this might be the start of something

female reader x g!p tripleS Sohyun x g!p tripleS Xinyu

Tags: angstagainwhowouldaguessed, g!pagainwhowouldaguessed, arguments, sad, femreadertakingalotofcock, anal, dp

30k words

At the end of the day, you think it’s comical that things end up like this.

You didn’t think it’d honestly work. Like probably any other person, you thought that this was just a phase. That oh, sure. You’re fulfilling an obligation. That’s it. Any other person in your shoes would at least try.

And no, you didn’t think things would crash and burn the way they do. It’s almost laughably incomprehensible what happens next.

“You know what, fuck this.”

It all begins on that starless night, the one where the real stars seem to be close to the ground, hurtling past on open roads in pairs. You’re sure to alien eyes it seems like everything on the ground is emitting light, because it’s true.

And yeah, you know how it sounds like. The lights on the floor, the catching on fire, the burning, the unintelligible, scream.

“I think I’d rather just call it a night. You know? What’s another day of social independence?”

Or maybe the truth is that you just walked into all of this on your own, that the only one you have to blame is of course, yourself.

That in this world of painful isolations and difficult pairings you’re just another person falling to the wayside.

“I mean, what was I thinking? This is depressing, heading out for drinks and casting my net out to sea. This is unbecoming. I should be the one getting caught. I’m the shiny Pokemon here.”

Shut up, Xinyu. Damn feelings. Damned heart. That’s how this story is going to play out, by the way. With unstoppable forces tugging at each other and their heartstrings.

And you’re the eye of this storm. Watching it all.

“Hey, are you even listening to me?”

No, you aren’t. Your eyes dart over to the tall, Chinese girl, her figure a literal tree beside you. I mean, she looks like a million bucks. Hair cut off at the shoulder, whole package adorned with a sparkly necklace and a dress that nearly skirts the floor, darker than the starless night.

With her makeup on, done with that flush, she’s a million things at once. As in a million things added onto those million bucks.

Sophisticated. A blend of too many emotions, pretty faces, and subtle sharpness, all coming together to create something foreign and similarly unique. Her history is too long to simply sit down and get into.

“We’re already here. The only thing stopping you is your pride.”

“I know that,” Xinyu says tersely, “You could at least encourage me.”

“You’re so going to have a chick between your legs before the night ends,” you oblige.

And really, she is. It’s easy, for a tall, gorgeous goddess like her. The thing about Xinyu is that she’s endless. Legs. Hips. Face. Lips. She's a magical adventure to be explored. People collapse in piles in front of her like dominoes. Which makes everything so much worse.

Xinyu stares at you like she can’t believe you’d say something so crass. Your own eyes, lazy, meet hers offhandedly. Hands in the pocket of your black jeans. Ha. You have no idea what is going to happen to your miserable ass.

“Don’t say it like that.”

“Chick, dick, either to give you that same kick. Let’s go, Xinyu. You’re not going to show up here, looking like this, and then not go in. That’s just wasteful.”

You have a habit of making particularly poignant points.

Xinyu grumbles, her neck swaying for a couple moments before she moves her Prada bag –held with two hands by her front– to her side.

“Fine.”

You hurry forward to push open the door for her, opening a gateway into the mass of sweltering bodies and bad alcohol on the other side.

Xinyu blinks, her previously apprehensive gaze settling into that heart-stopping chic look she’s perfected over the years. She murmurs a quick word of thanks, tucking her hair behind her ear.

Inside, it’s noisy, not from music, but from the clamour of a hundred eager voices convinced of their time in the moment.

“See the bar?” You ask, noting how Xinyu scans over all the numerous faces impassively out of the corner of your eye.

Nothing for Xinyu yet. As is always the case.

“Yeah. Straight ahead, to the right.”

“Got it. I’ll get us both something. The usual for you?"

Xinyu nods, and you charge into the crowd quickly, before too many eyes start to fall on the Chinese goddess.

As you thread your way through, you turn back to check up on her, and you laugh at how she hasn’t moved an inch from the door, eyeing something (probably a showy couple) with slight distaste.

Her eyes find yours, mid laugh, and she gives you a slight smile.

Go find somewhere comfortable, you mouth. Xinyu nods, moving to the right and disappearing, all one hundred and seventy three centimetres of her.

You watch the throngs of bodies for a few more moments, filtering what is where, and mean to turn around when an elbow drives straight into your spine.

Your reaction comes out as a gasp, your body reflexively shying away and pushing you onto your toes. You squeeze your eyes shut, bringing a hand up to massage the soon-to-be-bruised area, and in your pain you barely register a surprised gasp by your assaulter.

You spin around, narrowing your eyes, searching for the person who crippled you for the rest of the evening, though you’re not sure what you’re going to do immediately after. Maybe you’ll give them a piece of your mind. Maybe you’ll fight.

But you stop and stare, glancing down to this girl’s wide, catty, and clearly apologetic eyes. And you do a double take, because you feel like she shouldn’t need to apologise at all.

At first you think something’s off. She’s pretty, clearly, but there’s something different about her. You squint, slowly tracing each line, over her stout nose and full lips, over each mole she’s managed to have look like deliberate choices rather than random genetics. And then your eyes widen in turn. You know how it must look to her. You announce:

“Holy shit. You’re fucking beautiful.”

The corner of the girl’s lips tilts upwards, a hint of white and tongue, her face puzzled like she didn’t hear what you said even though you were definitely blatant with it.

She has it. This thing. Something that’s completely and uniquely hers, that makes her goddamn irreplaceable, that makes her worth a fortune. She has it. That it factor. There’s a masculine feel to her, something that bleeds into the way her face isn’t small, the shortness of her stature and the absolute oddity of her gaze. You’re giddy. What the fuck?

And then she speaks. And your eyebrows shoot to the ceiling. Because her sound is absolutely ridiculous.