing a number).

Eri: So have you guys deiced on a date?

Usagi: No, but Misaki knows how much I love Cherry blossoms so maybe in the spring, but also snow is important to us, so could be in the winter.

Eri: You can't plan that though.

Usagi: Doesn't matter, ever significant event in our lives happened when it was snowing, or snow started. It's fate.

Eri: (Smiles) Like you two.

Usagi: Exactly.

Eri: So d, (Her phone starts ringing) One sec, (She rolls her eyes), Its Isaka, (Picks the phone up), What? he is, we're busy, fine, he'll say no but I'll send him up anyway... Okay, Yeah we can do lunch, the five of us? you ask them. Bye Isaka. (Puts the phone back in the receiver, roiling her eyes), He's a pain in the ass.

Usagi: I know, what did he want?

Eri: He want's to talk to you, I told him you'd say no, but you should go up there anyway.

Usagi: What was his question?

Eri: (Sighing), I'd go find out.

Usagi: Okay. (Stands, leaning down to hug Eri).

Eri: Oh, and we're all having lunch together.

Usagi: Of course we are.

(Misaki taps his fingers in the desk, he can feel himself turning red by the second, when Usagi walks in and sits beside him he freezes, he hasn't felt like this around him in A long time).

Usagi: What's up?

Misaki: (Through gritted teeth), you don't want to know.

Isaka: How do you feel about doing a book tour?

Usagi: (Folds arms, leaning back in seat), I think you already Know the answer to that. What else?

Isaka: You're books about the two of, the ones under your pen name?

Usagi: Yeah, I know the ones? What about them?

Misaki: He want's you to say you're the one who wrote them.

Usagi: No, I can't do that, I don't want anyone to know I wrote the early ones.

Misaki: That's what I said.

Isaka: Like Misaki's brother?

Usagi: I can't ever let him know how I felt about him. If it was know I wrote those books, and thought about that... oh god (Places head in hands), and if I think about doing that stuff with Misaki.

Misaki: (Blushing harder)

Isaka: Wow, I didn't know you could turn that red.

Asahina: That is interesting.

Usagi: I can't do a book tour, two of the three books I wrote are the books about Misaki and I.

Isaka: But the other two aren't.

Misaki: He'll do a two month book tour with his books under his name.

Isaka: I think we can figure out a way to release the books under your pen name without any trouble.

Usagi: The scenes were Eri's ideas, most of them.

Misaki: My brother doesn't read that, but he will if he knows that you wrote them.

Isaka: Maybe we only print the new ones? Wipe the old ones out of exc-

Usagi: I'm telling you no!

Isaka: Some people already know, you kinda let it slip when you came out.

Usagi: I know, but I don't want anyone to know who doesn't already, plus I have the "All names are completely a coincidence"

Misaki: Yeah, right. We are going on tour with his two new books, "Beautifully drawing swords" and "Broken scars".

Isaka: Why are those titles so sad.

Misaki: A lot of his are, do you even read his books?

Usagi: The books aren't sad, "Broken scars" is-

Misaki: It's about two who are broken, they meet by chance after running away from home, fall in love and learn that broken people can heal scars.

Usagi: (Smiles) Yeah, You read the manuscript?

Misaki: Of course I did, Beautifully drawing swords was good too, more of a short story though, I wish it was longer.

Usagi: I wanted it to be, but the more I was writing it, the more I thought it worked better as a short story.

Isaka: What's that one about?

Misaki: A girl who collects swords finds a broken one a thrift shop, and makes it into a new one, she bonds with another girl across the street, and they talk about their sword collection, it's cute.

Isaka: Doesn't sound like something you'd usually write.

Usagi: I know, but I Got inspiration from a picture that Mahiro made, Eri thought it would sell, if she didn't I wouldn't have written it.

Misaki: I think kids will love it, and teens.

Isaka: I like it.

Usagi: You did agree to it.

Isaka: Did I?

Asahina: Yeah you did.

Isaka: Oh, well... it sounds sweet.

Misaki: I'm proud of him.

Isaka: You should be. Misaki, you're going to make a great assistant for him. No one can handle him like you, I mean I guess Eri, but you got him to write four books in two months, and all of them are amazing.

Misaki: (Shrugs), I don't know how.

Usagi: (Wraps his arms around Misaki), Because you're amazing, and I love you.

Misaki: I love you.

Isaka: What do you say we all go get lunch? Anyone up for pizza?

Asahina: Sure, call Eri, lets meet her in the lobby.

Misaki: Thanks for lunch Eri, (He hugged her tightly).

Eri: Anytime, hey so can I come hang out with yall later, Rose is working all week, and it's going to be lonely going home.

Usagi: Sure, but just for a bit, and you can't spend the night.

Isaka: (Laughs), Classic Usagi, not letting anyone in. (Points to Misaki), except Chibi here. (He pulls him into a hug. You're the only one.

Usagi: (Annoyed), Get off him.

Misaki: (Pushes Isaka off), Go hug your boyfriend.

Isaka: How did you do it.

Misaki: Even If I knew, I wouldn't tell you.

Usagi: (Takes Misaki's hand), No one can but him, and if we have kids.

Eri: You would spoil your kids, especially if you had a baby girl, Please have kids now!

Misaki: Can we finish building our house first? and get married?

Eri: (Clears throat), Oh yeah, sure. But after.

Misaki: You'd still want to be our surrogate right? because it might be hard japan stil-

Eri: Misaki, yes and don't worry, Rose said Ren can help, it's going to be okay.

Isaka: speaking of marriage, you guys still can't technically-

Usagi: We Know, Go to work, Asahina, take him upstairs.

Asahina: Got it, (Smirks), Pulling Isaka inside.

Isaka: HEY! YOU WORK FOR ME!

Asahina: (whispering) I'm the boss in this relationship.

Isaka: (Blushes).

Usagi: We know we need a Partnership certification.

Misaki: And that it doesn't grant us everything that a marriage would, but It's the best we can do right now.

Eri: When do you guys want to get married?

Misaki: (Grins), Winter, (He takes Usagi's hand), The snow is special to us.

Eri: You should get started now, at least looking at the documents, I heard it can take up to five moths. (Walks towards building). I'll email some information.

Misaki: (Siting on Usagi's lap, they are in his office on the couch, documents for the certificate in front of them. He sighs bowing air out), I didn't think it would be this much, we have to do this much!

Usagi: Yes. It doesn't change your mind, does it?

Misaki: (Turns to look at Usagi), What? Of course not, (He takes Usagi's face, rubbing his thumbs against his soft skin), No, it just means we have to look through all of this carefully, so we only have to do it once. If we start in August, we can have our certificate by December, maybe a little before. We'll also start the movie process by then, if we don't have any problems our house should be ready by the summer right?

Usagi: (He places his hands on Misaki's), Right, and by December we'll be moved in, we wanted to have a ceremony at our house anyway.

Misaki: Exactly It's perfect! (He grinned kissing Usagi hard), Now we need to put this in a safe place.

Usagi: I have just the spot. (He lifted Misaki, placing him beside him, stood up walked over to his desk. Opening a drawer in the bottom of his desk, he pulled out a binder marked wedding. He grinned hoping on the couch handing it to Misaki).

Misaki: Wedding?

Usagi: I've kinda been planning our wedding ever since you proposed.

Misaki: (Grins), Usagi, this is so sweet. (He holds the binder to his chest).

Usagi: Don't you want to look at it?

Misaki: Yeah, but I just remembered, I have to go get my graduation stuff, and the suit.

Usagi: Want me to come?

Misaki: Can you drop me off at the school?

Usagi: Yeah, and I can get our suits.

Misaki: Perfect. When we come we can look at the binder.

Usagi: (Eyes lighting up), Good because I have lots of ideas.

Usagi: I can't believe they had a gown that small, I bet it could fit Suzuki-san. we should test it.

Misaki: No, this, along with our suits stay in the closet until Saturday, then you can give it to Suzuki-san. (He took the suits and the gown from Usagi hanging them in the closet, then took Usagi's hand grinning at him). Okay, so let's look at the binder, you've been grinning about it all day.

Usagi: I'm so excited. (He smirked leading Misaki to the office, once there he placed the smaller man on his lap then opened the binder.) Okay so for us I'm thinking purple and blue wedding suits, purple for me.

Misaki: Of course, it'll bring out your eyes.

Usagi: Something like this. (He pointed to a picture).

Misaki: That's amazing.

Usagi: And for you, this one.

Misaki: I love it.

Usagi: And everyone else can wear black or red.

Misaki: Okay, any ideas on cake?

Usagi: Lemon, but I want it on theme, maybe this one?

Misaki: Maybe.

Usagi: You don't like it?

Misaki: It looks good, but I know we won't have a lot of people, we might need something smaller.

Usagi: Right.

Misaki: Don't say it like that (Kiss cheek), We have time.

Usagi: I know, I just wanted you to like it

Misaki: I do, and honey, we don't have to agree on everything okay?

Usagi: It would just be easer if we did.

Misaki: I know.

Usagi: We agreed on everything for our house easily.

Misaki: But not everything, there was some stuff you thought wouldn't work, and that's fine.

Usagi: I loved must of the stuff, some things I thought didn't work, so we changed them.

Misaki: Right, and it'll be like this planning our wedding.

Usagi: Okay, right. So the ceremony, you want it outdoors?

Misaki: Right.

Usagi: It might be cold though so should the reception be indoors?

Misaki: Maybe, we can look into that the closer we get.

Usagi: Okay.

Misaki: OH, the theme is amazing!

Usagi: Really?

Misaki: Yeah, I mean we won't need that many seats, but I get the idea.

Usagi: Purple winter wonderland.

Misaki: I Love it. (He turns to face Usagi embracing him), I LOVE YOU, so much!

Usagi: I love you too. (Picks up documents), Now these need to go in.

Misaki: We're getting closer.

Usagi: I know.

Misaki: I can't believe it, we've come so far huh?

Usagi: Yeah. Sure have. (He hugged Misaki tighter taking in his smell, he loved ever single thing about him, he always wanted a person, and now he had one).

#junjou romantica #junjou romatica fanfic #misaki takahashi #usagi x misaki #misaki x usagi #usagi usami #akhiro usami

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kittyanonymity · 4 years

Text

A Ladybug in Gotham #1

Marinette knows no peace

Ok fuck it, we’re doing it!!! Hang on to your pants guys! <3 Also, just wanna say, I have loved every single Daminette fic I’ve read in this tag. You guys are a bunch of talented folks; I hope you guys like this! Also feel free to send me asks, and ask questions! There are some things that happen in the six months before the trip that I just,,,,,, REALLY did not feel like writing lmao >.> There is an allusion to some heavy stuff, but we won’t be getting into that yet.

Ages are 17-18, and Lila has been back for 4 years by the time they get to Gotham.

Damian: 18, 19 in a few months ( like august)

Marinette (& crew): 17, (Mari’s b day is actually the month they’re in Gotham, so like april/may-ish??) Also Chloe is already 18

Tim: 22

Jason: 29

Dick: 35

Bruce: 48

Ao3

Part 1 :HERE: Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Enjoy my dears!! <3 <3

Marinette couldn’t stop the smile on her face as she leaned back in her chair, holding the acceptance paper over her head.

“We did it, Tikki! We got the trip!”

Tikki whizzed around, fluttering in front of her.

“Oh, Marinette, I know you could do it! Madame Bustier will be so happy!” Marinette smiled as her kwami nuzzled her cheek, and the girl laughed, cupping the little god close to her face.

“It’ll be just what I need for inspiration, Tikki! Gotham is beautiful in the spring I hear.” With a jolt, she sat up, her chair creaking under the sudden movement, “I have to go tell maman and papa!”

She left Tikki giggling as she raced downstairs to tell her parents.

It was one of the most exciting days of the last four years, truly.

With the fundraising done ahead of time, all she’d needed to do was write an essay on why her school deserved the trip. Despite how she personally had been treated by her class these last few years, the school still had them actively involved in the community; and while she may not like most of her classmates anymore thanks to Lila, they still took their responsibilities seriously. They had rightfully earned this chance, she thought. As the year rep, she had worked tirelessly with the other classes and their reps to arrange preparations in the event they got it, and Mme. Bustier had publicly assigned her the role of the essay; Lila had not been thrilled about that.

But she’d done it!

They were going to Gotham!

Telling Master Fu abou the possibility went well; her master trusted her judgement, and he understood her desire to go on this trip. To be safe though, he decided to send Kaalki along with her, in the event of an akuma; that way a speedy return was always possible no matter what.

She was excited; but it didn’t change the fact that the trip was still a good six months away, a good end of the year trip before graduation.

‘Just a little longer,’ Marinette thought, a rueful smile on her lips, ‘A little longer, and I’ll finally have a break.’

The four years since Lila’s return had not been kind, or even all that fun. She did her best not to dwell on her emotions, what with a madman running around praying on any and all negative feelings; but she couldn’t deny the apathy she felt at times in regards to her classmates.

Lila had made good on her promise, truly. None of her old friends cared about her anymore, bar Alix and - surprisingly - Chloe. Alya had even hit her before summer break, claiming that Lila had told her Marinette shoved her down the stairs again.

And Marinette had stared right at Adrien, her boyfriend, and he had done nothing.

And she felt nothing when she broke up with him later that same week.

Finding out he was Chat Noir over the summer had been like a slap to the face, and she was just glad he didn’t realize she’d put the pieces together; especially considering how often he visited her balcony as his hero self. He’d always flirt with her as Chat, whether she was Ladybug or Marinette; and at first, she’d almost found it flattering. Then it started to make her uncomfortable.

She’d reject him as Ladybug, only to have him come whine to Marinette while he also made passes at her, showering her in praise, and pushing her to get back with Adrien. She started avoiding her balcony.

It left her stressed and on edge; Adrien only talked to her as Chat now. He wouldn’t risk talking to her at school, and after they broke up, her parents had barred him from the bakery.

But still.

Six months.

Six more months of hell, and she’d be heading to Gotham to destress.

She couldn’t wait.

~~~~~~~~

The flight had been rather dull, despite Chloe being her seatmate for the whole trip; they’d giggled over some awful american movie for the last half, and Madame Bustier had been kind enough to room her with Chloe at their hotel. The Grand Gotham Embassy building was massive, and Marinette couldn’t help but gape in awe.

Chloe snorted as she walked up next to Mari, her own carry on in hand as they stepped off the bus.

“Careful, DC, you’ll catch flies.” Mari snapped her mouth shut, and gave Chloe a flat look; the blonde only laughed, and linked their arms.

“Come on Mari-bear, let’s get our room key so our luggage can be taken up.” Marinette smiled, and nodded.

“Yeah, I wanna get settled in too.” She leaned closer to Chloe as they walked arm in arm into the hotel lobby, heading for Mme. Bustier, “Tikki is starving.” Chloe nodded.

“Pollen is too.” She said just as softly. Marinette saw Alix wave from where she stood talking to Kim and Max, and Mari waved back softly. She averted her eyes the second Max looked at her, and Chloe hurried them away once they had their keys.

Their rooms were breathtaking, honestly. Each of the suites her class was staying in had two rooms, each with their own single bed; there was a shared seating area between the two, and one bathroom, but it still had privacy. They each had a door out onto the connected balcony, and once Marinette sat her carry on bag on her bed, she threw open the balcony door, staring out over the cityscape in wonder. Paris was beautiful, the city of Love; but Gotham was gorgeous this high up.

With a thought of mischief, Marinette scoped out some good swinging spots for later before turning to see the bellhops unloading her bags. She offered them a smile and a sincere thank you as they left. She heard Chloe settling into her room through the door, and smiled as she heard her talking to Pollen. Master Fu had decided to send Pollen along with Chloe in the event that Ladybug had to come to Paris; she could bring another ally with her if needed, without having to search one out. And since Chloé had figured out her identity two years ago, she had been the best bet. Her new hero identity, Hornet, helped.

Tikki flew out of the purse at her side, and smiled.

“We made it, Marinette! We’re finally here! Do you think the Gotham university will be what you want?”

Marinette sighed as she flopped back onto her bed, staring at the ceiling, “I don’t know, Tikki; I hope so. The website was super promising, and the woman I spoke to seemed to think I’d have no problem getting in.”

Tikki hummed as she flew down and dug a cookie from Marinette’s purse, “Well, we’ll be here for a month, so it’s plenty of time to go and see the campus. I think you’ll like it Marinette! And once we defeat Hawkmoth, maybe we can start a new chapter here!” Marinette smiled at Tikki, sitting up.

“I think I like the sound of that. I’m worried about how… Adrien will handle it though.” Her smile fell as soon as it had come, and Tikki frowned as well. She floated over to her chosen and rested her paw on Marinette’s cheek.

“Marinette, his feelings are not your responsibility. You and Adrien broke up, and the fact that he was disrespecting your wishes as his superhero self was a major red flag. I don’t know why you were so upset when the Guardian took his miraculous.”

Marinette groaned, covering her face with her hands, and Tikki wove herself into her long hair, hugging the girl.

“I know he was your partner, Marinette, and you don’t want to replace him; but you have to know, Adrien isn’t the true Black Cat.”

Marinette went still.

“Tikki, what are you talking about?”

Tikki hesitated, before floating in front of Marinette’s face, “Well, for some of the miraculous, there are multiple people who can be Chosen, and some of them are better candidates than others. Adrien was the best option out of the people in Paris, so the Guardian Chose him; but he is not meant to be your Black Cat, he is just A Black Cat.” Marinette stared at her Kwami with wide eyes, slowly processing.

“So… you’re saying he’s not my other half?”Tikki shook her head, “No; and he was never meant to be. His actions have done nothing but prove that. I’m sure once we return to Paris, we’ll be sent to find the real Black Cat.”

And in a moment of clarity, Marinette realized she was out of Paris, far away from Hawkmoth; so when tears rose to her eyes, she let them come. She covered her mouth as she sobbed, and she bent over, resting her elbows on her knees as she breathed.

“Oh, Marinette, don’t cry! Please don’t be sad!” Tikki fluttered around her anxiously as she cried, and after a moment, Marinette laughed; it was a bit raspy, but it was happy. She spared a glance at her, where, in a secret pocket, she had stored Plagg's slumbering miraculous; she looked back at her own kwami.

“Tikki, I’m-I’m not sad, I’m… I’m so relieved.” Her smile was weak, but sincere, “I was terrified that he was an inevitability I’d have to just accept…” Tikki’s frown grew, and she hugged her chosen again, little tears leaking down her face.

“I’m so sorry Marinette, I wish you didn’t have to feel so much negativity all the time.”

A knock at her and Chloe’s shared door cut her off before she could reply, and Marinette looked over in time to see Chloe peek in. The blonde’s eyes grew wide when she saw Mari crying, and she rushed over, sitting on the bed next to her.

“What’s wrong, Mari-bear?”

And Marinette laughed, wrapping her arms around Chloe.

“For once, nothing!”

Chloe shared a look with Tikki while the kwami spoke with Pollen in hushed tones, but she just hugged her friend closer. They sat in silence for awhile, waiting while Marinette composed herself. With a final sniffle, Marinette leaned back and gave Chloe a grin.

“Since it’s a rest day, do you think they’d let us check out the surrounding boutiques? I wanna see what kind of fashion Gotham has.”

Chloe snorted, but it was in good humor, “Nothing they have here could compare to what you make, Mari-bear, or even what Paris has in general.” With a smile, Chloe reached over and tapped her nose, “But I’m sure Mme. Bustier will allow it as long as you’re with someone as amazing as me.”

Chloe had learned long ago not to pry into Marinette’s business, and since she’d split up with Adrien, Chloe had learned just how true that statement was; learning that the blonde boy was Chat Noir and that he’d been harassing Marinette on her balcony? That had been an accident, though Marinette had been the one to tell her.

Chloe could only watch Marinette flinch away from the Cat hero so much before she’d gotten concerned, and asked for an explanation. And Marinette hadn’t held back; she’d told Chloe everything, from the midnight visits, to how he constantly complained about Ladybug - herself -, and finally to how he flirted with her as Marinette, and kept insinuating that she get back with Adrien.

As the only one who knew, Chloe had doubled down on partnering with Marinette for everything after that; and now that his miraculous had been reclaimed, Chloe wanted to sigh in relief.

If you’d told either girl four years ago that they would be inseparable even at the end of lycée, they would’ve scoffed and told you you were crazy; and yet here they were, Chloe helping Marinette clean up her face before they went to see madame Bustier. It was only around 3 pm in Gotham, and dinner wouldn’t be until 8; and as much as Marinette wanted to enjoy the indoor pool, she would much rather see the city.

Once they were ready, Chloe led them down to the lobby, kwamis secure in their purses, and found Miss Bustier talking with one of the receptionists. Chloe - being, well, Chloe - walked over, and interrupted.

“Mme. Bustier, Mari-bear and I are going to look at the boutiques across the street. Call me if you need us.” And leaving their teacher spluttering and indignant, Chloe led them away, and out the doors. Marinette laughed a bit as they were out of hearing range.

“She’s going to kill you Chloe, you know that?” Chloe smiled while they stood at the crosswalk waiting to cross, and she flipped her blonde bob over her shoulder.

“Please. That woman wishes she could do anything to stop me.” Marinette watched as Chloe’s smile fell, and they walked as the walk sign lit up. “Besides, of course I’m not going to listen to a teacher who has let Lila just do as she pleases. She’s just as complicit in your abuse as the rest of the class is, Mari-bear, and I will not tolerate it. It's utterly ridiculous.”

Marinette felt her heart warm, and her smile softened before she hugged Chloe’s arm closer to her. “Thanks, Chlo. Though you know~” Chloe groaned, knowing where Marinette was going with this, “you also used to torment me pretty relentlessly.”

Chloe levelled her with a flat look as they walked into a store, “Yes, we’ve established that, DC, thank you for reminding me.” Chloe pinched Marinette’s cheek with a grin, “Such a goody goody, you know that?” Marinette laughed, and batted her hand away.

“Come on, let’s see what they’ve got, dork.” She ignored Chloe’s indignant squawk, and laughed as she started looking through the clothes.

Marinette and Chloe talked idly while they browsed, but found nothing of note in the first store other than a cute pair of bulky sneakers that Marinette couldn’t help but buy. Chloe had rolled her eyes and commented on how thin they made her legs look; which of course, made Marinette reveal the inspiration behind the choice. BLACKPINK was a pretty popular K-pop girl group, and Marinette had fallen in love with their style since day one. The baggy pants with big shoes they often used was something Marinette found herself enjoying more than she ever thought she would, but she just hadn’t found the right pair of shoes until now.

The next store was much better, in Chloe’s opinion; Marinette shied away from the Agreste line on display, and followed Chloe over to where her mother’s work was displayed. Audrey was a difficult woman, but neither of them could deny her talent in the industry.

Both girls ended up leaving with something to fit in their wardrobes. Chloe had chosen a deep purple blouse with ruffled sleeves; Marinette had giggled, telling her she reminded her of a witch, but the color was excellent on her. Marinette had gone more simple and fun, opting for a zip up hoodie inspired by one of Gotham’s own heroes, Robin. It may have been spring in Gotham, but being Ladybug, Marinette was very susceptible to the cold; she’d get sluggish and sleepy, and spring in the states was cooler than in France.

By the time they were bored of the shops, it was only five o’ clock. Chloe stifled a yawn, and Marinette looked at her.

“Why don’t you go ahead and head back Chloe? I’m gonna go sit in the park there, and try to design for a bit.” Chloe stared at her for a moment before she looked at the park. It was visible from the front of the hotel, and their hotel was in the better part of the city. Well, all that, and the fact that Marinette was Ladybug...

Chloe nodded, taking Marinette’s shopping bag for her since the girl had already put on her new hoodie, “That should be ok. But I swear, DC, if something happens, I am not letting you go anywhere alone for the rest of this trip.” Marinette laughed, and waved off her concerns.

“Don’t worry, Chlo, if anything happens, I can handle it.” Feeling playful, Marinette raised her arm, and flexed, “After all, these guns aren’t just for show.”

Listening to Chloe laugh hysterically was always a treat, and it warmed Marinette from her toes to her head every time. In some small way, she was grateful to Lila; if it hadn’t been for her, she and Chloe would’ve probably never become such good friends.

“Ugh, no one likes a show off, Marinette.”

The smile fell from her face instantly, and Chloe’s laughter cut off like someone flipped a switch. Mari turned to see Lila standing behind her with a smug smile, though it had been Alya who spoke, Alya who was glaring at her with disdain. Nino was behind them looking kind of uncomfortable, Adrien next to him, backed up by Rose and Juleka, and even Sabrina. Marinette flinched under the harsh stares, and felt herself shrink as she stepped back, but before she could say anything, Chloe was there, a snarl marring her lips.

“Funny how you say that Cesaire, given who you’re friends with.” She blocked their line of sight to Marinette, though it was only Lila’s and Alya’s, and Marinette could feel Adrien staring at her, “You think what Mari was doing was showing off? Then what do you call Lila bragging about all the fake shit she’s done, huh?” Chloe didn’t even give her time to respond before she scoffed, and rolled her eyes, shutting down Alya's retort, “Oh, wait, nevermind, I forgot. You’re such a terrible reporter you don’t even fact check anymore, my bad.” Chloe smiled at the end, before making a shooing motion with her hand, “Now begone. I don’t appreciate sheep breathing my air.”

Lila turned on the waterworks as Chloe turned away, and gently guided Marinette down the sidewalk to the park they’d been talking about; Alya was shouting after them, but they continued on. Once they were out of sight, Chloe wrapped her friend in a hug, and Marinette cried. It was how it happened every time, for the last three years, since Chloe had decided to stick to the girl’s side. She’d only known about her being Ladybug for two years, but even before then, she’d made efforts to befriend the girl she’d bullied; because Lila was somehow so much worse than even Chloe was, and it was plain for the blonde to see. It had become routine at this point.

Lila and Alya would gang up on Marinette, Chloe would make them back off, and then comfort Marinette. Mari had told her time and time again, she didn’t need to do that, but Chloe knew she did. Chloe had messed up too many times to count, and she knew Marinette still cared about some of their classmates, especially Alix since she was the only other one who would hang out with them.

But Chloe?

Chloe had never cared about sparing people’s feelings until she’d become Marinette’s support. She would tear them down each time they came for her best friend. Alix had told her she was ‘fierce’, and Chloe thought it was an accurate description nowadays. They were nearly adults for crying out loud; you’d think her idiot classmates would’ve caught on to Lila’s lies by now.

“Are you ok?” Chloe asked softly. She rubbed soothing circles into Marinette’s back as the girl calmed down, her cries giving way to sniffles. Marinette nodded, pulling back and wiping her eyes.

“I-I think so. Thanks Chloe. It feels… It actually feels so much better to just let it out, and not have to worry about getting akumatized.” Chloe nodded, brushing some hair out of Marinette’s face.

“Good. Cesaire is lucky I didn’t deck her. Like, seriously, what a hypocrite.” Chloe was fuming, but she softened when Marinette laughed, “Do you still wanna sit in here and try to design?”

Marinette cleared her throat, and nodded, “Yeah, I do. It’ll be nice, I think.” She rubbed at her face some more, wiping the moisture away, but her red eyes remained. “I just want to decompress for a bit, you know?”

Chloe nodded, “Ok, then I’m gonna go ahead and go back to our room.” She gave her friend a severe look, “And I’m serious, Marinette. If anything happens, you call or text me, ok?”

Marinette rolled her eyes, but smiled, “Chloe you’re not my bodyguard, you know that right?”

Chloe scoffed, “Bullshit, I am so. And I am totally the best at it, by the way.”

Marinette hugged Chloe tight, startling the other girl, “Thanks, Chlo. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Chloe’s mind flashed back to a dark night on the Seine from three years ago; of tears, and horrible wishes, and she wraps her arms around Marinette in a tighter embrace.

“Probably get lost, and then kidnapped, honestly. Your sense of direction is awful, Mari-bear.”

It worked, sparking another laugh out of her best friend, and Chloe wanted to sigh in relief.

“Now go and find yourself a nice spot to sit. I’m going to make sure Lie-la and her little goonies are gone.” Marinette nodded as they separated, and Chloe booped her on the nose, “I’ll see you back at the room, DC.”

With that, Chloe waved and walked back towards the entrance of the park. She needed to talk to Alix. Lila always planned something big when Chloe defended Mari, and she was sure this time would be no different. She needed to be ready.

And without the risk of being akumatized?

Well.

Chloe couldn’t help but laugh.

Lila wouldn’t know what hit her.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Marinette found a soft patch of grass in the sun behind a wall of bushes, and sighed as she sat her purse on the ground, and flopped down. She could hear the rush of cars on the street over, and sirens in the far distance; there were birds singing in the trees around her, and children laughing over at the playground she’d passed. It was peaceful.

“Marinette? Are you ok?”

She smiled as Tikki nestled into her long hair, offering her comfort.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m ok Tikki. I just wish they’d stop. It’s lessened since Chloe became my friend, but it doesn’t change the fact that it hurts. Hearing Alya say such awful things to me, even now…” Marinette sighed, feeling her eyes tear up; nope, she was done for today, she could cry again tomorrow, “It still feels like a knife in my lungs.”

And she knew what that felt like; Sharpener had been an akuma from two years ago. She was a chef who’d gotten akumatized because her coworker had broken her best knife out of jealousy. Chat Noir had been distracted during the fight, and Ladybug had missed the akuma’s approach, taking the knife right between her ribs. Her Miraculous Cure had healed her, but Marinette still remembered the pain quite vividly.

She’d almost been akumatized after the fight was over, having been sent into a panic attack.

Shaking herself out of it, Marinette reached over into her purse and pulled out her sketchbook. She’d upgraded from her little clasp bag that she’d made to something with a bit more utility. It was a lavender shoulder bag with a cross strap, and it was large enough to hold her sketchpad, and a few other essentials while leaving plenty of room for Tikki and Kaalki, along with the pocket for Plagg's miraculous box.

“Marinette, I know their treatment of you still hurts. I’d be more worried if it didn’t. But remember,” And Marinette looked at Tikki, surprised to see the bright smile on the kwami’s face, “you’re Ladybug, with or without the mask, and if they can’t see how sincere and kind you are, then they never deserved you in the first place.” Tikki flew forward, and hugged Marinette’s cheek, “You’re the best Ladybug I’ve ever had, and you mean so much to me. I hate seeing people hurt you, and I’m sorry I can’t do more for you, Marinette.”

“Tikki’s right, Marinette.” Mari glanced down to see Kaalki poking her head out of the purse, a smile on her face, “You’re an excellent Ladybug, and you’ll be an excellent Guardian one day, we all know it.”

Mari smiled, reaching down and rubbing Kaalki’s head gently, “Thanks Kaalki, thank you Tikki. I love you guys. You hungry?” Both kwamis said yes, and so Marinette handed Tikki a couple cookies, while Kaalki dove into the small pile of sugar cubes Marinette gave her. Tikki and Kaalki conversed quietly in her purse, and Marinette finally turned her attention to her sketchbook.

Humming to herself, Marinette drifted off as her pencil danced across the paper. It was easy to get lost in the sounds of the park around her, and she was thrilled with what she was coming up with. Already, dresses and casual clothes filled the next few pages of her book as she worked. She was just about to ask Tikki something when an explosion rocked the earth.

Marinette yelped as the ground beneath her rumbled, and Tikki burrowed into her hair in a panic.

“What was that, Marinette?!” Marinette shook her head, getting to her feet, and putting her bag over her shoulder, reaching in, and patting Kaalki in reassurance. She crawled to the edge of the bush where all the commotion had originated from, and peeked out carefully. Most of the people were gone, but she could still hear crying somewhere.

Then the laughter started.

Marinette felt a chill go down her spine. While her and the other reps of the school had been planning this trip, she had researched about every danger Gotham had to offer, looking at pictures, reading articles, and watching as many videos as she could find; she knew that laugh now.

She was just about to hide again, when she saw the source of the crying. A little girl with dark hair sat in the dirt behind a trash can, holding her hands to her eyes while she sobbed. Mind made up, Marinette dashed from the bushes, keeping low until she reached the child. She wrapped her arms around her, and when the girl tensed, she smiled gently.

“Shhh, it’s ok, honey, I’ve got you. Where’s your parents?” The little girl shook her head, tiny hands clutching Marinette’s jacket.

“N-not- h-here! B-babysitter left m-me…!” Another sob wracked the little girl’s frame, and Marinette hugged her tighter at the sound of gunfire. She needed to get out of here, get this girl to safety, but she couldn’t transform. Idly, Marinette toyed with the metal yo-yo in her purse, a gift from Master Fu that could help her fight as a civilian. She could do this.

Focusing back on the girl, Marinette pulled her back until they could look at each other; the girl’s eyes were a vibrant green, almost neon even.

“My name’s Marinette, what’s yours sweetheart?” The girl caught her breath long enough to answer, wiping at her face.

“M-Mar’i Grayson, miss.” Marinette nodded, looking at the girl in reassurance.

“I’m going to get you out of here. Let me check the area, ok? Stay behind me.” Mar’i nodded, clutching the sleeve of Marinette’s hoodie, while she leaned out around the trash can to observe their surroundings; and she promptly cursed her rotten luck.

Joker was strolling through the park with about three henchmen around him; 4 on 1 odds were not in her favor, especially with Mar’i. Marinette glanced at the little girl who was crying silently next to her, trying to not think about how much worse Joker looked in real life. Marinette found she was terrified.

No.

She had to do something. She was Ladybug, with or without her damn mask, and she was going to protect this little girl with her life.

Marinette took a deep breath, and braced herself, “Mar’i.” The little girl looked at her with wide eyes, and Marinette smiled.

“Stay behind me, ok?” She waited until Mar’i nodded, and then they waited; and Marinette listened.

“Can’t seem to find her boss. She must’ve gotten out.”

“Oh hogwash! I saw that babysitter of hers scamper out of here without the brat, so Grayson’s daughter is here somewhere!”

Oh my god.

They were after Mar’i? Why?

‘Doesn’t matter, not gonna get her.’ Marinette thought aggressively. So she calmed herself, and she listened, and she waited until they were in range. And once they were, Marinette moved.

Leaping up out of her crouch, Marinette moved Mar’i behind her right as the group turned to look at them; but Marinette was already grabbing the trash can with both hands, and hurling it at the goons and their boss. It had the desired effect, and the group scattered, but it managed to take down two of Joker’s men, knocking one out from the sheer force while the other lost the grip on his gun, losing it in the bushes. Moving quickly, Marinette swiped Mar’i up with her free hand while she retrieved the carbon fiber yo-yo from her purse with her other.

Whipping it forward, Marinette snagged the gun of the third minion, yanking it away and to her; and then she ran.

“She’s got the brat! Get after her, you idiots!”

Marinette sprinted for the entrance of the park after throwing the gun away, running as fast as her legs could carry her; which admittedly, was quite fast. Years of being bonded with Tikki, plus the extra training she’d picked up in her free time made her formidable even out of her suit; and she was not about to let that clown get his filthy hands on this precious girl.

Marinette yelped as a bullet impacted the dirt next to her feet, and then she was bobbing and weaving, dodging bullets before she ducked behind the bathrooms.

“Get the kid, damnit! God, why are you all so useless!”

Marinette looked down at Mar’i, expecting the girl to still be terrified, but she was staring up at Marinette in awe.

“Wow, Miss Marinette, you’re like a superhero!” She said softly, and Marinette flushed, but gave the girl a small smile.

“You’re very brave Mar’i, but we’re not safe yet.” She could hear footsteps coming closer, light, matching the gait she’d heard from the Joker just moments earlier. With a small huff, she wrapped Mar’i around her again, and readied her yo-yo as she ran the opposite way. She stopped short for a moment as she came face to face with the other henchman, but thinking quickly, Marinette ducked his wide swing, and brought her head upwards into his chin, knocking him back and off balance; following up with a quick swipe at his legs, he hit the ground, and Marinette was running again.

‘Almost there, so close…’ “Merde.” She hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but seeing Joker grinning at her from the entrance did not instill much hope in her. He tapped the barrel of his six shooter against the palm of his hand, watching her. Marinette sat Mar’i down, and pushed her behind her further, grip on her yo-yo tight.

“Now, now, little lady, we don’t have to fight. If you’d just hand that little girl there over, I’ll let you leave. With a smile even!” The grin on his face told her he was lying, even though his laughter was a clue in and of itself.

Marinette’s eyes narrowed, and she lowered her chin, “That’s not happening, clown. Step aside.” Joker’s eyebrows flew up, and he began laughing; Marinette hated that sound.

“She’s got some fight in her then! How interesting! And a foreigner too? So fearless!” Marinette let the yo-yo swing from her hand, swinging next to her leg, as he pointed the gun at her. She felt Mar’i grip her pants tighter with a small gasp. Joker’s grin grew, “But are you so willing to die for her?”

Marinette snarled, “Of course I am!”

The lack of hesitation made the Joker pause long enough for Marinette to make her move.

With a precision that startled even her, Marinette flung her yo-yo out again, managing to grab the Joker’s gun this time, and yanking it from him. It careened away into the brush, and Marinette snapped her yo-yo back with a trained hand; just in time to see a man dressed in black land on him from above.

Holy shit.

That’s Batman.

Shaking herself off, Marinette turned and picked Mar’i up, running the other direction; no child should see a fight like that. She had to get her to safety, to her parents, or the police, someone safe. The bathrooms? No, she’d left that goon over there, and she wasn’t sure if he was down and out or not.

“Think, Marinette, think, come on!” There had to be another exit in this park, away from the chaos of the main path; big parks always had multiple entrances and exits.

“Go that way Miss Marinette!” Marinette looked to where Mar’i pointed, and followed the girls directions. Flashing red and blue lights lit up the street, and Marinette could’ve cried with relief at the sight of the police officers.

An auburn haired woman was standing at the front of the police line, looking around in a panic, and the second her eyes landed on Marinette carrying Mar’i, she rushed forward.

“Mar’i, oh my god, baby girl, you’re ok!” The woman was crying, and Mar’i smiled, reaching for the woman.

“Auntie Barb!” Knowing Mar’i knew this woman, Marinette allowed the girl to be taken from her arms delicately, but she lingered by them. An older mustached man walked up, and held out his hand to Marinette, startling her.

“Thank you for getting her out of there. What’s your name?” Marinette flushed, reaching out and shaking his hand.

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng, sir. Please don’t thank me. I couldn’t have left her in there. Not with him.”

“I’m Commissioner Gordon. You don’t sound like you’re from around here, Miss Dupain-Cheng.” Marinette shook her head as she stepped back from him.

“No, sir; I’m from Paris. My school is here on a field trip.” The commissioner nodded.

“You’re the school Bruce Wayne sponsored.” Marinette offered him a tired smile.

“Yes, sir.”

“Miss Marinette!”

Marinette turned in time to feel tiny arms wrap around her legs, and she looked down to see Mar’i smiling at her, despite the tears on her face. Marinette crouched down to her level, and blinked when Mar’i wrapped her arms around her neck; she was quick to return the hug, even as she saw ‘Auntie Barb’ walk over.

“Thank you for saving me, Miss Marinette! You were really cool!” Marinette’s smile was small as she squeezed the little girl tight.

“Oh little one, you don’t have to thank me. I would do it again and again if need be.” She hummed contemplatively, “Though I think I’ll talk to your mama or papa about that babysitter; who leaves a little girl alone in this city?”

‘Auntie Barb’ scoffed, “When Dick hears about that, he’s gonna lose it.”

“Mar’i!”

Marinette looked over in time to see the police part like the red sea, and she was treated to seeing nearly the entire Bat pack escort a dishevelled looking dark haired man through the crowd. Mar’i broke away from her to run to the new arrival.

“Daddy!”

And Marinette smiled as she stood up, watching the two hug. Her father was patting her down, holding her close by the head, obvious relief in his eyes. It was a beautifully heart wrenching thing.

“Miss.”

Marinette jumped, looking to the side to see Batman staring down at her. She yelped, flushing.

“Y-yes, sir?”

My god, this man was intimidating! Was he going to lecture her? Bar her from the country??! Oh no, what if-?!

....Why was he holding his hand out?

Marinette blinked stupidly before she took his hand and shook it.

“What you did tonight was very admirable. You put yourself at great personal risk to protect the life of a child you’d never met, and managed to thwart a kidnapping by one of the most dangerous men in the city. You have my respect.”

Marinette’s cheeks grew more red, “Please, I-I’d do it all again, you don’t have to say any of that. It was the right thing to do; anyone would’ve done it.” Batman simply shook his head.

“No, Miss Dupain-Cheng, they wouldn’t. I’d like to get a statement from you, if you’d allow it.”

“Before that...”

Marinette and Batman both looked over, and she was surprised to see Mar’i’s father next to her. He gave her a smile.

“I would like to thank you for rescuing my darling, Miss… Marinette, was it?” Marinette nodded, fiddling with her hands; her anxiety was starting to peak with this many people. “If anything had happened to Mar’i, I… I don’t know what I would’ve done. Thank you. From the absolute depths of my heart, thank you for protecting my little girl.”

Marinette’s face grew impossibly redder, “Y-you’re welcome! It was no problem! She’s a wonderful girl.” She smiled at Mar’i as she sat in her dad’s arms. Shifting the girl to one arm, he held out his free hand.

“My name is Dick Grayson. I hope to see you again, but for now, I need to get Mar’i home before her mother gets any more anxious.” Marinette nodded as they shook hands.

“If I may, mister Grayson?” The man smiled, and despite the situation, it was shockingly cheery.

“Please, call me Dick.”

‘Auntie Barb’ snorted in amusement somewhere next to Marinette, but she tuned it out.

“Please speak to whoever was babysitting Mar’i today; they left her behind.”

Dick stared at her for a moment, maybe processing, before he nodded, a steely look in his eyes.

“Thank you for telling me, Marinette. We’ll take care of it.” Marinette smiled, before she dug around in her purse, and pulled out one of the many cookies she had for Tikki; she handed it over to Mar’i who took it with a smile of her own.

“You be safe, ok?” Mar’i nodded, giving her a bigger smile.

“I will! You’re the best, Miss ‘Nette!” Smiling at the nickname, Marinette waved to the little girl as the police escorted the family away; she realized Batman was still next to her, and snapped her attention back to him.

“S-sorry, sir. I’ll give you that statement now.”

The man seemed less intimidating for some reason, like he was quietly amused.

“You’re surprisingly humble in the face of all this, Marinette.”

‘Calm down, calm down, you’re fine.’ She thought, gripping her bag.

“I didn’t do this for attention, sir. I’m… not exactly comfortable being in the spotlight like this.”

The masked man nodded in understanding, and once he was ready, Marinette began her retelling of what had happened.

Distinctly unaware of the several pairs of ears listening in.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Holy shit, you’re telling me pixie stick here threw a metal trash can at Joker?! Like a full on throw?!” Red Hood wasn’t buying it. The girl was so tiny, despite the toned muscles of her legs; she looked like she weighed ninety pounds soaking wet!

“That’s what the cameras in the park are showing, Hood.” He heard Red Robin typing away at something, before- “Holy shit.” Hood stood back by the police, flanked by Robin, and he turned his attention back to his comm line.

“What is it, Red?”

“That girl took them down with a fucking yo-yo, Hood. What the hell?”

The comm fell silent again before Jason heard all the air whoosh out of Tim over the line.

“Red? What now?”

“The… The audio. Hood, she was fully prepared to lay down her life for Mar’i. You can hear it in her voice; it’s like she’s a completely different person to who Bats is talking to.”

Damian’s eyes narrowed behind his mask as he frowned; he didn’t like the sound of that. Red Hood noticed the change in his brother’s demeanor, frowning to himself.

“What do you mean, Red?” He asked, and he heard Tim sigh.

“Look, just… wait till you get back, and I’ll show you. That girl’s good though; she’s got guts.”

A shrill call of the girls name had Jason turning, just in time to see a blonde girl tackle Marinette. She was speaking rapidly in French, checking her friend over thoroughly before she turned sharp eyes on Batman. Jason couldn’t help but grin as he watched Bruce’s eyes widen behind the mask, his eyebrows raising a little as the blonde started on a tirade.

Red Hood snickered, “Now this is funny.” He watched his father get berated by the blonde before she started guiding Marinette away; the poor dark haired girl was red all the way to her ears in embarrassment.

“Find something funny, Hood?” Jason looked at Batman as he walked over, and wished his old man could see the shit eating grin on his face.

“Course I did. It’s not everyday I get to watch a teenager yell at you.” Next to him, Robin snorted. Hood and Robin waited until Bats had given Gordon the girl’s statement before the three of them left as one.

They met on a nearby rooftop, far enough away from the scene to be able to talk freely. Batman turned his comm back on, and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Red, what do you have on her?” There was a sigh over the line.

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng, 17, nearly 18; she’s in her last year of lycée at Francoise Dupont in Paris. She’s the one who put together the essay that won her school the trip to Gotham. Her parents own a bakery, but her mother has a vast history in martial arts it looks like. Her grades are excellent, and I’ve found records of literally so many charities I’m not gonna bother listing them.” Bruce could almost hear Tim shrug, “She’s clean, Bats.”

Damian rolled his eyes, “You said she took them down with a yo-yo, Red. That’s not a standard weapon.”

“There’s records of her enrolling in gymnastics several years back; it’s probably a skill she picked up back then; maybe from the ribbon dancing? I’ll see if I can find anything else.”

“Red, just remember,” Everyone paused at the tone of Bruce’s voice, “This is not a malicious search; she saved Mar’i’s life; I don’t want to make problems for the girl.”

“Got it, Bats.”

Batman turned to Robin, and Damian sighed.

“Let me guess, stake out her hotel, make sure she stays safe?”

Batman nodded, “She managed to stall Joker and his goons long enough for us to get there, and she put her life on the line for Mar’i. The story’s already broke the news, along with her face and name. Harley and Ivy won’t give us any problems with this, but Joker has been working on something with Scarecrow for the last couple of months, and I don’t think he’s going to appreciate the hiccup in their plan.” Damian sighed, while Jason cackled, elbowing him in the ribs.

“Oh wah, Demon spawn, you get to go protect a cute girl for awhile; who knows, maybe you’ll get a date.”

Tim snorted over the comm line before he started laughing, and Damian flushed, his cheeks pinkening a bit.

“Go die, Hood.”

“Already did that, thanks, but no.”

With one last glare sent Jason’s way, Robin walked over to the edge of the building, preparing to make his way back to the hotel they’d seen the girl enter; then Jason just had to speak again.

“Oh yeah, did you see she was wearing your merch?”

Father probably wouldn’t let him kill Jason, right?

….

It didn’t stop him from trying.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Oh my god, Mari, you made it onto the news!” Chloe laughed as she lowered the volume on the broadcast. The cameraman had gotten a good shot of when Marinette had sprinted out of the park, and as she was speaking to the various people who had come up to her; though they mostly replayed her shaking Batman’s hand as he spoke to her.

“Tonight, the attempted kidnapping of Bruce Wayne’s granddaughter was thwarted by a passing teenager from Paris by the name of Marinette Dupain-Cheng, who managed to stall the Joker until Batman could arrive, while protecting miss Mar’i Grayson. This is not the first time the Joker has gone after a member of the Wayne family…”

Marinette groaned and flopped on the couch, covering her eyes with her hands.

“God, turn it off please, Chlo. It was mortifying explaining this to Mme. Bustier without having to hear more of it.” Chloe rolled her eyes, but turned it off anyway. They were lounging in the shared space of their suite, curtains thrown wide to provide a good view of the skyline as the sun set. Tikki, Pollen, and Kaalki were all sitting on the coffee table munching on their respective treats. Tikki flew up, hovering over Marinette where she lay on the couch.

“You were amazing Marinette! I was blown away!” Kaalki nodded as she swallowed a sugar cube, and then her face widened into a grin.

“That’s right, Mari! Your civilian side is super strong just like Ladybug is!” Marinette moved her hands, offering both kwami a smile.

“Thanks you two.” Chloe rolled her eyes, and plopped harshly on the couch next to Marinette.

“I’m glad you’re ok, Mari-bear. I wish I could’ve seen you in action.”

Marinette thought back to how she felt when she heard the Joker laugh, when he was pointing that gun at her. Knowing that without her, Mar’i could be killed, or worse yet.

“Chloe, I’m sorry, but I’m… I’m so glad you weren’t there.” She wasn’t going to cry again, damnit, she was nearly eighteen, but she still felt her throat close up at the force of her emotions, “The Joker is nothing like Hawkmoth, Chlo; he’s not even like the akuma we deal with. He’s in a category far removed from us. I got in a lucky shot because he hesitated.”

Chloe raised an eyebrow, and turned herself on the couch so she was facing Marinette, “What do you mean, Mari?”

Mari swallowed as she sat up, turning herself to the side so she was mostly facing Chloe as well.

“He… He asked me if I was so willing to die for her. And I didn’t even hesitate. I think it threw him off, because he just stared at me; it gave me the opening I needed to use my yo-yo.” She was starting to tremble, Chloe noticed, “I… I was so scared, Chloe. He was after that little girl. I couldn’t let him get his hands on her, I’ve heard about the things he’s done, and I couldn’t let that happen to a child.”

Chloe reached over, and gripped Marinette’s hand in hers, a look of concern on her face.

“That’s not all of it though... is it?”

Marinette shook her head, “I… I was so ready, Chloe; to accept that I was going to die. I forgot that I wanted to live until I saw that opening.” Marinette soon found herself buried in the cloth of Chloe’s sleep top, and she felt the hugs of the three kwamis too.

“Take a deep breath, Mari. You’re here. You lived, and so did the little girl. You did amazing, but not even you can be strong all the time. You can be upset while you’re here, Hawkmoth can’t get us.” Chloe tightened her hold on the girl as she finally cried her heart out; she’d been fighting it so much, for so many years. There was just... so much she’d repressed.

And Chloe held her through all of it.

~~~~~~~~~

Robin was many things. To his brothers, a nuisance, demon spawn Jason called him; to Gotham, he was the stoic boy wonder, both in costume and out. Damian Wayne was generally a cold young man, uncaring for most of the people outside of his own family for a long time. Yes, he cared about the innocents of Gotham as Robin, but as Damian? That was more difficult.

Yet as he sat concealed on the roof across from this girl’s - Marinette’s - hotel room, he felt an odd kind of weight settle in his gut. He couldn’t really read lips or hear anything from this distance, but he could tell she was crying. For some reason, it discomfited him. It was like a longing he'd never felt before, and it was very unusual for him.

And that wasn’t even mentioning the three strange creatures that were flying about the room.

This girl was… odd. Tim had said she was nearly eighteen, so she wasn’t much younger than him, but she was so… expressive. When she’d been talking to Batman, she’d clearly been anxious, but Damian had noticed her constantly sneaking glances towards Mar’i; like she was taking precautions. The girl obviously knew how to fight, as she’d been able to take down Joker’s thugs without taking a single hit.

That was honestly the weirdest part, he thought.

She’d come out without a scratch on her or Mar’i, both of them completely unscathed.

And then Tim had sent him the video he’d grabbed from the cameras, and Damian still couldn’t get it out of his head.

Marinette snarled, “Of course I am!”

When Tim had said it was like she was two different people, he hadn’t been kidding; and though at first, Damian had felt suspicious, now that he was observing her more naturally, it was rather obvious that the young woman had some self esteem issues. He’d seen the confidence in her during the video, but around so many people, it had gone out as easily as a candle. Which honestly, was a true shame.

Damian watched as another girl was let into the room by the blonde; this one had short, cropped pink hair. She looked like she’d get along with Beast Boy pretty well, a thought that made him grimace. The pink one crouched in front of Marinette, and even as far away as he was, he could see the concern on her face as her friends talked her through what he guessed may be a panic attack; but he had noticed that once the new girl had come, the three floating… things had scampered away, and out of sight. So she was keeping secrets then.

He sat there for a couple hours, watching the three girls as they spoke, and finally Marinette calmed down. He was just about to settle in for more observations when he noticed a shadow drop onto Marinette’s side of the balcony; before he could move though, he heard another body land behind him, and Damian came up swinging.

“Whoa there, demon spawn, it’s just us.” Jason dodged his hit gracefully, and Damian snarled.

“Damnit, Hood, don’t sneak up on me. And who’s on her balcony?” Jason sat on the edge of the building Damian had once occupied, and nodded towards the hotel.

“Don’t worry, it’s just Red. He’s setting up a listening device since we knew you wouldn’t be able to hear anything; Grayson is wanting us to take no chances with her safety.” Damian couldn’t fault his older brother’s logic; the girl had saved his daughter. Soon, Red Robin landed beside them, and took up a seat, pulling a speaker from his belt. Damian raised an eyebrow.

“Why the listening device now?” Tim shrugged, accepting the bag of chips Jason handed him.

“Bruce wanted to know if she’d tell anyone how she took the Joker down. We found a couple leads, but we don’t wanna push her too far.” Damian thought back to the three creatures he’d witnessed, but decided that was not his business to share. Besides, if his brothers lingered long enough, they’d see them themselves. So with a sigh, Damian sat back down next to Red Robin, and grabbed a handful of chips.

And they listened.

~~~~~~~~~~

“I CANNOT BELIEVE that asshole!” Alix shouted as she paced the floor. She whirled back to face Chloe, who had one of her arms around Marinette as the girl leaned into her, “You’re telling me Agreste and you dated for two FUCKING YEARS and he wouldn’t even let anyone know!!? What the FUCK!” Marinette nodded, while Chloe frowned.

“Keep your voice down, Alix, we’re not telling you so you can tell the whole hotel.” Chloe said while she rubbed Mari’s arm in comfort. Marinette sighed, looking up at Alix.

“He… He didn’t want anyone to know because his father had told him to make sure he kept Lila happy in class. Chloe knew, she was the only one I told. He-It-I mean, it was fine for awhile-.” Alix crouched in front of Marinette’s knees, and took hold of her hands, giving her a compassionate, but serious look.

“Marinette, no,” She said, “It’s not fine. For two years, he let Lila hang off of him, kiss him, and generally torture you during school, only to, what? Come and comfort you afterwards?” Hesitantly, Marinette nodded, and Alix swore steam was going to come out of her ears. “Marinette, when someone loves you, they love you all the time, not just when it’s convenient for them.” Alix managed a rueful smile, “It’s too bad you’re straight, or I’d totally take you out and show you how you deserve to be treated.” It worked, and Alix smiled as Marinette laughed, rubbing at her eyes. Chloe scoffed.

“Get in line, Alix; if any woman is taking my Mari-bear out, it’ll be me, thank you.” Alix gave her a grin, winking at the blonde and Chloe laughed.

“You can come too, Chlo. We’ll take our girl out and treat her special.” Alix looked back at Mari who was still laughing, and Alix softened a bit, “I know there are things you still can’t tell me, DC, and that’s ok. I’ve nearly got Kim and Max seeing reason finally. It’s gotten easier now that I just google whatever Lila says, and show it to them.” Her grin was bitter as she shook her smartphone for emphasis, “I’m sorry for how everyone’s been treating you these last few years. It’s like they’re just letting themselves be blinded by that little skank.” Alix wouldn’t lie, she was furious with the rest of their class for just letting these things happen; it was a testament to how exhausted Mari was that she didn’t even reprimand Alix on her words.

Marinette squeezed Alix’s hands, and she looked up at her. Marinette gave her a smile.

“Thank you Alix, but you don’t have to, you know. We’re almost done with school, and then we’ll be off to university. It doesn’t matter that much anymore.” Alix frowned.

“Marinette, you deserve to have the truth known. I don’t really care if they wanted to go their whole lives believing that witch, but it’s hurting you. You were always there for us, hell, you still keep spare clothes for all of them in case they need them! You deserve to have your good name cleared.”

Marinette smiled, but it was sad, and Alix wanted to rage against the world at the sight of it; her friend deserved nothing but the best, and she had been treated so poorly for so long. Alix had learned it didn’t matter if you spoke out, told Lila and Alya what they were doing was wrong; telling Madame Bustier didn’t do anything. Everyone just ignored it, unless they were actively participating.

“Alix, I have you and Chloe, and yeah, it would be nice to be friends with Kim and Max again; but I’m used to this by now. It’s… It’s been 4 years, and while the first one was… rocky, to say the least…” Marinette shared a grimace with Chloe, whose frown deepened at the memory, before she looked back at Alix, “I’ve gotten stronger for it. And if it hadn’t been for Lila, Chloe and I may never have become such good friends, and for that alone, I’m grateful to her.”

Alix grit her teeth as tears welled in her eyes, “But Mari! Alya has hit you! Adrien did nothing! They’ve ruined your sketchbooks, trashed your site, and tried to sabotage your university applications! How could you possibly be ok with any of that?!” Alix was surprised when Marinette’s eyes narrowed.

“I’m not, Alix. It hurt every single time. But what’s done is done, there’s no changing that, and there’s no going back. I can only keep moving forward.” Marinette sighed, giving her a pleased smile, “And I’m not alone, I never am. I have two of the most amazing, trustworthy friends I could ever have at my side, and an invitation to see one of Gotham’s most outstanding universities. Things haven’t been good, or fun, but they won’t stay that way.”

Alix stared at her in shock, and the tears rolled down her face while she hung her head, “We don’t deserve you, Marinette… I’m sorry.” Marinette pulled her up to the couch, and pulled her closer to herself and Chloe.

“Don’t be sorry, Alix. You and Chloe have stuck with me through it all; you’ve spoken out against Lila to defend me countless times. You don’t have anything to apologize for.”

Next to her, Chloe snorted, “Except for that t shirt, oh my god, where did you even find that horrendous thing?” Alix laughed, and gave Chloe the finger, which caused the blonde to huff.

“Rude.” But Chloe was smiling, and Marinette finally felt peace settle in her heart. Soon, she’d be gone from Lila for good, and everything would be nothing more than just a distant memory. She was fine; she was in a much better place than she used to be, even with her small slip up tonight in the park.

They were going to be ok.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I don’t know french, what are they saying?”

Damian had a scowl on his face as they listened, but Jason had noticed how Tim had frozen; his two brothers were the ones who spoke french, damnit, why weren’t they translating? Finally Tim moved, and he buried his face in his hands.

“We shouldn’t have heard this…” Tim said softly, and now Hood was looking between the hotel, and Red Robin in concern. With a sigh, Tim raised his head, staring at the girls in the hotel room who were laughing now. “From what I can infer based on their conversation, Marinette is being bullied, and ignored by most of her class. Based on what these girls are saying, two girls, Lila and Alya, have been terrorizing her in class for - four years, I think they said? Not even her boyfriend would let anyone know they were dating, and he just stood by when this Alya girl hit her.”

Damian’s scowl deepened, and his hands clenched at his side, but Tim wasn’t done.

“And he’d go and comfort her after school, but the only one who knew is the blonde one there, Chloe. Apparently he’d let this Lila girl hang on him during school, and kiss him and junk. These girls have shredded her sketchbooks, trashed her site - whatever that means-, and tried to sabotage her university applications.”

Jason whistled low, “Damn, that’s harsh.” Hood frowned as he looked at the girls having a good time despite the heavy conversation they’d just had. She didn’t seem like the type of girl who deserved all that animosity. “How are we gonna help then, Red?”

The three of them paused as their comms crackled to life, and Bruce’s voice came over the line.

“I’ll take care of it. Come on home; Nightwing will take watch the rest of the night.” Damian watched as Chloe whacked Alix with one of the couch cushions, and an all out war broke out between the girls.

Next to him, Tim sighed, “Got it, Bats. Coming home.”

Jason turned first, and Tim lingered for a moment longer, but Damian was still staring at the girl. She was laughing as she beat her friend over the head with a pillow, the pink one - Alix - retaliating instantly. She looked… happy.

“Robin? You coming?” Damian nodded, and finally he turned away.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

@uGH_WHYME

OH MY GOD GUYS did you see the girl on the news??? Looks like there could be a new Wayne! #onlyinGotham

#darkhair #blueeyes #mustbeaWayne #gothamites

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Holy shit, and that is chapter one y’all! Just a quick rundown on a couple things. Chloe and Alix are gonna be hella gay, and I can’t wait for you guys to find out who their GFs are gonna be >:3 It’s gonna be GREAT. There will be some minor Adrien bashing, but he will ultimately learn from his fuck ups; mostly cause I love my dumb ass boy, but BOI is he dumb sometimes. Alya bashing will hopefully be minimal cause I DO love her to death.

Also, Chloe is totally getting/got the redemption she deserved GDI. Zagg can shove that S3 finale right where the sun don’t shine. Oh, did I mention there will be salt??? Like TONS OF SALT probably. Also, I probably won’t post super often on tumblr; I’m primarily use Ao3, so things may end up going up faster over there.

Hope you guys liked it! <3

Part 1 :HERE: Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

#maribat #mlb x dc #daminette #maridami #fanfic #YOOO I DID IT #can't promise frequent updates though y'all #being an adult sucks #plus like #my naruto fanfic is languishing away in my drafts and i've neglected it for so long #but I hope you guys liked this!#next chapter will be a bit shorter I think? Not sure what the word count is chapter to chapter #A Ladybug in Gotham

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