#nothing hotter than him putting his arm behind your seat while reversing

[rezzyromance]

What would happen if Heisenberg found reader’s diary?

What if said diary had a written confession of a crush/feelings?

I think he would be very giddy + cocky about it. He would tease reader making off handed comments with certain words she used in her diary to describe him until it clicked with her that he read it.

NSFW is not necessary but encouraged 🥴

Being greedy I’d like to see another prompt with the roles reversed - reader finds his diary.

Ps I love your writing 💕

Oh my god please this is so good.

NSFW +18 (CW: Sexual talk, but no actual sex. Nothing too specific.)

You closed your eyes and tilted your head back as your body relaxed, soaking in the hot water of a bath you made for yourself. The parts of the factory that you often roamed in were often cold, so it was nice to have a hot bath from time to time. As much as you were curious about the other parts of the factory, Karl made it clear to you that he didn't want you wandering around them. He wanted you to stick to the more "livable" parts of the factory like the bedroom, bathroom, and occasionally his office.

Your relationship with Karl was just a close friendship. You were someone who he felt like he could trust and you gave him company. While he only saw you as a good friend, you had regrettably grown feelings for him. Much more intimate feelings. Sleeping in his bedroom since there were no other bedrooms in the factory didn't help either. He didn't sleep often as he was too devoted to his work, but when he did it was often on the couch in his office. You felt bad practically stealing his bed from him, but his bed became a safe space for you as it still smelled like him.

After bathing yourself and relaxing a little bit longer, you pull the plug on the tub and begin to get out. Once you step out of the tub, you look around and realize something is missing. You forgot to grab a towel or clothes to change into. You groan and walk over to the bathroom door, opening it just enough for your voice to travel out of it more clearly. "KARL! KAAAARL!", you cry out for his attention. "WHAT?!", you hear his mumbled voice yell from his nearby office. "I FORGOT TO GRAB TOWELS AND CLOTHES FOR MY BATH. COULD YOU PLEASE GO GET ME SOME?", you ask. The air was dead silent, but you know he was groaning quietly to himself. "FINE!", he exits his office and you hear as he moves towards the bedroom. You then walk back over and sit in the now empty tub, patiently waiting for him.

He grumbled the entire way to the room. He hated being interrupted, but he knew if he didn't help now then you would just continue to beg. He goes into what used to be his bedroom and rummages around, looking for some clothes to get you. He tried not to think about how weird it was that he was digging through your belongings. He found a warm looking sweater that was on top of a chair. When he pulled it from the chair, something fell and hit his boot. He looked down to see a book. A diary. He chuckled slightly to himself when he realized you had a diary.

He reached down and picked it up, contemplating on whether or not he should put it back or snoop even further. He always did wonder why you stick around the factory. While the living area of it is safer than outside, it seemed like a depressing life to live, roaming only a few rooms in a large factory with little interaction. But still, you stuck around and seemed to almost enjoy it. He begins to open the diary, hoping to find some answers to his questions.

"Tonight is my first night spent in the Heisenberg factory. The factory itself is quite intimidating, but intriguing. To think that Karl built this army all by himself. He's so smart, I hope my presence doesn't drag down his success... and he's letting me sleep in his bed. He said he doesn't sleep much to begin with, but I feel a little bad like I'm intruding or something. Oh well."

He chuckles. The comment "He's so smart" slowly goes to his head, inflating his ego. He turns a couple more pages and continues to read.

"Today, I was bored and lonely. Karl usually says to not interrupt his work, but he was just in the office space. I thought maybe I wouldn't be too much of a distraction if I just popped in. What I didn't know was that before I entered, he had been recently doing some metal work in the hotter parts of the factory. The last thing I was expecting was to open to door and see him shirtless and sweaty. I couldn't move. He had this look in his eye that expressed his frustration, but it almost look animalistic.. like a predator viewing it's prey. I can't get the image out of my head, but I really don't mind."

He remembers that day. He was frustrated about you interrupting his work, but had no idea you were so flustered about him being shirtless. Animalistic? The words seem so sexual in a way. Could you be insinuating some sort of attraction? He flips through some more pages.

"While Karl does have powers to control metal, he still does his fair share of labor work. Today, he let me follow him around the factory while he worked because I told him how I was bored recently. I didn't think he'd actually let me join him. Could he possibly have grown some sort of attachment to me? It seems so out of the ordinary for him to agree to something like that. Maybe I'm just letting my hopes get the best of me. Either way, I couldn't help but notice the way he grunts when he's doing strenuous work. They made my mind wander. And I couldn't stop staring at his arms as he works. His muscles and veins bulge out of his strong arms whenever he handles something heavy. I just couldn't stop thinking about how sexy he looked. I hope he didn't notice."

He was shocked by the words, but a grin grew on his face as he processed them. He never realized how infatuated you were with him. The concept began to make him feel powerful. He continued to snoop.

"Last night, Karl made some sort of huge achievement in his inventions. I've never seen him so excited. He laughed so loud and it made my heart flutter to see him so happy. We celebrated by drinking. He doesn't usually drink, but he was just too happy and felt like celebrating. I drank enough to get tipsy. It was enough to fill me with almost enough confidence to make a move, but I never did. I couldn't sit still in my seat, though. He looked so relaxed in his chair as a cigar hung from his mouth. His eyes pierced through the smoke and I couldn't look away. He looked me up and down so much last night. What could have been on his mind? I wish I did something to show or tell him how I feel. I can admit to myself that I love him, but will I ever be able to admit it to him?"

The words caused him to freeze. "I love him." His brow furrowed as his feelings confused him. Why did these words make him feel so strange? He turned a page again.

"My mind is completely clouded with him. So many things I want him to do to me. I want him to make me beg. I want to feel his rough hands grip me all over. And I want to know what that scar on his lip feels like against mine. It's my favorite of his scars. His rough body has so many stories to tell and I want to be the one to hear them. I want to hear the way he grunts again. I want his powerful eyes to be fixed on me again. All I want is him."

His face is flushed and he noticed his pants slowly started to feel tighter. A new sense of power stroked his ego. A power over you that he never knew he had.

"KARL! WHERE THE FUCK ARE MY TOWELS AND CLOTHES! I'M GETTING COLD!", you shivered in the empty tub. What could have taken him so long? Your muffled complaints snapped him out of his nosey gaze. He quickly throws your diary onto the chair, unaware that he left it open, and gathers some clothes for you before rushing out. He grabs some towels on the way and opens the bathroom door slowly, sticking only his arm out with the towels in his hand.

"About damn time. I was worried you were gonna let me die in here." you make your way over to the door, reaching for the towels. As you reach, he suddenly raises his arm, causing the towels to no longer be in reaching distance. "Beg for them.", he says. You can't see his face, but you can tell that he has a grin stretching across it as he says this. You freeze. "What?" "I said beg for them. Go on." Your heart begins to pound in flustered confusion. "P-please...", your cold, naked, vulnerable body gets covered in goosebumps. "Louder.", he shakes the towel to taunt you. "Please!", you reach up and grab a small part of the towel. You hear him chuckle behind the door. He begins to pull on the towel, slowly pulling your body forward. You try to keep your feet on the ground and keep your balance. If he keeps pulling, you're bare body would be in his sight from the crack of the door. Why is he doing this? "Karl please! You're being a jackass!", you try to verbally assert your dominance but fail. "An animalistic jackass, perhaps?", his own words cause him to let out a cocky laugh.

It suddenly hit you. He knows how you view him and how you feel about him. He finally lets go of the towels and you wrap them around you, panicking over his new discovery of your feelings. There's only one way he learned all of this. Your diary.

You pull the door open and begin to run towards the bed room, your feet slapping against the cold ground. "Where ya goin' (Y/N)? You forgot your clothes.", he smiles and begins to walk in your direction. You make it into your room and rush over to where you normally keep your diary. You see it laying wide open. You cover your mouth as your face grows hot. His foot steps grow louder and closer until they stop as he stands in your door way. He pushes his sunglasses over his head, resting them on top so you can see into his eyes which you apparently loved so much. He whistled to get your attention and your head jolts in his direction. "Hm. What's that?", he points at your diary and fails to hide a grin. "You dick.", you mutter, embarrassed to all hell. "Yeah, but at least I'm a strong, sexy, animalistic dick. At least, according to you.", he laughs and throws your clothes in your direction, walking down the hallway to leave you alone for now. But, this definitely won't be the end of his teasing. (EDIT: I forgot to mention that I will be doing a similar story where the roles are reversed another time. Thank you anon for the amazing request.)

#re8 #heisenberg x reader #resident evil village #karl heisenberg x you #karl heisenberg headcanons #karl heisenberg headcanon #karl heisenberg #karl heisenberg x reader #karl heisenberg fanfic #karl heisenburg x reader #karl heisenburg

[kisskissbanggang]

Standby pt. 5 -- The Finale

[30+ Min Read/10.2K Words – Bang Chan x Female Reader – Idol!AU – Half Plot, Half NSFW/Smut – Unresolved Pining, Soul Searching, Confrontation, Regrettable Situations, Rough Encounters, Role Reversal, Epilogue]

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Masterlist | Feedback

You felt cold as you half-heartedly browsed the racks of CDs, and it wasn't just because of the dumping rain outside. This wasn't anywhere near the list of things you wanted to do today, yet here you were. Chris had blandly explained Hyunjae promised to take him to the music store on the way to the studio, that he would only need a ride there since he could more safely get back by himself later that night. However, Hyunjae got called away to one of her hundreds of meetings, and you were reluctantly roped in. It was the only thing he’d said to you since you both came back to Seoul. The car ride had been painfully silent. Chris hadn't even worn headphones. He just stared out the window as you drove. 

Chris’ browsing brought him closer down the aisle  to you. You’d had enough. It’d been rough trying to navigate this chasm between you and you just wanted to see him put at ease. 

“I'm sorry,” you said quietly, not looking up from the display as you browsed. 

“You don't have to say that,” Chris replied coolly. 

“What do you want me to say?” You prodded. Chris just flipped through CDs.

“I don't want you to say anything.”

A sigh sank heavily from your lips. “I just feel really bad--”

“That's fine,” Chris firmly snapped at you, “It's fine that you feel bad, because stringing me along like you have been doesn't feel very good for me either.”

“Stringing you along?!” You hated this. All of this. You hated Chris being hurt, but most of all you hated how confused you still were about everything. And now Chris would barely even look at you, let alone talk to you. 

“Yeah,” Chris nodded enthusiastically, “I took all this time, stupidly thinking we were developing something, really putting myself out there like an idiot just because of what you said on the plane, and--”

You looked up to see what had made Chris stop mid-rant. The cameras were here. He sheepishly bit down his anger and engrossed himself in the CDs. Each plastic case clacking against each other made the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. 

It was prudent to always be on the lookout for cameras in public, so you should've still expected them even after there appeared to be none when you arrived. You tried to appear to be intently browsing the racks when an obnoxious voice came behind you. 

“Can I see the happy couple?”

Oh god. Not this guy. You noticed Chris’ shoulders tense along with yours. This guy was awful, this balding frog of a man who was outsourced by a couple fansites to take pictures during school days. You both tried your hardest to focus on your shopping. The guy prodded up against you, only backing off when you shot him a glare. 

“Awh, trouble in paradise?” The frog man laughed, still snapping pictures. 

“Can you leave us alone, please?” You asked begrudgingly. 

“What’s the matter?” The guy condescended, “is boyfriend Chan not getting you the CD you wanted?” This time, the awful man pulled on your sleeve, moving you out of the way to get a picture. 

“Excuse me!” You sharply interjected, stepping back in his frame, “That was extremely rude of you. Please leave us alone.”

“Just a couple of pictures and I'll be out of your way,” he grumbled, elbowing you back to the side. A small crowd was gathering now, despite the distance they kept. You spied a couple of cell phones being whipped out, and the fire in your chest burned a little hotter. 

“I really don’t think so--” you insisted, interrupted as Chris anxiously tugged on the loop of your backpack. Your feet remained planted firmly in place between the two men. 

“Come on,” Chris murmured behind you, “walk away. It’s not worth it.”

“It really isn’t.” The photographer chuckled, now grabbing onto your arm. 

“Let go,” you stiffly ordered, trying to sound as confident as you hoped you could be. 

“Then move,” he challenged. 

“You’re hurting me,” you warned. 

“All the more reason to let me do my job.”

“Fine,” you replied curtly, gaining all the willpower you could, “you do your job, and I'll do mine.”

That was it. You were done. You weren’t dealing with this today -- or anymore, for that matter. Stepping forward, you stomped onto the photographer’s foot, grabbing his camera and shoving it back into his face until he tripped back onto the floor. Your ears perked at Chris’ sharp gasp and whispered string of curses behind you. You grabbed his hand and moved to step around the man, letting out a startled scream as he grabbed onto the leg of your jeans. 

“Cheap move, you little bit--”

Chris stepped forward, getting an arm around you to pull you away. He grabbed ahold of your hand, yanking you back toward the rear exit and away from the assembled onlookers and their cell phones. He slammed open the back door of the store as the photographer got up to his feet and barreled after you. Thankfully the company car was nearby, having chosen to park out of direct view of the street behind the store. You sprinted around and dove into the driver side of the car while Chris scrambled into the passenger seat, your sweating fingers fumbling with the keys as the frog man caught up and attempted to pull the handle. You screamed again, quickly sorting through the keys as Chris reached across you and locked the door. There practically seemed to be three times as many keys as you guessed were necessary. Finally, you got a firm hold of the right key and stabbed it into the ignition. Exhaust spilled out from behind the car as you punched the gas, peeling out of the back parking lot and leaving the photographer in your wake. 

“Why did you get involved?!” You asked Chris, still breathing hard in all the adrenaline as you drove. 

“Me?! Why did you even start it?!” He shot back at you. 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you let out a crazed laugh, “not all of us are insistent on being so congenial and noble at all times.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means that I'm not someone who’s going to let people walk all over me just so I can look good.”

“You sure are lucky to have that privilege, aren’t you?” Chris slouched down in the passenger seat, flushed from his anger. “I mean, be condescending all you want, but it works. The pictures speak for themselves. Stay can always tell when I'm not having a good time, even when I wish they couldn’t.” You bit your lip, noticing him fiddling with his fingers and clearly preoccupied with something. The car ride was silent after that, up until you pulled up to the studio. Chris wordlessly opened the door and shouldered his bag. The need to say something, anything, was eating at you as he turned to walk inside. 

“Chris--”

“What?” He asked bluntly, pausing, his hand still about to swing the passenger door shut. He looked so thoroughly exhausted. 

“I'm sorry.”

Chris shrugged. “You couldn't help it.” He looked at you now, really looking at you for the first time in days. Surely, he must've seen how hurt and lost you looked as he shut the door and walked away. 

Your drive back to the dorm felt like a dream, like you were sleepwalking until the moment you walked inside and Hyunjae stormed over to you, apparently back from her meeting. She had yelled and berated you, scolding you for being so stubborn and reckless. Hyunjae shoved her phone in your face, flicking through photos and videos of you and Chris and the photographer. It was useless to tell her you were defending yourself. He was right: the pictures spoke for themselves. You knew you had made a dangerous decision, that the prudent thing to do would’ve been to bite your tongue and do nothing. 

And then she passed the news along. You were too much trouble right now. You were suspended indefinitely while the company figured out how to get rid of you. 

It would take too much of your energy to cry about it. Really, all you could manage to do was catch your bus back to your cold apartment, still sleepwalking as you walked inside. Even though it was your home, it felt so empty. You supposed it was from the lack of people you usually had around, but you knew that in the end, you were just stupid enough to get wrapped up in the wrong good intention. 

Days passed and your friends slowly realized you were back home. The beeping on your phone eventually fizzled from a storm to a light rain, occasionally buzzing as someone wondered where you were, if you were free to catch up. All you could do was drift from the couch to the bathtub to the bed, occasionally heading downstairs to the convenience store on the corner when you noticed you were hungry. It was getting to be too much, weighing on you and insisting upon itself. None of the texts that popped up on your phone were Chris, and they wouldn’t be. You had to finally see that. You resolved to answer the next text that came, praying to feel anything but lost and numb for the first time in weeks. 

Come out tonight, came the next message, we miss you, dummy. You sighed, begrudgingly thankful it was this and not someone inviting themselves over with ice cream and wine. Still, you fussed over an outfit to wear, even if you were quietly glad to be distracted. You settled on a simple and fun dress with some heels you hadn't worn in forever. You finally took the time to fully clean yourself up, even going so far as to put on some more makeup than your usual. The person in the mirror looked vaguely more put together than you felt, which was just what you needed as you ordered an Uber. 

The club was noisy and crowded, which you knew to expect, but it was bearable to have friends there. Everyone was gracious enough to give you two minutes of personal gushing and pecking and prying before the matter on everyone’s minds finally came tumbling out: Chris or, rather, Bang Chan. Were you dating, were you fucking, were you still together? You dragged your friends into a booth before you finally explained all you were willing to be held accountable for: it was complicated, and it wasn’t what it looked like, and it wouldn't be smart to say anything more. Your friends just about murdered you for such an apparent cop-out, but it was true. You couldn’t afford to give anyone the wrong idea, even if that meant telling them virtually nothing. It was dumb to keep things like this secret, but everyone knew that by this point, no amount of backlash could be cancelled out by now. You were obviously something, but saying that out loud — no matter if it was nothing or whatever it was they thought — would be falling off a tightrope. 

Everyone was pressing you for more details when your phone rang. No one ever called you. Who would be calling you? You checked, your eyes widening in surprise. 

Chris. 

You made an excuse to run off to the bathroom, shutting yourself into the last stall and talking low. 

“Hello?” You asked, attempting not to get your hopes up. 

“I’m in a fucking bind,” came Chris on the other end, distressed and yelling over music in the background. Where was he? “Can you help me?”

“How bad is it?” 

“Bad enough for me to be calling you.”

Despite the sting, you understood, snapping back into professional mode. It felt like being launched from underwater and back onto the beach as you grabbed a pad and pen from your purse and took notes. Wherever Chris was, it was only a few blocks away. 

Your friends all booed, trying to be understanding despite their frustration at your leaving so soon. You’d been a hermit for a week and suddenly you come out for a night, only to be whisked away once again. The cold air of the street stung as you stepped onto the sidewalk, your heels clicking on the asphalt as you shrugged on your regrettably light jacket. You knew you could walk in the time it would take to wait for a car so you hurried along, dodging passersby and praying it wouldn’t rain. 

You were surprised to find yourself standing in front of another nightclub and you made sure you had the right address. Sure enough, this was the place. You were bewildered as you walked through, grumbling as you dug out a couple bills to pay the cover charge and trying to peer through the dim lighting. The cacophony and drunks were just as annoying as the last club you were in. Chris almost never expressed much interest in going to places like this, so what was he doing here? You combed the whole place, even asking a bartender for a “friend” who just happened to match Chris’ description, when you finally heard a commotion behind you. 

Sure enough, there was Chris, Jisung, and Changbin, all holding back Hyunjae as she clawed at a bouncer. The boys were obviously trying to lay low with their face masks still on. Changbin had the brim of his baseball cap pulled low on his face, and Jisung had his hoodie pulled up. Somehow, the three of them were having a hard time calming down the small woman. 

“I shouldn’t have to leave! Let go of me!” Hyunjae drunkenly screeched, kicking and swinging as the boys tried to keep her contained. She accidently pulled at Chris’ face mask, ripping it off and making Jisung’s hood fall back. Right on cue, the cell phones whipped out and a crowd gathered on the fringes. You stepped forward, and the boys all looked up as they noticed you. Thinking fast, you did the first thing that came to mind: you punched Hyunjae right under the sternum, hard enough to knock the air out of her. The boys quickly grabbed her as she crumpled, slinging her over Chris’s shoulder and Changbin picking up her bag. They followed you out, running out to find the company car while onlookers still followed and tittered behind. 

“Car?” You breathlessly asked the boys behind you. 

“Around the corner, one block down on the left,” Jisung blurted out as he followed. 

And, of course, the photographers, having hidden away in the corners of the club, made their way to the front of the assembled crowd, snapping photos. You fell behind now, trying to get space between them and the boys until they ran up to the car. Jisung yanked Hyunjae’s bag off of Changbin’s arm, digging around until he found the keys and beeped the car open. Hyunjae was loaded into the back, Jisung and Changbin getting in on either side of her as Chris jumped into the front seat. Once they were safely inside, you ran up as quickly as you could in your high heels and fell into the driver's seat. You all fumbled to get the keys into your hand and into the ignition, cursing and yelling as the photographers caught up to you when you finally got the car started. You blasted the horn to disperse the swarming crowd and threw the car in reverse, feeling a bizarre sense of deja vu as you peeled out of the parking lot and onto the street. 

“Where are we going?!” Jisung asked from the backseat. 

“Hyunjae’s place,” you firmly decided, “we can’t let anyone else see her like this. We’ll get her inside and I’ll get you all a ride while I stay with her.”

“Are you sure?” Changbin asked. You nodded definitively. 

“Absolutely. She would do the same.”

You shifted uncomfortably in the driver’s seat as your dress hugged your legs together more than you’d like. You tried to be sneaky as you slid the hem up a few inches, just enough to get more comfortable as you sped along, but you still noticed Chris out of the corner of your eye, absently watching the extra flash of skin. His attention hurt for some reason, having proof that he still was capable of looking at you that way but not wanting to. 

“Tell me what happened,” you prodded, getting his attention back. He shrugged with a sigh, broad shoulders softening. 

“We were out meeting a producer down the street,” he explained. “Hyunjae-noona’s been acting weird all day, and she said she would wait at the club for us since we were having dinner and would be a while. I thought it was weird at the time, but… I guess I didn't realize what a bad idea it was.”

“It's fine,” you consoled, “your intentions were good. Hyunjae fucked up, not you.”

The boys worked to bring Hyunjae after you as you parked in her building's garage and headed to the elevator. You'd only been here one or two times, but you were still impressed with how humbly nice her place was. You were sure to be quiet as you silently moved down the hallway. 

Until you dropped the keys on the front doormat. 

Hyunjae roused as you hurried to pick up the keys, instantly getting rowdy again. The boys all jumped to attention, doing their best to shush her again as you got the door open. It was so polite of her to decide now was the time to finally lurch. 

“Bathroom, quick,” you directed, Chris following your pointed finger down the hallway. He unloaded Hyunjae off his shoulder and onto the floor besides the toilet and you leapt down beside her, getting her to retch inside. You all took a moment to breathe before Chris surprised you with an offered hand to help you up. 

“I think she's got it from here,” he panted with a small smile. You nodded, exhausted, pulling your phone from your purse and dialing for a car. This was a case of calling on a trusted company, and not just a ride share. The two of you walked back down the hallway, catching Jisung and Changbin collapsed on the couch in the small living room. You directed him to the tiny kitchen, letting yourself fall into a chair at the table. 

“You look really good, by the way,” Chris remarked, but he wasn't quite looking at you as he finally relaxed into the seat on the other side of the small table. 

“So do you,” you replied awkwardly. He really did. He was obviously sleeping and eating and staying active -- he was fine, just like you knew he'd be.

“I'm sorry if I dragged you away from your plans.”

“I was just out with some friends,” you waved him off, “I wasn't having an amazing time anyway.” His eyebrow perked up at the mention of ‘friends’, but what did that mean? 

“How have you been? The others have missed you.”

What about you, you wanted to ask, didn't you miss me? You thought against it. “I'm fine,” you shrugged, “I'm looking for new work.”

“What?” Chris did look at you now, surprised and a little hurt. 

“Well, yeah,” you shifted uncomfortably in your seat, “I can't stick around and keep causing trouble. Tonight definitely won't help that.”

“Okay then, that's fine,” Chris shrugged, “so you’re looking at other companies?”

“Not exactly,” you admitted.

“Oh. So you’re switching tracks, then? You’d do great in marketing.”

“No, same track…  But somewhere else. When I was first getting into trouble when we were abroad… Hyunjae mentioned a friend at a production agency in L.A. I actually have a letter of recommendation I want Hyunjae to sign. I even brought it out to show my friends tonight.”

“What?!”

You reached forward, pressing a finger to Chris’ lips and he smacked it away. “Will you quiet down, please?” You pleaded. He looked at you, aghast as he shook his head. “I’m sure you're even madder at me, from the sound of it,” you frowned. He shook his head again.

“No. I'm mad at myself. I'm mad that I let myself think if I got this behind me, that we could... It’s stupid. This is honestly stupid. I should've never let myself love you. It’s just made everything that much more difficult.”

“What?” You asked, dumbfounded. “You don’t mean that.”

“Don’t tell me how I feel,” Chris reeled, “I’m sorry, but I really am starting to regret falling for you.”

“No, that’s not what I mean. You don’t love me,” you insisted. Chris let out an indignant laugh as he got up. 

“I can't believe you,” he scoffed. “Fine. Tell me what to do. I don’t love you. Whatever. I'm getting the guys and waiting downstairs.”

You watched, feeling a bizarre sense of heartache as Chris pushed himself away from the table and stormed off. There was a quiet argument in the living room, and the front door finally swung open and shut. A heavy sigh fell from your gut as you got up. You eventually had to check on Hyunjae; everything had been too quiet. You padded down the hall into her bedroom, sliding open her organized drawers to find her some pajamas. You kicked off your tall shoes before heading back down the hall. 

Hyunjae lay in a heap against the wall next to the toilet, cheeks flushed but otherwise looking alright. 

“When did you get here?” She slurred tiredly as you worked on getting her dirty blouse off. 

“You’re a mess,” you said, feeling almost stronger for saying it out loud. “You caused a lot of fucking trouble tonight. I'm glad it wasn't me for once.”

“I just missed my baby,” she whined, her head lolling back down to her chest as you wrestled a pajama top onto her. 

“Ugh,” you wrinkled your nose, “don’t call me that.”

“Not you, stupid,” she scolded. She kicked you off as she searched for her bag. When she couldn’t find it, she slumped back against the wall, lazily gesturing out to the hallway as she shimmied off her jeans. “In my bag… My baby.”

Whatever. You could leave your letter of recommendation in there for her to sign, but you mostly wanted to know what the hell she was talking about. You found the bag sitting on the couch in the living room where Jisung must’ve left it. Carefully, you shifted around the jostled contents until something caught your eye -- an envelope. Another letter? You slipped it open, wondering exactly what you were looking at when inside was just a picture of a little girl. 

“See, stupid?” Hyunjae asked from behind you. She was fully dressed in her pajamas, leaning against the doorway to the living room. “My baby.”

“I don’t understand,” you shook your head.

“You wouldn’t,” she laughed meanly. “She’s six years old now. I get a picture of her every year. Look on the back. She likes to ride horses and her favorite color is blue.”

“Why isn’t she with you?” You sat on the couch, looking at the picture of the little girl. Hyunjae collapsed onto the couch beside you. 

“Her father knew what was best. He always told me that he would do right by me. We’re not together, and she’s with a family that isn’t stupid like we were. So I guess that’s what was right.”

“Who is--”

“The father? We met when I first became a manager. He was mature and nice and getting divorced. He’s still at JYP.”

You stared, eyes shaking a little as you looked from Hyunjae to the picture and back again. “But who--”

“None of your fucking business,” Hyunjae spat. “He doesn’t get pictures. Just me. I had her by myself, no one else was at the hospital with me. She was my little secret, and now she’s my six-year old little secret.”

“Why stay there, though?” You asked incredulously. “You could work anywhere.”

“I love my job. It’s my whole life. I told him I'd give up the baby if he kept my job. I shouldn't have to leave because I made a mistake.”

You blinked hard at the irony, shaking your head at the absolute audacity of the mental gymnastics at play here. All this time you’d hoped that Hyunjae was acting from a place of platonic admiration, a kind of kinship making her want you to succeed… Not some sort of bitter vendetta against her own mistakes. She ardently believed you couldn't help it just because she couldn’t. That realization burned, but it didn’t manifest as more anger. You pitied Hyunjae, and this didn't feel unlike the moment you’d realized your parents were flawed adults doing their best. Hyunjae interrupted your thinking with her miserable snoring from her end of the couch and, after making sure she was bundled up in a blanket and propped on her side, you found a bucket in her cleaning supplies to set by her. You grabbed a sports drink from her fridge and placed it on the coffee table. To top it off, you dug your letter of recommendation out of your purse, slipping the envelope under the picture of Hyunjae’s six year-old little secret and ultimately helping yourself to the bedroom. 

Nights passed and you didn’t hear from anyone. The morning after you bailed out Hyunjae, you’d slipped your shoes back on and caught an Uber home without rousing her. You didn’t hear from Chris or any of the members, you didn’t hear from Hyunjae, and you didn’t hear from any of your friends because while you were bailing out Hyunjae, you bailed out on them, and they assumed you wanted space. And maybe you did. You threw yourself into your schoolwork, almost forgetting in all this madness that graduation was fast approaching. Normally, you’d be looking forward to becoming a full-time manager, but now you had no idea what would become of you. You checked and rechecked and triple-checked all your graduation materials, refusing to mess anything else up. After all these years of hard work, you would at least walk out with the degree you were entitled to, if not for losing your dream job in the process. 

Graduation itself was almost a relief. Your family got stuck mid-travel and couldn’t make it, but you were being assured through multiple texts during the ceremony that one of your friends was keeping them in the loop and sending pictures. This was puzzling, considering you were currently sitting with most of your friends. It hurt to not have your family in attendance after all this work, but it was nice to know they were trying. You couldn’t shake the fact, though, that this felt like a post-mortem. After this was some ominous void that looked like it could swallow you whole. Years of careful planning, and now you were jobless and directionless. There was really no telling how difficult it would be to find a job with your current reputation if you didn't have someone vouching for you, and the idea of switching tracks entirely felt like failure. 

An elbow in poking into your arm let you know that your existential crisis was almost holding up your row of students. You quietly apologized, quickly getting up and falling into line towards the stage. You still couldn’t focus, lost in how going back to making coffee for bratty teens and huffy professionals would only remind you of how short you cut yourself off. Everything only became more fully realized as you crossed the stage and accepted your diploma. You smiled and waved for the event photographer, but were starkly distracted by something beyond the barrier, towards the back of the grand lawn where the ceremony was being held. A shock of blonde hair and some broad shoulders clad in black caught your eye, only blurred by the distance, but an odd shape that looked eerily like Hyunjae’s giant purse only made you feel even crazier. It would be a bit ridiculous to ghost you and suddenly show up on the fringes of your graduation. Chris, maybe, but absolutely not Hyunjae. Clearly, you had just imagined it, and you shook your head, ready to just head back to your apartment. 

No school and no job would end up being a huge learning curve to get used to. Waking up and having nothing was a bizarre feeling, and it made you a bit anxious, feeling even more lost than you already had. You tried going back to the gym. You tried going for walks, even when rain was dumping down outside. You got together your resume and a CV and portfolio materials. Nothing was helping fill this vacuum you’d created. For a couple days you severely considered texting Chris, your finger hovering over the send button but never going through with it. Again, he was fine. He would be fine, and once you moved on with everything, you'd be fine, too. 

Another rainy night arrived, this time seemingly out of nowhere, and you were taking firm stock of your cabin fever. What could be changed before you eventually had to move? You could get some plants, you supposed, maybe liven up this oddly cold apartment that didn’t look like anyone of substance actually lived here, when a knock sounded at the door. You tried peering out the front window which looked out at the walkway outside, but whoever was at the door was just out of sight. Carefully, slowly, you cracked open the door and peered out. You gasped. 

Chris. 

He was soaked, having apparently been caught in the sudden downpour. You both stood on either side of the threshold and warily regarding each other. Chris moved first, unable to keep still any longer and he stepped through your doorway, taking your face in his hands and kissing you back into your apartment. Your hands covered his, unsure if you wanted to tear them off of you or hold on tight. You did, however, finally let logic rule for a moment. Your hands drifted down to his chest, his drenched shirt under his open jacket clammy on your fingers as you gently pushed him back. 

“What are you doing here?” You asked him, unsure if you were speaking quietly or if your heart was just beating too loudly in your ears. 

“It’s okay,” he panted, “I’m supposed to be out with a friend right now.”

“No, Chris,” you shook your head, “why are you here?”

“I…” He paused, biting at his lip as he thought. Were those raindrops on his cheeks? “I heard Hyunjae on the phone earlier. She was talking to her friend in L.A., and I realized you’re really leaving and I might never see you again, and…” He paused again, a little more choked up and frazzled now. 

You took his hand, softly massaging his fingers in your grip. “Chris, Hyunjae isn’t going to just ship me off to L.A. She’s too bitter for that. I don’t know what you heard earlier, but you didn’t have to come here--”

“No,” Chris insisted, “Don't condescend to me. I had to come. No matter what, that moment just solidified that I--.”

You shook your head, letting go of Chris’ hand before he held onto you himself. “Don't say it--”

“Oh, don't you start with that again,” he shushed you. “Would you stop and listen to me for once? If you don't let someone in you're going to end up just as miserable as she is.”

“Fine,” you huffed, wrenching your hands out of his, “I can let someone in, but it doesn't have to be you and I don't have to ruin your career in the process.”

“Would you stop being such a martyr?!” Chris reeled. “Stop being so stubborn and let me be the one to do right by you for once. Don't treat me like I'm so precious, alright?! I'm so tired of being your little secret.”

“Secret? People know, Chris.”

“Then why are you still pretending you don't have any sort of real feelings for me?! What you say and what you do practically never line up and it's driving me absolutely insane. You're so insistent that you're the only one making sacrifices here and I've had it.”

You folded your arms, waiting and praying you were masking the fire raging just under your skin. “Fine. You've made sacrifices, too. Did you get that out of your system? Are you finished?”

“Holy shit!” Chris sputtered. “Would you come off it already? I come out here to tell you I fucking love you and you are being the biggest dick about it!”

“Stop saying that!” You sighed heavily. By this point you were both pacing your tiny apartment. 

“Stop?! This is the first time I could even try to get you to listen after last time, you nag!”

“If you’re going to be calling me names, maybe you should get the hell out,” you ordered, thrusting a pointed finger at the door. 

“Fine!” Chris spat, turning to leave. “Maybe I spoke too soon. You're already plenty like Hyunjae. She must be carting you off because she can’t stand having competition for Most Selfless Asshole.”

That did it. The fire under your skin shot up to your eyes and all you saw was red. You reached past him, grabbing the door handle for him and moving to shove him outside yourself. 

“Hey, would--? Would you -- fucking stop it!” Chris struggled against you. He attempted to push you back so he could actually leave, only to be met with your grappling hands every time he tried to create distance. He sighed. “I’m sorry for what I said. I was mad and it was terrible to say. Please calm down?”

“No!” You roared, startling him. You were too heightened by now, bristling with distress from all sorts of directions. Doing the only thing he could think to do, he tackled forward, hoisting you over his shoulder and trying to ignore your yelling and thumping fists on his back as he marched you across the floor to your bed. He unceremoniously tipped you down, letting you bounce onto the mattress before catching your flailing hands in his again and pressing them into the sheets. 

“Now can you please calm down?” Chris tried again, and you thrashed in his grip. 

“No!” You yelled again. “I can’t believe you would just come here and try to pull this on me.”

“Pull what?” Chris fretted. “I’ve made myself more than clear this entire time. I’ve never played games, or let you believe that I feel one way and act against that.”

“Oh, excuse me for trying to remain professional!” You shouted as you tried to wrestle Chris off of you.

“What in the fuck has been professional about this?!” He asked, bewildered. 

“I’m doing my best, alright?!” You shot back, “It’s fucking complicated. You know exactly how I feel and what I'm having to deal with.”

“How would I know how you feel?! You won’t tell me anything! I’m not a fucking mind-reader, and I’m not about to just assume because look where the hell that got me.”

“Well, maybe fucking consider that admitting I love you would feel like creating a giant goddamn detour from what we’re both working for,” you blurted before you could catch the words falling out of your mouth. Your eyes bore into each other, watching, waiting, before he finally had enough and dove into you, his lips back on yours like he was coming home. 

“Say it again,” he urged against you. 

“Say what again,” you challenged, “I didn’t admit anything.” You wrenched a hand out of his grip and shoved it down between your bodies, pushing past where his rain-soaked shirt was sticking to your stomach where your hoodie had ridden up in your scuffle. He gave a yelp as you tried to clutch tight onto him between his legs. It was a dirty play, but you wanted nothing more than to not have to confront this right now. 

“What the fuck?” Chris groaned against your lips as he tried to pull out of your grasp, only succeeding in his foot slipping in your bedsheets and falling back into your hand wrapped around him in a vice. “I hate how much I missed you,” he spat at you, his tongue nonetheless mingling hot with yours at your insistence. 

“You can’t just get me to do what you want by strong-arming me,” you fired back, your grip on his cock through his jeans only getting worse as you began to massage his length. 

“Don’t distract me,” he panted, but it sounded more like a plea, “and I'm not trying to make you do anything.” Finally, he let out a thorough groan at your rubbing, reacting enough for his grip to falter on your other wrist. You took the opportunity to kick him off the bed and onto the floor before you pounced on him, your soft lounge shorts not doing much to protect you from his rigid length rubbing hard between your legs as you pinned him. His hands scrambled to stop you again as you kept him distracted, rolling your hips on top of his and hating how much you missed him, too. 

“It’s so easy for you,” you hissed as you grinded down against him, only letting his restrained moans fuel you more, “you can come here and profess your feelings for me, but I'm the one who’ll get heat for this if we try to make it happen and people know. You’re famous, Chris, and I'm just staff. Or at least I was. No matter what, I'll be some dumb girl, or some monster, who couldn't fucking help it, and either I took advantage of you, or I was too dumb to stop this, but no matter what I'll come out worse than you will. This can be a bump in the road for you but this is already ruining all my hard work.”

Chris finally bucked you off, getting up and grabbing your arm to drag you back to the bed. He easily tossed you back onto the mattress, slapping your hands away as he tried to regain control. It was almost gross, how good fighting like this felt for some reason, but seeing how bad he wanted you only pulled harder on that gut feeling you kept trying to shut up. 

“You know, plenty of people think we’re just fine. We’d have support,” he huffed as he pinned your hips to the bed. 

“Yeah,” you struggled to pry his fingers off of you, “but any amount of dissent is going to be enough to ensure I never get to do the work I want in this entire goddamn country.”

“Holy shit, you’re so stubborn,” he growled, exclaiming when you tried to shove your knee between the both of you to throw him off again. He kicked your ankles apart, settling between your legs. His jeans were rough against you where his hips met yours. 

“Do you hate it?” You challenged him. 

“Not at all,” he grinned spitefully, and you realized  his smirk matched your own, “in fact, I love it. Because, for some reason, instead of talking like rational people, you're fighting me pretty hard just to not say you don’t love me.”

“Right,” you tripped over your thoughts in an attempt to follow his new tactic, “but you’re the one who kissed me as soon as I opened the door, so who started it?” 

“Fine,” his wicked smile grew along with his confidence, “then tell me you don’t.” Chris rolled you both over, holding you up on his lap with both your wrists in one of his hands. “You’re on top. You've had no problem telling me how it is, so tell me you don’t love me and I’ll leave.”

“It’s not that easy,” you stumbled through your words as you tried to tug your wrists out of his hold. As you stilled, you gradually sank into him. 

“Why?” He asked as he let you sink further against his chest. 

“Because…” You bit at your lip, really thinking of how to go about this. The way he looked up into your eyes made your whole body ignite. His grip on your wrists loosened and you melted against him, your fingers weaving into his hair that was still damp, smelling of rain and sweat as you kissed his brow. “I feel like I’m giving everything up if I say it.”

“It’s not forever,” Chris reassured you as he closed his eyes to accept your lips on his face, “this isn’t a contract. It’s just one day at a time, or a week, or a month, or however long it can be. I want you, even just for a little bit.”

Your lips on his brow traveled down to his cheek, pressing a kiss there as well in a gesture you realized you rarely practiced. Finally, apprehensively, your lips hovered only moments apart from his, hanging in a loaded silence that was threatening to swallow you whole. “Fine,” you carefully announced, “I love you. I'm not sure when exactly it happened, but it did and I've been miserable over you.”

Chris’ grin cracked into a wide smile as he took your face in his hands again. “Oh, babygirl, I’ve been miserable, too,” he laughed as you teasingly swatted him for the name, the actual joy in his voice shooting straight through your heart as he kissed you again. “Say it again.”

“You got one, don’t get greedy,” you jokingly warned, gasping as he rolled you back over in bed. Chris’ hips pressed into yours as his lips traced the line of your cheek down to your neck. 

“I’m so greedy for it. Please say it again,” he asked against your skin, his breath tickling you and making you laugh. You finally made the decision to push him up from you and grabbing his jacket and pulling it off of him. He playfully cried out as you rolled him off of you and sat yourself back on his hips, taking it upon yourself to peel his wet shirt off of him, just as it was finally beginning to dry. “See? If you’re going to strip me then I deserve at least one more.”

“Make me,” you triumphantly laughed, letting out a pathetic squeak as he quickly tugged your hoodie off over your head. His eyes slowly roamed over you as his fingers played with the hem of your thin tank top underneath. The moment you moaned at the feel of his hand on your breast, that mischievous grin returned as he pinned you back to the bed once more. He let himself get distracted as you slipped off your tank top, his eyes searching you ravenously. Your hands quickly searched for the button of his jeans as he nuzzled and nipped at your breasts, a gasp jumping from him as you finally released his cock and began massaging his bare length in your hands. “Give up yet?” You coaxed him, jumping as he swiftly pulled off your lounge shorts along with your panties. 

“Not at all,” he smirked as he sat back. He kicked off his shoes and jeans and quickly stripped off his briefs before climbing back between your legs, only to be met with your foot pushing him back. You took in the sight of each other, finally fully exposed in the dim light of your tiny apartment. Your eyes pored over his bobbing Adam's apple, down to his heaving chest and following the lines of his abdomen down to his flushed and leaking erection. He looked incredible in this moment, and you let yourself finally feel like he was yours, even for just a little bit. “You’re asking for it,” he laughed, pulling you back to reality, “I’ll make you say it.” 

Before you could get another crack in, he leaned down, kissing your knee and ghosting his lips over your skin on his way up to cage you in his arms on the bed. “Fat chance--” you attempted to tease, the words caught in your throat as Chris’ firm cock prodded into your soaked entrance. His lips pressed to yours as he slowly slid inside you. You never realized how much you’d been yearning for this stretch again, to feel him filling you out as he held you. 

“Say it,” he breathed, that handsome flush that you’d noticed when he was aroused taking over his body and crawling up his chest to his neck and cheeks. “Say it or you're not getting anymore.”

“No no no,” you laughed desperately, “please, please give it to me.”

“I’m sorry, babygirl,” he smiled, “you're not getting any until you say it.”

“No, please,” you begged as you attempted to roll your hips onto his cock from under him. “Please please please.”

“That's really too bad,” he shrugged, “it would’ve been so good.”

“No no, please,” you pouted, “fuck me, please, I love you, fuck me.”

“There we go,” he groaned instantly as he immediately began thrusting deep into you, “was that so hard? Now try it when I say it.” He kissed you deep again, his hand trailing down to make sure you were spread wide for him as he fucked you. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” you said, breathless, loving the feeling of giving yourself in to this moment. Chris moaned on top of you, the way the walls of your pussy massaged his cock making him almost wince from the pleasure. It was so good, you managed to still push him over onto his back, your hot depths still impaled on his length as you began to ride him. You rolled your hips hard onto his, savoring his moans and repeated affirmations of affection made under his breath as he gripped the sheets. You guided him a bit more forwardly, leading one hand to your clit as you grinded down against his length. 

“Since when did you get back on top?” Chris laughed. In this light, you could see how blown out his pupils were, how drunk on you he was that he could barely keep up. “I think I should get to be on top at least once in our lives, don’t you?”

He pushed you back over, taking a moment to tease your nipples with his tongue before he pulled out of you, smiling devilishly at your whines before he moved further down the bed. His tongue nudged in between your legs and your fingers were instantly in his hair, your back arching as he expertly laved at you. 

“Remember the first time I made you cum?” Chris smiled, picking his head up from your pussy and pumping into you with his fingers. You nodded timidly, watching and waiting to see what he was up to as his thumb drew firm circles on your clit. “I don’t think I've gotten to cum with you once since that first night backstage, but ever since I got you to cum I've thought about doing this.”

“Doing what?” You asked. This feeling of giving up control to him was keeping you alert, the vulnerability making you feel like you were spread open for him in more ways than one. He licked deep between your legs once more before coming up for air again, his chin slick with you. 

“I thought you’d remember,” he teasingly pouted, “that first day I made you cum on my tongue, I said that even after you were done, we weren't finished until I did.” Before you could question him, he held tight onto your thighs, keeping you open so he could lick and nibble at your sensitive clit as he pumped his fingers back inside you. Your head pushed back into the pillow, your eyes squeezed shut from trying not to moan too loud as Chris worked you over. All you could do was squeal and curse under your breath, completely at his mercy as his tongue pushed you dangerously closer towards your orgasm. 

“Chris, slow down,” you meagerly begged. 

“I got you, don’t worry,” he soothed, “I love you. You’re going to cum, and I’ve missed it so much. Now say it again.”

And you did. “I love you.” It began as a hushed whisper, then progressed to desperate whines and moans. He had such an affectionate power over you that you would do anything he said. Finally, just like he said would happen, he held you down and licked you through it as you couldn’t hold back your near-scream, your thighs clenching as your orgasm rocked through your body. And, just like he said he would, he didn’t stop. Chris kept licking and fingering your spasming pussy and you could almost feel his proud smile against you until he finally relented. 

You gasped for breath as Chris climbed back on top of you, his thick length almost intimidating now as he pushed up against you. He pet your hair, caressing your flushed face as you took an agonizing time to come down. “You’re being so open with me,” he marveled quietly. 

You nodded shallowly, still attempting to catch your breath. “Of course,” you breathed, “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he grinned, almost as if he still didn’t believe this was happening. In a way, neither did you, until his rigid cock slid back into your aching pussy. You cried out, your hands clutching onto his arms as you were heavily overstimulated. “I got you,” he reassured you again, kissing your face as he fucked you into the mattress, “it’s so good.” He sighed into the crook of your neck, his hips rolling deep into yours. 

“It’s too much,” you whined desperately. 

“No no no, baby, you’re taking it so well,” he soothed, gently rolling you both over so you were perched on his hips once again. From this angle he was somehow even deeper inside you, filling out every inch of you that you didn’t even realize could be. “There,” he soothed, still easily bouncing you on his cock, “you have more control now.”

And, somehow, that move and remark put together made the overstimulation go from near-pain to near-bliss. In fact, in a bizarrely rare turn of events, you felt another orgasm mounting. Chris’ eyes lit up as you thrust along with him. “How close are you?” You asked, your nails beginning to dig into the lines of his chest as your momentum built. 

“Soon, baby, soon,” he struggled, moaning and squeezing his eyes shut as he clutched tight onto your hips, “you’re going to make me cum so hard.”

“Good,” you desperately panted, “me, too.”

Chris’ eyes snapped open, “You’re what?”

“I’m going to cum again,” you whined, trying to match his faster rhythm. 

“Holy shit, I love you,” he smiled, “cum with me.”

You both settled into this faster rhythm, trying to keep up with each other as you both neared your peaks. Chris slowed just the smallest bit, his breath hitching and steadying again as he tried to make sure you would cum together. He listened close for the changes in your sighs and moans, the twinges of your fingers on his skin giving him hints of when you were getting closer. You gasped as he pulled you down to wrap his arms around you, his lips finding yours as you both grew even nearer. 

“Now,” he breathed against you as he felt your walls clench around him, “cum with me now, I’m gonna--!” Chris threw his head back in the pillow, letting out a deep groan as he thrust his orgasm up inside you and savoring your impassioned moans as you came along with him. He held you tight to him, his hands running up your back and into your hair to caress your face as he kissed you through his peak, breathless as his cum flowed into you. 

The air of your tiny apartment was electric as you laid together in your bed, tangled in each other, as well as the bedsheets and your discarded clothes. You rolled off him and laid at his side, keeping a hand pressed to his chest rising and falling as he caught his breath. Wordlessly, he turned to face you, closing his eyes and grabbing for one of your shuffled blankets. He pulled it up over you both before taking your hand, pulling you to his chest as you both recovered. 

 And you woke up like that. It really was that easy. The two of you had fallen asleep basking in this liberating glow of letting yourselves have what you both wanted, and now you were waking up to the sun already streaming in through the blinds. Your apartment suddenly felt homier, almost like when you first moved in. You looked over Chris’ face, still just as close to yours as when he drifted off to sleep, studying to see how asleep he truly was. Skipping the sweetness, you pinched his nose. 

“No,” he shook his head as he pulled you closer, “I'm sleeping.”

“You’re awake,” you smiled as you grabbed your phone off the bedside, “and I'm ordering breakfast.”

“Oh thank god,” he murmured as he willed you to fall back asleep in his arms. 

“Was last night good?” You softly asked, unable to fight off the smile on your face as your eyes were still waking up. Chris turned his head more into the pillow in an attempt to stay asleep as long as possible. He lazily nodded. 

“So good. About time, too,” he grumbled with the faintest ghost of a laugh. 

“I never asked,” you said quietly, stroking his hair as you breathed him in, “how did you find my apartment?”

“Hyunjae wanted to talk to you about the job thing but she’s too proud to not fight with herself about it. I convinced her that it was her idea to try and find you at your graduation, and when she chickened out of that, she sat parked in the company car in front of your building for like… I want to say twenty minutes. I almost dragged her up here myself.”

“She wanted to talk?”

“She did,” Chris nodded, finally giving in and opening his eyes. He sat up in your bed and stretched as he rested his head back against the wall. “I don’t know what to tell you. She really was talking to her friend in L.A. last night.”

You dragged each other out of bed, at least enough to each put on at least some form of clothing as you prepared some coffee. He watched intently as you slipped on your bathrobe, but he got distracted by all the parts of your apartment you never really considered before -- the framed pictures, the books, the way you organized your desk. Suddenly, his attention in you and your space made you take a second to remember how lost you'd been feeling lately, if maybe it was just a symptom of something less sinister than mediocrity. 

“What now, you think?” Chris finally asked you. You set a cup of coffee in his hands, trying to focus on this moment so you’d always remember it: Chris, in only his underwear, hair a mess and drinking a cup of coffee while bundled up in your bed. 

“It depends,” you ruminated, “how long can you last?”

“Me? As long as you want, I guess,” he half-shrugged, “as long as we want, really. I just want you to be happy. I'll be happy knowing you’re happy.”

You held back as you considered all the factors at hand, not wanting to let yourself get distracted by getting nearer to him right now. “What if… What if L.A. makes me happy, but you do, too?”

“Then pick L.A… and me, too, if you’d like. You don’t have to stick with one thing -- or two things -- forever. I'll be happy even having you for a little bit, remember?”

“It won’t be easy,” you warned. 

“Has any of this been easy?” He laughed and you had to agree. You nodded, finally giving yourself permission to draw closer and get swept up in him again when the buzzer on your door sounded. 

“Hyunjae!” Chris scrambled, setting his cup of coffee on your bedside and lunging for his jeans, “Holy shit, she probably tore the city apart looking for me.”

“Not Hyunjae. Food,” you gently reminded him, and he let out a gigantic sigh before collapsing back on your bed. You opened the door. 

Hyunjae. 

“Unnie,” you dumbly greeted, and you heard Chris thunk onto the floor behind you as he frantically reached for his jeans again.

“Little sister,” she awkwardly greeted in return, “I don’t suppose you’ve seen Bang Chan.”

“Noona,” Chris nodded in her direction from behind you, still shirtless and horrified as he made a measly excuse to use your bathroom.  

You straightened up as Hyunjae looked you up and down, as well as Chris as he scampered out of her line of vision. This was your home, and you felt like you were on a little better footing against Hyunjae after that night at her apartment. “I guess I couldn’t help it,” you smiled demurely. 

“I’m sorry--” Hyunjae blurted. She tried again. “I’m sorry, little sister… I realized I’ve been too hard on you. As a supervisor, as a mentor… And maybe even as a friend. I was unfair to you. I'm not very good at this, so…” She slipped an envelope from her purse and into your hands. “You write well, but we already know that, and I made some grammatical revisions, and we both already know that as well. This is just a copy, of course. I already sent the original to a friend in L.A. who’s looking forward to hearing from you.”

“I know,” you replied confidently, excitement brimming under the surface, especially as Hyunjae uncharacteristically had a hard time maintaining eye contact with you. 

“I'm proud of you, little sister,” she finally said, and she nearly took a step back as you gently took her hand in yours. 

“Thank you, unnie. I appreciate that.”

Chris cautiously exited your bathroom, fully dressed in last night’s clothes. He looked back and forth between you and Hyunjae, trying to decipher how civil things were at the moment. “I’ll -- should we…? I could --”

“You'll call me,” you smiled reassuringly as you smoothed out his rumpled shirt, “and I'm going to make a phone call of my own, and in a few days you're going to help me pack, and a few nights after that you're going to take me out before I leave.”

“Yes,” Chris beamed at you, “that. All that.”

Hyunjae modestly looked away and began heading back downstairs as you insisted on kissing Chris goodbye, and you waved him off, feeling a weight lifting off your shoulders to a point that you could swear you were floating. You were capable, and for the first time, you believed it. 

Standby: An Epilogue

All these credentials, and you were suddenly a glorified intern. You fumed at whichever idiot’s bright idea it was to transform all your production assistants into liaison staff for groups and their management teams for an event like this. Nevermind that only a fraction of your team were bilingual, but only a smaller fraction were bilingual in a way that actually mattered in an event like this. That meant hiring translators, and that meant hiring temp teamsters to serve in place of your production staff, and that meant no one was prepping green rooms. Your actual staff was out fetching coffee and finding emergency hair products, so you were left grabbing groups for standby for various events of the day. You were walk/jogging to your next green room when your phone buzzed with a text. 

>>It was an absolute disaster at the hotel this morning, hope you’re having better luck out there. 

You smiled at Chris’ text, despite the stress coursing through you. Making it work like this had been hard for the past year, but predicting that and doing your best to roll with it had been helpful. 

>Disaster out here, too. Can’t we just skip to tonight?

>>Sorry, babygirl, I know you're just dying without me. 

>Stop that. I'm just looking out for you and your blue balls. 

You allowed yourself a relieved giggle at your text exchange before your earpiece crackled. 

“Green Room 4 for standby, banquet hall B.”

You clicked the chirp on your receiver twice, letting the channel know you were on your way. 

“Already got Room 4,” someone else came through. You paused in the service hallway you were currently occupying. 

“Partial 4,” a different director corrected. You clicked the chirp twice again, jogging down the hall in your regrettably inappropriate skirt and heels for this type of work before you rapped at the green room door. When no answer came, you flipped through your keys for the green room skeleton key and got the door open, gasping and quickly clapping a hand over your eyes before meekly apologizing as you turned back to face the hallway. 

“Sorry!” You called over your shoulder, “Final call for standby.”

A surprised chuckle came from behind you, instantly melting your heart before you even turned around. There was Chris, his face an incriminating shade of red where he sat at the vanity. “Babygirl,” Chris let out a relieved laugh with a smile, “I’m in a bind. Can you help me?”

#skzsmutnet #stray kids smut #stray kids fanfic #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids #bang chan #bang chan smut #bang chan fanfiction #bang chan breakdown #honestly you don't know how much writing this has meant to me like I am SO happy I've done this and if you've enjoyed it that's even better

[buckysforeverprincess]

Switch -Part 2

Bucky Barnes x Reader, Avengers

Words: 2097

Warnings: Language, female presenting nipples, sexual situations

A/N: I decided to make this a 3 part thing, because part 2 was extremely long and I wanted this to have it’s own moment. The smut comes in part 3. Enjoy.

No one knew what to say. Everything screamed Y/N! The voice, the body all of it. Nothing outwardly had changed. Steve and Sam just thought Y/N had gone crazy, and Wanda and Nat both crossed their arms and smirked. You decided to take a seat on the counter and wait for the fireworks to really begin.  

“Morning all-what the hell, Y/N?!” Tony has finally made his way to the common area to join everyone for breakfast. He missed the initial scream but is now here for the show that is the now ‘The Winter Soldier: Body Snatcher’. “Have too much fun with the playboy last night and forget your clothes?!” The genius goes straight for the coffee maker deciding he needed more of it before having to deal with the events unfolding in the kitchen.  

“Morning Barnes!” Tony gives a casual nod to you sitting on the counter. You take a sip of the liquid in the cup, and immediately Tony notices something is off.

“Since when do you drink coffee, ice king...and in Y/N’s cup, no less?”

The only thing you can do is shrug and wait for the others to catch on.

“You!” Bucky turns his direction to the Scarlet Witch, “you did this to me, didn't you?!” Bucky's in her face at this point, but it's not as intimidating as it would be if he was in his super soldier body. She can't help but laugh at his efforts.

“I have no idea what you're talking about!” Wanda laughs in his face, repeating the same words he has said to her many times after playing one of his jokes on her.

“Don't lie to me you witch! This is payback for yesterday isn't it?”  

“Wait…” Sam stops Wanda from answering, having questions of his own, “Y/N...what could she have possibly done to you? I mean...did she make you hotter? Because damn girl! That ass though!!”

“Did you just fucking objectify my girlfriends body?” Bucky moves and is now in Sam’s face pointing a finger at him.

“I mean-you are, ya know wearing a thong and I'm a man that loves ass dimples!”

Steve has now started laughing hysterically and has doubled over from laughing so hard. Tony makes his way from the coffee to check out the look Bucky is sporting so he's not left out.

“Those are really nice. Perfect for hand placement-”

“Don't fucking finish that thought, tin man, so help me God!” Bucky has directed his finger Tony’s way.

The whole group is laughing sans Bucky. He's getting more and more pissed off with each passing moment, and you're just sitting there…on the counter, enjoying your coffee. No need to get involved quite yet. This is way too much fun.

“Someone needs to explain what the hell is going on!” Bucky demands, crossing his arms to his chest and covering your exposed breasts, standing like a petulant child. Thank god you don't have issues with your body, because this could've become awkward real fast.

“Y/N…why don't you tell us what it is you remember.” Nat says very calmly, not giving away how much she already knows.  

Bucky scans the room taking in all the faces looking at him obviously thinking he was crazy, before he starts to recant what he can recall. “I remember going to bed with Y/N, in my body! James Buchanan Barnes, aka Winter Soldier, me! This morning, I wake up and I'm her! This is not my body!” He pointing to himself trying to emphasize the point.  

“Definitely a nice ass body!” Sam says, and Steve gives him an elbow to the gut.

“So, someone switched your body?” Steve questions, not sure if he believes what he's hearing.

They've been pranked by Bucky too many times to count, so this could be just another of one his tricks having his girlfriend in on it. There's going to have to be a lot more convincing than just his word.

“Ugh! I don't understand how I'm in a room full of people who continually save the world, but all of you are way too fucking stupid to see what's in front of you!”

You bust out laughing like a damn hyena from the counter. Everyone has now directed their looks to you and Wanda does a faceplant with her hand. Everything had been going so well.

“Baby, do you realize what you just said?” You say in between laughs. “You're what's in front of them...you! They can clearly see you!”  

If looks could kill, you'd be dead. James/you is glaring hard at you/him. He has your face so bunched up, you're pretty sure he's going to give you permanent wrinkles on your forehead.

Bucky stalks up to you, paying no mind to everyone else in the room. “You're being unsarcastically hyper nonverbal!” He yells at you with fire in his eyes. “What is it that you know?”

This is where the fun begins, and payback becomes the worst bitch imaginable. You hop off the counter and stand over Bucky. You can see what it looks like when roles are reversed and he's towering over you. Let the games commence.

“Well, I know that right now…your tits are showing because you chose to wear that ridiculous quarter of a shirt to bed. I'm also aware of the fact that Sam had begun sexualizing you since the moment he saw you in that thong. How did you seriously let me buy that for you, you hate thongs?! But I will agree with him...that ASS though! The suddenness of the amount of crazy you've displayed here this morning can only mean one thing…...you're due to start your period any second now. I'm sorry sweetie, I'll make sure I run out and get your favorite kind of ice cream. Other than that,…good morning my love. Coffee?” You give him a grin, but this just upsets him even more.

Bucky laughs at you, but there's an intense amount of anger in his eyes. You watch him continue to laugh as he walks over to Wanda and gets back in her face.

“I don't know what you did, but it somehow involved my girlfriend over there!” Bucky’s pointing at you now. “I will find out the truth…but for now...I really have to go pee!”

Bucky turns and stomps back to your room.

“Sweetheart!” You yell out before he makes it through the threshold, making him stop and look over his shoulder waiting for you to speak. “Always overnight or extra heavy? Oh, how about tampons this time, I can get those?”

Bucky inhales a deep breath and throws up a middle finger at you without even batting an eye, and continues into the bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

“So, spill ice age...what'd you do to our sweet Y/N?” Tony’s grabbed a bagel and is spreading cream cheese on it.

“I really have no idea what's going on!” You're trying to look as puzzled as possible to avoid further questioning.

“I hate to admit this, but I have to go with Tony on this one…,” Sam has made his way into the center of the kitchen, pouring himself a glass of juice, “you're both acting crazy this morning. Did something happen between you two?”

The door to the bedroom opens and once again Bucky/you comes out, but this time he's managed to find your extremely short black mini skirt, and blue midriff shirt. Oh, looks like he found a bra…but what about...oh you dirty asshole!  

“Baby?” Bucky walks over and places his/your ass right up against the shorts he slept in last night and rubs himself up and down the front of you. “I'm so sorry for the way I behaved.” His movements becoming hotter by the second. “I didn't mean to cause a scene. I promise to do better daddy!”

The last words were all it took, and you were now fully turned on, Bucky's cock standing at attention. How in the fuck did that happen? God damn him for being an expert in kinky fuckery!

“Oh daddy…did I do that?!” Bucky turns around and faces you, taking his hand and rubbing the hard member through your shorts.

“Fuck…” It comes out as a whisper, but Bucky hears it and keeps rubbing you with his hands.  

No one was moving. They're all stuck in place watching what's happening between the two of you. Normally, you guys would disappear at this point, so no one was traumatized by your actions, but today Bucky didn't care and everyone else was fully intent on watching the show Bucky was attempting to put on. Well played, asshole…well played.  

“Let me take care of you…”

Bucky reaches into the shorts and starts rubbing your hand on his cock. You close your eyes and a shiver runs through your body. The hand on what is now your dick feels so fucking good. You’re pretty sure Bucky’s trying to get you to come in front of everyone, and that has your brain come back to reality.

“Sweetie, what are you doing? This is bedroom activity, you know that.”

Bucky stops suddenly and begins glaring at you. He lets out a huff and removes his hand from your shorts. Bucky starts to walk away again but stops right at the threshold of your room just like before. This time, Bucky/you turns around and faces the entire group. He looks directly at you and gives you a huge smirk.

“Should’ve known you wouldn't cave that easy. I know you’re aware what’s going on, so….” Bucky pauses and lifts the midriff over his head and undoes the bra, exposing your breasts to every single person in the room.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y. Record this!” Tony demands of the A.I., while Steve covers his eyes, and Sam crosses his arms and nods in approval.

“Take a good hard look!” You watch him grab at your nipples, pinching at them hard and moaning something loud and pornographic. “You now have to live with the fact that every single one of them have seen your perfect breasts and watched me touch your perky tight nipples. Once you see, you can't unsee!” Bucky blows you one last kiss and enters your bedroom shutting the door.

“You're fucked!” Nat looks over at you with an amused smile and begins to laugh at what just took place.

“This ain't over, darlin’…I got all day!” Your run your hands through the long brown hair, figuring out your next step.

“Buck, what did you do?” Steve walks over to the island and gives you his best Captain America stance.

“I woke up, Steve. I woke up.”  

Tony continues to look at the door of the bedroom Bucky and you occupy, waiting for another show. When he realizes it's not happening he decides it’s time for real talk. “For some reason, ice capades, I don't believe you. She just let us see her boobs….and you're ok with it? I mean, I'm all for it, she has a great rack…but any other time you'd beat the living hell out of us for even thinking about looking. What's up?” You remain silent as you shrug your shoulders at Tony, not knowing what to say.  

“I'm calling bull shit as well…” Sam starts to chime in “I've seen her in more and you've threatened to rearrange my face via that arm! What gives?”

Jesus, they're calling you out. They know something’s not right, and you have no idea how to get yourself out of this one.  

“Hold on everyone!” Nat speaks up, coming to your defense. “Y/N is my best friend. I'd be the first to know if something was wrong. Trust me…that's normal Y/N when she's about to go on a mission. She's just never let you see that side of her.”

Tony starts shaking his head, “nope, don't buy it! Boobs, Nat! Boobs!” Tony exclaims, and Steve palms his face.

“Can we not point out one of my best friends boobs to the world?” Cap asks while rubbing his face.

“Why? I mean-you can't not look.”

Wanda rolls her eyes at your comment and shakes her head. “You should go get dressed Bucky. Go talk to your girlfriend.” She gives you a stern look and you sigh heavily, accepting defeat and make your way to the bedroom door.

You pause before entry, taking one last look at your friends trying to commit their faces to memory before walking in to face a very pissed off Bucky Barnes/you. They all wave to you, and you give a two-finger salute before opening the door and walking into certain death.

#bucky #bucky barnes #winter soldier #james barnes #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #winter soldier x reader #james bucky barnes x reader #james barnes x reader #james buchanan barnes x reader

[teardropfires]

Every Dream of You I’ve Had

Soooo it’s been a minute since I’ve posted some writing, but after reading The Raven Cycle I have FEELINGS. Mostly about the Gangsey. 

But also about Joseph fucking Kavinsky. 

So here’s this. (also on Ao3)

Ronan was angry. 

He was often angry about something; chores around the barn, Declan, Gansey’s annoying habit of “checking in” on him by calling him repeatedly until he answered the fucking phone, Declan, messing up a dream item, Opal chewing on shit she wasn’t supposed to, most things that came out of Henry Cheng’s mouth, and Declan. More times than not, his eldest brother was the source of his hot mood, but not tonight. Tonight, that honor belonged to Adam Parrish. It stung more because it was Adam. It made the heat in his veins boil hotter than they had in ages.

“Ronan, are you still there?” Adam said after what had been a very long, tense silence. “Did you hear what I said?”

“I fucking heard you,” Ronan hissed through clenched teeth.

“I didn’t mean to upse--”

“Too bad, Parrish. You did,” Ronan said, cutting him off.

“Oh, come on, Ro--”

“Piss off.”

Ronan ended the call. He dropped his phone on his bed, retrieved the keys to the BMW, and walked out of his room just as his phone screen lit up with another incoming call from Adam.

He drove aimlessly. The bass music pumping from the stereo fueled his ire. He pressed harder on the gas pedal. The friction of the road below him hummed against his skin and he smiled: wild and reckless. He sped through the night until his mind went blank and dark as the surrounding night sky.

Ronan slowed as he approached a familiar set of trees, he couldn’t tell how he knew those trees were familiar, there was nothing physically special about them, they were fucking trees, but something about the way his skin tingled as he drove near them gave him pause.

He slowed the car down to a stop, put it in reverse, backed up then drove towards them. As he approached his headlights showed a familiar clearing opening up. His heart slammed against his chest as his foot slammed on the brakes.

“Kavinsky,” he breathed out as he starred at the entrance to what he now knew would lead him to the abandoned fairgrounds.

He wondered if the reject  Mitsubishi’s were still there. Curiosity made him press his foot back to the gas and slowly creep down the clearing. He could hear his heartbeat against his ears as his headlights beamed over the rows of defunct white cars.

He let out a long studdered breath, his hands gripped tight around the steering wheel.

“Alright,” He muttered under his breath. “You’ve seen them. Now you can leave.”

He didn’t move.

“Turn the car around,” He said, “ And leave,”

Reason, manifested as the voices of Blue then Gansey, told him he was being an idiot and that their or better ways to handle his emotions. When a voice that started to sound like Adam chimed, he slienced it with the kill of the engine.

As he opened the door, the car lights turned off.

His eyes took what seems like ages to adjust to the darkness. When they did, he walked to the closest Mitsubishi. He dragged a finger across the hood as he passed the car that was leaning slightly to the left,  rough dusk collected under his fingers as he did, and when he got to the side of the car he realized that this version was missing a tire. Not just the tire, but the part of the axel that it would connect to.

Ronan huffed out a humorless laugh and opened the driver-side door and slid onto the seat.

It smells like him, he thought and then stilled, confused by where that thought had come from. Ronan was under no falsehood that he and Joseph Kavinsky had been real friends, so the idea of knowing -- remembering -- what he smelled like seemed illogical. He shook his head and cleared the thought.

Ronan reached for the ignition, hoping for the keys to be hanging from it, but the space around it was empty as he touched. He sighed and let his hand fall away as his gaze drifted around the car. He opened up the center console and paused again. Without taking his gaze away he slowly reached above him to turn on the light. His heart studdered slightly as the light revealed a small clear bottle. Inside were a dozen of green little pills.

Maybe he imagined the small jolt of energy that shot through his arm as he picked them up. He twisted the cap off and poured a few into his hand. He moved his hand higher to the light, examining the pills. His gaze shifted to the row of other cars.

“I wonder if all these cars have your little starter pack, K,” Ronan muttered.

He put the pills back in the bottle and turned off the light. He got out the car and without even thinking walked over to the next one. Without checking for other defects, he opened the center console, turned on the light and found a small clear bottle with dozens of little green pills.

He moved on to the next one; same. And the one after that and the one after that.  After the sixth or the seventh car, he felt like he had enough to prove his theory to be true. Although the last two cars he had check had a large bag of what looked like cocaine, each of them had the small bottle of green pills.

Ronan stared down at the bottle of pills in his hand. He turned off the light to the car. He opened up the bottle of pills, poured one into his hand and looked down at it for a long time.

No one would care. His anger let him convince himself of that. He popped it into his mouth swallowing it dryly.

He closed his eyes and sighed as he let the drug take him under.

x

“Did you miss me, Lynch?”

Ronan’s eyes shot open at the sound of the unmistakable voice of Joseph Kavinsky.

He was still in the Mitsubishi when he took in his surrounding, but there was the bewildering addition of Joseph - fucking - Kavinsky.

“Fuck,” Ronan breathed out.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Kavinsky said, a smile crept slowly on his plump lips.

Ronan scowled.

“What are you doing here?”

“It’s your dream, sweetheart, you tell me,” Kavinsky said.

“I wouldn’t bring myself to this shit hole place in a dream,” Ronan said, gesturing to the car-littered fairground.

“Ah, but you did, Lynch.”

Hearing the way Kavinsky drawled out his name like no one had ever done before made goosebumps break out against his skin.

Kavinsky smirked.

Ronan looked away.

Minutes passed. Ronan felt like he kept waiting for Kavinsky to say something, anything to ruin the silence, something that would make him angrier; or angry again because at that moment he realized he wasn’t really all that angry anymore. He felt confused and tired. He sighed and looked back to Kavinsky.

“Aren’t you going to entertain me, Lynch.”

“Fuck you,” Ronan spat out.

“Ooh, with pleasure, girlie,” Kavinsky said, and without warning leaned against the center console and grabbed Ronan around the back of his neck. His mouth attacked Ronan’s with a painful clash of teeth against teeth and forced his tongue immediately into Ronan’s protesting mouth.

The familiar heat of anger rose in Ronan like wildfire and he pushed Kavinsky off him, but Kavinsky didn’t go far and only moved his hands from the back of Ronan’s neck to his front and abruptly started to choke him.

Ronan gasped, his hands clawed against the ones at his neck, and tried to pry them off.  Kavinsky just smiled and leaned in closer.

“I told you, Lynch,” He said and leaned and licked Ronan’s lips in a slow, messy sweep of his tongue. The saliva trail left behind felt oddly cold against Ronan’s skin.

“You’re either with me,” He tightened his grip and Ronan struggled to breathe and felt his consciousness slipping.

“Or Against me.” Kavinsky hissed. And without warning, he smashed Ronan’s head into the window.

X

Ronan woke up gasping for air. Heart thudding painfully in his chest he looked around or him, for Kavinsky. But he was alone again. His head ached with the phantom pain of his head cracking against the window, glass piercing his skin as it shattered with impact.

He took a few minutes to collect himself and calm his breathing.

He left the pills.

X

Adam’s tri-colored car is parked in front of the barn when Ronan pulls up. He gets out of it when Ronan parks next to it.

Ronan doesn’t say anything as Adam gets into the car. He doesn’t look at him. Not even when Adam reaches over and turns down his music from eardrum bleeding inducing to a volume more reasonable.

“You know how long that drive is?”Adam said. And Ronan can hear the smile in his voice, he knows it’s meant as a joke, but he can feel the familiar simmer of anger low in his gut.

“No one asked you to come, Parrish.”

Adam doesn't say anything for a long time. Ronan doesn’t either.

“You didn’t pick up the phone,” Adam said after a while. After the tense silence got too much for him.

“Left it in my room.”

“Opal? Where is she? You just left her here?”

“She’s somewhere in there with my brother.”

“Declan?”

Ronan’s head snapped toward Adam to give him a disgusted look. Adam smiled.

“I’m joking. Lighten up, Lynch”

Ronan felt his body freeze, tense with anxiety at the mention of his last name. The last time it was said played on a loop in his head.  Lynch Lynch Lynch Lynch, Miss me, Lynch?

Ronan jumped at the warm touch on his face. He flinched away from Adam so violently he hit his head against the window. For the second time tonight, he thought. But then again… not really.

He felt his anger transform into something different, something confusing, something he didn’t want.

“Ronan!” Adam said with the urgency of someone who’s been trying to reach someone for a long time. “Ronan, look at me.”

Ronan focused on Adam. They locked eyes with each other and Ronan’s heart rate started to slow. He felt his panic leeching from him as though it was being physically removed.

“What was that?” Adam asked after a few minutes of Ronan collecting himself.

“That was you pissing me off again.”

“Me touching you pisses you off?”Adam asked, his accent thicker as his nervousness started to get the better of him.

Ronan stared at him for a long moment. Adam stared back.

“Don’t be stupid,” Ronan said finally. He reached and grabbed Adams hand and pulled him close to him. He could feel Adam’s sigh of relief feather warmly against his skin before their lips met in a chaste kiss.

And for the first time, it felt …

Not wrong. But not the same.

Don’t be a fucking idiot, Ronan. It’s your boyfriend.

Ronan leaned in closer. Adam sighed into him, content. He pulled back and smiled.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” Adam said.

Ronan nodded and when Adam leaned in to kiss him again Ronan closed his eyes, and then it felt like a dream.

#the dream theives #ronan lynch #joseph kavinsky #kavinsky #ronan x kavinsky #ronan x adam #rovinsky #im rusty so forgive me yall #but i had so much fun writing this #trc

[rycolfan]

Pinto and 45 because that is low key one of my favourite things >.>

45. pretending to hate each other au 

I had trouble with this one, but then I was rewatching ‘Confession’ the other week and this popped into my head. Sorry this is so ridiculously late, bb. I hope it’s worth the wait.

“Are youdone yet?”

“No,just like the last three times you asked,” Patrick said without bothering tolook up from his work. “Latin doesn’t come so easily to some of us, you know.”

“Stupid subject anyway. It’s a dead language.”

“But oneyou kinda have to know in a Catholic school.”

Chrisgrunted, softly drumming his fingers on the closed book in front of him as hestared out of the library window. It was dark already, almost time for eveningprayers.

“Assholealert,” Patrick warned, but Chris had already spotted Zach entering thelibrary. He returned the stone-cold look thrown his way, eyes narrowing as Zachtook a seat a few tables over. Theirs was an enmity that was well-knownthroughout the school, having got them into trouble many times.

“In thatcase, I might just leave you to it,” Chris said, clapping Patrick on theshoulder as he stood up. “See you back in the dorm.”

“If Iever finish.”

As Chrismoved towards the door, Zach got up to fetch a book and their paths crossed.Instead of stepping out of the way to avoid a collision, Chris stayed right onhis original course so that his shoulder slammed into Zach’s. Predictably Zachinstantly retaliated, grabbing the front of Chris’ shirt to yank him withininches of his face.

“Watchit, asshole.”

Chrisjust smirked. “Or what?” He watched as Zach’s dark eyes strayed towards Father Morris,who was lightly dozing at his desk; any kind of disturbance would have himawake and berating them in an instant and both of them knew it.

Glaring,Zach released his hold and pushed him away roughly. “You’d better watch yourback, Pine.”

“You’dbetter watch yours.”

Havingbeen held up by a somewhat one-way conversation with Father Peters, Chris wasone of the last to leave evening prayers. He made his way back through the nowempty corridors and shadowed staircases, and was almost at the dormitories whenhe felt the steely grip of determined fingers close around his upper arm.Before he knew it, he was unceremoniously yanked into an adjacent classroom andshoved up against the wall hard enough to knock the breath from his lungs. Hisattacker pressed close, fingers still digging painfully into his arm.

“Time toteach you a lesson.”

Theinitial burst of adrenaline subsiding, Chris’ heart began beating faster for a differentreason. “So do it.”

Therewas a moment of stillness, the thrill of anticipation hanging between them, andthen Zach’s mouth descended on his. Chris surrendered willingly, grunting astheir bodies collided, hands flying everywhere in a bid to touch and feel everypart simultaneously. The simmering heat that he’d carried all day, stokedhotter by their earlier encounter, was now ablaze, demanding more, demanding everything, especially when Zach’squesting fingers brushed the base of the butt plug Chris had inserted thatmorning.

“Oh mygod, you actually did it.”

“Ipromised, didn’t I?” The last word ended on a hitched breath as Zach gave it anexperimental tug. “And please don’t mention god when you’re playing with thesex toy in my ass. Just hurry up and fuck me.”

“All ingood time.”

As timewasn’t something they had in abundance, Chris only had to put up with a fewmore minutes of teasing before he was bent over the nearest desk, the butt plugreplaced by the scorching heat of Zach’s cock. It filled him up like nothingelse could, dragging gasps and moans from his mouth that were hastily smotheredby Zach’s mouth.

“Quietly,”Zach whispered in Chris’ ear, nipping the lobe. He’d stilled his movements,making Chris push back needily.

“I’mgonna yell the whole place down if you don’t get the fuck on with it!”

Lettingout a low rumble of laughter, Zach thrust in hard enough to drive the deskforward a few inches.

“Yeah,like that, come on,” Chris panted, clutching the edges of the desk moretightly, the cool wood pressed against his face a stark contrast to the heatbreaching him. Shifting position slightly, he managed to squeeze a hand betweenhis body and the desk and began to roughly jerk himself off while keeping up amantra of curses and encouragement in equal measure.

Chrishad been wound so tight for so long that he came embarrassingly quickly,although the force of it blew away any of their other encounters. He must havemade too much noise because Zach’s hand descended to cover his mouth again ashe thrust once, twice more and came with a soft keen held behind clenchedteeth.

WhenZach didn’t immediately move his hand, Chris slid his tongue out to lick thepalm. He smirked as Zach yanked it away, but quickly paid for it when Zachgrabbed his hair instead and tugged, dragging his head backwards. Before Chriscould object, Zach leaned down to kiss him hard—a messy clash of teeth andleaking saliva that was both incredibly hot and delightfully filthy. Given afew minutes, Chris would have been up for a reversal of roles, but it wasgetting late and the chances of being discovered were only increasing.

Itwasn’t nearly as easy putting their clothes back on in the dim light, but theymanaged it, clearing up as best they could. Chris took more than a littlepleasure in leaving at least a little evidence of their encounter over the deskwhere Father Monroe would sit the following day, and it would definitely serveas a pleasant distraction from the monotony of his Latin lesson.

Theymade it safely out of the classroom, but the door had barely closed behind themwhen Fathers Peters rounded the corner. He took one look at their clothes andhair in disarray and immediately fixed them with a stern look.

“Fightingagain?”

Christhrew Zach one of his well-practiced looks of loathing. “He started it,Father.”

Sighingheavily, Father Peters shook his head. “This has gone on long enough, boys.Perhaps a joint punishment would make a difference this time; a chance to findsome common ground, hmm?”

Lookingsuitably chastised, they both nodded.

“Yes,Father.”

“Yes,Father.”

“Butwe’ll talk more about that tomorrow—I’ll see you in my office after breakfast. Nowoff to bed, both of you.”

FatherPeters watched them trudge back along the corridor towards the dorms, neverseeing the secret grin they shared along the way.

#prompt fic #my writing #pinto fandom #heytheresunflower #wordplay as foreplay