Pairing: Neighbor!wonbin X F!reader

hello hello!! congrats on 3k. i love your work so much so you deserve it!! ^_^

if it’s okay could i request luka from alien stage with miscommunication & high school au? ( ´ ▽ ` ) and if it’s okay could the reader be amab? thank you!!

congrats again!!ヽ(；▽；)ノ✨✨💖💖

“but we can’t take back all the words that we said!”

show: alien stage

character: luka

summary: you overhear luka tell his friends that he missed being in ‘the single league’.

warnings: g/n! reader, no pronouns used (i didn’t end up put any gender indications at all, i hope that’s okay!!), miscommunication, high school! au, hurt/comfort, angst/comfort, reader is very self-conscious, established relationship, popstar! luka, he’s nicer in this au LMAO

"are you kidding me?" luka laughs out from inside the classroom.

you recognised that sound from anywhere. it was lunch time and you had told your boyfriend that, as class president, you had to prepare some things for the upcoming school festival during lunch, so you wouldn't be able to eat with him. he was a bit whiney and teasing, but soon let you go. you thought he'd be with some of his friends from his choir class, but no; he was in the classroom with a few of his peers.

you stop before you enter to talk to him for a bit. you were wondering what he was doing here.

"i mean, it's a bit hard, isn't it?" someone says.

"i wouldn't say it's hard," luka sighs out, "it's just a bit of a hassle trying to work around other people."

you're even more curious now. you hold your clipboard to your chest and wait to hear more.

"do you ever miss it? being on your own?" another person asks.

you stop, even halting your breathing in case he would stop talking because you were there.

dating someone as popular as luka was hard, but it was worth it. he was such a handsome guy and had an even sweeter voice. it was hard not to fall for him. you felt lucky enough that he loved you too. he was always on tv or always in the studio, and he brought you along too. you wondered the same thing sometimes; did he miss not being in a relationship?

you weren't a jealous person, but you didn't enjoy luka having a partner in music videos or anything. you had told him such, and he told you that he could fix that. maybe he didn't like the hassle.

"oh, of course," he replies far more quicker than you'd like, "i'd much rather be a single idol. i could do whatever i want, but now… i always gotta’ think of others. such a pain…"

the others around him begin to ask questions about why, but you only stand still. hearing it for yourself only confirms it; luka didn't really want to be with you. it only made his life harder. you somehow always knew that.

he probably didn't want to be rude in fear that you might spread something around to everyone that he was a bad boyfriend and ruin his reputation. or maybe he was just bored.

after all, you weren’t a popstar like him. you were just another student.

“y/n, hey,” mizi and sua turn the corner to see you. the pink-haired girl holds out a pamphlet to you with a smile. “here, this is what we came up with for the concert. is it okay?”

you take it from her and try to ignore the tears threatening to spill. you don't care to stay and listen to more. instead, you turn around and walk away with the girls at your side. you couldn't let him know that you knew, not until you were ready.

after school, luka is waiting at your locker. he is leaning against the wall and scrolling on his phone with his bag on his shoulder. once you're close enough, he tucks his phone away and smiles.

"hey, pretty thing," he greets you as you put your books away, "how was your little presidential duty?"

"it was fine," you retort shortly as you pack up your things, "don't you have a recording today?"

"oh, uh, yeah," he says as he watches your face, "it's later though, i can walk you home."

"it's okay, luka, i need to do some things before i go home anyway," you state as you shut your locker. you look back to him and his pretty face that tilts at you. it takes everything in you to not show that you’re upset. “i’ll see you on monday.”

“hey, wait,” he grasps your wrist as you try to walk passed him. he’s a music sensation, he knows when people are upset and when people are angry with him. you have both of those looks on you. “what about…?”

you two are supposed to go out together on sunday. you had organised something this time — a nice picnic by the lake. the both of you were so excited for it. until now, that is.

“oh, right,” you sigh out. he freezes as you lean closer to him and press a kiss to his cheek. “have fun.”

with that, you slip out of his grasp and leave. luka doesn’t call out. maybe you were just not in the mood, or it slipped your mind and you would come to your senses later.

he texts you when he gets home, when he leaves two hours later for his recording session, and when he gets home. he even sends you photos of his dinner with him and his new band. you only heart the photo and reply dryly. you’ve never acted like this.

you just want to make it easier for him to break up with you. maybe if he realised how little you added to his amazing life then he’d finally agree to let you go.

saturday comes and goes, and finally sunday does too.

sweetheart

sorry, can’t come today, i have some things to organise before the school fest next week

luka stares down at the text with his other hand holding the picnic blanket. he stands outside his door in dismay. at this point, he’s had enough.

love

seriously? whatever.

there, you think, he’s finally done with you.

he's gotten annoyed with this change of pace. you weren't acting like yourself, and he hasn't had any good time to ask you about it properly. you just shrug it off and then leave.

he tries to think about what he did, if he did anything, and nothing comes to mind. maybe he forgot to pick something up for you? or maybe he made you miss an important meeting? he couldn't think of anything.

monday comes around and you’ve prepared yourself. you two haven’t spoken since sunday morning and you’ve found it a bit hard to do so.

luka is upset with you, and you feel unable to be enough for him. so you put your things away, attend homeroom and explain the plans for the festival that runs from wednesday to friday, and head off to help your peers.

“y/n,” a voice calls from the doorway. you glance up from painting something. luka stands there with crossed arms. “can i talk to you for a sec?”

you stand up and and follow him out to the school yard. everyone else is planning their things for the festival, so nobody would be out yet.

“okay, out with it,” he grumbles with furrowed brows, “what’s going on with us? you’ve been totally gone and i have no idea why. did something happen?”

you don’t say anything, despite what you want to say. and that makes luka a bit more upset.

“y/n, seriously. can you just talk to me? i really wanted to see you yesterday and…” he holds his breath as you continue to stare at the floor, “why are you being so distant? you act like you want nothing to do with me! and instead of talking to me, you just—”

“you’re the one who wants nothing to do with me,” you grumble out with a hot face. luka stops. “you and… you just want to be by yourself, you don’t want to be with me anymore, luka.”

“what are you talking about?” he questions, now even more confused.

“i heard you!” you say as you jab a finger into his chest, “you told your friends that you missed being single and—and you didn’t like having me around. so i… i just thought that if i stopped being around you so much, that you would break up with me. at least then it would make sense.”

you have tears pricking your eyes. luka is almost the same, simply by looking at you. he knows what you’re talking about.

“i know it’s impossible, but i sometimes wish you and i were the same,” you mumble out, “it’s hard for the both of us, i guess. i’m sorry.”

he lets out a small sigh to himself before a smile dawns on his lips. he pushes his hair back and tugs you closer, gently.

“c’mere,” he mutters out. you’re reluctant, but seeing him with a sorry smile makes you step forward and wrap your arms around his waist. he holds you around your shoulders and presses a kiss to the side of your head. “oh, you poor thing. that must’ve been holding you down all weekend.”

“luka…” you say against his shoulder as tears stain his blazer.

“i know, baby, i’m sorry,” he shushes you, “i didn’t know you were nearby when i said that, i confused you. i wasn’t talking about you, sweetheart. i was talking about how much i missed being a solo idol.”

you blink and slowly lift your head from him. with slightly puffy eyes and an embarrassed look on your face, you stare at him.

“solo idol?” you repeat.

he chuckles and reaches a hand up to brush away the tears from your cheek.

“yes, i was talking about music,” he states, “not you, my love. i’m sorry that i said it that way, i didn’t intend on making you feel that way. i would’ve never said something like that if i knew it would make you feel like this.”

you can’t even look at him anymore. you cover your face with your hands.

“ah, i’m so sorry, luka,” you mumble into your hands, “i made a big deal out of nothing.”

“it’s okay, i understand, sweet thing,” he replies to you, “you can make it up to me with that picnic date if you feel so inclined.”

you nod your head at him before luka begins pressing chaste kisses to your tear-stained cheeks.

“aw, look at you, my poor baby,” he says to you, “don’t ever think i’d say such a thing. you’re my favourite person in the world, okay? don’t want you thinking otherwise.”

you wipe away your tears and nod your head again with a smile. luka grins as well at your return of personality. he leans forward and finally presses a sweet kiss to your lips.

“now c’mon,” he says after he pulls away from you, “let’s skip the planning stuff and go get something to eat.”

“no, luka," you chuckle out as he tries to drag you away. he forgets that you take your job as class president seriously. "i need to talk to class c's representative about their event."

"ivan's such a bore," he groans, "hang out with me instead."

you have to pull him by his blazer back to his classroom as he sulks behind you. you were glad that things were back to normal, at least.

[ A LITTLE DEATH — FT. KINICH ]

synopsis: sometimes, he comes back to you with a beating heart. other times, his body is cold and limp until he reemerges from the flames. you never get used to kinich falling during the pilgrimage, but you’re certainly used to the feeling of his body

word count: 4.4k words of emotional porn. ty & goodnight

before you read: female reader ; major spoilers for natlan archon quest and kinich’s character story one ; kinich falls during the night warden war and resurrects so technical character death (but not for long) ; graphic descriptions of injuries and blood from war ; mentions of gambling, alcoholism and abuse (his father’s lore) ; slight exploration of mortality ; hand jobs ; orgasm delay (kinich to himself) ; cunnilingus ; fingering ; unprotected vaginal sex ; creampie ; not proof read because i wrote this all in tumblr drafts like the psycho i am

notes: this is an unhealthy progressing obsession. this boy is not good for my health unfortunately

“Will you stop crying?” He sighs softly, thumb tracing your cheek as it catches yet another rivulet of your sorrow.

You glare up at him, lips curled into a scowl as you sniffle and counter, “how about you stop dying?”

Kinich is no stranger to dying. He and death are good friends, in fact—he visits often, and in return, it houses him kindly for however short his visit may be.

He likes traversing the Night Kingdom, likes to speak to those who have borne his name before him. Dying isn’t so bad when you get a chance to see the things he does in the realm of the Wayob.

But you don’t like to see the aftermath. Blood. Bruises. Cuts. Gashes. Sometimes mangled limbs. Every time he falls in battle, the aftermath serves as a jarring reminder that revival is miracle you can’t take for granted.

Kinich doesn’t understand it, but he tries to. He holds you when he comes back, listening to you sniffle into his chest. He’s always silent as his hand rubs along your back, always unsure of what to say.

I lost you, you’ll always whisper first.

I was always going to come back, he’ll always respond.

The Pyro Archon, you think, loves fiercely enough to rival the God of Cryo herself. The Tsaritsa, God of Love, loves clearly. It’s delicate as it leaves chills, and yet, it is reserved, rare to find after she’s hardened herself. The God of War’s love takes form in the exact opposite. It’s blazing. Warm. Unrelenting. Irrevocably bright. It’s a flame that never dies out, that never needs a ceremony or ritual to keep burning like the contending fire.

She loves all of her children—you know that because you see it on her face, too.

The brief, fleeting flash of horror every time she sees a body. The bitter pride that comes with such a noble sacrifice. She loves her people, and that’s why, when your tears hit the ground as you cry for a fallen Kinich, she gives your hand a squeeze right before she brings enters the night kingdom to bring him back.

The people of Natlan are proud of their history. So much, that they find honor in dying for the cause.

You think you’re the only exception.

You and death are not good friends. You don’t like the way it mocks you with the limp hands of the boy you love and his beat-less heart. You don’t like the way it cozies up against him, dragging him away from you with its hand clasped firmly in his.

It never takes him away for too long before it gives him right back, but you don’t like sharing.

Not Kinich. Not with death.

Your broken out of your thoughts when his fingers gently press into your cheeks, squeezing them together as his hand tilts your head up from his chest to look into his eyes.

“I’m okay,” he insists bluntly, but never without that gentleness.

You’d laugh any other time. Always so straight to the point, you’d tease if it were some other day.

Instead, this time, you sniffle once more before you croak, “you don’t know what it’s like to witness.” Slowly, your hand creeps up his body, traveling over his abdomen before coming to a stop right over his heart. “This time…this time it was here.”

This pilgrimage, Kinich comes back to you with a stab through his heart. Other times, he’s returned pierced through his lungs from behind. Or perhaps with a bloodied head, split open by a blunt force.

It never gets easier. This time, however, you think it’s gotten even harder.

He’s quiet for a moment, like he’s contemplating what to say before he decides to toss the idea of words out entirely. Suddenly, his hands find your waist, flipping you to sit on his lower belly, legs straddling his hips.

Kinich isn’t always good with words. He can count on one hand the number of people he’s had in his life to love. His life has not been kind enough to him to allow keeping all fingers up at the same time.

One for his mother. Down.

One for his father. Down.

And one for you. Up.

He’s sure one day, he might be able to lift a finger for Mualani and Kachina, too. He cares a great deal about them, of course. But love is a difficult thing for him to grasp—perhaps because it’s always been something he never got in full.

Not until you.

More than most people, Kinich understands loss. You know that. He understands it too well, in fact. Sometimes, he wonders if he’d lost his father’s love long before the body was limp and lifeless to show for it. Sometimes, he wonders if his mother ever loved him enough to count as a loss at all. Maybe if she had, then she wouldn’t have walked away. Maybe she never loved him quite as much as she loved herself.

But you’re different for him. You love him more than you love anything else. More than yourself, too. He’s never been loved more than anything else. His father loved gambling, maybe even the burn of alcohol on his tongue, too. His mother loved freedom, and more than that, she loved the idea of living in the absence of fear. Neither loved him more than any of those things.

So, you’re different. You know that, too. You’re a loss he can’t comprehend. Not that he’s ever had to, of course, but his brain cannot handle the idea of being without you.

Maybe that’s why he doesn’t fully understand your pain. Maybe that’s why he wonders why knowing he’ll always come back from falling isn’t enough to soothe you.

He’s never loved someone who he knew would come back even in the face of death. It’s a luxury, he thinks sometimes—you get to love him with the luxury of a safety net. But you’re too precious to feel the weight of a real loss. He hopes he can shield you from it for as long as he can, one pilgrimage at a time.

His hands settle for your hips, squeezing once, twice, a third time before he sits up and pulls you closer, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips.

You kiss back easily. Drinking the breath straight from his mouth is best proof that he’s alive. You take it in greedily.

“I’m okay,” he repeats one more time. This time, it’s a much softer tone. Like a gentle reminder. Like a plead to understand.

His hand grabs yours, pressing it right over his heart so you can feel the erratic beating under your palm. Just from kissing you, it’s rapid enough that he almost feels he should be embarrassed. But you close your eyes and let out a shaky breath, making him watch you carefully as he takes in the relief in your face.

“You’re okay,” you nod slowly.

“I am,” he agrees.

You don’t know when it happens or who starts it first. One moment, your hand is traveling under his shirt to feel his bare skin, to have better contact with him so you can feel more proof he’s alive.

Warm skin. Flexing muscle. Damp sweat. When your hand finds his heart again, his hand cups the back of your head and pulls you into a heated kiss.

Clothes come off after that. It’s a blur. It’s not until you untie the bandana to uncover his forehead do you really take it all in.

Bare under you, Kinich is alive. The proof his body is breathing and pumping blood through his veins is right there before you—standing tall between his legs in the form of a flushed, red cock. Blood rushed there to prove his desire for you.

“Last time, it was here,” you whisper, thumb tracing a pale, faint scar over his ribcage, right where his lung is. “Did it hurt?”

“It did,” he nods, studying you as you don’t meet his eyes. “I don’t remember much of that, though.”

“Do you like it?” You whisper. “Is that why you do it?”

He’s silent. And then, quietly: “Sometimes.”

“Why?” You breathe, cupping his cheeks as you search his eyes for an answer.

Finally, in a rare moment, he chuckles. “Because it’s good to remember I’m alive,” he murmurs, “right before you die is when you realize you’re alive the most. Why you’re alive, too.”

“I don’t understand,” you furrow your brows in frustration. He smiles fondly, kissing your jaw as he lets out a low hum.

“I think of you,” he whispers, sucking sweetly into your skin, “and then I remember how you’re alive, too. Every time I die, you get to stay alive a little more.”

The abyss never goes away. Now, more than ever, he’s aware of that. It’s a war he has to see the winning side of, no matter the price.

There’s a loss this time that he’s unwilling to pay. Can’t bear to witness. Can’t allow to happen.

You decide you give up trying to understand—much like you do every year. Instead, you throw yourself into feeling him, pulling him into a heated, deeper kiss as your tongue glides against his. You give into the battle fast, letting him take the lead and taste you.

You’re not one for battles, not like Kinich is. You’d rather relish in peace than remember the cruelties of war.

“I love you,” you whisper against his lips. “I can’t lose you.”

“You’ve never lost me,” he argues.

“It doesn’t feel that way,” you admit quietly.

“Then let me show you I’ve always been right here.”

As if on cue, his cock twitches between your bodies, hot and throbbing as it presses against your lower belly. You reach between your bodies, wrapping around the thick girth before your thumb grazes the tip.

He shudders, stifling a groan as you slowly smear the dribbling pre cum along his length, taking gentle care to make sure you don’t hurt him.

You’ve seen Kinich hurt enough times.

“Does that feel good?” You grin slightly, watching his eyes flutter shut as you stroke him up and down, fisting around him in a tight squeeze.

“Feels great,” he breathes, “like I’m very alive.”

“Good,” you nod.

“Fuck,” he chokes when you squeeze around the tip, pace quickening as you glide your palm up and down along him faster.

Faster.

The faster he cums, the faster you’re proven he’s living once more.

But he stops you—right before he can spill into your hand, a shaky wrist comes to force yours to stop moving. You look at him questioningly, and he closes his eyes and takes labored breaths to calm himself from the slow, fading orgasm that would’ve shaken through his body.

“What are you—oh,” you gasp, when your body is flipped to lay on your back, Kinich hovering above you as he stares down at you.

You think love is the look in his eyes when he sees you like this, every time. That longing in his pupils, desperate and almost pained even though you’re right there.

Loving something is always a double edged sword. It hurts just as much as it heals—the scabs forming around your heart from his temporary departure is proof of that.

“I love you,” he whispers, kissing along your neck.

I love you isn’t something Kinich says often. You feel his love in other ways. The fresh fruit he brings you on his way back from a commission. The small kiss between your brows he always greets you with, and the delicate kiss to your mouth when he leaves. The hand on the small of your back as he guides you along places, never letting you feel his absence. The pillow he shares with you every night when you invade his space and take up his side of the bed.

You know he loves you. Being reminded is a good feeling, though. Your body shivers as you feel a familiar ache building up between your legs at his sudden confession.

“More than anything?” You ask.

“Yes,” he responds, amused.

“You better not be lying,” you warn playfully.

He chuckles—you’re slowly coming back to your usual self. Causal teasing and playful flirting. You’re all the things he’s not. Open. Vulnerable. So inexplicably bright. You smile and something in him heals. Something in him itches to do better—be better.

“When have I ever lied to you?” He challenges.

You pretend to think for a moment before caving and stretching your lips into a wide grin. The first real smile of the night. You pull him close, kissing him again. Just to kiss him. There’s no heat or desire this time around.

He kisses back sweetly. Just to kiss you.

“What did you see this time?” You whisper when you pull away. “In the Night Kingdom.”

“I don’t know,” he shrugs, tracing shapes into your hip with his thumb, “I think I was too busy thinking of you.”

Kinich is only flirty when he avoids something. He’s only ever indirect when he doesn’t want you to know something. It takes form in less honest, more playful banter that he learns from you.

You sigh, rolling your eyes half-heartedly as you whisper, “don’t lie to me.”

“I did think of you,” he insists. “It’s not a lie. I always think of you.”

He decided to prove it by dropping down to busy himself between your legs, gently spreading them enough to press his nose against your clit as he breathes you in.

Sweet. You’re always sweet. You taste and smell it. You drip of honeyed, saccharine desire. When his tongue presses between your folds, he thinks he’s dipping it in gold.

“K-kinich, wait—”

“You say that every time,” he raises a smug brow. His fingers press into you, spreading you open as he inspects your fluttering walls. “But you never mean it, do you?”

Filthy, you think. He’s got an air of pure obscenity to him that you’re sure comes only when he’s tired of feeling alone. When he needs to know you’re here for good and not just for the moment.

“You play dirty,” you scowl, twitching when his tongue swirls over your clit, the smooth rumble of his chuckle vibrating against the sensitive bud. His fingers curl into you, pressing against a very delicate, very responsive spot in the back of your walls.

“Is that so?” He drawls, “you don’t exactly seem to mind it,” he murmurs.

And then his lips wrap around your clit, sucking as his tongue rolls in circles against it as you writhe. You can feel the tips of his digits bully into that same spot over and over, making your back arch as you whine.

“Fuck,” you breathe, “baby, please.”

You don’t know what you’re pleading for. He’s giving you what you want exactly how you want it—maybe that’s why you always say it, though. So you can never stop having him. Asking and asking and hoping he’ll give you everything without pausing.

He does, too. Kinich never gives half of himself into anything. For the right price, you get all of him. You pay the price in gentle kisses along his cheek and soft fingertips in his hair. In a warm lap under his cheek when he’s tired and a soft voice to remind him he’s not alone. In a worried look every time he’s scuffed and a soft smile every time your eyes meet his.

You pay the price of your love, and he compensates you with the reward of his. It’s a fair trade.

The only difference is that unlike his other deals, Kinich would still pay his love to you even if you stopped paying yours. He couldn’t stop if he tried. It’s an exception he doesn’t exactly choose to make, but doesn’t necessarily want to change, either.

Lucky for him, you don’t show any signs of pulling away.

“You’re beautiful,” he says quietly, whispering the words into your cunt like he’s speaking directly to your desire, “and mine.”

“G-gods,” you moan, hand flying to grasp at his hair and tug as his fingers quicken their pace, fucking into your heat mercilessly as his tongue rolls over your clit.

It’s hot. It always is in the Pyro Nation. But hotter is the growing desire in the pit of your belly, and the heat between your legs that only one person can ignite. The flames lick at your sanity before something erupts in your system and all you feel is a gush of pure, white hot pleasure.

“That’s it,” he praises, working you through your orgasm as you let out a soft cry of his name.

Kinich is alive. You know that because only he could make you feel this way, and he is. He’s making you feel like there’s love between your legs as he coaxes the height of pleasure from you, buried into the apex of your thighs like it’s the only place he ever wants to be. You’re reminded that instead of blood dripping from his fingertips, it’s the essence of your arousal.

You’re reminded that when you need him, he’s never not there. Never leaving you behind from this world into another.

“I love you,” you blurt out in a post-orgasm haze.

He looks up at you with a toothy grin. It’s so rare to see him smile so freely. It’s like a child’s, sometimes. Something youthful and joyful and almost innocent enough that it makes your heart ache a little more than it does feel full.

Only a little, though.

“You say that a lot when I make you cum,” he laughs smoothly, a boyish and sweet little sound. You huff with a roll of your eyes.

“You do too,” you counter. “Maybe we only love each other when we feel good.”

“I always feel good with you,” he grins.

“I can make you feel a whole lot better,” you wink, wriggling your brows in a playful, tempting offer.

He takes it. With another soft laugh, he climbs up your body to hover his face over yours, admiring the sweat clinging to your forehead like it’s proof of his good work.

“Go on then,” he whispers. “Make me feel better. I just died today, you know.”

“I know,” you grumble only slightly, “I remember that very clearly. It was very rude of you.”

“My sincerest apologies,” he offers.

When Kinich was young, love was transactional. His father loved him with a box of sweets when a gamble of wages doubled. His mother was happy enough to afford him her gaze when there were flowers in the vase. He knew from early on not to expect any of it unless the proper price was offered.

And then he learned necessities were transactional, too. To exist is to pay a price. He watched as strangers took away his home, the remainder of his family’s belongings packed away as his mother wiped her tears. Food is not free when she is not there to tend to crops. Clothes don’t come easy when your father spends his days drinking away instead of working.

Without mora, you survive more than you live.

He hated it. Hated not having enough. Not being enough. He wasn’t enough to make his father want to be good and he wasn’t enough to make his mother want to stay. Didn’t have enough to offer for something as simple as unconditional love.

Love with you feels a lot different than what he’s grown up learning. You love him even when he’s closed off and a little cold. When his blunt words are a little too blunt and his words press hard into you with force. When he’s tired, and can’t offer you proper company, you love him, too. When he’s gone for days at a time for a commission further away, you still love him as you wait.

It’s always enough for you even when what he gives really isn’t enough at all.

He stopped trying to understand a long time ago. He’s still human—not everything can make sense with the logic of equal transaction. Sometimes, he just wants. Sometimes, he can’t give enough for what he wants. You always give it, though.

He’s stopped trying to make sense of it all for the sake of finally knowing joy. Peace. Possibly even comfort.

“Why do you love me?” He asks softly, rubbing the tip of his hard cock against your thigh. You rub along his bare back with a gentle hand, feeling the goosebumps raise along his skin under your palm.

“Because it’s easy to,” you answer.

“That’s it?”

“Isn’t life hard enough?” You shrug, “it’s nice having something simple. Loving you is easy, and that’s enough.”

“I don’t understand,” he mirrors your words from earlier. “But as long as you don’t stop, I think it’s okay.”

You want to tell him you’ll never stop loving. Every flame in Natlan will have to burn out before you stop loving Kinich. You’re confident that it’s impossible that will ever happen. But instead of words, you gently reach between your bodies to grab at his cock—it’s been hard and neglected for long enough that he lets out a soft, needy sound at the sudden touch.

You bring him to brush against your entrance, murmuring a soft, “I want you,” before he groans in response.

“Fuck,” he says shakily, “me too.”

And then, finally, he presses his tip into you, pushing past your folds and nudging into the deepest part of you.

He’s alive. You know that because you can feel him in the most rawest, purest way. Bare skin to skin. Warmth on warmth. Sweat against sweat. Body tangled into body. He’s alive and here and you can feel all of him at once.

He’s everywhere. He’s in your lungs as you kiss him and steal his breath. He’s in your heart as you feel it skip a beat for him. He’s in your soul as it burns at the very idea of him. And he’s in your cunt as he presses himself into you with a roll of his hips.

You love him when he’s alive.

You love him when he’s dead.

You love him when he’s resurrected.

You love him when he’s yours like this.

“Kinich,” you gasp, letting out a breathless moan as his tip slams into that spongy spot in your walls, “there—y-yes, like that.”

“I know,” he murmurs, grinning a little smugly enough that you feel embarrassed to already be this fallen apart. “I know exactly where.”

“Smooth talker for someone who ruined my whole day,” you huff.

“I told you I’m okay,” he grunts lowly. He kisses your throat, right over your pulse as he whispers, “I’m right here.” You whine as he rolls his hips particularly harshly to slam his cock into your most delicate spot.

“Knowing something is coming back doesn’t mean you like losing it,” you argue. “I don’t want you anywhere but here.” He gasps when your legs wrap around his waist and pull him closer as you squeeze tighter around him.

You hate seeing Kinich fall because you’re reminded it’ll happen one day for real. There’ll come a time where he won’t be resurrected. You don’t like being reminded of this simple truth.

He doesn’t understand it because he’s always too busy denying your fall. He’s too busy making sure he fights every battle to win this war so you can live beside him. So you don’t have to succumb to the cruel likes of the abyss.

Neither of you can seem to grasp the other’s mortality very well. So you try to forget in the feeling of being lost in each other’s bodies. Where proof of life blooms in every inch of skin. Every labored breath and drop of sweat, every flex of muscle and rapid thrum of a heart.

You’re alive, and so is Kinich.

He’s not alone, and neither are you.

No one has had to bear a loss, and that’s all that matters. For now, at least.

“You feel so good,” he says hoarsely, letting out a soft, low whine when your walls flutter around him at the praise. “C-can’t…can’t live without you.”

“Don’t say that,” you sob, reaching your limit, “enough talk about living. I’m tired of it.”

“Okay,” he breathes, “then just cum again for me. I want to feel you do it around me this time.”

Your second orgasm makes you forget Kinich is alive. You’re too busy feeling the rush of life yourself. Your body burns with pleasure through every nerve, the familiar snap of pressure between your legs that has your entire form spasming under Kinich.

“’M c-cumming,” you sob, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in for a sloppy kiss, muffling your sounds into his mouth as he swallows them whole.

“For me,” he hums.

“F-for you. Always for you.”

And then he cums too. Hard. For the last time, you’re hit with the evidence that he’s here with you and not somewhere else. Somewhere unreachable. Somewhere in a world apart from you.

He’s spilling warm, sticky cum into your walls with shaky arms holding him up above you, desperate rolls of his hips as he lets out choked sounds.

Skin slaps against skin and a combination of your arousals leaves a mess smeared between your legs, spilling down your inner thighs.

“Fuck—ngh. I’m…I’m…” he trails off.

He’s never been good with words like you. So instead, he buries his head into your neck and presses his nose into your skin, letting you cradle the back to his head so he knows you’re there.

“I know,” you pant, letting him fuck himself into you and ride out the high of his orgasm.

I know you need me. I need you too.

When he slumps over your body, you can feel his heart beat against yours. Rapid. Erratic. Harsh. Pounding. All of it is proof you’re both painfully mortal as you are alive.

“I love you,” you both whisper at the same time, utterly spent.

“You’re alive,” you breathe out a sigh of relief as your eyes close tiredly.

He hums, lifting his head to press a soft peck to your lips before he slumps into your neck against. “And so are you,” he murmurs in exhaustion.

You both fall asleep together with another year behind you.

Writing an emotional Kinich is actually really hard I’m not sure I even got it right bc we haven’t seen nearly enough of him but 😭 I hope this was not ooc enough that it was slightly believable. IDK I had a hard time deciding how he’d be in an emotionally charged moment of intimacy

build-a-bear.

kim woonhak x reader

idol! woonhak x non-idol! reader, established relationship. based on this woonhak scenario i wrote a while back!! cuss words, first i love yous. lowercase intended. pls excuse any spelling mistakes or grammatical errors. enjoyy <3

wc: 3,324

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖

"fine then." - "fine!"

those were the last two words kim woonhak and yn ln had spoken to each other before she had slammed her front door shut on his face, before he had angrily turned around and begun walking towards the exit of her apartment building, before she had shut her blinds and stuffed her head deep into her white sheets, staining the fabric with silly little tears.

they didn't want to fight. in fact, the young couple rarely ever did so in the first place. however, with the newly debuted idol boy's rising fame, and the girl's growing insecurities, it was almost inevitable this one particular argument was going to come up onto the surface of their otherwise wholesome relationship.

you see, yn and woonhak have known each other for ages now. when he first started showing signs of his dream career, she was the first to support him- heck! she even came to all the auditions with him and gave him endless moral support. similarly, he was always there for her, accompanying her when she had to study late for an exam, or even sending her chocolates and other sweets when it was that time of the month. the pair have mutually liked each other forever, and they both knew that as well. it didn't take them long at all before they started officially dating, sharing one awkward kiss under the moonlight before he left again to the next city over to start the preparations for his coming debut.

from then on, she started seeing him less and less. their daily conversations on the phone had become simple good night and good morning texts that don't really give her much of a serotonin boost anymore. she missed him, and she always let him know. he missed her too, he just didn't have the time to tell her. she'd complain about it, "you don't have time for me anymore, huh?" and he'd furrow his eyebrows, "i have a job to do, yn. i thought you supported me the most?" then she'd gasp, taken aback by his words, her own eyebrows knitting together and her eyes almost glowing red in anger. for a second, she saw the way his eyes watered, like he knew he was wrong. but kim woonhak was stubborn, quickly shaking away that look and mimicking her own furious one. and that's how it happened. that's how they ended up in this battle of silence, secretly waiting for the other to break and end this cold war they didn't even want in the first place.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖

woonhak sighs as he finally takes off his shoes. schedules ended earlier and the boy still had practically the whole day to do whatever he wanted. he watched as his members went their own ways, leehan and riwoo heading to some cafe, taesan locking himself up in his studio as per usual, sungho going out to see a movie, and jaehyun...sitting on the couch in the middle of a very serious fifa game.

"so where you headed, broski?" jaehyun suddenly asks the boy, still not looking away from the TV screen. "going to see your girlfriend? or are you still not talking to her like an idiot?" he snickered, earning a big eye roll and middle finger directed at his face from the younger boy. "i don't know hyung...i mean i obviously want to see her...but i'm not sure how she'll forgive me when i've been such an asshole" woonhak says, slumping himself down on the spot beside the older member. "just...ah-!" jae cut himself off when he misses a goal in the video game, "just go get her a gift or something- don't girls like that stuff?" once again the younger one rolls his eyes, but he nods at his leader's suggestion. "i guess you're right hyung...i'm gonna go to the mall and find something" and with that the kim boy gets up, slipping back on his shoes and grabbing himself a cap to cover up his messy hair before running out the door and down the building to call himself a taxi.

woonhak arrives at the mall, dragging his feet solemnly as he passed by multiple young couples on dates. "seriously...it's not even valentine's day...why is everyone out on a date here right now?!" he grumbled to himself, probably looking like a big ol' loser to the outside eyes that felt like they lingered on him as he walked. the boy circles the mall for what he swore were hours but he found nothing at all that was worthy enough to gift his angry girlfriend. "ugh..." the boy groans as he's one step closer to giving up and just meeting with her empty handed like the idiot that everyone kept saying he was. however, all those doubts immediately exited his head when a familiar large sign appears in his line of sight. it's bright yellow with a giant brown bear and beside it in big blue lettering, it read:

build-a-bear workshop.

"perfect!" he almost said too loudly as his eyes gleamed and began to sparkle. in the moment it seemed as though a big bright light-bulb had gone off in his head, his large feet padding against the floor and taking him into the kid's doll factory. the boy's eyes were wide and his mouth hung opened as he took in his surroundings. a huge variety of stuffed animals, in all kinds of shapes, sizes, and designs stood against every corner of the shop. on high shelves, rows and rows of clothes, all perfectly tailored to fit the standard plush toy size.

woonhak didn't know where to start. the loud speakers that played recent k-pop hits, mixed with the sound of little kids running around and dragging their parents in and out of the store made his ears ring and head hurt a little. his finger grazed against the wood as he scanned through every skin you could pick for your toy, there were cats, dogs, even moths! but one thing in particular caught the boy's attention. right there in the very corner of the store, just a simple brown bear. there was only one left in stock and it was just perfect. it's fur was light brown, it's legs were slightly longer than it should be, and it had the sweetest set of little dark brown orbs for eyes. even if he tried to, woonhak couldn't deny the fact that the teddy was nearly the spitting image of himself.

"okay, now rub the heart against your chest, hold it in your palms and give it your best wishes!" the tall guy's cheeks turn bright red as he follows the bear stuff-er's instructions, praying to god no one recognized him beneath his cap and beginning to regret doing all of this in the first place. it was all over in a second though, the bear being all stuffed up, it's heart and a little recording he did all wrapped up warmly inside it's cotton flesh. now it was time to dress it. woonhak hasn't really had any experience dressing anyone but himself, so it was really hard for him to not dress the plush toy like it had just raided his own closet. and so, naturally, the boy chooses a light blue jersey and a miniature pair of denim jeans, a cute pair of black sunglasses as an add-on accessory to it's look as well.

"now, all that's left to do is to name it...but what..." he mumbles to himself, tapping his fingers against the surface of the table that was much much shorter than him. "hey mister" a squeaky voice, and the feeling of his sweatshirt getting tugged down shakes him out of his thoughts. "huh?" he asked, looking down to meet eyes with a little girl. "mister, that doll looks just like you!" her eyes disappeared as she smiled- well, if you could even see them under her thick bangs that messily decorated her forehead, and she shot him a toothy grin. "me?" the boy asks, beginning to smile too at the sweet girl. "mhm!" she says finally before running away. "great..." he says, smiling proudly at himself as he begins to type out the teddy's name for it's birth certificate.

"there you go, have a nice day and come again soon!" woonhak nods, thanking the cashier before leaving the store. "like hell i'm going in there again..." he whispers to himself, the image of his own self awkwardly pressing kisses onto a miniature plastic heart in the middle of a kid's store flashing in his head as he began to walk out of the mall and into a cab. he's on his way back to the dorm now, trying his best to stuff the build-a-bear box in his large tote-bag so that his group members wouldn't see it. cause if they ever did, he'd never ever hear the end of it. woonhak throws his shoes off on the rack, quickly making his way over to his bedroom and trying his best to avoid his hyungs that were playing together in the living area. "so, what you got there, woonagi~?" leehan called out from the bean-bag on the floor. "yeah bro, show us what you got for your girl~friend~" taesan follows, dragging out his words teasingly. "it's nothing, leave me alone! and DON'T come in the room" the tall maknae boy says sternly, narrowing his eyes at the others who just stifled in their laughs and nodded.

the kim guy can't help but giggle like a child as he pulls out the doll, sighing once as he places it and it's papers into a different bag; a gift bag he had picked up before leaving the mall, it was pink and just the right size to fit the rather beefy bear. "now...the hard part" he sighs once more as he picks up his phone, his chatroom with her vacant, no new messages since their argument the other day. it felt foreign, unusual for he always had new messages from her. the boy takes a deep breath, fingers tapping softly against the screen of his phone as he began to type. it takes him a while though, coming up with a sentence and then deleting it all and starting again and again, until finally, he pressed send.

i know u hate me rn but i literally cant function without u pls meet me at the park tonight let me make it up to u please?

the boy doesn't expect her to open his texts so fast, he finds himself twirling his lips against his teeth as he watches the way three dots begin to bounce up and down on her side of the chatroom. he doesn't even realize he's holding his breath until her response causes him to let it all out. it's simple, dry, still unlike her, but at least it's something.

my love<3 ok, see u in 5.

"bye guys wish me luck" woonhak calls out as he rushes out the door, the sound of his confused (but supportive) members growing faint as the door closes behind him.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖

by the time the boy gets to the park she was already there. yn ln, sitting patiently against the green grass. her hair fell loose against the skin of her arms, he could see from where he stood afar the way the breeze sent a shiver down her spine. "how long have you been waiting?" he asks, finally sitting down beside her. "not long" yn's words are cold, much like the atmosphere of the night. and her eyes stayed glued towards the distance, juxtaposing the way his ones remained fixed onto her.

"please look at me" woonhak practically begs, not really knowing when or how his voice got so small. the girl's breath hitches, tears threating to spill out of her eyes as she lets out a sigh and closes them shut. "yn..." he drags out, a shaky hand reaching over to turn her head to face his. "please?" he asks again. this time, she opens her eyes, tearing up slightly at the very sight of him. she couldn't do it anymore. she can't sit there and pretend to hate him, pretend to be angry at him, pretend she didn't miss him. she can't lie anymore. "woonhak" she says, her voice warmer now and a hint of content laced in the way that she spoke. "hey" he said, a smile beginning to grow against his face. "hey" she repeated, her own lips flipping up as well.

"i'm so sorry" the boy says, scooting to sit closer to her. "why? i should be the sorry one, i was being inconsiderate and-" the girl couldn't finish. "no! i was being selfish. this whole idol thing...it's so busy but that doesn't mean i get to be a total asshole about it to you...so, i'm sorry, yn" the features on her face soften as she looks into the genuine sorrow in his own. she lets out a laugh, confusing the boy a little. "don't worry...i get it. i guess i just...missed you, a little, that's all" yn reasons, a sweet smile tugging at her mouth as she slowly leans her head against his shoulder. woonhak reacts almost immediately, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her deep into his embrace. "i...i missed you too"

"what's in the bag?"

the boy sits up straight when her question slips into his ears. "ah! this...this is just a gift i got you...um...here!" he stutters a bit, suddenly flustered by his own romantic gesture. "for me?!" she gasps and he nods, scratching the back of his head, though there was nothing itchy about it at all. "wow...rising rookie idol kim woonhak of boynextdoor bought little ol' me a gift?!" now he rolls his eyes, as if he were telling his girlfriend to shut up and open it already.

"what is it...?" yn mumbles just above a whisper, carefully opening up the ribbon and revealing the insides of the pink paper bag. her mouth drops open as she pulls the bear out, squealing all too loudly as her eyes adored the jersey-wearing teddy bear in her hands. "ah! i love it i love it!" she cheered, wrapping the doll in her arms and hugging it so tight it might just explode. her eyes gleamed, looking up at her boyfriend then back at the bear and then right back at him again. "where's the birth certificate thingy...wait" yn spoke, looking back in the bag for the printed piece of paper. "hah!" she exclaimed, her smile reaching her eyes as she read through her doll's information. "birth name...kim unak...how...fitting" she said, shooting her boyfriend a look of slight disbelief he would name a doll after himself. "hey! don't look at me like that, some kid said he looked like me!" woonhak argued, grabbing the bear and holding it up beside his face. "hm...the kid was so right" yn replied, finding the resemblance quite cute.

"thank you woonhak, i love it..." her loving expression as she patted a hand against the fur of the stuffed toy's head was enough to satisfy the boy for the rest of his life. "oh! and...um...if you ever miss me when i'm busy...just press on his hand- but not right now! it's embarrassing! do it later!" he panics, sighing in relief when she moves her hand away from the heart-shaped patch on the bear's one. "okay then..."

the rest of the night was spent in peace. just a couple of sweet teens finding comfort in each other's arms after being separated from each other for far too long (it's been like two days pls don't be dramatic). "and so then i told professor yang about it and he totally freaked and...are you even listening to me?" yn stops mid-story, her head that laid on his lap shifting slightly to get a better look at his face. the face that stayed still staring at her blankly, his large hand mindlessly stroking her hair as she talked about whatever it was that he didn't really seem to be listening to well enough. "hello? woonhak?" he shook his head, "huh? what? sorry...i got kind of distracted" she chuckles, rolling her eyes playfully as she sits back up. "am i distracting you with my beauty again?" yn teases, loving the way his cheeks grow red and his hands fly up to cover his face. she giggles, pushing the boy down on his shoulders, sending him toppling on his back onto the grass.

she hovers over him, moving his hands away so she could see him clearly against the bright moonlight. the boy smiles softly at her, reaching up to push her hair behind her ears. his hand lingers, moving to cup at her blushy cheeks. yn giggles, finding his touch ticklish against her skin. "yn..." he begins, voice rather raspy from the way he fully laid down on the ground. "mhm?" she hums, head tilting to the side in curiosity as her boyfriend sat up again.

"i love you"

his voice was clear now, not a single bit of shakiness or fear in the way that he spoke. she smiled, not even a little bit shocked from the words that came out of his mouth because she knew. she knew all along that he felt that way, and she knew that she had always felt the same way for him too, she had just been waiting for the right moment where one of them would say it out loud first. yn presses a hand on either side of his warm complexion, pulling him in for a short kiss. it was sweet, a honey flavour from her lip-balm seeping onto his tongue. then they parted, hands still holding onto each other's faces and she smiles, he's grinning with all his teeth showing.

"i love you too, woonhak"

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖

later that night when yn ln got home, she hastily kicked off her shoes and ran straight to her bedroom. she didn't even care to properly put away her bag and her coat, jumping straight onto her bed and pulling out the brown teddy her boyfriend had gifted her earlier.

"...if you ever miss me when i'm busy...just press on his hand" his words replayed in her mind, "press on his hand..." she whispered to herself, carefully gripping onto the stuffed toy's hand, putting just enough pressure on it until she heard a click of a button. a moment of silence engulfed the atmosphere around her, just a moment before woonhak's voice began to sing out of the cheapest sounding speaker located within the bear.

"Mm mm 지금 내 playlist...금요일에 시간 어때요? 내 새벽을 망치지 마요..."

his own song, his debut song. he sang it just for her. her own serenade to listen to whenever they couldn't meet...

aw, rising rookie idol kim woonhak from boynextdoor...what a sweetheart, you are <3

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖

"i'm home! hyung...? what are you guys laughing about?" woonhak furrows his eyebrows as he walks towards the living room. riwoo sighs, calming down from his fit of laughter. "so...did she like the build-a-bear?" he asked, breaking into hysterics once again, as did the others. "huh? WHAT HOW'D YOU FIND OUT?" the maknae boy couldn't believe his ears, eyes widening and mouth dropping opened. "woonhak...it's all over the internet!" sungho exclaims, turning his phone over to show him the source of all their laughter right now.

"what...oh my god" the boy's whole body grows a ripe-tomato-shade of red. there, on the older member's screen, a fan-taken video of him at the build-a-bear store, the cap on his head failing to hide the obvious embarrassment on his face as he stands near the stuffing machine of the store, awkwardly wishing his newly stuffed teddy a good life and rubbing it's plastic heart within his palms.

at least his girlfriend's reaction was worth it...cause there's no fucking way his hyungs are ever gonna let this one go...EVER!

the end.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖

i feel like this sucked but it's cute idk idk idk i just want loverboy woonhak so soososososo badly hes so sweet :( i locve him im crying while typing this btw hope u enjoyed TT reblogs n feedbacks r soso appreciated i love u guys so much. love, kona. MWAHHHH

to chase a dream | zhang hao ˚₊‧⁺˖

all your life, you and zhang hao have been chasing each other. you wonder here, if this is where your symphony ends.

TAGS: musician!au, gn!reader, rivals to lovers, angst with happy ending, suggestive!makeout

A/N: something about zhang hao called for dramatics so here i am (≧∇≦)ﾉ ! self-indulgent as usual :)

WORDS: ~1450, EXTRA: music info and terms here !!

"That was wonderful playing earlier."

History doesn't even begin to describe what you have between you two.

Your friends could joke that there would be enough to write an opera. Star crossed and all. All about the virtuosos of violin and piano. Of Zhang Hao and you.

You want to hark it back to those fitful days in grade school. Full days of comparing sheet music, trying to one-up each other about the difficulty. Hao, and his too big violin case and you, trouncing him every talent show because his hands hadn't quite yet grown out of their stubbiness. The satisfaction in remembering those big whiny tears brings warmth to your soul.

Then, there came high school.

Oh, you loathe it; he doesn't. Not when his hands became a study in lines and grace. Envy would eat you alive if you had any less pride. But you weren't so above yourself to not look at him. Hard to not notice when he grows a head taller and of course, starts topping the local competitions only to shove it under your face.

Your parents loved it. Gave a reason to push you further and deeper into competitions and over the top galas. To push your fire against someone who was all finely diced ice. There was nothing you liked less when you wanted to live for the glory of the crowd, not medals and flowers.

Eyes followed you everywhere when he was in the picture. And yours always found his.

"Here to mock me?" you ask.

The laugh you draw is enchanting. "Never." And it's so sincere you might just believe it. "Just here to say my farewells."

The Winter Gala spins behind both of you: through a door, down some ornate stairs and into a pit of some thoroughly drunk musicians. From the balcony, only the trickles of laughter and music eke out the door. But you would hardly focus on that, not when Hao stands very plainly in front of you.

"Already? it's only an hour into reception." You twirl the champagne in your hand with consideration before you gesture him to come to where you lean on the balcony rail. "Thought you would stay to kiss ass with some of the others."

"Not this time. No, I mean..." The howl of the wind carries his unease. Traffic horns and gala laughter do nothing to smother whatever he tries to hide in his tone. You know him too well.

There's more than history between you two.

But whatever he says next has you rethinking everything. "I'm leaving, leaving. I won't be back in the country for a while so, here I am."

There's a moment where you think he's entirely pulling your leg. Pulling you along to another little joke at your expense. But you've known him your entire life at this point, and you’ve been through too much to realize that he’s not joking.

“… Am I the first to know?”

You count the beats and steady your breath. Years of this, all for what?

“Only Minghao-Ge and Junhui-Ge, and now you. But knowing them, they’ll be drunk enough tonight to let it slip,” he explains in this awfully fond tone. “Mark Lee from the LSO watched me perform at the showcase in July and scouted for me. I think he got on Junhui-Ge’s nerves with how much he emailed him.”

Medals and flowers. Smiles and bows. The curtain draws, where are you now?

"Congrats," you say after a second – watching nothing but your past fly by you. Despite the ache, you raise your glass. "Cheers," you smile and take a sip. Raising it into the moonlight and offering the glass to Hao for his own toast but he just shakes his head.

You pout. "Don’t like it?”

Instead, he takes the glass from you and settles it onto the edge. Pink dusts his cheeks as watches you from the corner of your eye. “Want to remember this.”

Heat flares to your cheeks at the weight of Hao’s words. A night to remember is one way to put it.

"So, when are you off to London?"

"This Monday."

You blink. "... That's fast."

"Why? You think you'll miss me?" and it's said with that smile of his. Infuriating and secret, so many layers of discourse that haunt you – it’s a memory that you'll take to the grave.

"Of course, it's you," you mutter, disgustingly honest with yourself. "It'll just be... quiet, without your excuse of music causing a riot." Honestly, you can barely hear Hao's chuckle when you're too stuck in your head to mind the charm in it.

You want to edge back into your comfort zone of easy quips, nothing serious but scathing wit. But nothing you say lights the fight that used to start so easy back when you two were younger. When your worries were small like the cars below.

A full look at his face is all you want to chance a glance for. What would you see? Remorse? Eagerness? Disappointment? You could read him like a book with a single glance, what’s stopping you now?

"What about you? are you going to stay in Singapore? I thought you'd be the one to chase excitement."

"I’ll chase whatever my parents dangle in front of me.” And the laugh he breathes is empty because you both know it’s bitter but true. Hao’s stood aside long enough to understand. So, when he sidles closer next to you it warms you more than they ever did. "Yixing-Ge told me he's also planning to leave for Boston, promised me that I'll get his seat when it happens."

"If it happens,” he teases.

"It’ll happen."

You nearly jump when you feel it. Hao’s warm hand on top of yours. It’s spindly and calloused, worn out in the way a weathered musician’s should be. It’s all you need to guide you back to where you are.

"I know you'll make it. Just make sure it's something you want.” Hao’s breath is right next to your ear. Clear as day and easy as a song. It’s so simple to say: take what you want.  

Blood in your ears, chest heaving, nothing to catch you when you fall but the discordant crash of keys.

It sounds like a melody.

"It's never going to be something I want."

"Then, what do you want?"

You.

Instead, you turn to face Zhang Hao. A challenge of a smile on your lips because you know where this ends.

To face the music, the crowd, the eyes that watch.

"What's it like? to chase a dream?" you ask.

Brutal, visceral, freeing. An infinite number of interpretations for one word.

The stage becomes your world, and the spotlight burns you alive. Pressure flays your skin even as your fingers glide across smooth keys and you hush your heaving breath. Running to your last page, heart in your hands, smearing red across white. There's no audience when you dream; you are your own critic, you are your own end, but your destiny is not you.

To chase a dream is to become raw.

"Like chasing you."

You hum low and satisfied. Carding a hand through Hao’s hair, you guide him down.

Kissing Zhang Hao feels like being on stage all over again. Being set on fire, skin flaying, blood rushing. It’s everything he isn’t, but everything you are.

You swallow his groan, biting across his lips as your hands trail down him. Everywhere you've wanted to touch feels unbearable. You want to chase this feeling: Hao's hands on your hips and cradling your jaw. Trailing his red ears and holding around his throat; it's little fires everywhere.

Distance doesn’t exist as you push into each other. Hao has you against the rail, hands cradling you like you’re his own instrument. Playing you to pluck you into satisfaction.

Years of us, made for this final movement.

This ache and greed that makes musicians like you two come alive. You know Hao as your years of black and white keys that haunt your dreams and make your reality. There isn’t a crevice in his mind you haven’t touched or a melody that he’s played where he never thought of you.

You hold Hao by the chin, determination set into your eyes and a chord of steel in your tone. "There better be a future for us – I’m not having you leave me here in your past.”

"Anything," he breathes against you. More than history. More than a future. Chasing your dream. "Anything for you."

thanks so much for reading !! this was a tough one but i'm glad i wrote it ! if you enjoyed please like or reblog :D ⭒ masterlist

"don't you think you should say thank you to me?" chigiri watches as your eyes light up and you grab the popsicle in his hand, shoving it into your mouth like it'll disappear if you don't consume it immediately.

you roll your eyes, ice balancing on your tongue. "i ask you to buy me one thing-"

"a kiss will do, you know." he arches his eyebrows at you, waving his matching popsicle in the air. "i'm not picky."

"you think you're so smooth, don't you? don't your friends call you princess? no wonder you want a kiss."

chigiri smirks at that. "can't be a princess when i'm with you, then there'd be two of us, and then who'll buy your popsicles?"

you look at him like he's just given you a new fear, so adoringly sweet that he brings you in close with a laugh.

"besides," he tilts your hair back over your shoulder, fingertips gently brushing against your neck. "i'm not the kind to just lie down and take it. a girl like you though…"

you shove him, your face heating up, but your hand meets hard muscle and he doesn't budge, just smiles wickedly.

"A FAVOR FOR A FAVOR," with GENSHIN IMPACT.

synopsis: he helps you with something and it's only fair you pay him back, right? (mondstadt vers.)

characters: dom! aether, venti, albedo, diluc, and keaya x gn! sub! reader

includes: (nsfw themes) aether's a menace, sweat kink, darcyphillia, rough sex, cumming inside, venti's a menace, fucking in a cathedral, wall sex, clothed sex, size kink, albedo's a menace, spanking, hot/cold play, orgasm denial, fingering, thigh grinding, outdoor sex, diluc's a menace, mister kink, begging kink, slapping, spit kink, deepthroating, blowjob, lmk if i missed smthg.

aether, the outlander.

aether is always doing favors for people, but when it's with you, it's never a chore. you needed help clearing out a domain, and you offered to do something to compensate him sometime. and now that he's finally alone with you, he gets the chance to finally use that favor you owe him.

-- "fuck, you're so hot, [name]." he smiles as his delicate, yet scarred, fingers trace across your tear-covered face. he lays above you, sitting on your torso, pinning your hands down as he admires your beauty. even through through pain and battle, you manage to stay as perfect as ever.

aether was thanked profusely for helping you with this domain, and the challenge was a little hard, resulting in a bit of ripped clothing and a bunch of sweat dripping down your body, while he was only left with a major problem in his pants.

and he just couldn't resist himself. plus, you owed him a favor after all. and you both wanted it, so what's the harm?

his smile is almost maniacal as he drags his tongue across your tears and sweat dripping down your face. the tears from the minutes of torment on your delicate nipples and hole. "you're disgusting aether," you gag despite being turned on. "yes, but you love it, darling."

he had to be quick to fuck you, because you automatically get kicked out the domain after 16 minutes. around 6 minutes have passed already, leaving 10 more minutes of torture to continue.

aether leans down and licks your lips, the salty taste of tears and sweat coming onto your own tastebuds. the kiss is quick, rushed, but still desperate. he finally gets off your stomach, "on all fours." he demands.

this commanding voice he has turns you on to unimaginable extents, and you do as he says. after all, the clock is running and the both of you've still yet to cum.

he pulls his pants down just enough to spring in growing cock out. it leaks milky white precum, and it looks a flushed red, just like his face. you're already prepped, his torture on your hole proof enough. he lines himself up and thrusts in quickly, the strength of it propelling you forwards.

your face smushed into the hard domain floors, and your hips were harshly grabbed by the blonde fucking you. "a-aether slow down!" you wail, using one hand to try to push his hips back, but it's far from enough to stop his brutish thrusts against you.

"can't, darling. there's only --fuck-- 4 minutes left and we have to cum and collect our rewards, remember?" he uses this as an excuse to fuck you harder, his nails digging into your hips and pulling you further back into him. his thrust get faster somehow, and you're used like a fucktoy in his hands.

"aether, i-i think i'm c-cumingg~!" you wail, feeling the high of orgasm quickly approaching. aether can tell, he's about too to, and he only thrusts faster to make the approaching high all the more satisfying. "fuck! me too!"

with a particularly deep thrust, spurts of aether's hot load paint your insides white.

you and aether both moan loudly, the sound echoing throughout the domain. you collapse on the domain floor, aether's cum dripping out of you.

you both pant. he slaps your ass, "get your clothes on and lets get our rewards and i'll take you back to mondstadt so we can finish, 'kay?" you nod, tears still slipping from your eyes. he helps you up, your legs still wobbly from your endeavors.

wait- it finally hit you. he said he can finish when he gets back, right? here, he was bound to 16 minutes, who knows what he can do with endless time on his hands? well, i guess you'll have to be the lucky traveler to find out.

venti, the windborne "bard".

you needed help with getting atop a mountain, and venti was conveniently there for you to make a little wind rift to boost you up. it was a favor, one you'd have to soon repay. although he could have used the nice view of your ass as a reward, he needed something more.

-- "v-venti! you're gonna get us caught!" you quietly wail as he fingers you faster inside a closet at the church of favonius. a service in worship to lord barbatos was going on not too far away, the same lord barbatos who was toying with you.

venti curls his fingers in a particular way that has you release a high pitched moan, quickly covering your mouth in embarrassment. he chuckles, thrusting even faster and curling his fingers even deeper into the spot that makes your vision white.

"for someone so scared of being caught," he places a kiss on your neck, licking the area over, "you sure do make a lot of noise. but let's see how loud you can get, yeah?"

your mind regrets even allowing him to get as far as leading you away from the church but your body is happy it made the decision of letting him drag you away from a holy service in order to make some unholy deeds happen. in most situations, it's mind over body. but for venti, your body's desire outweighs whatever logical thoughts you had.

he removes his fingers and licks them clean, much to your disappointment, resulting in a whine, "don't worry, [name]. this will be much better than what my fingers can do." he chuckles again, removing his pants and jerking his cock to full size. your eyes widen in surprise as you notice his large size despite his small stature.

"venti, there's no way that can fit. you aren't seriously gonna put it in me, right? venti? venti-" you panicked at first, scared of his initial size. he was huge! but you stopped panicking when he finally thrusted inside, stretching you open.

he ignores your concerns, only focused on the feeling of your wrapped around his cock. "you're so cute windblume~ remember, i'm doing this because you owe me a favor. consider this my compensation for helping you that day! plus, i'm sure that even if you hadn't owed me this we still would have found ourselves doing this at some point."

a high moan escapes you lips as you claw at venti's back, careful not to rip his delicate clothing. he continues to thrust into until he's balls deep inside you. pulling out until only the tip is in, he thrusts into hard, fast, and deep. you shake in his arms, quietly moaning out his name in hopes he'd slow down. but there's a slim chance he'll do it.

after all, he's the god of freedom in his own church and you're a consenting traveler who's willing to be a god's plaything.

albedo, the kreideprinz.

albedo has always been one for "if you give, you take." he's a generous soul, but he still must be repaid if he does you a favor. and since he gave you warmth in the freezing cold of dragonspine, it's only right that he takes something in return, correct? and who knows, maybe what he takes could benefit the both of you on this cold dragonspine night.

-- "tell me dear, are you feeling warmer now?" albedo breathes down your neck, one hand toying with your hard nipples and the other using two fingers to loosen you for his cock. you could feel his hard on against your ass, and it felt big.

in his camp, you could feel the warmth of a nearby fire which warmed you up instantly, but it suddenly felt too hot. "i feel too hot, 'bedo." you whine as you feel him pull your nipple a bit too hard.

he chuckles, "you told me you wanted to be warmer, so i made you warmer." he pulls your face close to his, kissing you and only adding to the heat forming between your legs

after striking a nerve deep inside you with his fingers, you moaned out loudly, almost shamelessly arching your back against him. "'bedo, too hot! i think i'm gonna cum!" you start grinding against his fingers and back onto his clothed dick.

"you are? really?" he questions condescendingly. you throw your head back further onto his shoulder as he speeds up his fingers. "cumming! i'm cumming!" and right before you cum onto albedo's pretty fingers, he pulls out, forcing you to not reach your orgasm.

the tears stream down your face switch from pleasure to pain. "albedo, please! wh-why'd you pull out?" you whine, grinding against him in hopes of received some sort of pleasuring friction.

albedo doesn't like this. he removes his hand from you nipple has it join his wet fingers on your hips to stop you from grinding. "i had to pull out because you said you were too hot. i would hate to make you too hot, dear."

you don't even think about what you're doing, only wanting to reach the high that was taken away from you. you try to pry off albedo's hands off your hips, pulling and hitting him. "'bedo, please! just keep fingering me! i'll suck you off afterwards or let you fuck me however you want, just continue please!" despite your fruitless efforts, you continue to try and grind against him.

he stares at you coldly, almost as harsh as the frozen winds that got you in this situation. "that's not very nice, now is it, dear?" he pushes you off him and pats his lap. shit. you just got yourself in more trouble than a single orgasm was worth.

you bend over his lap, mentally preparing yourself for whats to come. "m'sorry 'bedo," he shushes you in return, sliding is cold pointer finger drown your back and onto your ass. he rubs it gently, almost like he wasn't about to ruin you. he gives one harsh smack, demanding you count. and you do, until he reaches 12 and he starts to the knead the sore skin of your ass.

"archons, you're pathetic. i can feel you even through my pants. remember, if give you something, i will take in return. so i'll give you this punishment and i'll take you as i please. it's stupid how you think you have a say in this matter, dear."

diluc, the darkside of dawn.

diluc was a fair man. willing to help to an extent even with nothing in return. but when it came to sweet little you, in need of saving from some hilichurls, he was willing to help in a heartbeat without even needing compensation. but when you offer to do as he pleases, he was more than willing to lose his fairness all in the favor of finally taking you.

-- "m-mister diluc! what if someone from the adventurer's guild sees us? we're in public!" diluc only shushes you with a slow but desperate kiss. it leaves you wanting more, and you only wonder if it's your fault for offering to pay him back in such an unholy way. especially in the middle of windrise when you were supposed to be on a picnic? how shameful.

you whine into his kiss, tangling your hands in his hair and pulling him closer to your lips. diluc only thrusts deeper inside you, kissing you more desperately as you moan into his lips.

he loves this feeling. you being putting in his hands. he loves the control, -- the kind, fair man he's painted himself as is starting fade away as he feels you clench around him, moan into his lips, and pull him closer like a lover.

he relishes in your warm embrace, finally pulling away from your lips to kiss at your pebbled nipples. you moan- a sweet, yet loud out escaping from your lips. he kisses your nipples, licking across your chest before he works his way to your neck to leave hickies.

"thank you, thank you thank you, thank you, thank you!" you babble mindlessly, removing your hands from his hair and to the blanket underneath you, gripping it tightly.

he goes back to your lips, kissing you deeply as he keeps his steady pace of thrusting into you. the kiss is short, and he pulls away to ask you a question. "what are you thanking me for?" he asks. tears stream down your face.

yes, you're greatly indebted to diluc for saving you but you're already sore and you've barely been fucked. "i-" he slaps you across your face, annoyed with your stalling.

"remember, [name]. you're the one who wanted to pay me back. can you not handle your own decision?"

kaeya, the calvary captain.

kaeya isn't really one to help someone out unless it's commanded of him. but for you, his darling subordinate, he'll do anything. but you just can't get something for nothing while dealing with him. with his help clearing out some of your paperwork, you now owe him, and he's sure to not let your forget.

-- "poor slut can't take anymore?" he taunts. you're on your knees in front of your boss sucking him off like some common whore. you're not, you're only giving him whats due. with kaeya, there's not even a point in trying to change his mind. if he wants his cock down your throat, he'll get his cock down your throat.

but luckily you're more willing, and he'll only push you down further on his surprisingly huge dick. "just like that, slut." he groans, leaning his head back with a groan and pushing your head down further. "juustt like that."

you choke on his cock, the spit and precum being barely enough lubrication to make his cock slide easily in your throat. tears stream down your face and kaeya's eye meet yours. he only smiles, pushing your head down slightly further as a tease.

it felt good, the burn of the throat feeling like nothing compared to the satisfaction of pleasing your boss. the more you gag, the more your throat clenches around him, and you can tell kaeya's absolutely losing it.

he moves your head up and down his cock swiftly, pulling you off suddenly and jerking his cock to his release. and when it finally came, warm spurts of white cum ended up all over your face. he pants heavily and looks down at his creation.

before him kneels a desperate, panting, cum-covered slut for him and him alone to use. he uses him thumb to smear some cum over your lips and force you to taste it. the salty taste makes you gag, but it still tastes good. "open." and you open your mouth obediently. he spits in your mouth, "swallow." and you do obediently.

kaeya chuckles at your ruined face and he can only think ow much he can ruin your body. you're still in his debt, afterall.

"now that i've ruined your pretty little mouth, how about i ruin something else?"

🎧 txt as — late night texts!

txt as various late night messages they send to their s/o! | requested via poll!

warnings — suggestive content in taehyun’s, angst in yeonjun & kai’s, swearing, kys used in a joking manner, mentions of kissing, lovesick tubatu

genre — smau, crack, established relationship, fluff

[note] — i have nothing to say for myself... i just want all of them to hold my hand expeditiously. like soobin i'm available anytime!! 🥲

ᰔ yeonjun

ᰔ soobin

ᰔ beomgyu

ᰔ taehyun

ᰔ hueningkai

© GYUMIBEAR. do not repost, modify or translate my work onto other social media sites

hype boy.

PAIRING ▸ slytherin! niki x gryffindor! reader

GENRE ▸ hogwarts! au, rivalry! au, e2ls, romance, angst, fluff, humor

SUMMARY ▸ you and niki supposedly hate each other’s guts, everyone knows. slytherin vs. gryffindor, green vs. red, no one can break you two apart- except when a night on the quidditch field may prove otherwise.

WORD COUNT ▸ 4.7k

AKA (un)fortunately for you, niki is indeed your hype boy. 

NOTES ▸ mentions of hospitals, slight injuries, kissing, food, not proofread ???

part of the charms and chasers miniseries.

“MOVE YOUR BIG HEAD.”  

you hiss at the boy in front of you, hand gripping your quill tight in frustration. 

your number one nemesis, rival, enemy, whatever you wanted to call him because you had plenty more demeaning options, just so happened to sit right in front of you in transfiguration. 

he whips his head around, sending you a cocky smile before sitting up even straighter and completely blocking your view of the professor. you groan in annoyance. ever since niki hit his growth spurt last year and shot up, he had been more irritating than ever. it’s like he had another one-up on you, which wasn’t fair at all that he got such good height genes. and with that glow up of his came attention from girls. not that you cared, but having his ego inflated even more didn’t make it any better for you. 

sure, most girls fawned over him and his so called charming personality- something you didn’t understand, even since the day you met him back on hogwarts express your first year. 

it was a cloudy day and you just so happened to be slightly late. okay, maybe extremely late. besides getting an earful from your parents, you scrambled onto the train and into the first compartment you could find. said compartment coincidentally housed niki. 

he didn’t try to even hide the annoyed once over he sent your way. at that time, you understood his reaction and meekly apologized before asking for a seat. but throughout the ride, as your friendly attempts to make conversation with the young boy were instantly blocked by snide remarks and lowkey insults, your disdain began to grow. 

and when the sorting hat declared you in gryffindor and niki in slytherin, you remember the look you two exchanged on the way to your respective tables. it was a challenge. and it lasted for years. 

two super stubborn and competitive students, always wanting to be better than the other, called for a rivalry. nothing else mattered- just the outcome, just the winner. 

it had always been that way. you vs. niki, niki vs. you. always sporting the typical gryffindor vs. slytherin and red vs. green. as the years went on, the rivalry only continued. you hated his cockiness, rudeness, snarkiness. you hated every -ness and every point to the finest detail about nishimura riki. the same could only be said for him, because why else would he continue his arguing and pranking against you for no reason?

you thought about that day a lot, what you did that made him dislike you. and then you wondered why you were wasting time thinking about the raven haired boy, slapping your cheek to get out of it. didn’t matter, didn’t care. 

so what if niki and you were bound enemies? he, his newfound handsomeness, and his big head could go get smacked by the weeping willow. 

he wasn’t even that cute. 

“you okay, y/n?” you snap out of your thoughts, glancing over to your seat mate. jay seems concerned, giving you a questioning look as you shake your head. 

“it’s nothing. i just can’t see what the professor’s doing,” you whisper back. nodding in response, jay passes his notebook over to you as you thank him with a grateful smile. you eye the humongous head in front of you.

you seriously consider flipping the bird at him, and by that you mean procuring a real bird and flinging it the back of niki’s head. 

monday. lunchtime. 

the only thing you can remember is niki turning the mint chocolate chip ice cream you were eating into actual toothpaste. and then proceeding to make fun of you in front of the whole school for your affinity for the flavor. 

“who knew y/n would resort to eating toothpaste just to fix their stinky breath?”

rolling your eyes, you slam your spoon on the table. a few people are laughing, others are disapproving (for your taste preferences or the prank, you’re not sure). most were unaffected because after all, it was you and niki. 

you squint at him and he shrugs nonchalantly in response. 

it doesn’t take long for you to transform his water into mouthwash and watch with relish as he chokes and splutters. eyes wide, he can only watch as you innocently bat your own eyes at him, pocketing your wand with satisfaction. 

meanwhile all of your friends and his barely take a second glance, used to your shenanigans. 

tuesday. 

niki mentions a grass stain on your robes- which obviously leads to an argument midclass. why the world decided to give you four out of seven classes with niki (mainly back to back), you wish you knew. 

“maybe because some people have such dedication to their sport and it obviously pays off,” you drawl. 

niki’s nostrils flare in annoyance. you knew how riled up he got when you mentioned quidditch. 

he quickly raises a hand over his eyes, pretending to search for something over the top of your head. 

“did somebody just say something? i swear i just heard-“

you huff, fire in your eyes.

“how long are you going to keep doing that? it’s getting old, really.”

he scoffs while crossing his arms over his chest. 

“old? what about that time-“

you hear an aggressive clearing of the throat and you both falter. your professor narrows his eyes at the two of you. finally, you quite down. but it isn’t over yet. 

when you leave class, he sends you a look that means just wait until later. 

you and niki always seemed to find each other in the hallway, it was like your eyes were automatically accustomed to doing so. it was a habit- finding him the moment you entered a room or any space. his presence was so invoking, so invoking that it called for you to meet his eyes. another challenge. 

whenever you shared eye contact, even for a split second, the game would begin. every sneakily side-eye, disdainful look, infuriated glare. nasty words and insults spewed across the room without even moving your lips.  

today he leaves with a corner of his mouth tilted up, like he knew something you didn’t. 

you swear, his trademark smirk that some girls literally swoon over are in your nightmares. 

the only one up you had over niki was on the quidditch field- which obviously your rivalry continued there too. you were proud to say gryffindor’s winning record over slytherin this season was 4-1 (you had to admit the thought of beating niki made you train extra hard during practice).

when you get on the field that evening, you sigh and look at the list. 

practice match: gryffindor vs. slytherin. 

that explains niki’s reaction. 

you crack your knuckles. no biggie. 

as swift and sneaky niki was, you knew all of his tricks. he could read you, and you could read him, but just a little bit better. 

you go onto the field, joining your teammates. again, niki catches your eye and you study him. what was he planning? 

when the whistle blows, you shoot up into the air. scanning the field from above, you rush towards the first sign of movement you see and grab the quaffle with ease. 

your path to the hoops is open, that is, until a green flash cuts in front of you. 

you grit your teeth as your broom immediately halts. so this is the kind of game he wants to play. 

every time you had the ball, niki would somehow find his way in front of you. you would constantly swerve and avoid him as best as you could, but he would always find a way to block you from their goal. 

all of a sudden, you flip around, heading towards your own team’s goal. shouts of confusion fill the air, and you can physically feel niki behind you, right on your tail. 

wait. 

you see the goalpost, the sight of it getting larger and larger as you close in on the distance. although confused, the slytherin behind you continues his pursuit. 

a little more. 

you hear yells of your name, clamoring and chaos. you instead tune them out and focus. 

now. 

right as you’re about to go through the middle goal, you suddenly lift your broom and flip upside down, heading back the opposite way to the right goal. niki is forced to make an abrupt stop and turn around so he doesn’t run into the goal. 

niki was the only one who could keep up with your speed and without him in your way, it’s free sailing past all the other slower players to slytherin’s goal. easily, you score and your teammates cheer on. 

niki finally catches up with a shake of his head. “are you sure you didn’t get put into the wrong house?” he calls out, swerving around on his broom. 

you smirk, a glint in your eyes. “i don’t know, did i?” 

your bickering doesn’t stop, even when you get off the field. he follows you as your teams watch in amusement (and certain female spectators in jealousy, which you ignore pointedly).

wednesday. 

you enter the great hall with minji and leeseo, excitedly discussing your upcoming match against slytherin. 

“it’s almost time for me to kick niki’s butt again,” you cross your arms with a content sigh. 

minji shakes her head, “what’s the record so far?” 

you shoot her a grin, dancing playfully, “soon to be five to one.” 

leeseo raises an eyebrow, unimpressed, but before she can say something, you notice her eyes trail off into the distance. 

“what?” you frown, “what is it?” 

they step back and in the midst of chattering students, you frown and turn around- 

only to be met face to face with jisung, a seventh year in your house. 

“h-hey, y/n…” he starts off nervously. 

you gulp, not liking where the conversation was heading. jisung was a kind and shy upperclassman that you met through your friend minji who was also a seventh year. you had only had a couple interactions with him, so his sudden encounter was puzzling. 

“hey jisung. did you need something?”

he scratches his head, and you suddenly become self conscious of the few surrounding eyes falling on you two. 

jisung mumbles something along the lines of your time but you couldn’t quite catch it. 

“what?” you step closer to hear him and if anything, he physically reddens. 

“are you free this weekend?” he says a little too loud for comfort, avoiding your gaze. 

you tense. 

if anyone truly knows you, they know that although you’re a gryffindor, you hate public confrontations. you hate anything that deals with your personal feelings in front of other people, in front of strangers. you know it doesn’t make sense, especially with all your public fights with niki. you don’t know why but you just hate the thought of everyone knowing your private business. 

arguing with niki was a norm, you were used to it and had been for years. but romance? you honestly had no clue how to deal with that and now that you were pressured to give jisung an answer in front of everyone made it even worse. 

silence falls upon you and for some reason, in that split second, you catch niki’s eye some feet away. you’re surprised to see him already watching you, but in the moment that isn’t the most looming thing on your mind. niki stands there with an unreadable expression and your eyes quickly flick away. 

“jisung- well,” you pause, aggressively chewing on your lip. trying to formulate your thoughts quick enough to not make an awkward silence between you and him was extremely difficult. 

the situation feels overwhelming, so you pick at your robes. his expectant eyes on you, your friends still watching from behind, you feel as if everyone’s gaze was judging you immensely- silently screaming at you to give an answer.

all of a sudden, you feel a cold sensation crash over you. gasping and spluttering, you wipe your eyes to see yourself (and the floor around you) completely soaked. your robes dripping, hair flat, you whip around. 

gasps and murmurs erupt around you and ask if you’re okay. you ignore them. 

all you see is a glimpse of green robes flying out the door and past the corner. you stomp angrily after niki.  

your shoes squelching, you cringe. it isn’t hard for you to catch up with him, yelling out an disdainful, “hey! big head!”

you clench your fists together as he turns around slowly like a robber caught by the police. 

“what was that for?” 

you wring out your sleeves, flinging the wetness at him. in your outrage and confusion, you begin spewing out baseless words. "are you just mad that i’m the one getting attention from other people now? are you that jealous that you‘re not special anymore?“

his mischievous demeanor suddenly changes. niki looks serious, and maybe even upset? you’ve never seen him like this and it makes you falter. 

his gaze bores into you. 

“why do you automatically assume i’m a horrible person? why do you always think i have the worst intentions? is it because i’m a slytherin, because that’s just-“

“of course not!” 

“then why do you always fight with me about everything?” a hand runs through his hair, “i saw you were clearly uncomfortable with that jisung guy so i tried to, i dunno- divert the attention away.”  

silence fills the air. the only thing is the sound of your clothes still dripping water onto the floors. for the first time, you don’t have a comeback. 

niki was right. sure, dumping water on you was a bit harsh, but his intentions weren’t bad. niki, your proclaimed enemy, was trying to help you. 

the whole time everything you did or said to niki was in defense. because his words always got to you and you needed to build up a wall to protect yourself. to prove yourself that anything niki did wouldn’t affect you. 

even if it wasn’t serious when you were younger, you realized your fighting with niki became a whole different matter. 

niki waits and waits for you to respond, but you only stand there quietly to reflect. with a worried expression, he comes closer to inspect you. 

he brings a warm hand to your face, examining you with wide eyes. “did i do something wrong? did the water hurt you?” 

for a second you’re so shocked you can’t move (or process the dumb question- it was water for goodness sake). then the warmth begins to flood into you and you push him away. 

“w-what are you doing?!” you yelp, flustered. 

his actions must’ve hit him at that moment because he freezes. you mirror each other with embarrassed gazes. 

his mouth opens and closes repeatedly. you blink. 

“i- you, we just-“ 

instead of holding a proper conversation like normal people, once you hear the door to the great hall open for kids to get to their next classes, you and niki both bolt in opposite directions, sporting angry blushes that others figure it was due to a heavy argument. 

you don’t know why. you honestly have no clue. but after that day, you managed to apologize and kindly reject jisung (someone you respected but truthfully held no affection for) and travel back in time. 

back in time meaning every memory of interactions with niki. you were just being immature- holding onto long time grudges and insecurities. 

you know you had a lot of history with niki. but maybe you should try to see things from his point of view. maybe you both needed to grow up and realize the truth. 

for the first time, you and niki acknowledge each other in the halls with a nod. for the first time, the classrooms and quidditch field are quiet without your constant bickering. for the first time, you and niki (kind of) get along. 

besides the unspoken situation that happened between you and niki, you attempted to be kinder to him. and so did he. 

well, for the most part. 

“pass me the vial,” you call out to niki and he turns around. 

when you reach out to take it, he jerks his hand away and you huff, glaring at him. niki simply grins before handing you the vial. and that was it. 

while the two of you work absentmindedly, the rest of the class (including the professor) watches you with jaws dropped. 

you pack up and head out of class, stopping when you hear a call of your name behind you. 

leeseo stomps over, and your eyebrows raise. 

“hey, what’s up?”

she crosses her arms, whispering indignantly, “i don’t know! you tell me!”

you tilt your head, confused. “tell you….?”

“how for the first time in hogwarts history you and niki didn’t argue in class?” she pauses, “you know what? i feel like i haven’t seen the two of you fight for a while. what happened?”

your mysterious shrug doesn’t make it any better. 

“is it because you realize your feelings for him?”

you choke on your spit. 

“excuse me?”

she nudges you playfully, “you know? the whole enemies to lovers thing? i can see it.”

you shake your head vehemently, “that’s literally only a thing in movies. you’re funny, leeseo.” 

but the worst thing is, you do think about it. enemies to lovers? you and niki? 

there’s no way. you spent your whole life up until this moment hating him. you shiver in disgust, shaking off the thought. 

sighing, you make your way down the hallways, alone. you left your ink in herbology and desperately needed it for notes. 

opening the door, you quietly make your way to your desk in order not to disturb your plants. 

or the sleeping figure in the corner. 

wait. what?

in alarm, you make your way over to the peaceful figure lying down on the desk. and then you pause. 

it was niki. 

and for some reason, you can’t help but just look at him. niki looked like a completely different person when he was asleep. he was much more tolerable.. and much more childlike.  

it was almost cute. 

you quickly blink. an idea formulates in your head, but you no longer charge ahead with confidence. you hesitate, debating whether pranking him would be too much. 

as long as it was simple and harmless, it would be fine, right? 

you draw out your wand, tiptoeing closer without a sound. but before you can mutter the incantation, a sudden shove from behind makes you gasp and stumble closer to him. 

you were too close to him, faces only inches apart. your eyes grow impossibly wide. for a second, you study his long eyelashes, pouting lips, and his chest rising and falling rhythmically. 

when niki mumbles in his sleep, you come back to reality. you shoot up and whip around to see the perpetrator who pushed you. it was-

no one? 

frowning, you look around for any sight of movement. that is, one of the potted mandrakes slightly rustles its leaves. you glare at it accusingly, muttering under your breath.

a surprised sound comes from your left. niki stares at you with confusion and sleep still in his eyes. 

“y/n?”

you grip the scarf in your hands tighter. “s-sorry,” you hastily apologize. “i had to grab something.”

you turn to dash out of the classroom, but a hand stops you. 

“where are you going?”

“to supper?” you respond, confused. 

he groans, getting up from his position. “okay. me too. might as well go together.” 

throat dry, you have no response. 

a comfortable pace set, it’s quiet as you walk together. you glance at him through the corner of your eye. niki stares at the ground, hands in his pockets. 

“why were you sleeping in herbology?” you ask abruptly to break the tension. 

“wanted to stay for tutoring and waited for the professor who didn’t show. i guess i accidentally fell asleep.”

“oh. okay.” 

“what did you forget?”

you gesture to your ink bottle and he nods. “you could’ve asked me for some.” 

you roll your eyes, feeling more relaxed. “and risk you giving me disappearing ink during an exam?”

he looks away sheepishly, “you know me too well.” 

you cough, “yeah, yeah.” 

the distance between you two shortens, yet your conversation is interrupted when you reach the great hall.

when you notice niki’s absence, you turn to him. “not going in?”

he waves a hand offhandedly, "actually i’m not hungry. see you later.”

bewildered, you wave good bye without another word. a silent question lingers in the back of your head. 

then why did he come all the way with you? 

you begin to question yourself. why did you feel that way when you saw niki up close? it was the same as the time he placed his hand on your face in concern. you didn’t like it. it bothered you. 

walking out of your commonroom that night for some fresh air, you hear commotion coming from down a corridor. you continue walking, hearing a group of voices. but you pause when you hear a distinctly familiar voice. 

“-there’s no way, man.”

“sure, but don’t lie to us. we saw you with them the other day. you were actually having a conversation- like normal people.”  

your blood runs cold. was that niki and his friends? 

could they be… talking about you?

“sure, but that’s just speaking words. listen, i don’t like them. i’ll never have feelings for them like that.”

you don’t know why disappointment fills you instead. you don’t why you head back to your dorm and hide under the covers. why you try to distance yourself from him, try to keep yourself from getting misunderstandings and more hurt. 

it’s obvious how you don’t even try to talk to him anymore. no more bickering, no more jokes, and no more niki. you didn’t realize how much of your day revolved around the boy. 

how much you woke up looking forward to squabbling with niki, hearing his teasing, seeing his grinning face. 

you actually missed him.

but if that’s what niki thought about you, then it was fine. you would think the same about him. you were fine. you had to be, and in order to be unaffected, you needed some distance. 

you see the way his eyes burn a hole into you when you pass by in and between classes. when he tries to talk to you, you give short and one worded answers. 

all your friends teased the way he would watch you during breakfast, lunch, and dinner. niki would see the way you laughed with no heart behind it and smiled without it reaching your eyes. 

to take your mind off things, you focused on quidditch. you focused on your upcoming match against slytherin. 

that is, until the day before your game. you got off the quidditch field after practicing alone, sweaty and breathless. as you put your broom and gloves up, a hand yanks you to the side.

your breath leaves you as you find yourself pushed up against the wall. breathing heavily, you realize pretty much immediately who it is. 

his arm effectively traps you, hand on the wall next to you. niki’s dark gaze is intense, and you know he won’t leave without an answer. 

“what’s going on, y/n? you don’t talk to me anymore, you don’t even look at me. what did i do wrong-“

for a second, the only thing you can hear is the sound of your breaths mixing. you squirm at how you can feel his body heat pressing into you. 

“nothing is wrong,” you grit out. 

“why won’t you look at me?”

you do, locking fiery gazes. he searches your eyes, but you won’t let him in.

“let. me. go.” 

you jab your finger into his firm chest with every word you enunciate.  

“no.” 

he cocks his head, still waiting for an answer. you sigh. 

“don’t worry about me. focus on yourself and the game tomorrow.”

exhausted, you push past him with barely any fight. 

“don’t even think about following me,” you call out one last time wearily. 

match day. you thought you were ready, even though you barely got any asleep after what happened yesterday. minji sports red and gold face paint, hyping you up before the match. 

everything happens in a blur, from when you get into your starting positions to when the whistle blows and you’re suddenly up in the air.  

you focus on the flying projectiles, looking for the ball. but a looming presence behind you doesn’t make it any better. 

you ignore him. 

“y/n!” niki calls out for only you to hear. to spectators, it seems like he’s chasing you around for the ball, which was indeed his position, but you knew he was just following you. 

you swerve around, away from the quaffle. shouts of confusion fill the air as the spectator comments on your move- but you could care less. 

niki zooms in beside you. 

"why are you avoiding me?” he yells. 

“i’m not.” 

“tell me!”

my god, he won’t stop. you forgot how stubborn he was. 

“stop following me!” you groan before turning away. 

“y/n, can we at least-“

for a second, you glance behind you to see where he was. a major mistake. 

mainly because you don’t see the hurtling bludger straight towards you. as your head turns back, niki calls out your name. panicked. 

“watch out-!”

your player instincts manage to dodge, but you veer off so harshly that the force causes you lose your grip on the broom and fall off.  

the last thing you hear is a shout of your name and a flash of green. the last thing you feel is the wind howling in your ears and warmth encasing you. 

everything hurts. the lights are too bright. 

your throat is incredibly dry- even more then the time niki snuck a puking pastille in your food that left you by the toilet for hours. 

you let out a weak croak, eyes feeling impossibly heavy but you manage to open them. the sight of the hospital wing comes into focus. what were you doing here?

when you try to shift, you suddenly notice the warmth encasing your hand and by your lap.  

“niki?” you cringe at how dead your voice sounds. 

he shoots up at the sound of your voice in the chair next to your hospital bed. his hand tightens around yours.

“y/n- you’re awake!” his warm eyes leave you feeling uncomfortable fluttery on the inside. 

“yeah,” you cough. “what’s going on?”

he gives you a glass of water before explaining. “you fell off your broom avoiding the bludger. i managed to catch you but the impact caused you to pass out.”

you furrow your eyebrows, recalling the events leading up to your fall. 

“the nurse said you’re fine, just some bruises and aches. you’ve been out for a couple hours.” 

you’re silent for a second before speaking up, “so who won?”

niki frowns, disapproval evident on his face. “y/n. you fell like a hundred feet and ended up in a hospital, and that’s what you care about?”

you suddenly grow half defensive, half embarrassed. your hand feels clammy in his. 

“why do you care? i mean, why are you here with me?” 

“what do you mean? i-i was worried about you, obviously.”

you huff bitterly, “worried? i thought you said you didn’t like me- and never would.”

“what?” he responds incredulously. 

you cough awkwardly, telling him about the time you overheard him and his friends.

he suddenly breaks out in laughter, leaving you offended. “thanks for eavesdropping, but i was talking about some creepy stalker girl who wouldn’t leave me alone.”

you resist the urge to slap yourself. “so that means…”

“i don’t not like you.”

“you don’t not like me?” you repeat to yourself. 

niki suddenly stammers, “i-i thought it was obvious. i thought it was really obvious back in our first year. but then you actually got angry, and i just kinda kept up with the act throughout the years-”

your eyes bulge, “so everything you did was to get my attention?!”

“maybe?” niki sighs, raising his hand that was tightly gripping yours. 

“i was deathly worried about you, and a really stupid kid. so, y/n, would you please forgive me?” 

suddenly the proximity between you two feels too small, the air in the room too hot. 

“pretty please?” he pouts up at you. 

what happened to the niki from yesterday? you bite the inside of your cheek before the gyrffindor side of you takes over. 

“you know what? if you want to make up for the last however many years, just kiss me.”

for once, big head listens to you. 

a/n ▸ happy halloween to anyone who celebrates!! and thank you to the overwhelming support on this miniseries <33 it was a real struggle but it’s finally completed!

MAIN TAGLIST ▸  @precioussoulofmine @lov3niki @heesterical @rerequire @nvertheless @duolingofanaccount @hoeshii

SERIES TAGLIST ▸ @ritsusakumasgf @minimarkive @lilactangerine @shinsou-rii @ahnneyong @nomniki @nyanggk @imtaehyungry @seattlesolace @allthegirlsmialoved @annoyingbitch83 @jakahbot @leeis @heavenforatlas @acciocriativity @loveza1nab @juliemr0 @en-martieru @uomre @rubysluvbot @notdrunkbutdazed

UNABLE TO TAG ▸ @/27melodies

(photo from pinterest)

they who admit defeat . sae itoshi

synopsis: the break-up was mutual, so why do you miss each other so bad?

content: 1.3k wc, ex! itoshi sae, exes to lovers, implied toxic relationship?? fem! reader, pet names (amor, baby), very mild angst with comfort, fluff, shidou cameo (suggestive comments / the usual with him) OOC sae, probably..

riotrants: i thought of this while listening to sleep token’s descending. highly recommend. constructive criticism is welcome!! enjoy!! :)

6 months, 1 week, 4 days, and 7 hours.

what is that oddly specific amount of time, you ask from afar? i’ll answer you; the date you and japan’s prodigal soccer player itoshi sae ended your four year long relationship. arguably the best four years of your life down the drain over an idiotic stunt pulled by the media. the impending break-up was further fueled by the lack of communication. you knew soccer was sae’s career, yet he was never home. he had slowly begun to wean off quality time with you, and it was taking a harsher effect on you than you’d thought. eventually, you grew restless. your boyfriend felt like a stranger.

after a few weeks of absence, sae was the one who ended things, and you had to admit, he’d done it rather maturely. he sat you down after a game and talked to you. all of your questions had answers—as if he’d preplanned for every possible outcome (he did)—and there were no loose ends to tie up. you didn’t argue.

you understood and agreed. you knew what you were getting into when you first started dating him. little to no personal time with him, insane public attention, lack of privacy, high expectations from his crew / teammates, the list was endless. to most, it would be too overwhelming, but sae made sure you never felt the pressure of all the negative energy. he handled the media—smoothly brushing off any prying interviewers about his relationship, debunked rumors and proved edited photographs were false. his team adored you, especially ryusei shidou, who jokingly asked if he could be your rebound. the break-up was mutual, so why were you still so hung up on it?

now, here you sat in the loud arena, your gaze focused on the field below. you still had access to vip seating, according to sae, but you didn’t take advantage of that. you bought your own tickets to the games and sat among the crowd, occasionally lying to a fan who asked if you were sae’s girlfriend. it pained you to say no, wanting nothing more than to confirm your association with him. yet you respected his wishes and pretended you never knew him.

you stood when the horn blared loudly, signaling yet another win for sae and his team. he still played flawlessly, though you hadn’t expected him to perform any differently. you shifted through the thunderous crowd, arriving to the small exit door hidden behind the food court. routine still begged for you to turn around, to wait for him in front of the locker room as you once did. you’d greet him with open arms, and he’d melt into them with a middle finger to his cooing teammates. shidou tended to join the two of you, wrapping his sweaty form around you both playfully. “awwwww, baby!” he’d squeeze and shake you back and forth, cackles leaving his lips when sae sighed exasperatedly.

you miss him.

you shook your head, pushing through the door to walk to the parking garage. before you could take another step, a gentle hand landed on your wrist. you recognized the fabric of his gloves, turning your head curiously. sae stood there, his turquoise eyes laden with emotions you couldn’t decipher. “itoshi—“

“don’t do that,” he muttered, sliding his hand from your wrist to linger limply at his side, “i’m not a stranger.” you didn’t know what to do. you twisted the skin around your ring finger, feeling the soft divot from the promise ring that used to live there. your hands felt empty without it, something you had yet to get used to. an awkward silence settled between the two of you, warm gazes flicking over each other’s faces in fear of being the last time they’d see it. “you played well,” you winced at the quiet, and sae let out an amused scoff.

he wants you back. terribly so.

he misses coming home to a warm embrace. your smiling face as you excitedly talk about your day, the sporadic phone calls he’d get when something happened (no matter how important or temporary), the way you would prepare him a warm bath if he’d had a rough day at practice. the shining light in your eyes when you showed everyone the promise ring he surprised you with, matching with the one he still wore on a chain under his jersey.

you. he misses you. yet, he couldn’t help but feel guilty. he had no right to miss you, especially since he was the leading cause for the break-up. so, he kept silent.

a few more weeks passed, and shidou was growing irritated with you both. sae would hardly react to his outrageous comments, you were slowly inching back into the shell he’d just gotten you out of, and he had had enough. “okay! i’ve had it,” he slammed his hands on the table, death glaring sae. his pink eyes bore holes into the prodigy’s face, “go to y/n’s place with a bouquet, fall on your knees and press your gorgeous face on the ground. beg, plead, cry and whine for her to take you back. when she does, take her to the bedroom and show her who is—!”

shidou grunted when a notebook flew at his face, sighing happily as he sunk back into his seat, “that’s the first reaction i’ve gotten out of ya in days. you’re such a tease.” sae rolled his eyes, his usual nonchalant expression fading slightly. “yer both drivin’ me insanee!” he dragged his hands down his face, ignoring the unamused look sae was shooting him, “go get your girl, man.”

sae was about to crawl through the dirt back to you, but he had no idea you were already on the ground waiting for him.

you were in the middle of cooking dinner when a knock sounded on your door, the television displaying a random film you’d turned on. you turned the heat of the stove down, still wearing your apron as you went to the small entryway of your apartment. you opened it, and your brows knit together at the sight of sae standing there with a bouquet. “sae?” you asked, confusion written all over you. you invited him inside, and he graciously accepted the offer.

after settling the flowers in a vase, you both sat on opposite ends of the sofa. “i miss you,” he whispered, and you felt warmth rush to your face when he moved closer, “i-i should have never let you go. i’m so stupid for—“ his eyes widened when you closed the distance, pressing your lips softly against his. he didn’t complain, reaching his hands up to hold your head. his fingers nestled themselves in your hair, savoring the sweet flavor of your kiss. you pulled away with a shy grin, “i was waiting for you to say that..”

sae kissed you again, finding your hand and holding it close. you gasped when cold metal slid smoothly onto your empty ring finger, pulling away and immediately focusing your gaze on it. the promise ring you’d returned to him sits comfortably in its proper spot. sae’s lips were curled into a gentle smile, his chest warm and heavy with love for you. love that never went away, even after so long without you.

“mi amor,” he breathed, and you embraced him at the utterance of the pet name you adored. in the midst of your intimate moment, sae’s phone rang obnoxiously. you laid your head on his shoulder as he checked the caller, both of you sharing a laugh at shidou’s horrid profile picture. he answered, and the blonde man grinned wickedly, “so, throuple?” sae hung up as quickly as he answered, silencing his phone and tossing it to the side. he slid you in his lap, kissing your head as an unpleasant burnt smell wafted through the room. “baby, what’s that?” he asked quietly.

“was dinner,” you replied, “wanna get takeout?”

sae cracked a smirk, “sure. i’ll pay.”

yeah, he’s never letting you go again. in fact, he thinks he’ll take you with him everywhere.

to chase a dream | zhang hao ˚₊‧⁺˖

all your life, you and zhang hao have been chasing each other. you wonder here, if this is where your symphony ends.

TAGS: musician!au, gn!reader, rivals to lovers, angst with happy ending, suggestive!makeout

A/N: something about zhang hao called for dramatics so here i am (≧∇≦)ﾉ ! self-indulgent as usual :)

WORDS: ~1450, EXTRA: music info and terms here !!

"That was wonderful playing earlier."

History doesn't even begin to describe what you have between you two.

Your friends could joke that there would be enough to write an opera. Star crossed and all. All about the virtuosos of violin and piano. Of Zhang Hao and you.

You want to hark it back to those fitful days in grade school. Full days of comparing sheet music, trying to one-up each other about the difficulty. Hao, and his too big violin case and you, trouncing him every talent show because his hands hadn't quite yet grown out of their stubbiness. The satisfaction in remembering those big whiny tears brings warmth to your soul.

Then, there came high school.

Oh, you loathe it; he doesn't. Not when his hands became a study in lines and grace. Envy would eat you alive if you had any less pride. But you weren't so above yourself to not look at him. Hard to not notice when he grows a head taller and of course, starts topping the local competitions only to shove it under your face.

Your parents loved it. Gave a reason to push you further and deeper into competitions and over the top galas. To push your fire against someone who was all finely diced ice. There was nothing you liked less when you wanted to live for the glory of the crowd, not medals and flowers.

Eyes followed you everywhere when he was in the picture. And yours always found his.

"Here to mock me?" you ask.

The laugh you draw is enchanting. "Never." And it's so sincere you might just believe it. "Just here to say my farewells."

The Winter Gala spins behind both of you: through a door, down some ornate stairs and into a pit of some thoroughly drunk musicians. From the balcony, only the trickles of laughter and music eke out the door. But you would hardly focus on that, not when Hao stands very plainly in front of you.

"Already? it's only an hour into reception." You twirl the champagne in your hand with consideration before you gesture him to come to where you lean on the balcony rail. "Thought you would stay to kiss ass with some of the others."

"Not this time. No, I mean..." The howl of the wind carries his unease. Traffic horns and gala laughter do nothing to smother whatever he tries to hide in his tone. You know him too well.

There's more than history between you two.

But whatever he says next has you rethinking everything. "I'm leaving, leaving. I won't be back in the country for a while so, here I am."

There's a moment where you think he's entirely pulling your leg. Pulling you along to another little joke at your expense. But you've known him your entire life at this point, and you’ve been through too much to realize that he’s not joking.

“… Am I the first to know?”

You count the beats and steady your breath. Years of this, all for what?

“Only Minghao-Ge and Junhui-Ge, and now you. But knowing them, they’ll be drunk enough tonight to let it slip,” he explains in this awfully fond tone. “Mark Lee from the LSO watched me perform at the showcase in July and scouted for me. I think he got on Junhui-Ge’s nerves with how much he emailed him.”

Medals and flowers. Smiles and bows. The curtain draws, where are you now?

"Congrats," you say after a second – watching nothing but your past fly by you. Despite the ache, you raise your glass. "Cheers," you smile and take a sip. Raising it into the moonlight and offering the glass to Hao for his own toast but he just shakes his head.

You pout. "Don’t like it?”

Instead, he takes the glass from you and settles it onto the edge. Pink dusts his cheeks as watches you from the corner of your eye. “Want to remember this.”

Heat flares to your cheeks at the weight of Hao’s words. A night to remember is one way to put it.

"So, when are you off to London?"

"This Monday."

You blink. "... That's fast."

"Why? You think you'll miss me?" and it's said with that smile of his. Infuriating and secret, so many layers of discourse that haunt you – it’s a memory that you'll take to the grave.

"Of course, it's you," you mutter, disgustingly honest with yourself. "It'll just be... quiet, without your excuse of music causing a riot." Honestly, you can barely hear Hao's chuckle when you're too stuck in your head to mind the charm in it.

You want to edge back into your comfort zone of easy quips, nothing serious but scathing wit. But nothing you say lights the fight that used to start so easy back when you two were younger. When your worries were small like the cars below.

A full look at his face is all you want to chance a glance for. What would you see? Remorse? Eagerness? Disappointment? You could read him like a book with a single glance, what’s stopping you now?

"What about you? are you going to stay in Singapore? I thought you'd be the one to chase excitement."

"I’ll chase whatever my parents dangle in front of me.” And the laugh he breathes is empty because you both know it’s bitter but true. Hao’s stood aside long enough to understand. So, when he sidles closer next to you it warms you more than they ever did. "Yixing-Ge told me he's also planning to leave for Boston, promised me that I'll get his seat when it happens."

"If it happens,” he teases.

"It’ll happen."

You nearly jump when you feel it. Hao’s warm hand on top of yours. It’s spindly and calloused, worn out in the way a weathered musician’s should be. It’s all you need to guide you back to where you are.

"I know you'll make it. Just make sure it's something you want.” Hao’s breath is right next to your ear. Clear as day and easy as a song. It’s so simple to say: take what you want.  

Blood in your ears, chest heaving, nothing to catch you when you fall but the discordant crash of keys.

It sounds like a melody.

"It's never going to be something I want."

"Then, what do you want?"

You.

Instead, you turn to face Zhang Hao. A challenge of a smile on your lips because you know where this ends.

To face the music, the crowd, the eyes that watch.

"What's it like? to chase a dream?" you ask.

Brutal, visceral, freeing. An infinite number of interpretations for one word.

The stage becomes your world, and the spotlight burns you alive. Pressure flays your skin even as your fingers glide across smooth keys and you hush your heaving breath. Running to your last page, heart in your hands, smearing red across white. There's no audience when you dream; you are your own critic, you are your own end, but your destiny is not you.

To chase a dream is to become raw.

"Like chasing you."

You hum low and satisfied. Carding a hand through Hao’s hair, you guide him down.

Kissing Zhang Hao feels like being on stage all over again. Being set on fire, skin flaying, blood rushing. It’s everything he isn’t, but everything you are.

You swallow his groan, biting across his lips as your hands trail down him. Everywhere you've wanted to touch feels unbearable. You want to chase this feeling: Hao's hands on your hips and cradling your jaw. Trailing his red ears and holding around his throat; it's little fires everywhere.

Distance doesn’t exist as you push into each other. Hao has you against the rail, hands cradling you like you’re his own instrument. Playing you to pluck you into satisfaction.

Years of us, made for this final movement.

This ache and greed that makes musicians like you two come alive. You know Hao as your years of black and white keys that haunt your dreams and make your reality. There isn’t a crevice in his mind you haven’t touched or a melody that he’s played where he never thought of you.

You hold Hao by the chin, determination set into your eyes and a chord of steel in your tone. "There better be a future for us – I’m not having you leave me here in your past.”

"Anything," he breathes against you. More than history. More than a future. Chasing your dream. "Anything for you."

thanks so much for reading !! this was a tough one but i'm glad i wrote it ! if you enjoyed please like or reblog :D ⭒ masterlist