#BUT TELL ME MORE THINGS TO PRACTICE !!! i want to get a guitar but im broke and this was donated from my sister

[cxvii666]

“TEDDY PICKER.”

band au! drummer katsuki bakugou x bassist reader

wc: 1.3k

"i don't want your prayer, save it for the morning after,"

"you're so full of shit"

you raise an eyebrow as your face scrunches in amusement. "i hope thats not me you're talking to like that-"

"-you, shut the fuck up. im talking to fucking dunce face over there who thinks that he can just parade in here whenever he fucking likes.."

katsuki bakugou was at the edge of his shit. as in maybe one more strike away from a full crashout. everyone in the room can tell.

it's about the fourth time of going over the rhythm of your band's new song. kyouka had written it a couple nights ago but she was, as she is about the rest of her music, extremely self critical. she had made katsuki, sero and you, play the same fucking rhythm over and over, then going back over to her little ipad and rewriting shit. honestly you were all fucking exhausted, katsuki feels like his wrists are gonna fucking fall off, his ears are ringing and, then all of a sudden he hears this agitating grating voice.

"idk why you're getting onto me? i actually have a role to play, kiri-"

the redhead hides his face in mina's shoulder at the mention of his name. kaminari had dragged him along to your, ahem closed practice session, and kaminari wasn't even in your band. as in, he served no physical purpose, and was actively trying to distract, and after all the pressure kyouka's under, katsuki is honestly surprised she even let him into her basement.

"nah don't even bring red into this because he actually just sits there and shuts the fuck up. YOU NEED TO-"

"would you fucking relax."

obviously you have to be the voice of reason, kyouka has taken this unsanctioned practice break to tune her guitar, sero had just gone out back for a smoke (he could probably sense bakugou's pop off and didn't want to be caught in the line of fire), and mina's lying on the couch with kirishima, tambourine resting on the ground, watching the shit go down.

it's not that you don't agree with bakugou, because he has a point. kyouka had written two songs on the set and then she given some weird artsy excuse as to why she needed a male voice on the tracks instead of her own. kaminari had of course said yes when she asked, and he was a surprisingly good singer. but whatever the case was, he had taken this as an opportunity to show up to your closed practice sessions, at any given point in time, lie on the couch hit his vape and give his entirely unsolicited, unpromoted, and unwanted opinions on every little thing you'd played so far. normally this would've been laughed off quite easily, but jirous anxiety in the track had put the whole band in a mood. even mina, your little groupie, who's only role really was to shake her lil tambourine and look hot, was quiet, slumped over the couch offering no commentary.

and the way things were looking the bakugou was two seconds away from taking a cymbal and crashing it over the other blonde's head.

"kami, if you're gonna be in here then you gotta be quiet while we practice the bridge, mmkay."

you're voice is steady careful not to piss anyone off or agitate the fight further. you were tired and wanted to call it a night. you're gig was in two days and you wanted to be up early for your lash appointment.

"like seriously," you kiss your teeth together noticing a makeup smudge under your left eye and rubbing at it and mutter, "you guys act like fucking children, i swear."

"ayo who tf are you kissing your teeth at?" bakugou's in fight mode by now, all kaminari's stupidity pushing him to the breaking point.

"are you delusional? i said don't fucking yell at me."

"am i yelling? clearly you are fucking delusional? all that weed you smoke has probably scrambled yer fucking brain-"

"-oh piss off, i was literally defending you-"

"i don't need defendin-"

"can we get started now," kyouka calls out, sero's returned and they're watching your back and forth with bakugou, smug looks on their faces like they're both in on a joke that you're not privy to. "or are you guys gonna keep up this weird foreplay you got going on?"

she swears as bakugou dashes a drumstick in her general direction, and sero snickers before picking it up and tossing it back to the blonde "what song are we on?"

the venue is live. like you guys have never played on a stage with this many people in the audience. you're fucking buzzing, decently faded, sunglasses perched on your nose ready to have a good time. sero and kaminari have just left you outside round the back of the venue, mina had got her claws into them and forced them to let her draw eyeliner on both guys. kaminari had left you with one of his straights and you had enough time to smoke it before going back in to freshen up and be ready just in time for the beginning of your set when the fire exit door bangs open.

it's katsuki. he looks good.

like really good.

"jirou not with you?" is what you say.

he scoffs and kicks an empty can lying on the ground. "nah, she's backstage with her girlfriend sucking face or sum' shit."

"so you came to find me?"

he tsks, "don't read to much into it yeah, y'er jus more tolerable than the rest of the fucking idiot squad."

you look at him through your shades taking in his form. he looks surprisingly nervous. his arms are exposed in his black vest, so he looks like a treat, but his shoulders are tense and you can see the goosebumps on his biceps. he's normally with jirou at this point in the night, the first band is still playing and the two of them are normally backstage decompressing or redoing sound checks or something like that while the rest of you fuck around.

"you really gonna smoke that shit before we go on?"

and he's always on your fucking back, digging into you, expressing his disgust in your choice of hobbies, like he's some self righteous being that can never do any wrong.

"i think you're an asshole."

he inches closer to where you're leaning against the brick wall of the building.

"i know."

and he connects your lips. its like fire, the sensation that flows through your body as your mouths move together, in perfect synchronisation. you've always been good together i suppose, flowed in similar ways. you have your bad habits that he's not fond of but so does he. he knows exactly how to piss you off and you get on his nerves, you think you're so cool with your stupid sunglasses and your stupid fingerless gloves, but fuck you're so hot.

he groans into your mouth as he carresses your sides with a tenderness you've never seen before. it turns you on to no end and you reach your hands round the back of his neck to grab his hair and pull him closer into you. its so intoxicating, the way his lips taste in your mouth, his tongue wrapping around yours, his rough hands gently trailing up your sides, like he's still scared to touch you.

you grab his hands and force them to hold onto your hips as you arch into him to deepen the kiss. he breaks for air but keeps you close like you'll slip right through his fingers if he lets go.

"we- uh, fuck," you've actually sucked all the sense out of his head and katsuki bakugou fucking stutters, it's probably the best day of your life and he can tell by the smug grin plastered on your face.

"just- fucking shut up."

"i didn't even say anything."

mandem you wont believe the week i had oml i saw my ex gf and lowk damn im actually in a really horrible mental state but like i feel like im fine but when i saw her she was like "you look really tired" i was like damn i am tired so i got some more t and literally hit my pen and slept and went to work and came home and slept and woke up at 3am to go out back and have a cig and sleep till like 4pm the next day and then go to work and idk i feel better now soooo I HAVE A COUPLE MATCH UPS IN MY DRAFTS ILL TRY GET THEM OUT TMRW I LOVE ALL OF YOU ☺️☺️☺️

[wuahae]

haaaiiii im back :3 Ready to get stuffed!

(He hugs Jihoon, too, since you all practically grew up together. Is that your gun, or are you just happy to see me? Jeonghan jokes. Jihoon’s reply: It’s my gun. It’s always my gun.) 

HE IS SOOOOSDFMSDFMSDFLDFK

Here, the streets are lined with dense cherry plum trees, wine-stained and fragrant. They frame driftwood-paneled shop windows housing kitschy art galleries, mom-and-pop bakeries, and patioed bistros with striped awnings. 

unfortunately you know my struggle with descriptions intimately well so as per course i Will always give you your flowers when you just casually cook up imagery like this... your brain is so big.. imagination so wide.

“I was busy, cricket.” He holds up a copy of Complete Advanced Piano Solos and wrinkles his nose. He's hoping you’d laugh with him about it, but you’ve already moved on, now fixated on the shining columns of electric guitars. “I wanted to ask about, you know, all the new stuff going on.” 

this makes me sooo like. clutches throat. like the love is so clearly there but there is just so many things in the past and in between and in the future that neither of you know how to navigate the new relationship... jeonghan who just wants his little sister back and yn who just wants her big brother to be the way he Used to but neither of you are the same version of yourselves that you miss... ohhh......

The arranged marriage I'm doing for you? I split my heart open for you, and that’s the thanks I get? 

ouu....... well its true .!

Yesterday, though, as you were winding down for bed, Joshua had come out of the shower, damp white tee and all. A sorry, unspeakable part of you willed you to posit—Hey, maybe we need a refresher? You couldn’t even get halfway through your sentence. Hell, his glasses even came off.

B-B-B-B-BUSINESS PROPOSAL?!?!?!?!!

A hesitant A major chord, then G major, offkey. Hm, he hums aloud. Then you notice his phone propped on a pillow, a Youtube tutorial rumbling in the background. He tries the G major again. Better, he says, pumping a fist into the tired air. 

OHHHHHH MY GOD............. i need him bad........ also the subtle changing.. Yeah. also the fact that you bought the guitar for him is so fucking cute like. UGHHHH they're learning to love each other.

“Have you ever been in love before?” 

josh initiating the heart-to-heart...

There is an impossible hollowness inside you. You imagine Joshua, twenty-one and bright-eyed at Cambridge, hiding beneath the arch of the cobblestone bridge, the long one behind the quad, to carve hearts into the limestone. There's a girl wrapped in his jacket, her laughter like bells. She draws him close, runs a delicate hand through his hair, a shorter cut, more sporty than it is now. The night is still just as kind, forgiving, as it is now, and the moon still round like a young pearl.  / “Because it would mean that it didn’t end in vain. That it wasn’t really my fault.” 

FUCK.......... fuck...... joshua......... also just to talk about this scene Here i just. really like this scene. like ik i said the piano scene is my fav but This scene is honestly tied as my fav i think you perfected the quaintness and like. fond somberness. so well. the quiet speech, the long silences filled by narration, short sentences that almost seem like they're overstepping but theyre Not.. not when they're being said into the open quiet air like this. not when theyre being said to each other... FUCK!!! i Am a visual reader you know this and when i tell you i can picture this scene perfectly in my head. i think i said this before in my First review but you really have a way of forming sentences that make my brain chew on the cadence... very satisfying. i love this scene a lot. i love josh and yn a lot.

It’s getting cold, the twilight breeze now coming in from the sea. A silence, now sticky, caustic, settles between the two of you. The thought of Joshua, hopelessly in love, a line you hadn’t even dared to cross, seems to wind itself deep into your neurons. 

like this is so good... winds itself deep into your neurons...... dawg you are winding THIS into my neurons. also idk. i like how it paints a softer image of joshua that yn would never have imagined before,,, i love when onions peel back more layers!! also the kiss that undos all the other ones. like its the first time because it is.. the first time they mean it. 😭😭😭😭😭😭

Kinda, you had replied noncommittally. All Jeonghan did lately was start his sentences with remember, like he wanted you to forget who he was now.

MAN. MAN!!!! they just make me soooo sad and tender i love sibling duos so bad...

Like all of your great ideas, it began in the back of a car. 

PLAY THROAT GOAT BY KIM PETRAS HELL YEAH

Now things are more confusing than late-stage Grey’s Anatomy, but good luck explaining that over the phone.

HELPWMEMSFDLKDFSFD

Under the cornflower sky of a near-autumn, the forest seems endless. A flock of geese split the sky in two; a warm breeze haunts the canopy, scattering the afternoon light. The dirt under you is soft, peaty from the morning rain. The hoofbeats are silent today.  Jeonghan’s horse slows so that you ride side-by-side. 

leaning back in my rocking chair with a cup of tea in my hand and a throw blanket over my lap... how nice...

“Maybe,” he chuckles. “But the rest—definitely my fault. I made myself busy because I felt like I had to.”  You’re growing to really hate that word. Jeonghan had to grow up, Joshua had to break up with his first love, you had to learn to pick up all the pieces of both of these things and try to fit them back into your life.  “You didn’t even look back.”  “I was scared, cricket. That if I kept looking back, I wouldn't be able to go forward. And I didn’t want to leave you behind, but I did. I think there was a happy middle somewhere, I just couldn’t find it.” 

reading this section with a perpetual ☹️ look on my face... whyyy do i feel like crying MSDFMSDFLKS they make me so tender... siblings can just be so personal. i didn't want to leave you behind but i did... but he's staying for good now. he missed home (you) too much. FUCK! 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 also its like therapy for yn idk.. to not be cast aside, to not be forgotten, to be Seen again... man....

“I think the only dancing I know how to do is half drunk in the dark. Can’t exactly throw it back on you in front of God and country.”  Joshua grins, a big one, and you, traitorously, feel your cheeks get prickly.  “I wouldn't want God looking at you like that,” he teases.  “And country’s already seen it all.”  “They should consider themselves very lucky, then.” His eyes meet yours, lit by the scattered light of the chandelier. “It's my turn to ask you to let me lead.” 

he is just SO charming... also things falling into place when you kiss him again. BABY YOU'RE IN LOOOVEEEE

 “I’m sorry, but this is how I feel. I won't let you take another girl I love from me. Not again.” 

SHOCKED PIKACHU..... the devastating L word....

Saying it is like getting peeled back, terrible layer by layer, like you wrapped a hand around your heart and ripped it out your chest. And yet you’re glowing, newly-bitten with something that feels like freedom.   “I thought you said I was perfect,” Joshua says, the pink of his lips already unraveling into a smile. This one, you think, finally reaches his eyes.  “Shush, you—” And amongst a chorus of Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! (which would be, quite frankly, humiliating in any other scenario), you finally give in to your adoring public, and kiss. 

HUUUUUUUU THEYRE SOOOOO CUTE.... YN FREEDOM!!!!!!!!!! i love to see my yns happy i really do... the smile finally reaching josh's eyes too oh my god... YOUR HONOR THEYRE IN LOVE 😭😭😭😭😭😭

“When I first saw you, I knew I would marry you,” he starts. That's a joke he’s probably been saving for months now, but instead of rolling your eyes, you can’t help but laugh, like you’re a broken soundboard. “No, really.” 

GOD HES SO LAAAMEEEMDFSJLSDFKM

He produces a small box. It’s different from the first one, the one he used all those months ago when nothing mattered. Inside it, a new ring, something far simpler and more beautiful. Joshua says your name, wonderful and reverent in his mouth. “Darling princess of Cotria, I'm asking you to marry me. Again.”  And you say yes, for the very first time.

a simpler ring this time.. one that suits you so much better than the glitz and glam of the last one.. something even more beautiful because its Him and its You, actually this time. FUCK!!!!! YOU SAY YES FOR THE VERY FIRST TIME............ OH MY GOD.

ok concluding thoughts. i'm trying to sort my thoughts out cause they're all in a jumble rn but What good writing. What splendid fic. i'm sure this has been said a million times over but i will keep saying it a billion times more but your writing is so Real to me! i feel like everything you put on (metaphorical) paper always adds Something to the fic, whether that be a hidden meaning or atmosphere or just being the Funniest person alive but its always such a treat to read your fic and i will always mean that !! onto thoughts about hte actual fic... i do love paralleling mcs you know this but i love how the entire fic is so centered around yn and like. how she learns to be #Herself, not just someone her parents want or someone her parents Don't want... the plotline with jeonghan is SO good like i think it adds so much to her character arc and personalizes her to the reader so much... like i feel like she's just perpetually hurt the majority of the fic and just hides it well and i don't think you could have gotten that across as well if you didn't have jeonghan in the fic! like genuinely his sections were some of my favorites to read just because of the history between them. tfw u haunt the narrative and ur not even dead...

also JOSHHHHH........ i love how you make him insufferable and lame at the same time HAHAHA the scene with him talking about his first love and how it ended.. how he doesn't want everything to be in vain... GUN to my mouth i started dry heaving... idk i think you made him so raw in the best ways and just so Relatable like he felt so real to me . but to be fair All the characters feel so real to me but i think that is just a testament to how wonderful and solid of a writer you are :]

side mention to jihoon. love him bad. the side characters added so much to the humor to the fic tbh like the worldbuilding was immaculate it felt like acros and cotria were real places. or at least as real as they can get as fake vaguely european nations in romcoms can get HAHAHA i love how they have their own distinct characteristics and how yn and joshua are clearly Products of that environment... Yeah!

also i really like the themes of this fic like maybe it hits home for me but like. the notion that growing up and Duty doesn't always have to be bad... duty is what you make of it! jeonghan who doesn't go sneaking out to trashy parties anymore and learns golf even though he hates it golf and doesn't complain about his sweaty hands or sleeping on airplanes but Also the jeonghan that likes meeting people and travelling and Helping people; josh who still lost his first love but still manages to find another in you, who chooses You again even after he doesn't need to anymore, who learns to play guitar over piano after all this time; and you, who doesn't really go out to parties and advertise yourself as the resident party princess anymore but you find yourself still in acros, in love, a ring on your finger that is simpler, cleaner, more suitable, more beautiful than the one that was chosen for you at first, and you find yourself Choosing josh too... duty and responsibility and even though it isn't what you would have wanted at first, finding the joy in the little things too... finding the things you can choose for yourself .

im genuinely soooo honored to have been here since the beginning and to see it through all the rough drafts and edits and silly text messages about you crashing out... a special thank you for you moving to gdocs for me HDSFJLFSDK and again i'm sorry i took so long and i told you this but im very scared this review is #Lackluster and unfunny and is me just. Repeating things you typed back at you HELP like i Swear i had very Real and Insightful things to say the first time i read this but then i think as the months went on my brain deteriorated and here i am... i wish i could articulate all the ways this fic is so good and scratches the itch in my brain but do NAWTTT take my smoothing brain as an indication that this fic was anything but extraordinary im so serious... you continue to blow yourself out of the water every time Thank you for trusting me to brainstorm and beta for you!!!! it is always my pleasure to get the #lilyexclusive I LOVE YOU 🫵 LILY HUSBANDHOSHI! (joshi? we'll see when april rolls around again...)

title: royally screwed [m]

pairing: joshua x f!reader

wc: 30.8k in total; part 1: 15.4k, part 2: 15.4k summary: between remembering last night’s party and pleasing your unrelenting family, you think being a princess is hard enough. then you’re thrust into an arranged marriage to royal darling joshua hong—straight-laced, infuriatingly obedient, and everything you’re not. pretending to be the perfect couple? impossible.   notes: romcom + smut (part 2), modern royalty!au in which yn is the princess of cotria/joshua the prince of acros (both fictional), enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, quarterlife crisis/coming of age, very very slow burn. lots of swearing, lots of alcohol, lots of feelings. [read part 1 here!] (please)

You decide June looks good on Acros. Unlike in Cotria, now sure to be perspiring with tourists, the downtown here is comfortable, inviting, even. At home, you’d be shoulder-to-shoulder with three other people right now. 

This is one of the things you like about this country: it seems to be intentionally idyllic. It’s becoming more clear to you that Joshua’s parents weren’t actually in need of anything from you other than a status boost. You suppose they’re learning the hard way what exactly that comes with.

Jeonghan’s car, or rather, the car Jeonghan happens to be in (he couldn’t drive his way out of a paper bag, try as he might), pulls up to the curb. He’s fresh off a stint of good press, meaning months of speeches, ribbon cutting, and run-ins with parliament and journalists and business moguls all vying for a bite of a future king. You’d add yourself to that list, but you know you’re at the back of the line—you practically live there now, but you’re not sure if things could have happened any other way. 

You watch him step out of the van, never windblown even though he likely just got off a flight. Always with a smile, too, one tired but recognizable, so different from the plasticky ones he wears on TV. 

The first thing he does when he gets out is throw his arms open for a bear hug. “Hey, cricket,” he says, voice wrought with jet-lag. “Missed you.” 

“Glad you had time for one more stop,” you murmur, squeezed into the million-thread count of his shirt. 

“I always have time for you,” he replies, which is decidedly untrue, but you don’t have it in you to say that. All you do lately is get into arguments, and you’re not looking to add your brother to your hit list. 

(He hugs Jihoon, too, since you all practically grew up together. Is that your gun, or are you just happy to see me? Jeonghan jokes. Jihoon’s reply: It’s my gun. It’s always my gun.) 

The second thing he does is push the brim of your baseball cap down.

“The paps,” he warns, as if they were the boogeyman.  

“If they can’t recognize us, they need to get better at their job.” Jeonghan rolls his eyes. “For God’s sake, Jeonghan, we’re all wearing matching hats.” 

No, you are not kidding. Jeonghan, blue, you, red, and Jihoon, green, a la The Powerpuff Girls, which was a joke you made about six years ago and could not let go of. 

“Whatever,” he laughs. “Aren’t you supposed to be showing me around? This is your domain now.” 

“Don’t get excited. I just got here.” 

“What do you need to go shopping for, anyway?” he asks, now walking side-by-side with you. 

“I ask that question every day,” Jihoon replies, glancing at Jeonghan as if to say Women, right?, save for the fact that the both of them have exactly zero game. 

“Somi’s birthday!” you exclaim, two ticks too loudly. “Stuff, I dunno. Just trying to get used to this place.” 

“This isn’t exactly Rodeo Drive, you know.” 

That, Jeonghan is right about. You’re sure there must be a shopping district somewhere in Acros, but definitely not here. Here, the streets are lined with dense cherry plum trees, wine-stained and fragrant. They frame driftwood-paneled shop windows housing kitschy art galleries, mom-and-pop bakeries, and patioed bistros with striped awnings. 

An elderly couple passes you. They smile and wave, visible even under the shade of their parasol, either blissfully unaware of your status or too wise to care. 

“I know,” you waver. “Whatever. I'll just get Yunjin to find me something for the party.” 

Your eye wanders to the jaunty facade of a music store. The sign flaunts handmade, cursive letters with a curly treble clef in the lacquer of old paint. In Cotria, the same sign would be neon, Hollywood-esque, vain. 

“Party?” 

“Let's go there,” you interrupt, hoping to run your big mouth over with some more talking. Of course Jeonghan wouldn’t be cool with any party, nonetheless the one Somi was planning on throwing, but, either by habit or wishful thinking, the news just tumbled right out of you. 

“Party?” Jeonghan repeats. He trails close after you, hoping to grab the door before you can. Such is what he had been taught, after all, which came more naturally than navigating big-brotherhood. “Jihoon?”

Jihoon shrugs, and opens the door before the both of you get there. You’ve trained him well. 

“It’s a small thing,” you tell him. “Close friends only.” It’s not technically a lie—small is relative, and it’s not your fault Somi has two hundred-some close friends.

Inside, you notice the shop is bigger than it looks from the outside. In the front, their nicest pianos: the glossy Yamahas, the baby grands. a lone drum set, on sale, the hi-hat sparkling under the LED lights. And finally, guitars hung from the wall like posters, some lime green and child-sized, others sanded down so the mahogany glows. 

“You already know what I’m going to say,” Jeonghan says, the lilt of his voice verging on not-so-casual. 

“Then don’t say it,” you reply flatly. “You went to those parties too, by the way.” 

“Used to, but—” Jeonghan sighs because he’s beat, and he knows it. 

You absentmindedly flip through a book of sheet music—Alfred's Essentials of Music Theory. behind it, 40 Taylor Swift Songs for Piano. 

“You’ve been good, I hope?” you cut in. “Not too tired?” 

“No,” Jeonghan says.  “I've been great. You?” 

You can’t read his expression. Old Jeonghan would tell you that he’s ready for a nap, that he hates sleeping on airplanes, that his hands still get sweaty when he gets in front of a crowd and the camera flash hurts his eyes. New Jeonghan never complains, either because of some drastic change in his character or because he feels like he can no longer complain to you. Both hurt your feelings in equal measures.

“I called, you know.” 

“I was busy, cricket.” He holds up a copy of Complete Advanced Piano Solos and wrinkles his nose. He's hoping you’d laugh with him about it, but you’ve already moved on, now fixated on the shining columns of electric guitars. “I wanted to ask about, you know, all the new stuff going on.” 

“You mean my arranged marriage?” The words feel stiff in your mouth. 

The arranged marriage I'm doing for you? I split my heart open for you, and that’s the thanks I get? 

You avoid Jihoon’s tentative glare to look at your noodled reflection in the polish of a red Fender. You think of Joshua, of a corny rendition of Here Comes The Sun and a pick between his teeth, cradling a guitar held by a linty, ten dollar strap. 

Then you think of what he said on that piano bench—that somehow he could have prevented this. Actually, this might have been all your fault. One too many shots, and you ended up setting feminism back five centuries. 

“Y-yeah.” You watch Jeonghan’s silhouette appear behind yours. “Has it been okay, at least?” 

Okay is a complicated word to use. It’s hard to say, even for you. 

It would certainly be TMI to tell Jeonghan that you’ve been kissing a lot more often. First it was under the flimsy guise of practice—We have to be ready for our dinner tomorrow, Joshua had said, to which you readily agreed. You couldn’t be the unwilling victim of another headline like KISS OR MISS! It would be terrible for your ego, even more so than your public image. 

Yesterday, though, as you were winding down for bed, Joshua had come out of the shower, damp white tee and all. A sorry, unspeakable part of you willed you to posit—Hey, maybe we need a refresher? You couldn’t even get halfway through your sentence. Hell, his glasses even came off.

You really only liked each other past 9 PM—you still couldn’t quite manage to get through a conversation like normal people. At this point, you had a 50/50 split in terms of who would cast the first terrible stone of petty disagreement. The only thing we have going for us is a dubious physical attraction, seemed like way more of a mouthful than okay, though. 

“Yeah, it’s been okay.” You look around. There's a decent amount of mediocre acoustic guitars on the back wall, more than enough to scratch the itch of someone too afraid to defile something more honorable. “Hey, don’t wait up for me. I think i might buy something.” 

—

[august 10, 2:57 pm; a dress fitting. 

In the ten-foot mirror of the boutique dressing room, you watch Yunjin yank the ties of your corset into a punishing knot. Your mother watches behind you, perched on the chaise. 

“Regal and radiant,” she reads aloud, the shiny cover of a magazine between her hands. “Finally, some good news.” 

“About you and Joshua?” Yunjin asks. 

“Ye–ow!” you wince. “Yeah. We went out to dinner yesterday.” 

The dinner: an exhausting, stuffy affair at an Italian restaurant with two Michelin stars. You came in a nice dress, Joshua in slacks and his best button-up. Smile, wave, a kiss on the cheek. You fed him a spoonful of dessert, a stiff, too-sweet panna cotta. It was either raspberry or strawberry—you were too distracted to really notice. Instead, you’d been practicing the steps, the motions of a true love. 

Should we hold hands over the table? Joshua had asked. 

I don't think we have to. Your hand had curled over the napkin on your lap, as if the thought of his touch physically stung. 

“This is a nice color,” your mother interrupts. She pinches the fabric of the skirt up at your waist, watching the way it bunches over your hips. “It's suitable.” 

Suitable. Right. The dress for your engagement ball, suitable. Just like you, newly suited for the engagement. 

You watch your image in the mirror. It’s taller, more regal, likely the product of Yunjin squeezing all the air out of you, Or worse, the penetrating gaze of your mother over the top of the tabloid.

You blink hard; you waver. ]

[august 20, 10:13 pm; a quiet return to acros after a day at the beach with somi and soonyoung. 

The castle sleeps, warm under the soft glow of candlelight on marble. You pad through the halls, carefully, as to avoid waking the entire country with the thwacks of your still-wet sandals. Hopefully Joshua is sleeping. He'd certainly ask questions, either about if bikini tops really need all that padding or what the SPF of your sunscreen was. 

You approach your room, where the lamplight from the cracked door oozes into the hallway. There's a determined rustling noise coming from the interior. Incriminating. Holding your breath, you cast a long glance into the thin slice of bedroom you can see from where you’re standing. 

There sits Joshua, cross-legged on the bed. Between his legs, the guitar you bought him. It must have finally shipped. He’s tied the gift ribbon it came with to the guitar strap, a woven linen with an offensively bright jacquard pattern. 

A hesitant A major chord, then G major, offkey. Hm, he hums aloud. Then you notice his phone propped on a pillow, a Youtube tutorial rumbling in the background. He tries the G major again. Better, he says, pumping a fist into the tired air. 

God, what a dork, you think. But you don’t walk away.] 

– 

From the garden, the Acrosian moon renders the city blue, like ink from a spilled well. 

It’s quiet out here, you notice. The forest spills into the sky, and the scent of roses lies heavy on your skin. You’re seated on the bench beneath the sculpted gazebo, a worthy centerpiece, and you revel in the coolness of the granite, the bated still of the air. You like this garden better than the one at home, although it’s entirely possible that you’ve been conditioned into hating all topiaries, no thanks to your parents. 

It's only when you hear the quiet click of footsteps behind you that you realize you’ve lost track of how long you’ve been outside. You’re now able to tell them apart–these, Joshua’s, steady and purposeful, sound like they have a heartbeat. 

You don’t turn around to greet him. “So you finally had enough, huh?” you ask instead, sliding to the left so he can sit beside you. 

“How'd you know?” he chuckles. 

“I'd like to think I know at least a little about you.” 

“I appreciate it,” is his reply, surprisingly warm.

Just a few hours earlier, your parents had come to visit. They cooed and giggled and connived alongside Joshua’s parents before launching into a very long, very serious discussion about your engagement ball. You’ve learned not to sweat the small stuff, the small stuff being the color of the napkins, the members of the string quartet, the hors d'oeuvres. But then it got weird: the symbolism of the color of your nail polish, which journalists were allowed to watch you make out, when and how Jeonghan was supposed to announce his presence during all of this. 

Then things got critical, which really sucked. No one was safe this time, not even Joshua. You lasted about an hour, Joshua about forty-five minutes more. You wonder what his breaking point was. Maybe it was his mother finally telling him off for having more than three buttons undone whenever he wore a dress shirt. 

In the silence, you feel an inexplicable peace. Maybe this is the only time you can get along; underneath the same moon, the same stars, the divide doesn’t feel quite as wide. You let your mind clear, first, past the fog of Somi’s birthday bash, glittery and blinding in your mind’s eye, past Jeonghan’s tired shoulders in the music store, past all the magazine covers and photo ops. The heavy reality feels heavier in your stomach, but you’re no longer as scared, although resignation looks like acceptance when you whittle it close enough to the bone. 

“Have you ever been in love before?” 

Joshua’s voice is so low, it takes you by surprise. You look to your side and see his eyes, shaded by the long curl of his lashes, trained on the sky, his expression unreadable. There’s a piercing sincerity to it, one you haven’t seen before. 

“No,” you reply, the answer coming to you faster than any regret ever could. “How could i?” 

“So all the boyfriends before, just…?” he trails off. He's referencing the magazines, all the covers with full size photos of you and the model of the month holding hands by the riviera, sharing a martini, kissing outside a nightclub. There are too many to remember, but you’re surprised he’s aware of any at all. 

“It was just stupid fun. I dunno. We hung out, had sex, whatever. It was never serious. I didn't tell them about anything at all; I was okay with them not really knowing me, at least, not as anything other than a party girl, the runaway princess, etcetera. We didn’t owe each other anything.” 

“Sounds lonely.” 

“Sometimes,” you answer. “But it was fun. I don't regret it. I just never saw room for them in all of this.” 

Joshua hums, low and deep. 

“And you?” you ask, incredulous. “In love?” 

“In university,” he says after a brief pause. “There was a girl. I think I loved her more than I had ever loved anything else before.” 

“What? Who?” you interrupt. “Do I know her?” 

“No.” Then, a quiet chuckle. “No one did. She was a civilian, a normal girl. She wanted to be a biologist, I think. it was either that, or a nurse. We snuck around a lot. Probably more than you did.” 

“Can I ask what happened?” 

“I told her I'd marry her. I thought if I wanted it enough, it would happen. I'd go to my parents, profess my love, and all our rules would fall away somehow. Just like that.” 

Suddenly, it feels like there is a gaping wound in your chest. Every new word seems to draw the bloody edges of your skin further apart. 

“Well, they didn’t,” Joshua continues. “I broke her heart. and I learned that all of this would never go away. Not for love, not for anything.” 

There is an impossible hollowness inside you. You imagine Joshua, twenty-one and bright-eyed at Cambridge, hiding beneath the arch of the cobblestone bridge, the long one behind the quad, to carve hearts into the limestone. There's a girl wrapped in his jacket, her laughter like bells. She draws him close, runs a delicate hand through his hair, a shorter cut, more sporty than it is now. The night is still just as kind, forgiving, as it is now, and the moon still round like a young pearl. 

“And that’s why you’re…you know.” You pause. The words all feel stuck to the roof of your mouth. “You like the rules.” 

“Because it would mean that it didn’t end in vain. That it wasn’t really my fault.” 

“You don’t want to mess up again. I get it.” 

“Yeah.” 

You notice your arms are touching, that they have been touching. Somehow, you don’t want to move away. 

“Why are you telling me this?” you ask.

“Not sure.” Joshua sighs, having fully abandoned the filter he normally speaks to you through. “I don't think we’re so different. I don't know. It feels good to tell someone.” 

“Do you still love her?” 

“No. I don't think I can.” 

“I'm sorry,” you swallow, feeling the familiar lump in your throat. 

“Don’t be. It wasn’t your fault.”

It’s getting cold, the twilight breeze now coming in from the sea. A silence, now sticky, caustic, settles between the two of you. The thought of Joshua, hopelessly in love, a line you hadn’t even dared to cross, seems to wind itself deep into your neurons. 

“No really,” you insist. “I'm sorry. I gave you a hard time—no, I've been giving you a hard time. I didn't know.” 

“You don’t have to do that.” 

“What?” 

“Be nice to me. No one’s watching.” 

“I know,” you say, a foolish conviction rising in your stomach. You almost feel silly, juvenile, for never really baring your heart like how he had. You’re not sure which was worse. 

You turn to look at him, really look at him. He's framed by the haze of the violets, the gentle curtain of the willows. 

“Says the real you?” Joshua asks.

“Yup,” you laugh. “Usually is. You probably get the worst of it, to be honest.” 

“She’s not so bad.” He returns your gaze; it’s honest, unsearching. “According to the real me, by the way.” 

“Really?” 

“Really.” 

There are no words left. In fact, nothing quite says more than the way you now sit together, hands close enough to touch, without quarrel, complaint, or a yearning to prove yourself to some invisible standard. Instead, you enjoy the quiet calm, the way it drapes itself across the garden, the city, the quick of your heart. Now that you think about it, it’s the first time you’ve been able to do this without feeling like you were putting on a show.

This time, you think it’s real when you lean against his shoulder, and he leans back, chasing your warmth.

And it certainly seems to stay real when your hands find each other. You realize he does it the same way every time—the gentle skim of his fingertips down your hand before your palms meet, gently, forthright. 

And it’s here, in the uncertain glow of the summer moon, where you think you’re the closest to ever knowing just what Joshua had been talking about earlier. 

His hand curls around your cheek, holding you, wanting to see you clearer still, and he kisses you. It's not the practiced motion of an ill-conceived love, nor a hungry, blind stumble in your unlit bedroom. No, this time, it's as if you are being drawn back, wonderfully, slowly. Joshua kisses you as if it's the first time, as if to undo all the other times.

And somehow, almost by magic, the fountain song and the phantom photographers, the parents and the press, the world and everything in it, finally draw quiet. 

–

“So,” Jihoon says, reloading his pistol. “You ok? Don’t you hate the range?” 

You push your earmuffs aside to hear him better. “What?” 

“I said, don’t you hate the range?” 

“Well,” you balk. Jihoon puts the gun down and leans against the booth, looking at you from behind the glare of his safety glasses. Behind him is the paper target of a man with five bullet holes through his head. “I think I've gotten used to it.” 

This is all true—you did hate the range, but it’s where you can always count on finding Jihoon on a Sunday afternoon. Better people went to church, but Jihoon preferred to terrorize the poor center circle of a bullseye. 

“Hm.” He picks up the pistol again, stares down its iron sights. “Somi need anything for her birthday?” 

“She needs a new man,” you reply, and Jihoon laughs. 

Bang. Bang. 

“But, no, I'm getting her that vintage Cartier watch she’s been wanting forever. They were auctioning it off in Paris.” 

“Right, since it’s time for her to get a new boyfriend,” Jihoon deadpans, although he can’t quite get it out before he chuckles. “What about Soonyoung?” 

“They cannot get together. You’re just being messy.” 

“Sure, I'm the messy one. Didn’t they sleep together?” 

“That was, like, two years ago. Drunk.” 

Bang. Then a click–the clip’s empty. “By the way—you decided if you’re going to Cotria this weekend? Jeonghan will be back again, you know.” 

You pause, watching Jihoon reload the magazine, shiny bullet by bullet. You definitely know Jeonghan’s coming home—minus all the time you spend on Find My Friends, you were always acutely aware of when he was in town. The real question is if you wanted to see him again. Usually, you’d count down the days, make plans at all your favorite restaurants, buy a bottle of cheap wine to split over a shitty Godzilla movie. That was when you still talked. 

The last time you saw him was when he visited you in Acros. After the music store, you milled around a couple shops, walked through an art gallery. (Remember when you got lost at the Prado? he had asked. You were staring at that painting with all the butts. 

Kinda, you had replied noncommittally. All Jeonghan did lately was start his sentences with remember, like he wanted you to forget who he was now.) 

“I dunno,” is what you land on. “I'm busy.” 

“Well, Jeonghan asked me.” Jihoon takes down his old target and sets up a fresh one, another formless, black silhouette. 

“Asked you what?”

“If I could ask you to come.” 

“Does Josh know?” 

“He actually already helped with arrangements for you to go back,” Jihoon replies, palming the gun again. “He said only if you wanted to, though.” 

The tightness in your chest seems to coil over itself once more. Joshua had asked you about Jeonghan over breakfast one morning, before handing you a coffee and a croissant to soften the blow. You had been talking a lot more lately, which, somehow, you didn’t mind. If he wasn’t making fun of you, he was actually a decent listener. 

You watch Jihoon steady his arms. 

Bang. Bang. Bang. 

–

Like all of your great ideas, it began in the back of a car. 

Surprising, maybe. Accidental? Never. 

You’re getting ahead of yourself, though. It really started earlier tonight, at the charity event you attended with Joshua. 

Lesser beings would blame the wine, a cheap chardonnay only fit for sorority girls on a Friday night. Naturally, you and Joshua were responsible for downing about half the bottle—a fun amount, you’d like to say, although you admit you were surprised at your date’s ability to hold his alcohol. 

You, however, can peg the real culprit: a reasonably slutty dress, removed from the annals of Somi’s closet, back when she was less of a Paris Hilton and more of a Princess Diana. 

The evidence: damning. As you were getting ready—Can you zip me up? you had asked Joshua, fiddling with the rollers in your hair, already a generous ten minutes late. Then the slow, lingering skim of his touch, molasses up the hollow of your spine. At dinner, a warm hand on your knee. You didn’t hang around much longer after that, but walking to the car was a wondrous excuse for the flat of his palm to find the small of your back, fondly, comfortably, as if you had known each other for years. 

Since you had spoken in the garden, certainly you had acted like more of a couple. It came more naturally, likely due to the fact that you had no idea if you were actually a couple or not. You suppose it doesn’t matter at the end of the day. Well—sort of.

Now, you’re just being obtuse. What you’re really trying to do is explain how your hand found its way down Joshua’s pants in the back of your limousine. And still, found is too generous of a word. But you digress. 

The short version: you kissed Joshua. Jihoon parked the car out back, you had gotten tired of Joshua glancing at you through the side of his eyes, and you kissed him. Regrettably, this hasn’t gotten boring yet. You enjoy the way he searches for your touch, the part of his soft lips. 

Sometime between the third and the tenth time your tongue found its way into Joshua’s mouth, Jihoon removed himself from the situation—he was always good at that part. Two wandering hands later, your palm skimmed over the front of Joshua’s slacks. No big deal, except he was half-hard and he moaned in your mouth like he was doing the ad-libs in a Cupcakke song. 

“Whoops,” you had babbled. This whole night, you’d been searching for the brakes on the clown car winding through the horny fog of your horrible, vexed mind. 

“Fuck, sorry,” Joshua replied just as quickly, the words seeming to slip back down his throat. 

Then you had stared at each other and blinked, hard, as if that would erase the fact that, one, the prince of Acros had just cursed approximately half an centimeter from your face, and two, you’d now crossed a bridge that could not be uncrossed. 

You could no longer lie to yourself about the fact that you are hopelessly attracted to Joshua. You don’t even know if you want to lie anymore. You still thought of the time you ran into him, birthday suit and all, all those weeks ago in the bathroom. And, yes, you had wondered how big he was, although you blame Somi for planting that evil idea in you. 

Hence, with God as your witness (since Jihoon was no longer there), you had said, “I can help, you know. If you want.” 

You didn’t expect Joshua to nod so quickly. Then again, you now know yourself to be a poor judge of most things, especially ones relating to whatever this is. 

“Do you want to?” he had asked, eyes fogged over. 

“Yes. really.” Then you stopped. “Is this your first—”

“No. Does it really seem like it?” 

Okay. You’ll have to unpack that later. 

So, finally, here you are. Somewhere along the line, your shame had fallen to the wayside, and a new desire now rocks you. 

“Could’ve just asked earlier,” you tease, thumbing the buckle of Joshua’s belt. 

“Should’ve known you’re not one for subtlety,” he laughs softly, his eyes fixed on how you undo the clasp. It’s a silly comment, but all the blood still rushes to your cheeks at the idea of him wanting you not just now, but all night. “Next time.” 

“Really now.” The button at his waistband proves difficult with your new nails, so you instead sit your hand on the tent in his pants, palm him over the fabric. “You’d let me do this in the washroom of a charity ball?”

Delightfully, you watch him squirm. He doesn’t fight you, instead, uses his hands to bring you closer so you can feel his voice on your skin. “You’d be surprised,” he replies. 

“His highness,” you say before returning to the wretched button, “Fooling around at a formal event? Scandalous.” 

“Says the walking scandal,” Joshua laughs again, nipping at your earlobe. Then a sigh, breathy and tortured, as you finally peel back his slacks. 

“Isn’t this about the time where you be quiet and let me do my thing?”

“Is that an order?” 

“Yeah, since you seem to like them so much.” 

He opens his mouth to complain, but you’ve beaten him to the punch. Skin meets skin; you watch his eyes flutter shut, the slow fall of his shoulders as he exhales. 

Fuck, you think to yourself. If that’s all it takes for him to get hard— you force the thought back to where it came from. You’re getting ahead of yourself. Already, you’re reveling in the lewd image before you: the nation’s darling prince, legs spread and slack-jawed in the back of a limo, dizzy at the thought of a pretty girl playing with his cock. 

Your hand wraps around his length, pulls it out of his briefs. Feeling the weight, heavy and warm on your palm, makes your skin prickle. He is big, but even if he wasn’t, the way he gasps into your ear when you start pumping him is enough to satisfy. 

You start slow, just to be a little mean. He's longer than you expected, you realize. A turn of the wrist at the base, a little more pressure, and you hear him groan, loudly, shamelessly, as he tips his head back. 

“Feels good?” you ask, voice lower than a whisper. You know it does—you’re not inexperienced by any stretch of the imagination, but something about turning the prince into putty makes the months of horrible foreplay worth it. 

“Yeah,” he says, part sigh. “Really good.” 

“Good.” Then you hold out your palm in front of his mouth. You tell yourself it’s a litmus test for his freak-o-meter, but there’s a part of you that wants to make this the best handjob of his short, unexciting life. 

First, he looks at you, wide eyes unblinking. There's already a flush, pretty and pink, across his cheeks, the column of his neck. Then, it clicks. He spits into your hand, and you watch it trail down the plush curve of his lips, his chin, the ridge of his adam’s apple. The color spreads to his ears; his mouth twists shyly. Oh, he looks perfect, maybe even more than perfect like this. 

As if drawn by a magnet, you kiss him, and your hand finds his cock again. The friction alone draws out a low whine from Joshua’s chest, enough for you to feel the sound on your own tongue. Emboldened, you pump faster, harder, loving the way his hips kick up to meet your touch. 

Still, he gives no indication that he’s close. Something tells you he has more stamina than you think, which surprises you. Thirty minutes ago, you thought he was a virgin. 

“Josh?” you murmur, your lips brushing over his. “Wanna taste you.” 

He meets your gaze, expression unreadable. You think maybe you’re moving too fast, that you’ve crossed some sort of boundary, until you feel the shadow of his hand move, first on your waist, then up the back of your neck. He gathers your hair in one hand, easily, as if he’s done this many a time before, and you get the message. 

You wet your lips, swollen at this point, and bow your head. You’re running on something crazier than adrenaline at this point—even seeing the bead of precum at his tip is making your jaw feel heavy. 

The first taste, always thrilling, sends sparks to your cunt. You seal your lips around his cockhead, feeling its weight on your greedy tongue, and he pulls your hair just enough to make you moan. 

“Were you thinking about doing this all night?” Joshua asks, voice deceptively innocent. 

You can’t answer. You don’t want to. He tastes good, he even fucking smells good, and you want him bad. Instead, you take him to the base, feel him bump against your palate as you try not to gag. You can’t fit him all the way, so your hands make up the slack. He's even bigger fully hard, and already, you feel the ache in your cheeks, your temples. 

“Fuck, you must have been.” A groan, low and slutty. “Doing so good for me.”

You can’t tell if he’s being genuine or if this is his version of dirty talk, but it’s working. His hand is gentle, restrained behind you, letting you lead. The worse part of you wonders what it would take for him to break, but that’s a project for another time. 

Honestly, he doesn’t need to do much—again and again, you chase the feeling of his cock deep in your throat, enough to bruise. You don’t even care if you gag around him; when you do, he pulls your hair back, just enough to make your scalp prickle wonderfully, seemingly oblivious to the fact that you like it. 

You feel heady with arousal. You start to wonder how he is in bed, if he’d hold your hair like that, run his mouth like he is now. He's vocal, more than anyone else you’ve been with, and every little noise goes straight to your core, makes your thighs squeeze together pathetically. By now, you’re sure you’ve ruined this set of panties. 

“ ‘m close,” he says between breaths. “You don’t have to—” 

Stupid, stupid boy, you think. You don’t think you’ve wanted to do anything more. So instead of answering, you look up at him, eyes big and watery, and you suck hard. with your tongue nestled underneath his cockhead, right by the vein, it’s almost too easy. 

He groans, loud, satisfied, and you feel his release fill your mouth. Even after swallowing, it’s enough to run down your chin, get your makeup all smudged, and you like it. If you weren’t in trouble already, you are now. 

“Ah, I made you a mess,” Joshua says, gravelly and intimate. With one hand, he takes the handkerchief out of his suit jacket and cradles your jaw with the other. “Hold still.” 

“You,” you manage after clearing your throat. “You don’t have to sacrifice your pocket square.” 

“Yes, I do,” he chuckles. He wipes the corners of your mouth, your aching chin, and it almost makes you cry. “You literally gave me head in the back of a car. The pocket square can go.” 

He draws you up to his chest so you can rest your head on him. There’s a warm, melty feeling between your ribs, minus what you had just swallowed. Inexplicably, even as the horny fog clears from your brain, you still want to be close, closer than close and then closer still. 

“Head? I don’t like hearing you use normal people slang.” You pout, and you feel his laugh radiate from beneath his skin. “Good head, at least?” 

“Oh, please. Better than good,” he answers. “You’re perfect. perfect.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” you start. Then he shuts you up with his mouth over yours, and you forget to think about liking him, loving him, or marrying him—this, you think you can do. 

—

“We’re in Barcelona!” 

You’re greeted by a pocket sized Somi and Soonyoung as they grin at you from your phone screen. They look to be on the balcony of a hotel suite, both wearing their matching silk robes. 

“Wow,” you reply. “And where was my invite?” 

“We did invite you, bitch,” Somi says, pulling down her sunglasses to look at you. “You said you were busy.” 

“Well, I mean…” you uncap a bottle of nail polish. “That's not untrue.”

“The ocean needs you,” Soonyoung whines, clutching his chest. “We need you.” 

“I'm sorry! Josh and I have been doing engagement stuff.” 

“Josh? Since when were you on a nickname basis?” 

“Whatever,” you interrupt. “What are you guys gonna do today?” 

“Beach,” Soonyoung responds brightly, with Somi’s Don’t let her change the subject! loud in the background. 

To be honest, you don’t even know the answer to her question. It just sort of happened, which seems to be the new normal for you. You’re also trying to pull apart last night–the freak-o-meter test came back inconclusive, and, for some reason, Joshua fell asleep with his arm over your middle. (Actually, you can think of a few reasons why he did that, but you’re not really sure how to feel about any of them.) 

“Ugh, I miss you guys.” You wipe at your pinkie toe, having smudged the polish beyond repair. “Drink a little extra sangria for me. And by little, I mean a lot.”  

“You’re still coming to Somi’s birthday, right?” Soonyoung asks.

“Yes, of course she is,” Somi replies. “Unless you can’t. Which I totally understand.”

“I still can,” you lie. “It just has to be more low-key than usual.” 

“No paparazzi,” Somi says. “And I'll tell everyone to keep you on the down low. Super duper down low.” 

“No way.” Damn, you curse to yourself—you keep screwing up painting your big toe. “Seriously?”

“Anything for my queen,” she giggles. “Pitbull is also confirmed, by the way. Secret Pitbull now.” 

“Good, because that’s the only reason I’m coming.” 

“Boo, you whore.” Somi wrinkles her nose at you playfully. (Is she being serious? Soonyoung asks in the background.) “Also, I'm still waiting for my update on the whole prince thing. I've been very patient.”

“No updates. Nothing to report,” you insist. Frustratingly, your cheeks are hot, like you’re in secondary school all over again. 

“You fucked him, huh?” 

You bite the inside of your cheek. 

“Halfway. Maybe.” 

The combined sound of Somi and Soonyoung’s gasps rips apart your phone speakers, and you draw in a big breath. I did it for the plot doesn’t quite seem like the right justification, not like it used to be. The plot never used to involve the M word, love, or any sort of feelings at all. Now things are more confusing than late-stage Grey’s Anatomy, but good luck explaining that over the phone.

“So you do like him,” Soonyoung says, saucer eyes sparkly on-screen.

“I don't know,” you answer. It’s true, you don’t. To you, like was flirting over text and french kissing. Paradoxically, you had told Joshua all of that, and he still decided to do whatever he did to you on the ledge of the fountain all those days ago. It felt like he ate the heart right out of your chest. Then you had to go and suck his dick, which never made anything less complicated. 

“Oh please. Look at you,” Somi laughs. “Yeah, you do.” 

Fuck. You’ve smudged all the polish off your big toe again. 

– 

Not much surprises you these days, but you can’t say you were expecting to see your riding boots to be the first thing you see when you arrive home in Cotria. 

The second thing you see is Jeonghan, smiling at you in his big, stupid riding helmet, camo-printed because he bought it when he was 15 and his head never grew much bigger since. 

“For old times sake?” He then holds your own helmet up by the straps, and whatever twinge of annoyance you had felt earlier makes way for something softer, more forgiving. “Everything's set up outside.” 

It doesn’t take you much time to take him up on the offer. If anything, a long ride usually solves all your problems, and you definitely have problems that need solving. 

You saddle up in the stables, wordlessly, moved by habit. It seems to be the same for Jeonghan, too. Even Peanut acts like it hasn’t been years since he’s seen him, and he noses at the box of sugar cubes like he always does. Then again, horses don’t hold grudges, at least, not like you do. Even Joshua seemed more optimistic about this encounter than you did. 

“So you're back back,” you say, hooking your feet in the stirrups. “Or do you have more jet-setting to do?” 

“Back back,” Jeonghan replies. “Missed home too much.” 

He cocks his head towards the old riding trail, the one that loops the long way through the woods. The gesture is but a formality—it’s the only path you ever take. Still, you follow behind his horse, watching the beige swoosh of Peanut’s tail the same way you did when you were a little girl and things were far simpler than they are now. 

Under the cornflower sky of a near-autumn, the forest seems endless. A flock of geese split the sky in two; a warm breeze haunts the canopy, scattering the afternoon light. The dirt under you is soft, peaty from the morning rain. The hoofbeats are silent today. 

Jeonghan’s horse slows so that you ride side-by-side. 

“Hey, cricket?” 

“Yeah?” 

“I…” Jeonghan clears his throat and pauses, quite unlike him. “I wanted to come out here to talk.” 

“Everything ok?” 

“Yeah, I…” Another pause. “I know things haven’t felt normal between us. For me, at least.” 

You almost drop the reins. A strange, floating feeling is set off in your body, like a flare. 

“Yeah,” you reply. “I was kinda hoping you would say that.” 

“I'm sorry.” A hard swallow. “I haven't really been the best brother, have I?” 

“Well, not…not really.” Quickly, frenetically, words bob up in the back of your mouth like you’re playing whack-a-mole. You had been waiting for this conversation to happen for so long, you realized you hadn’t planned much further than that. “It felt like you’d changed. A lot.” 

The wind feels like ribbons around you. You sway back and forth on Astrid, as if on a boat. 

“Was it the birthday party thing?” you ask. “I didn’t mean for it to…you know.” 

“Actually, that was my fault.” Jeonghan smiles bitterly. “I shouldn't have let Mom and Dad run me over like that. You should’ve been there. It was never really the same without you.” 

“Well, I should've come,” you admit. “So we both fucked up.” 

“Maybe,” he chuckles. “But the rest—definitely my fault. I made myself busy because I felt like I had to.” 

You’re growing to really hate that word. Jeonghan had to grow up, Joshua had to break up with his first love, you had to learn to pick up all the pieces of both of these things and try to fit them back into your life. 

“You didn’t even look back.” 

“I was scared, cricket. That if I kept looking back, I wouldn't be able to go forward. And I didn’t want to leave you behind, but I did. I think there was a happy middle somewhere, I just couldn’t find it.” 

“Jeonghan, you’re not really making sense right now,” you say, flattened, and he laughs. 

“I don't even know what I'm saying. I think I'm trying to say that I just want you to be happy. And that I'm sorry.” 

You bite your lip, as if to distract yourself from the strange pressure in your throat. You think you want to cry, but you’re not sure.

“But are you happy?” you ask. “With the coronation and everything? Did you even want this?” 

“I am, believe it or not. I know you don’t, but I'm not lying. Somewhere along the line, I started liking all of the talking, the traveling, the interviews. I like that I can help people. Some of it sucks, but not all of it.” He laughs, finally one that sounds like something you can remember. “Not everything you have to do is bad.” 

“Jeonghan, I'm getting married because of you. Because of this,” you say, trying to keep your voice from cracking. “I don't know how to do this. Any of this, not like you, not like Mom, or anyone.” 

This, in fact, does make Jeonghan stop. He stills and falls silent. At once, it seems the forest goes quiet too. 

“Don’t get married, then.” You don’t respond, so he says it again. “You don’t have to go through with it. Not for my sake, at least.” 

“What?” 

“I've been thinking about it ever since it happened. I can talk to everyone. You’d rather not be with the guy, right?”

Your tongue freezes in your mouth. You thought you had an answer, but it refuses to come out. 

“I have a duty to protect you, too. I’ll be fine with or without the press.” 

“Jeonghan,” you say quietly. Many moons ago, you would have laughed at the word duty, but instead, your stomach turns over and over and over. “You don’t have to.” 

“I want to,” is his simple answer. “I want to because I care about you. We can figure out the rest.” 

Something in your bones feels heavy. You’d also been waiting to hear those words, but it didn’t feel as freeing as you thought it would. You think about Joshua, his books and his perfectly placed bookmarks, his dumb dad jokes, the way he reaches for your hand, fingertips before palm. 

“Can I think about it?” 

“Of course. The engagement ball is probably happening either way, but it’s no big deal. Bigger engagements have been called off in far worse circumstances.” 

You’re having trouble believing him, but you have no other choice. Your life would certainly get a lot easier if everything were to just end. No more press releases, scripts, or awkward pictures. And no more worrying about if you could go out on the weekends or just how much of yourself to give up to make things work. 

“There's no rush.” He turns to look at you with the same wild shine in his eyes that you’d grown to miss so much. “Truce?”

That, somehow, you’re much happier to hear. You thought you’d be angrier than this, feel the usual metal-red of your gut, but all that’s left is a sobering feeling of relief, of home. At last, things feel close to normal. 

“Truce.” 

So you ride and ride, but a decision doesn’t come to you as easily as you thought. The sunset breaks; the word duty clings to you, unshakable, unrelenting. 

—

Somehow, you have gone full circle: at the end of a long day, you find yourself back at the piano, much like you did when you were seven, and the only thing you could do right was play Hot Cross Buns. 

Joshua had bought an unreasonable amount of music books, half guitar for him, half piano for you. You’d forgotten just how much you had liked playing until that night, many nights ago, when you and he had first muddled through that duet. 

Yesterday, you and your parents had tea at the waterfront before you had left the country. You were still undecided on the engagement; frustratingly, the needle hadn’t moved much in either direction since Jeonghan had raised his proposal to you. 

Congratulations, your mother had told you, right over her cup of oolong. 

For what? 

You’ve risen to the occasion. You’ve grown up. 

To you, this was not a compliment. You didn’t know what it was. You had twisted the ring on your finger, back and forth, a habit you picked up after all the time you spent wearing it. You wondered if somewhere, you had become exactly like Jeonghan, molded and spun into someone unrecognizable. Maybe that was why Joshua finally seemed to like you.

Have you practiced for your first dance? your father asked, and you no longer had time to worry about the state of your personality—you had other fires to put out. 

Really, that’s why you’re at the piano today. You thought you could play the damn tune and somehow remember all the ballroom dancing lessons you had taken when you were younger. Unsurprisingly, it hasn’t worked yet. 

There’s a knock at the doorframe. “Come in,” you say, already knowing that it’s Joshua. No one else does that; Jihoon barges in and just starts talking, and you can hear Joshua’s parents from a mile away because of all the jewelry they have on. 

“Just wanted to see what you were up to,” Joshua says. He leans against the frame of the piano, already dressed down for the night. 

“Nothing,” you reply. “Just magically hoping that I remember how to ballroom dance.” 

“Well, first things first, you can’t dance sitting down.” He chuckles, and you pull your lips tight. 

“I'm serious, Josh,” you whine. 

“You really don’t remember?” He gives you one of those looks, one that you’re quite used to now, with the judgmental wrinkle of the brow. “Didn’t you take lessons?” 

“Yeah, like…fifty million years ago.” 

“I couldn’t tell,” he says, grinning something foolish. “You don’t look a day over fifty.” Then he offers you his hand, which you take, and he easily pulls you from the bench. 

“Flattered,” you say, unable to push down the corners of your smile. “You gonna teach this senior citizen a few moves?” 

“Perhaps, as my good deed for the day.” He holds your hand, still firmly in his, and slides it up his arm to rest on his bicep. “Left hand here,” he tells you. 

“Are you flirting with me?” 

“Not yet,” Joshua laughs. “The ballroom hold ring a bell?” His other hand finds your free one, and you interlace fingers simply, easily. Then, the warmth of a hand between your shoulder blades, one that draws you to his chest. 

“I think the only dancing I know how to do is half drunk in the dark. Can’t exactly throw it back on you in front of God and country.” 

Joshua grins, a big one, and you, traitorously, feel your cheeks get prickly. 

“I wouldn't want God looking at you like that,” he teases. 

“And country’s already seen it all.” 

“They should consider themselves very lucky, then.” His eyes meet yours, lit by the scattered light of the chandelier. “It's my turn to ask you to let me lead.” 

“Fine,” you pout, noticing that familiar warmth in your stomach. 

Joshua begins to count your steps off (one, two, three—ow, that’s my foot! —sorry!). He’s patient with you, more patient than you think you deserve. His hand seems to slot perfectly into the curve of your back; his gaze settles onto you in a way that makes your chest feel heavy, molten. 

“For someone who goes out so much, you have a terrible sense of rhythm,” Joshua says, teasing. 

“Hey,” you object. “Maybe I just have a bad teacher.” 

“Oh, so it’s my fault now?” 

“Well, I'm not about to blame Britney Spears.” 

Joshua laughs, and the sound is so close to you, you can feel it on your skin. 

“I still think it’s the student’s fault.” 

“Me?!” Perfectly timed, your sock-clad feet collide (yours, striped and fuzzy, his, plain white). “Impossible.” 

“Too distracting,” he murmurs, and you notice how unfairly pretty his eyes are. “You bump into me, criticize me, you look at me like that…”

You feel dizzy. You don’t know what Joshua’s doing to you, but it’s mean. Your face is warm, and normally you’d blame it all on the alcohol but you haven’t had any. Worst of all, the soft part of you, the lizard-brained, impulsive part, can’t stop thinking about his lips and how they would feel on yours.

It’s a thought you don’t let linger, much like all of the other half-thoughts you have, and you kiss him, as if it was a reprieve from the terrible, horrible way he’s making you feel. (It isn’t.) 

“You talk too much,” you tell Joshua, right against his lips. “Not enough teaching.” 

“I'm putting you in remediation.” 

“Devastating.” 

“And giving you homework.” 

“Whatever shall I do?” 

Joshua answers that question for you. He kisses you, once, twice, still not enough, and, somehow, things feel more simple than they ever had before. 

—

Jihoon’s eyes are dark, dagger-sharp in the rearview mirror. 

“We’re coming up,” he says. “A few minutes out.” 

“I know,” you answer. Yunjin was successful, almost too successful, in her task of finding you an appropriately revealing dress for a newly engaged twenty-something at the party of the year. The filmy silk stretches around your thighs; the cowl neck flirts with the neckline of the bikini top you have on underneath. 

You look good, probably better than how you’ve looked in months. And yet, for some reason, you don’t feel good, at least, not how you’d thought you’d feel on the way to the only event you’d been looking forward to this year.

Somi’s gift rattles in your lap. It’s covered in this loud, hot pink wrapping paper unbecoming of something you had spent years tracking down on the antiques circuit. Normally, you’d have a laugh with Jihoon about it, maybe take some selfies in the car, but instead, you find yourself spinning your ring around your finger like you always seem to do these days.

You think of Jeonghan, of Joshua. Of course, what you do or don’t do on your best friend’s birthday is none of their business (although, very inconveniently, Jeonghan did have some event this weekend, and Joshua was traveling). But still, you think of the boldface headlines, the whispering gossip forums, the washed-out image of you in your little dress on the cover of a cheap magazine. This wasn’t exactly a tame party, and things weren’t just about you anymore, not like they used to be. 

Marking your arrival isn’t the GPS nor Jihoon, rather, it’s the firefly buzz of the cameras outside your limo as it’s forced to come to a stop. You squint, trying to see past the tint of your windows, and see Somi, radiant in her birthday tiara, as she pushes through the crowd. Behind her is the villa she rented, illuminated by pink and gold strobe lights. 

You crack open the car door and are met with a stifling deluge of camera flashes. Music pulses through the air, enough to feel beneath your heels. 

“Who's my favorite princess?” Somi exclaims, throwing her arms open. “You made it! you look hot.” 

“Not as hot as the birthday girl,” you reply, and you let her squeeze the air out of you in a wonderful, bone-crushing hug. “What's with all the cameras?” 

“Professional photographers. Just wanted something to remember the night by, because we are blacking out.” She giggles, already tipsy. “Come, come, we’re doing shots inside.” 

“Without me?” 

“We’ll catch you up.” 

Somi drags you by the hand through the sea of people, and you watch the cameras follow as they always do. She leads you up the stairs, underneath the towering balloon display, and into the foyer, already darkened, lit only by a disco ball chandelier and the neon backlights. 

You spot Soonyoung by a champagne tower that seems twice his size, as promised. He's in a leather jacket, no shirt under, and you watch his eyes light up as they meet yours. 

“A shot for her highness,” he shouts over the music. 

“I thought this was champagne.” 

“Tequila's close enough.” He laughs, eyes upturned, bright like gemstones. 

The first shot goes down easy. it always does. So does the second, unsurprisingly. Around the third is when Somi tells you that the strippers are coming in an hour. (—Strippers?! —Not everyone has a fiancé, you know.) 

And, just like that, you’re back to the beginning. It’s hard to think over the ridiculously good Kesha mix the DJ is playing, but, terribly, you think you’re starting to understand what Jeonghan was talking about. You’re still not sure how you feel about duty, responsibility, sacrifice, those heavy words that feel impossibly heavier in your mouth, but all you know is that, as much fun as you’re having now, it comes at a fair price. 

Somi told you nothing, no compromising pictures, no drama, would reach the press, but, as hard as she may try, you feel like enough people have laid eyes on you already that someone was bound to hear something. If not now, then definitely in a few hours when everyone’s on at least two and a half substances, and all bets are off.

Briefly, you recall your appearance at the derby, the memory like a shard of glass. You had stood guileless next to Joshua, tripping over your words because you hadn’t cared enough to read the damn briefing, and he had covered it up with a dad joke or two. Coming up with those abominations must have been hard enough for someone whose first book was the Oxford Dictionary, but you don’t even think God and all his angels could cover up this. More than that, the thought of everyone having to try anyway makes your gut twist. 

Someone tells you to smile for a selfie. You recognize her, but you don’t remember her name (Amelia or Alicia, one of Somi’s friend of a friends. On second glance, there are definitely more than 200 people here). Let's dance! another voice shouts in your ear. 

Your head hurts. You hate the idea that Jeonghan might be a little right, but you hate even more that you’re starting to agree with him. Maybe you need another shot. 

“Your gift,” you say, fighting over the chorus of Your Love Is My Drug. “Somi!” 

“Oh my god, you did not!” she squeals. She clasps her hands over yours, wrapped around the box, and draws them to her. “Let me take it to the table. I’ll meet you by the pool—oh, oh, there’s a hot dog stand out there too!”

“Actually,” you start. You’re not that drunk, not yet, but now you think you can feel the ground start to sway under you. it wouldn’t be too far a stretch to say that in half an hour, after a little time at the bar, you’d probably be spending the night, no question. “I think I have to run.”

“Aw, really?” Somi tilts her head and squints, as if trying to read your mind. 

“I am so sorry,” you tell her, as sincerely as one can over a pop song from the 2000s. “Swear I'll make it up to you.” 

“Life stuff, right?” 

“Yeah.”  

“It's ok,” she says. “Really really. Go home, figure your shit out, and we can have our own party.” 

She holds your joined hands to her heart. Whatever look you gave her, she believed. That, or she knows you better than you think. 

So you leave. The car ride home is silent. Jihoon doesn’t ask questions, and you can still hear the sound of the music ringing in your ears, on and on and on. 

– 

You think the worst thing you’ve ever woken up to was the Crazy Frog ringtone of one of the guys you had slept with during university. 

The second worst has got to be five voice memos and three consecutive missed Facetime calls from Somi, which is the first thing you see upon opening your eyes. 

“Oh fuck,” you murmur, still coming to. Your bed is empty, but you see Joshua's suitcase in the corner of the room. He must have come home early this morning, while you were still sleeping. 

You crack open your text messages. 

–OH MY GOD.

–I AM SO SO SORRY. 

–someone must have gotten paid off for last night’s pictures…i had no idea i swear 

Then a voice memo. Then another voice memo. then a PopCrave Twitter screenshot: YOU CAN TAKE THE PRINCESS OUT OF THE PARTY–OR CAN YOU? followed by the worst, most incriminating photo of you and Soonyoung, arms linked, throwing back a shot. 

“No, no, no, no.” You squeeze your eyes shut, feeling the stone-cold drop of your heart to your feet. “Fuck. Fuck.” 

Shit. You have to find Joshua and make it right. 

Somehow, you thought it wouldn’t matter, that you didn’t care what did or didn’t get out as long as you were able to have a good time—you desperately search for that same feeling, knowing that it’s long, long gone. You don’t even think you truly ever believed that. 

You race down the palace hallways, ones that feel far more familiar than the rigid bastions they were when you first got here, but it’s Joshua who finds you before you find him. Or rather, it’s his voice you hear, trickling out from behind the library door. 

Suddenly, you’re five again, and you’re spying on Jeonghan talking to your parents. You peek through the crack of the doorframe. As Somi would say, nightmare blunt rotation: there stands Joshua, surrounded by both sets of parents, and no one looks happy. 

“We knew it,” another voice says—your mother. “We’re sorry, but we said this would happen.” 

“It’s no matter. There’s nothing left to do but call the engagement off.” 

The room goes quiet. You notice your hands are shaking. Your face feels numb.  

“You’re right. I don't think anyone’s getting what they want out of this, anyway.” 

“We’ll cancel the ball. There’s no way around it. Likely a relief, right, Joshua?” 

The moment seems to squirm, suspended in time. This is what you were waiting for, right? Your parents were right—no one wanted this anyway. You certainly didn’t, and now you get your get out of jail free card. On top of that, you get to hear what you’d been expecting all along—that Joshua never liked you, that this was fun and all, but he’s ready to stop playing pretend. 

“I…I disagree.” You freeze. “She's my fiancée. I made a commitment to her, and I'm not going to walk away.” 

“Joshua, my dear, this arrangement was never going to work. You can be honest.” 

This is the part where Joshua nods, does his perfectly symmetric smile, and agrees. This is what he does, what he’s been doing since forever. The story always ends the same way. That was the point. 

Instead: “I am being honest. Since when was it illegal to go to your best friend’s birthday party? I don't care what the rest of the world has to say. She’s not who they, or you, think she is.” Through the door-gap, you watch the pursed, resolute draw of Joshua’s lips. “You didn’t even invite her here to talk about her own engagement. You never once gave her a chance.” 

A stunned silence falls over the room. 

 “I’m sorry, but this is how I feel. I won't let you take another girl I love from me. Not again.” 

Your hand flies over your mouth, and something twists deep in you, like you’re drowning from the inside out. You can’t, won’t, believe what you just heard. That somehow, beyond all the fighting, the quiet nights, the snide remarks and the fake smiles, that Joshua loved you? Loved? Enough to say all that to the people that ruled his life with an iron fist? None of this made sense, but nothing’s made sense since you got here. 

The room erupts into noise, peals of voices all colliding into each other, and you do what you do best—you leave. 

—

No one talks about that morning. You don’t even think anyone knows you were there—part of you wishes that you actually weren’t, so you didn’t have all this on your mind. (Joshua, later that day: I got you something from Seoul. From his suitcase, a bottle of soju. Just kidding. Then a jade bracelet, so vibrant it looked like the ocean.) No one talked about Somi, and no one talked about the party. 

In fact, everyone had just rolled on as usual, all the way to the end of the week, the day of your engagement ball. Even you did. The word love felt so big, so burdensome, when Joshua had said it to his parents, but you didn't mind it on you.

The lingering touches, late night talks, tea made the way you like—nothing really had changed much since shit hit the fan, but now you knew that was the label. You guess that when you told Joshua you had never been in love before, you were really telling the truth. Either that, or he was just saying whatever the hell he needed to stop your engagement from imploding. 

Still, you found yourself still reaching for him. There was an unfamiliar comfort about his nearness. You woke up this morning cradled to his side, and, for once, it wasn’t a scene you wanted to erase. 

Now, your hairstylist hoses your blowout down with hairspray. You’d spent the better part of this morning sitting in different chairs, hair, makeup, nails. A part of you waits for the other shoe to drop: Joshua’s mother would waltz in and tell you, Surprise! You’re a single woman again, just as you should be. 

It never happens. You’re wrapped in various mists and creams and powders, all the while fielding all the same questions about the ball (—Excited for tonight? Yeah, of course. —How does it feel being the surprise couple of the year? Surprising.)

It’s not until Yunjin comes in, wheeling in your giant, sparkly engagement gown, all Italian lace and satin brocade, that things feel real. 

The dress itself is beautiful, a pale champagne number, gathered at the waist with a smattering of crystals down the train. Earlier, when you’d first tried it on, it looked like a costume fit for the girl playing wife. It was another smothering thing that hung on you, just like everything else in your life. 

Today, you watch your form tall in the mirror. You meet her eyes, her uncertain mouth. It’s you, for sure, but there’s a stillness about you that you can’t quite put a finger on. Maybe Joshua’s demeanor was contagious. 

Yunjin laces your bodice up, careful eyelet by eyelet—“You’re nervous, huh?” 

“Is it really that obvious?” 

She laughs. “Breathe. You’re not getting married. Not yet, at least.”

“Yunjin, isn’t it weird that no one has talked to me about Somi’s birthday? Everyone on the planet saw the leaks.” 

“Maybe they finally learned to stop giving a shit. You looked hot, you had a good time, end of story. It’s not like anyone died.” 

True. She grabs your shoulders and looks at you through the reflection of the mirror. 

“Smile. Enjoy yourself. You look so, so beautiful.” You take a deep, soaking breath. You think about Joshua and all the sharp edges of his voice when he said he loved you. You had argued with him a lot, and you had never heard him like that. “You want this, right?” 

Well, when she puts it like that? Yeah, you do. You think you really do. 

—

The Great Hall is unrecognizable when you stand before it; the pink and white zinnias have been replaced by bouquets of calla lily and eucalyptus, the arched ceilings, once cold and imposing, now are bathed in the buttery, warm glow of candlelight. And the too-big space, usually empty, is now filled with partygoers, radiant in their best dress. 

You stand at the top of the grand staircase. A thrill, anxious and skittering, runs up your bones. You’re reminded of your last big public showing at the derby, of the sea of microphones and the eye of the camera and the crowd, all staring you down. 

You run through the cruel motions. First, a curtesy, so slow you think the audience can see you tremble. Then you take the first step down the stairs, and you watch them turn to you like the tanned halo-faces of sunflowers. 

There, in the center of the crowd stands Joshua, unwavering. He's wearing a deep blue tuxedo, unfairly flattering (though, the lone curl of hair falling into his eyes is strong competition). Meeting his gaze, you watch the corners of his mouth fold up in a way that reminds you to breathe. In, out. You’ve got this. 

Every step, you feel like you’re learning to walk for the first time, like you've lost your sea legs. Amongst the guests, you spot Jeonghan, next to him Jihoon. Then back to Joshua, like your eyes can’t stay away. He shoots you a covert thumbs up—you’d expect nothing less from the corniest man on Earth—but, nonetheless, it makes the long walk to the center of the room feel much shorter, despite the torture devices on your feet (Louboutins, not broken in).

One, two steps, and you’re face to face with your fiancé. Your heart is still racing, thrumming against the cage of your bodice like it's trying to escape. You’re sure the whole congregation could hear it if not for the quartet that’s come to life, now playing the opening notes of Blue Danube. 

Yes, that’s right, you tell yourself. You still have to dance in front of the whole fucking country. 

Before you crash out and make this a national emergency, you feel the warmth of Joshua’s touch. Fingertips before palm, always the same, he finds your hand, like he manages to do every single time. 

“I’ve got you,” he says, low enough for only you to hear. And for the first time, you believe him. 

—

Really, you could have gotten away with saying nothing. It would be much easier, to be honest. 

The ball had gone off without a hitch so far. The music was good, the food even better, and your parents were somehow silenced, instead opting to dance among the crowd like they were young again. Still, you can’t seem to put your mind at ease. With everything that had happened this week, Jeonghan’s offer only seemed to weigh heavier, more urgently upon you. And of course, there was the matter of Joshua choosing to opt into your engagement, against all odds. 

You realize you had gotten quite good at running away from things—your family, your responsibilities, the media, even Joshua—not knowing how to bear the weight of an impossible duty. Actually, you thought it was a royal failing until you had seen Joshua in the library that morning, jaw set, unbending. 

“Hey, Josh?” you ask, with a few bats of the eyelashes to soften the blow. 

He tilts his head in that way he does, and his gaze softens. Damn you, you think. Trying to distract me with those horrible, pretty eyes.  

“Can we talk about Sunday?” 

“What about Sunday?” He still looks confused, and you know the look well enough at this point to know he’s not faking it. 

“Um…Sunday morning. After the party,” you say slowly, as if giving yourself time to back out, just in case. “I heard you talking with our parents.” 

In an instant, his expression changes, and his eyebrows roll into their usual furrow. You feel his hand falter behind your shoulder blades. 

“Oh,” Joshua’s voice drops. “That.” 

“I’m sorry,” you say, realizing all you do is apologize. “It was supposed to be a small thing, no cameras, I barely even stayed—.”

“Hey, it’s ok,” Joshua interrupts. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You don’t have to explain yourself to me.” 

“I-I know,” you fib. The thing about pretending is that you’ve both become so good at it that you have trouble believing him. “It’s just that I also heard what…what you said.” 

Somehow, the wrinkle between his brows grows deeper. 

“I said a lot of things that morning.” 

You press your lips thin, feeling what you’re about to say ball up on your tongue. Easily, you could change the subject; you didn’t have to know anything, really, you could stay silent and let the world work around you, just as you had been taught. But you watch the soft twist of Joshua’s gaze, how he studies your expression, and you know you can’t go back to how things used to be. 

“You said you…” You take a hard swallow. All the blood in your body only wants to exist in the apples of your cheeks, away from your brain where you need it most. “You loved me.” 

At once, the world spins off-axis. You feel the anxious flutter of Joshua’s heart under your palm, and your own stomach flips in its cage. The L word coming out of your mouth seems ten-thousand times more ridiculous than anything he could say, probably because you can’t remember the last time you actually said it and it came out all wrong. 

He must feel the same way. For once, he can’t meet your eyes. His mouth opens and then closes, as if hoping to delete what you had just said. Maybe you would just keep dancing, beat by beat, and this would all go away.

Silly girl, you think, traitorously. Pick a damn side. Either he likes you or he doesn’t. The problem is that, somehow, both options hurt your feelings. 

“I mean, I totally get it if you just said it to keep up the act,” you cut in. “There are a lot of reasons why this is a good idea.” 

“The act?” 

“Well, yeah,” you reply. “Isn’t that what this is? Haven’t we just been lying to everyone? To ourselves?” 

Joshua’s hand at your waist stiffens before he draws you closer to him. You expect him to roll his eyes, do one of those exaggerated sighs that he does when you’re being difficult. 

Instead he leans in, close enough for you to feel his voice against your skin. 

“Do you think I was lying back there? Or now?” 

Your heart lurches. 

“I—no, but.” You pause. Every single coherent thought you’ve ever had scatters to the wind. “Well.” 

“Because i’m not,” Joshua says, this time, more softly. “Not about this. Or us.” 

“But how? Why?” You bite the inside of your cheek, feeling your chest swell in a way it never has before. “You’re perfect, and I'm…I’m me.” 

“That’s why,” he answers, simply. “You’re smart, funny, honest—sometimes too honest, even. You reminded me there was a better version of me that I had left behind. One that wasn’t perfect, but was happy.” 

He holds you in his gaze the same way he did in the garden, carved by moonlight. An impossible warmth fills your skin; at once, it feels like, in your vision, there is only him, like you're in a cartoon. 

“At the same time, I understand if—” Joshua starts. 

“I feel the same,” you blurt out. “I…I don’t know what this is, and I don’t think I ever really did, but I want to try.” 

You watch the surprise write itself all over his doe eyes, his unfairly rounded cheeks. From by the hors d'oeuvres, nosy Jeonghan peeks over the shoulder of another guest, already familiar with your lack of volume control. You watch him grin something stupid, triumphant. 

“You’re uptight, judgmental, and you make the worst jokes. But I…I think I might be falling for you too.” 

Saying it is like getting peeled back, terrible layer by layer, like you wrapped a hand around your heart and ripped it out your chest. And yet you’re glowing, newly-bitten with something that feels like freedom.  

“I thought you said I was perfect,” Joshua says, the pink of his lips already unraveling into a smile. This one, you think, finally reaches his eyes. 

“Shush, you—” And amongst a chorus of Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! (which would be, quite frankly, humiliating in any other scenario), you finally give in to your adoring public, and kiss. 

—

The walk back to your bedroom is a blur. All you remember are hands—hands on the small of your back, hands riding up the length of your thigh, hands in your hair, pulling at your roots. You remember hands, and the taste of Joshua’s mouth. 

It’s a walk you are not proud of, one that you’re glad happened in the dark, with all the guests gone home. 

“Did I tell you how beautiful you are?” Joshua says, pressed to the hollow of your neck as you fumble with the handle of the door to your room. “Couldn’t take my eyes off you. No one could.” 

Then his lips on yours, before you finally remember how to open a door. 

“Fuck, Josh,” you breathe between kisses, stumbling backwards until your back hits the vanity. “Need you, need you so bad.” 

He bites your lip, lets you sigh into his mouth. 

“Dress, off,” you tell him, and you lean forward on the table. Obediently, Joshua gets to work. His touch feels fiery, electric on your skin. 

In the mirror, you’re able to see the damage: your lipstick, smudged beyond repair, your blown-out pupils under your heavy lashes. There’s a hickey on your collarbone. 

“Now you have me wishing you'd wear one of those party dresses,” Joshua murmurs, still working at the lacing at your waist. “Far easier to take off.” 

“Really. The same ones that got me in big trouble with you lot?"

"For what it's worth," he replies, before kissing the back of your neck, then the ticklish space under your ear to make you laugh. "I always liked you in those. Even before we met." 

"No way." He’s finished with the lacing; your dress falls to your feet in a glorious heap of silk and lace, leaving you in your slip. Another kiss to your jaw, your cheek. "You hated them." 

"I almost bought a copy of Insider, the one with the cover of you in the black dress with the long sleeves." 

"Shut up," you laugh again, somewhere in between kisses. He’s talking about Soonyoung's new year's eve party, a few years back. You were getting out the back of a cab, alcohol-flushed and on a phone call with God knows who. "I still have it, you know. I could wear it for you one of these days." 

"Don't tempt me." Joshua kneels, bending down to undo your heels. You feel him press his lips to the back of your knee, your thigh. “Friday. Dinner?” 

“Done.” 

Then he stands back to full height and leans into you, just so you can feel him. Like clockwork, your skin prickles wonderfully even just thinking about blowing him in the back of the limo, that night he had held you down on his cock. 

Joshua must see how you squeeze your legs together. He pushes your slip up over the curve of your ass; you feel the rough of his hands over your skin, over the flimsy lace you have on for underwear. Then, before you can say a word, he pulls the waistband back, meanly, enough to tug on the hood of your clit, and lets it snap back against your skin. 

“Oh, fuck,” you keen. You had no idea you were so sensitive, but Joshua’s foreplay game was way better than you thought. “Please, Shua.” 

“Oh? So you like when I'm a little mean?” 

You watch your face in the mirror flush pink, your bitten lips fall open in surprise. He pulls tight on your panties again, loving how your eyes squeeze shut. 

“Maybe.” You pause, humiliated. Fuck it, the cat’s already out of the bag. “Yeah.” 

Joshua’s hands are warm, so warm, when they peel the fabric down your trembling thighs. 

“Legs apart, darling,” he tells you, mouth pressed to your shoulder. “So you like to boss me around the castle, but now you want me to tell you what to do? Is that so?” 

Before you can answer, you feel a finger along the seam of your cunt. You can’t see Joshua’s face in the mirror, but you can sure see yours, and you hate how even the smallest of touches has you drooling. Then a touch to your swollen clit, just rough enough to draw a gasp from you. 

 “I-it’s different,” you protest. Two fingers now, both rolling your clit under them. A whimper tumbles out of your chest, and your hips seem to be moving on their own accord. “Didn’t know you had…experience.” 

“Still not sure what made you think otherwise.” A quiet chuckle, then the slow, agonizing push of one of his fingers inside you. “Fuck, you love that, huh? Soaking my hand.”

“Yeah…” The vanity table suddenly feels too crowded to support the weight of your body, especially like this, as Joshua continues to work your clit with his other digit. Feeling your body surge again with heat, you push aside your makeup bag, all your stupid little bottles, so you can prop yourself up on your arms.

Another finger, and your legs are shaking. Quickly, he seems to have figured out how to hit your g-spot every time, every pump of his hand knocking into you just the way you like.  

“I think it was how annoying you were that did you in,” you finally answer, trying your best to put up a fair fight. “Kinda detracts from your sex appeal.” 

“Annoying?” Joshua asks, right up against the shell of your ear. like this, you can see him in the mirror, and it almost sends you over. the dark hair in his face, the insatiable look in his eyes. Then a third finger, and your eyes roll back. “Am I annoying you? Doesn’t really seem like it.” 

Your body answers for you. You feel yourself tighten around his fingers, fuck, you’re so close, you feel your head start to spin. You watch your reflection shake her head, glassy-eyed and dumb. 

He laughs cruelly. His free hand reaches up to find your tits, and, over the slip, he grabs one, rough like he’s a meaner man, like he’s slutting you out. 

At once, you feel the lightning heat of your release. You cry out, airy and high-pitched, and feel your body rock against Joshua’s as he pins you between himself and the vanity. 

“There you go,” he murmurs. His hand slows, letting you ride out your high, before he pulls out. “Wanted to do this ever since I kissed you that night.” 

“Which night?” you ask, catching your breath. A kiss to your shoulder blade, the nape of your neck. 

“The night you taught me to kiss. Or rather, tried to.” 

Ah, yes. The night you told him what Shark Tale was, and the night you made out for so long, you felt it on your lips in the morning. Dumb fucking Joshua, stupid and in love. The affection that surges through your body makes you mad. 

“You needed lessons.” 

“Not really, don’t you think?” 

“Bed. You’re talking too much,” you insist, turning around to see him. “Also, you’re wearing too much.” 

“Back to arguing with me, I see. Can’t stay away.” Joshua’s shit-eating grin prompts you to yank his tie impatiently, shutting him up. It comes off easily, just as his belt and the waistband of his slacks. (You weren’t about to let them best you a second time).

“Maybe ‘cause you find a way to be difficult about everything.” You wrinkle your nose, and Joshua’s grin only grows wider. “Don’t make me give you another order,” you warn, fully aware that since you guys got here, it’d been him doing the orders. 

You pull your slip over your head, now only in your bra, and lay back in the bed. You think of all the sleepless nights, then the ones spent talking, the ones in his arms. To think they would all culminate to this, to you now watching Joshua undo button by button with a desire unlike any other you’ve felt—it would almost be unbelievable if you weren’t doing it right now.

Like a striptease, you watch his chest peek out between the linen of his shirt. He's wearing a necklace today, one that settles meanly between his pecs. As he moves lower, you can’t help but notice the outline of his cock in his briefs, the spot of precum on the fabric. 

Traitorously, you feel your mouth water. The shirt comes off, and your lungs fill with another shaky breath. 

You know you’re both letting your freak flag fly (one of you more surprising than the other) but it’s in this moment, caught in the lamplight, that you realize how much things have really changed. Still, you’re not able to tell Joshua that this is the first time you’re sleeping with someone you might be in the L word with, but you think he sees it too, or at least, reads the look on your face. 

You feel the dip of the bed underneath as he joins you.

“Are you ok? That wasn’t too much, right?” 

“No, it was…it was good. really good,” you admit, feeling your face heat up again. “I just…I dunno. I like you a lot, that’s all.” 

“Hm?” 

“I—” you stutter, and your mouth freezes up again. “I said I like you a lot.” 

“Sorry, I just wanted to hear you say it twice.” He sees the dismay on your face and smiles. “Hm…I like you an adequate amount. On a good day.” 

Against your will, you crack the fattest smile you think your body is capable of. “You are the worst. The absolute worst, and I still want you to fuck me.” 

Upon hearing this, Joshua does not waste time. That he does—it isn’t long before he has your knees hiked to your chest, cock between your pussy lips. 

“Say you want it,” he whispers. You feel the cold kiss of his chain on your chest, the slick rock of his length between your legs. He's so hard, so big, your cunt already aches at the thought of it. 

“Want it.” Your voice comes out small, breathy. You would fight back, but you’re realizing you quite like this side of him. “Please.” 

When the head of his cock presses into you, there is no hiding. Already, you moan, sweet and loud, feeling the familiar pressure in your gut. 

“K-keep going,” you babble. Fuck, he barely fit in your mouth and now he’s stuffing your cunt. You wrench your eyes shut, listening to him talk you through it (—Look at you taking me so well. Feels good, huh? You’re so beautiful. Honestly, it’s a miracle Joshua’s ex never had a royal baby with how much they must have fucked.) 

Your second orgasm comes quickly, not long after Joshua bottoms out. He groans right in the space where your neck meets your shoulder, and it’s the best noise you think you’ve heard in your life. 

The third comes slowly, more intensely. With your knees to your chest, you think you can feel Joshua all the way in your stomach. Every stroke fucks the sound out of you, his cockhead right up against your g-spot as he fills you again and again. Sometime between orgasm two and three, he’s pulled your tits out from your bra, left marks across your chest. 

“Want you to touch yourself,” he tells you, voice low.

Mindlessly, you listen. One hand finds your nipple, the other your clit, and you let yourself get lost in the feeling. 

“F-feels good, Shua.” He enters you again, all the way, and the pleasure is white-hot. “O-oh, fuck,” you warble. 

“You’re so good at listening to me, you should do it all the time,” he murmurs. “There you go. Take it, take it, just like that. This must be what I have to do to get you to be nice, hm?” 

All you can do is stare up at him, positively fucked dumb, and take it, just as he told you to. One, two strokes, and you feel yourself get impossibly tight; “Fill me, need it, need it,” you whine, delirious. Everything from the look in his eyes, the flushed sweat over his brow, his collarbones to the way his expression responds with every word you say, makes you wonder why you wasted time fucking anyone else.

When he comes, he bites your shoulder, hard, and it’s what you need to follow soon after. You feel so fucking full, so satisfied, you think you could die happy here. 

Joshua flops down on the bed next to you, boneless. You think he’s about to say something akin to that you should have put a towel down, but he doesn’t. Instead, he pulls your body to him, lets you feel the warmth of his skin play against yours. 

He’s murmuring wonderful things to you, which you would gladly reciprocate if words weren’t coming to you one letter a minute. It’s not your fault though—you need to recover physically, emotionally, spiritually after getting the soul fucked out of you.

Then, “Me or you shower first?”

You groan as a response. 

“I’m serious.” 

“Together?” you offer weakly. 

“Fair chance we won’t just be showering then.” 

“Oh nooo.” 

That’s all Joshua needs to whisk you to the bathroom, where, indeed, he seems to be right yet again. 

—

The spring morning washes over Acros like a second skin. The birdsong rouses you; through the curtains comes sunlight from the garden, spackled on the wall as if spots on a doe. 

It’s been almost a year since your parents had told you that you were marrying Joshua Hong, prince of Acros. Six months since he had told you he had loved you. Two months since you and Jeonghan had pulled off your first joint production at the youth theater (a roaring success). One month since you were fully, fully moved in, Astrid and Jihoon included. 

After your engagement ball, you and Joshua had agreed to take it slow, as slow as two people who had very publicly announced their wedding could. But still, somehow your parents, both sets, could tolerate the two of you wanting to do things the right way. Perhaps they were still shocked things worked out as well as they did. 

“Morning,” you call out. The bed beside you is cold. “Josh?” 

You’re surprised he’s up. Last night, he went out with you, Somi, and Soonyoung. Somehow, he had drunk enough to get up and solo karaoke a Whitney Houston song, although you’re suspecting the alcohol was just a cover for his true intentions. 

Then you look out the window. You spot Joshua, seated on the bench overlooking the garden. This time of year, the roses are in full bloom, their bright heads reaching for the sky in brilliant red and gold. 

When you go to join him outside, he’s no longer at the bench. You actually don’t know where the fuck he went, but it’s no matter. Here, you’re able to appreciate the beauty of the season, the rolling green of the country you’re now calling home. 

It was also here where you had your first real conversation with Joshua without fighting, funnily enough. Now, you’d say the both of you were more agreeable, but that’d be a lie—somehow, you think you actually enjoy bickering with him, but that’s a conversation for another day. 

Behind you, someone (Joshua) clears his throat. 

“Now, what are you—” you say, spinning around. It was too damn early for games, but Joshua had no shortage of bad ideas. 

It’s then that you see Joshua behind you, on one knee. His smile tells you everything you have to know, and every thought in your mind freezes in an instant. 

“When I first saw you, I knew I would marry you,” he starts. That's a joke he’s probably been saving for months now, but instead of rolling your eyes, you can’t help but laugh, like you’re a broken soundboard. “No, really.” 

You stand there, immovable. Of course you had to be in your pajamas (his shirt and boxers, really), no makeup, hair untouched. And yet, you can’t imagine anything more perfect. 

“You drive me crazy,” Joshua continues. “In every way possible. I can't imagine life without your laugh, or your thinking face, or how you always need to have an answer for everything.” 

He produces a small box. It’s different from the first one, the one he used all those months ago when nothing mattered. Inside it, a new ring, something far simpler and more beautiful.

Joshua says your name, wonderful and reverent in his mouth. “Darling princess of Cotria, I'm asking you to marry me. Again.” 

And you say yes, for the very first time.

[END]

[juliashiftingdiary]

can you tell us about your fame dr? 🫶🏼

Of course! my fame dr name is julia monroe. I am a 24 year old A-list singer/actor. I got my first role in 2020 as Cassie -euphoria and then I went on to play Chrissys best friend in Stranger Things( new character 😭) I also played Barbie’s sister stacie in the barbie movie (again, a character that wasn’t originally there) and my most recent role is Glinda from wicked.

(I’ve had more roles in between but I’m mentioning the most popular ones <3)

For my singing career I’m basically Sabrina Carpenter but… not. I’ve stolen most of her songs/ and her whole girly 50s vibe.. love u sabrina 🤧

I scripted that espresso was going to be one of the songs that REALLY blew me up. I’ve been a popular artist since 2020 but my newest album blew UP in summer 2024.

( some of the songs on the album)

espresso, good luck babe (collab with chappel), bed chem, taste, good graces, hot to go, it’s ok I’m ok, busy woman

4 random facts:

I’m really good at playing guitar (regular and electric) and piano.

I was a theater kid in hs.

I’ve had collabs with doja cat, Meg the stallion , Taylor swift, Lana del Rey, and Bruno mars.

when Charli xcx says “im everywhere I’m so julia” I scripted that she was actually talking about me 😭

my s/o is joe keery who plays steve in stranger things and if you read above ..im also in stranger things!! we have a VERY long , and confusing lore and I’m gonna try to like…shorten it.

Basically we’re both in season four of Stranger Things and were currently filming season five of stranger things. (I’m shifting to July 2024.) and me and his character are dating in the show so we obviously had to spend a BUNCH of time together practicing our lines/scenes.

MAJOR DETAIL: we’ve had in real life crushes on each other since 2021 so.. it’s very messy. but we’re gonna get together in the end so WOOOOO!!!

lmk if any of y’all want me to explain the FULL messy lore of that (with tea. 🍵 🤗)

this is a whole YAP session help 😭😭

[lambshackleglory]

started learning uke :3 its only been a week so dont judge me too hard but heres the beginning to brave as a noun. drop some suggestions of songs to learn !

[ptolemaeacles]

pls write more for hazel omg i loved the cheerleader hcs maybe like a childhood best friends to lovers so lots of pining and smut maybe

♡ you belong with me

pairing: hazel callahan x fem!reader

synopsis: hazel has had a crush on her best friend since they met in the 1st grade. they were freshman in college now and hazel realizes she can’t keep her feelings to herself anymore.

warnings: 18+ minors dni (both reader and hazel are 18), smut, childhood best friends to lovers, switch!hazel, switch!reader, top!reader, bottom!hazel (no pun intended), let me know if i missed anything!!

notes: aw thank you !!! im glad you liked the hcs. also small disclaimer, i'm a horrid smut writer and i rushed the ending because i didn't want to keep you waiting. hope you like !!!

word count: 2.5k

“god, i’m so excited. i mean this is the first time a girl has asked me out. usually it’s guys who approach me and then i get weird comments when i tell them i like women…” you rambled on but hazel could barely focus. she could only feel the empty pit in her stomach. 

you were so happy to be going on a date and all she could think about is if you would ever be this excited to go on a date with her. she tried to convince you to not go but there was only so much she could do without giving her feelings away. 

hazel thinks she’s loved you since the day she met you. before she knew what ‘love’ meant or what it looked like, she loved you. to her, you were the very definition of that word. 

hazel’s hopeless crush started in the 1st grade. it wasn’t some cute interaction where one of you saved the other from a bully or something. it was simple with the both of you. it always has been. 

you came up to her during lunch and told her you would give her half of your sandwich if she agreed to be your friend.

“what kind of sandwich is it?” hazel asked, from her seat on the lunch table.

“peanut butter and strawberry jelly.” 

“i’m allergic to strawberries.”.

“then don’t eat it and just be my friend.” you sat next to her without another word and the both of you left it like that. simple.

since then, she knew she would never escape you. and she never wanted to. but right now, she felt like if you didn’t stop talking to her about this date, her head would explode. 

hazel watched you walk around your room, shuffling through your closet for an outfit to the movies with the girl who asked you out. she never bothered remembering the girl’s name because she thinks it would the whole situation worse for her. she didn’t want to know anything about that girl.

“...and she said we’ll get ice cream later which i hope-” hazel interrupted you.

“hey, i think i should get home. my mom’s probably wondering where i am and shit, so… i’ll see you later.” hazel wanted to get away as soon as possible. not from you but from the giddiness she could practically feel radiating off your body at the thought of your date. 

“oh.. i thought you told your mom that you were going to study at my place after classes?” you questioned. hazel’s quiet behavior didn’t go unnoticed by you. she was always quiet but after more than 10 years of friendship, you could tell which silences were good and which weren’t. this definitely wasn’t a good one.

“yeah well, we aren’t studying so. i’d better get going, bye.” she spoke in a flat tone, with her head down, as she grabbed her backpack and made her way out of your room.

you stood still, staring at the open door of your room and wondering if you had done something.

hazel walked into her house, red in the face and a vicious grip on the doorknob. she ran up to her room, and threw her backpack in a random corner, probably knocking her guitar down. but her guitar was the last thing on her mind. 

she was pissed at you. mostly herself but you as well. she knew she had no right to be angry at you but how could you never see that hazel was right there. she was right in front of you, waiting for you to even glance in her direction. it’s all she wanted. to be the one who makes you laugh, the one who you’d think of when you saw romantic tiktok slideshows, the one who took you out on rollerblading dates, the one who got to kiss you before dropping you off back to your house, the one who got to slide her hand up your skirt, the one who got to be in between your legs-

she groaned and loudly, flopping onto her bed and stuffing her face in her pillow. she needed to apologize before her stupid feelings ruined your friendship.

hazel had a plan. she was going to go to your house after your date and apologize. apologize for being a dick, apologize for falling in love with you, apologize for every and anything she could apologize for so that you wouldn't hate her. she expected you to yell at her or ask her what was wrong with her. what she didn't expect was you to be calling her phone, right now.

she pressed the green 'accept' button and put the phone up to her ear.

"haze.." she could hear you sniffling through the phone, "i-, uh, can i come over, please? my date- it just- it went horribly and i really want to see you. please." hazel felt her heart drop 10 stories.

"yeah, yeah, i'll come pick you up, angel, where are you?" she questioned.

"outside your house."

hazel ran down the stairs and opened her front door, to be met with your red eyes and puffy face.

you immediately wrapped your arms around hazel, burying your face in her chest. her hands went landed themselves in your hair, stroking it gently in an attempt to comfort.

hazel helped you into her room, setting you down on her bed.

"do you want to talk about it?" she asked softly.

"she- she, um, she stood me up." you could barely get a sentence out without hiccuping. hazel reached over to her nightstand and pulled out an unopened water bottle, unscrewing the cap and handed it to you.

you whispered a thank you and took a few sips. it was hazel's turn to speak now.

"fuck her," you give her a confused look, "oh no, not fuck her, don't do that, i meant that you should just forget about her. she obviously isn't the one for you if she stood you up, and there are so many other people in the world-"

"hazel."

"yes?"

you didn't waste anymore time. you grabbed hazel's face in your hands and crashed your lips into hers.

hazel was sure this was a dream. there was no way you were kissing her right now. she definitely fell asleep and she's imagining this whole thing.

while hazel was having her loser lesbian crisis, you noticed that the kiss wasn't being reciprocated.

'fuck.' you thought. you just ruined your closest and longest friendship. you pulled away from her.

"shit, haze, i didn't mean to do that, i'm not sure what i was thinking-" you started but were quickly shut up when hazel pulled you back in for another kiss.

relief flooded your body. she wanted this. both of you wanted this.

hazel felt you smile into the kiss and took that as her 'go ahead'. she tilted her head, deepening the kiss. shyly, she moved her hand from her lap to your waist. you moved one of your hands to the side of her neck and the other in her hair. you could practically feel her pulse beating rapidly under your palm.

hazel gained a newfound confidence and pushed you back onto her bed, slotting herself between your legs. her lips hovered over your neck before attacking your neck with sloppy kisses. her lips trailed down your neck, making sure to savor the taste of you. her lips met the fabric of your blouse.

"can i take this off, please?" she asked in a breathy manner, as if she had just ran a marathon. you nodded, at a loss for words.

“need to hear you say it, baby. need to know you want it just as bad as i do.” hazel wasn’t aware how raspy her voice was, as if she hadn’t drank water in days. 

“take it off, haze, please. take it all off.” you whispered and caught her lips with yours while she lifted your top off your body. once she had your top thrown in a random corner in her room, she went straight for your pants, not even bothering to take her own clothes off. 

“fuck, hazel,” you were breathless, “i want to see you, too.” you swallowed, gripping the beige button up she was wearing, hoping she knew what you meant.

“you will, princess, don’t worry. i just want to focus on you right now, okay?” you nodded, not fully sure what ‘focusing on you’ meant.

hazel had you in just your bra and underwear, her eyes scanned your body hungrily. if this was a dream, she prayed she remembered every single moment when she woke up. you were better than any fantasy she could conjure up on those lonely nights, when she couldn't think of anything but you. 

you felt her strong gaze settle on your body and you felt self conscious thoughts take the forefront of your mind. you raised your hands over your body, starting to think hazel didn’t want you like you wanted her.

“hey,” hazel grabbed your hands and gently pushed them to your sides, “you have no idea how long i’ve wanted you like this. how many nights i’ve stayed up thinking about you.” hazel started kissing down your neck, making her way to your chest. 

she pulled your bra down, not even bothering to fully unhook it before latching her tongue down onto your right nipple. 

the wet feeling of her mouth made you cry aloud, completely forgetting her mom (and jeff, too, probably) were a few feet down the hall.

hazel lifted her mouth of your tit with a pop, moving her hand to squeeze it instead.

“i’d love to hear you, angel, but i need you to be quiet,” she feverishly pecked your lips, “just tonight, hm?” you murmured a response, more concerned with the ache between your thighs than anything else. 

you guessed hazel read your mind or something, as she started moving down the bed towards the place on your body that needed the most attention. she looked up to you, as if asking once more, if this was what you really wanted. 

“haze, please.” you whined. that was all the confirmation she needed. she slid your panties down slowly, watching a string of wetness connect your pussy and your underwear. hazel felt herself growing wet at the fact that she did this to you. it filled her with a new sense of confidence. she didn’t even wait for your panties to completely slip off your legs before diving in between your thighs.

your back arched off the bed the moment you felt hazel’s tongue make contact with your swollen bud. she slipped her wet muscle throughout your folds, desperate to catch every single drop of wetness she could.

“fuck, haze, feels really fucking good.” you moaned and brought your hand to the back of her head, gripping her hair between your fingers in ecstasy. 

she hummed in response to the praise you were giving her, sending vibrations throughout your core that nearly made you choke. hazel continued to suck on your clit, holding your thighs apart with her hands hooked under your knees. she slid her face side to side with her tongue flat against your pussy, moving your clit with just the right amount of pressure. 

you felt a pressure building in your lower belly and tried to move hazel’s face closer to your mound to chase your release. 

and she stopped. 

you lifted your head from the pillow and stared at her kissing your thighs, before going to unbuckle her own pants. 

“wait hazel,” you put your hands on top of her jean button, “can i?” you spoke so quietly, hazel barely caught what you were saying. she nodded her head, unsure of what else to do.

you gently unbuttoned her jeans before sliding them and her boxers down and allowing hazel to step out of them. you lifted her button up over her head and unclasped her bra, letting them fall onto the space on the floor next to her. she was in awe of you. you were so gentle to her and she would never believe she deserved it, even if you reminded her of it everyday for the rest of her life. 

once she stood completely naked in front of you, you led her to lay down on bed, stomach facing up, before separating her legs and hooking one of your own over hers. 

you looked at her face for any sign of discomfort, only to be met with the rapid rise and fall of hazel’s chest and her eyes shut in euphoria. 

“hazel,” you caught her attention, she stared right at you, “keep your eyes on me.” you lowered yourself gently, placing your clit right on top of hers. both of you let out a sigh of relief at the feeling of your juices mixing with the others.

placing your hands on her stomach, you moved slowly, rocking your hips back and forth against hers. hazel struggled to keep her eyes open, getting lost in the pleasure you were giving her. she always thought of moments exactly like this and imagined it being a lot different. she imagined that she would be the one on top of you, taking charge and pulling orgasm after orgasm from you. but after feeling the movement of your hips against hers and the way your breasts bounced slightly when you would pick up your pace. hazel fought her hardest to keep her eyelids from drooping. she didn’t want to miss a single move you made.

you quickly found a steady rhythm and went faster, prompting hazel to cry out. you leaned down and caught her moans in a rough kiss. 

the familiar coil in your belly seemed to get tighter and tighter. hazel must’ve noticed the way your hips started to rock faster and knew you were about to cum.

“c’mon, cum for me, baby. give it to me, i’m almost there too,” she started rambling as she felt her orgasm approach her as well, “keep going, just a bit faster, angel.” both of you fought to keep your moans from being heard from anyone else in the house.

“fuck hazel, i’m cumming, i-” you were cut off as your orgasm hit you in waves. warmth spread throughout your body, making your limbs weak and causing your legs to nearly give out. 

you kept going, over stimulating yourself, trying to get hazel to reach her orgasm. by the looks of it, she was on the edge. her baby hairs stuck to her sweaty forehead, her face scrunched up in pleasure as her back arched into the air. 

“fuck fuck fuck fuck-” she rambled as her orgasm washed over her, quickly quieted by your mouth capturing hers. 

the both of you gently rode out your releases, breathless and sweaty. you carefully lifted yourself off of hazel and laid next to her on the bed. 

“we should talk about this, you know.” hazel started.

“we will. in the morning, i promise. for now, i just want to be with you.” that seemed to be enough for hazel.

you draped your arm over her waist, pulling her closer to you. she tucked her head in the crook of your neck and the both of you drifted off to sleep.

[323cutie]

soak you in and let it stew. | khj

pairing ୨୧ hongjoong x reader

word count ୨୧ 700

genre ୨୧ like mostly suggestive and a teeny bit of angst. Lol. feat. rockstar joong!!!!

warnings ୨୧ ermmm it gets kinda smutty at the end barely!!!! also suggestive language and such throughout

author's note ୨୧ hongjoong has always been sexy but im Feeling things. i need to go home

18+ mdni!

You see Hongjoong for the first time in five months at a bar, performing on stage in a band.

It shouldn’t really surprise you since his apartment is over in this part of the city. But it’s weird. It’s not like you never expected to see him again, but you didn’t really think about it either – too focused on work and forgetting the sting of a premature parting.

He’s different now. His hair is shorter and brown, his body a little bigger. He looks in his element up there, the red-brown guitar you remember seeing in his backseat a perfect fit for the glimmer in his eyes. Part of you aches, part of you yearns.

The whole thing makes you feel a little silly, all things considered – it wasn’t not a relationship, but neither of you ever put a label on it. Maybe it could be called a summer fling, an intimate crossing of paths. But you got a promotion and consequently busier, and Hongjoong started to put more time into his band; after a while, you both kind of called it quits. It’s a weird, rumbling nostalgia, seeing him on stage, wondering what parts of him you can still trace from memory, wondering what parts are different. If he’s different at all.

You keep an eye on the stage once the band’s set is over, and when you see Hongjoong make his way to the bar you do, too, telling your friends to watch your bag. Your heartbeat feels so loud, but you don’t think you’re nervous.

“Hey,” you greet, sliding into the stool next to Hongjoong. His eyes light up with recognition and you offer a little smile.

“Hi,” he responds, mirroring your grin.

It’s easy to fall into conversation with him, even when you think it shouldn’t be. You’ve missed so much of each other, and it’s not like the two of you parted on bad terms anyways. Hongjoong is eager to talk, and you’re more than happy to listen. 

More than happy to take him in, looking at his teeth, his hands, his neck.

“You’re giving me that look,” he says suddenly, and you blink back to his eyes. He looks cautious, but also… teasing. Knowing. Understanding.

You think you know, but you ask anyways. “What look?”

“Like you want something else from me,” Hongjoong responds. He takes a sip of his drink but keeps his eyes on you. You feel like you can't breathe.

There’s something in you that alights at the thought that he still knows these things about you. Even after so long, he can read you so easily – then again, all that time you spent together… lazy Sunday mornings with nothing to do, or wine-filled, rainy nights lit up by streetlights, or letting the feeling of him simmer in your bones, or heated, hazy calls in the middle of the night when you couldn’t make the train down. You figure it takes a while to forget that, to unlearn all of it.

You open your mouth to say something that sounds an awful lot like a plea, but Hongjoong gives you a knowing look. “Don’t start begging,” he says, but there’s something different about his tone. A challenge lingers in his words, a flash of something in his eyes under the dim lighting.

So you say, “don’t make me.”

He quirks an eyebrow at you, but the growing grin on his face is unmistakable. There’s a promise in his gaze and you feel it follow you as you walk back to your table to grab your bag and tell your friends you’re leaving.

You feel it later, too, in his room. His sheets are new, and he has more posters hung up. But his fingers still taste like him and a little bit like you, comforting familiarity even now when you’re practically melting into his mattress. Hongjoong sighs and you feel proud that every decision you’ve made has led you right back to his bed, right back to him.

And when he’s pressed all the way into you and he breathes out a whisper about finally having you again, you know he feels the same way.

[livfastdieyoung69]

We both need punk x reader x drew so im just sliding this in front of you and waving it aggressively

Punkinytre x reader where they fight for your attention and you just kinda live for it

MENAGE A TRIOS

(Cm Punk x Gn!Kinda bratty!Reader x Drew Mcintyre)

You had always been quite close to Drew ever since his return to the WWE. You had been in NXT together for a short amount of time, and you got to spend plenty of time with him. Drew was probably one of the sweetest men on the roster, especially when you both moved to the Smackdown roster and had to put up with many big egos. The way he looked after his comeback made him not only great to be around, but great to look at. He had always been on the more handsome side, but the filled-in beard, and improved and much bigger muscles made his babyface disappear, and goddamn did he look good. Considering your many years of…friendship, it was a little nerving to see him so out to get Jey Uso that he offered to help The Judgement Day during War Games. He knew your feelings about TJD, and sure, he apologized and said it was nothing but business but it was kinda out of character for him. Even more than your displacement for TJD, you were great friends with the entire other team.

Also that night, directly after Drew’s loss, which you had made your way to the Guerilla to comfort him for, TV static and guitar hit the speakers and a man you hadn’t seen for many years, walked through the curtains. A man you held very close to your heart, just as close as Drew. You had a pretty similar relationship with him too. Around the start of COVID, WWE hadn’t been doing so well and neither was your career. You’d gotten a couple of calls from a new wrestling company looking to make it big and took a chance. With that chance, your career grew massively, enough to eventually make a great return to WWE just six short months ago, and your relationships grew too. You were held to higher standards in the locker room and looked upon as wrestling loyalty. One of the men who helped you achieve that was the one who just made the arena shake, made the wrestling community break in damn half, the CM Punk.

As much as you wanted to run out into the arena, to grab ahold of Punk and hug Drew, tell him everything would be okay, you unfortunately had to stay back. You stood with a good part of the production crew, as well as HHH himself, the man who had brought you back, who watched you practically shake in your excitement as the main eventers started to pour into the room.

Drew was one of the first to stomp into the Guerrilla, angrily making his way towards you. As much as you wanted to give him the whole ‘I told you so!’ speech, he didn’t look up to it, so instead you settled for balancing on your tippy toes and hugging as close as you could reach around his armpits- two things about Drew had never changed since you met him. His kindness towards you, and his height, the man was a damn beanstalk.

“You’ll get em’ next time, D, you did great! I’m sure it was Dominik’s fault, anyway.” You rub his back, giving him a little pat while he breathes out a sad chuckle into your shoulder. Before you begin to try to pull away from him, you catch a glimpse of the curtain moving one final time, prying your eyes from Drew’s pouting face. You aren’t able to help the scream that leaves you as you practically push Drew off you.

“OhmyGod, Phil!” He watches you rush towards him with a glint in his eye and the same grin he always greeted you with, arms opening to hold you. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming back!” You’re all but yelling into his ear, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He just laughs down at you, rubbing your back like you had done to Drew, who is now stomping his way to his dressing room and pouting even more.

“Couldn’t ruin the surprise now, could I?” The cheeky son of a bitch hadn’t told anyone but HHH, whom Phil had made it clear to that he was allowed to tell the whole roster except for you. Hunter just so happened to decide not to tell anyone. You’re just about climbing up him while he sways the two of you, stumbling away from the curtain entrance to get out of the way of the staff.

“I’m so glad you're back, Phil.” You muttered into his chest, covered by a new CM Punk Chicago flag shirt, just about in tears. “God, I missed you.”

His hand is placed on the back of your head, squeezing you tightly once last time with his other arm before pulling away an arm's length. He keeps his hands on your elbows, thumbs gently feathering across your skin. “I missed you too, Champ.” You didn’t even have a championship at the moment, but that was what he’d called you since your first meeting in AEW. You held the FTW Championship for most of your time with the company, passing it onto Hook when it was your time to leave in a brilliant FTW Rules Match after holding it for over two years.

Since the heartwarming (for you) return of Phil, things between you and Drew were…different. He huddled closer to you when showing you pictures of his adorable black cat Chaz, or grabbing you by the hip and dragging his fingertips up and down your side when he catches you in the hall. It's even worse when he spots you around Phil, which you usually are, he’ll wrap himself around you from behind and refuse to let go. Then again, Phil seemed to do the same thing around McIntyre. He had been touchy like that in AEW though, so you didn’t chalk it up to anything. But sometimes, you start to second guess if maybe you should chalk it to something.

Like the time you’d been waiting to get your hair fixed before your match with Phil in the chair next to you, scooched until you were maybe a foot apart. The two of you had been giggling at pictures of Larry when Drew stalked up behind you, kilt in one hand while dressed for the ring, bringing his other arm to rest just above your chest. You looked up from Phil's phone in surprise, feet pausing in their soft kicks against the bottom metal of the chair.

“Oh, hey, Drew.” You give him a grin while shutting your phone off and squeezing the warm muscles of his tricep. He gives you a warm smile through the mirror in return, scooching in closer and giving you a quick, barely touching kiss on the head.

“Hey, sweetheart. Have you seen Brittany?” He places his kilt, the blue one, on the arm of your chair. You shake your head, letting out a ‘nuhuh’.

“Why, what's the matter?” You ask, confusion and concern painting against your face as you turn to face him, his arm falling to your shoulder. Brittany was one of the few medical personnel that traveled with the roster, and the nicest one. Most people went to her if they had the choice. “You’re not feelin' good?” You stand from your chair and quickly circle it to place your hand on his forehead. Too worried about him, you didn’t notice the smug look he sent Punk or the snare he received. He takes your wrist and gently prys you from his forehead.

“Nothin’ for you to worry about, sweet thing. Just a bit of a headache, that's all.” Another thing about Drew, he had picked up a recent thing for nicknames. Like, really, really cute ones that usually have you battering your eyelashes, but you were too worried for that at the moment.

“Well, why didn’t you say something? C’mon, Brits busy, y’know I’ve always got some medicine in my bag.” You tugged him along with a quick reassurance to Phil that you’d be right back, once again missing the look Drew gave him over his shoulder.

Or the time you had been walking the halls towards catering with Drew, laughing so hard at something he had said it forced you to stop and wrap around his arm so you wouldn’t bend your knees. They’d been feeling a little sore and Brittany had suggested stretching and trying not to use them as much as you could. Drew had even offered to carry you to catering, but you wouldn’t let him. Maybe after your match. Anyways, you’re pressed against Drew who's looking down at you like the love-sick puppy he (and Phil) is, when you’re moment is interrupted.

“Hey, there you are, Champ!” Phil is jogging up from some random hallway that cuts through the one you were currently in. You slip from Drew's grasp as you look over at the sound of Phil’s echoing voice. You greet him with a warm smile and a short, warming hug. Phil was always warm, you could remember the first time you met- he pulled you into a friendly side-hug, radiating warmth physically and emotionally.

“You’ve been looking for me?” You ask him while Drew leans against the cold, white-painted brick wall behind the two of you. With your back to him, you couldn’t see him smoldering in his new spot.

“Well, I figured,” Punk starts, looking at you teasingly while he takes off his cotton zip-up jacket, printed with his iconic fists and the Chicago flag. “Knowing you, you’d dress for the outside weather and not the weather in here, of where we will be all day.” The arenas were always freezing, but you always forgot and instead dressed for whatever season it was, so, in turn, you were always freezing too. Phil throws his jacket around your shoulders and you’re quick to pull your arms through the sleeves.

“Ugh, you’re a lifesaver! I’ve been freezing all day, I keep putting off my warm-ups.” You rattle off as you hug it close to you, the fabric holding onto the remnant of his warmth.

“Anytime, babe.” That was a new one. You weren’t usually a fan of the term, but from him…it just fit, from him. “Hey, let me know when you decide to do those warm-ups, I’ll come and find you again, yeah?” You nod and bring him into another small hug while he gives your cheek a small kiss before saying goodbyes. Of course, you don’t notice this either, but Drew won’t stop staring at you bundled up in another man's, let alone Punks, clothes all night long.

Moments like those, really do make you look back and question everything. The jealous? glances anytime you’ve somehow obtained the others’ jacket, merch, or even just an ounce of the others' time. The names don’t help either. Neither do the kisses, and hugs, and constant, never-ending praise. Now that you thought about it, it couldn’t be more obvious that they both had a thing for you. But when you really stopped, and really thought, it was kinda great! I mean, C’mon! Two great, very handsome guys who were constantly fighting for your attention and also a little fruity with each other? What could possibly be better? Even with your new revolutionary thought, sometimes you still doubted yourself.

Until the one day, when about half of the roster was stuck in the airport in a delay, and to make it worse, it was pretty late and the airport was tiny. All the stores and restaraunts were closed, and you weren’t allowed to leave cause there was no way back in. You’d been stuck in the terrible, flimsy chairs, freezing your ass off for atleast half an hour. Just like the arenas, you always forget to dress for airport weather. You’d been sitting with Naomi and her husband Jimmy, who Jey was tagging along with. The trio could always make you laugh.

Drew had been the first to approach, plopping his duffel into the seat next to you, quick to notice you just about shivering in your spot, beginning to ruffle around in his bag for something you could wear. You’re attention had been on the twins and the never-ending jokes they send back and forth when the soft material draped over your shoulders, so you assumed it was Drew. The twins’, following in the footsteps of Naomi, laughter stops as they look over you before quickly looking away awkwardly as if they were intruding. The three’s actions confuse you, but Drew’s big hand gently peeling the jacket from you and replacing it with a different one does so even more.

You finally look behind you, finding Drew and Phil glaring at each other while this time Phil removes the jacket, replacing it with his again.

“I put it there first.”

“I got here first.”

Drew rebukes, reaching to take the hoodie off of you for a third time before you twist to face the both of them, Phil's hoodie falling from your back either way. Clearly, the whole fighting thing was working on a first come, first serve thing but it seemed to finally catch up. Even with you out of reach, the two continue in their bickering, Phil even rounding your chair to get in Drew's face.

Now, the whole fighting over you thing was great when you were benefiting from it. Now, you were freezing and they kept torturing you with an ounce of warmth and taking it away and they just kept arguing and getting louder through your attempts to stop them, there was no benefit to any of this at all. Jimmy and Naomi were whispering under their breath and Jey was pretending that something was important on his phone’s home screen. God, why did they even have to argue, couldn’t you just have two boyfriends? Who said you can’t have them both?….Actually, why couldn’t you?

“Hello??” You finally yell and stand, now between them, annoyed at being ignored. You pull Drew’s hoodie from his grasp and take Phils off the back of your chair. “It’s great that you both want me and everything, cause I totally want you too, so can’t we all just chill for a second?” You take your seat again, curling up while pulling Phil’s hoodie on and placing Drew’s over your lap considering Drews was meant to fit hit taller frame, and was basically a blanket. Your The boys look down at you in confusion while you get comfy.

“Wha..wait, wait. Who are you talking to, you want me or Drew?” Phil speaks up first. You look back up at him, completely exasperated, so much so your face makes Naomi burst into laughter way louder than she wanted at all (All three of them are trying too hard to keep it together).

“Both of you, dummy! Who said I couldn’t have the best of both worlds?” When no one speaks up, your hands wave around before falling back to your lap. “Exactly. And don’t pretend like ya’ll don't look at each other either, I’ve seen everything you do on TV.” They blush at your accusation, but before Drew tries to defend himself you speak up again, grabbing both of their hands. “Now, c’mere, I’m cold.” You tug them forward, each falling into the seats beside you.

You turn to lean into Punk's neverending heat, curling up against his heat while shoving your feet into Drew’s lap. Theres still tension in the two of them, along with the three across from you, but as time passes and silence washes over it seems like everyone realizes maybe there really was no reason to fight. Drew breaks the silence with a scoff, his hand running up and down the back of your leg.

“You’re a bit of a brat, eh?” He teases you, eyebrows raised with a grin.

“Oh, gets whatever they want, this one,” Phil responds before you can, the arm around you going up to gently slide under your chin. “Just now noticing?”

“Wow, alright. I see how it is. No excuse to fight each other so we’re taking it out on me now, huh? I get it-“ You raise your hands in fake defense, moving to get up from your seat but they both pull you back down with noises of denial. You fall into laughter, the boys quickly following shortly before silence returns for a moment. You turn away, looking at the screen to see if there's any new information on the delay.

“Think you’ll be able to put up with the both of us?” Punk mutters against your head. You scoff, your hand coming up to hold his as you search for your flight on the screen.

“You think this is amateur hours or somethin’? I’ve put up with the both of you for years, seems like no one else can handle one of you, let alone two.” Your sock-padded foot prods against Drew's thighs, his grip on your leg tightening for a second in response as he looks over at you fondly. He pulls your other hand out from under his jacket, putting it in his before placing a kiss on it.

“Seems like you’re stuck with us then, lover.” Drew speaks with an all-knowing smirk as you turn bashful (those damn nicknames and that damn accent, ugh!).

You respond with a muttering of ‘Guess So’, falling back against Phil after finding your plane and seeing nothing new. Figuring you’ll be there for a while you do your best to get comfy, and thanks to your boys, it's pretty easy. Even if you weren’t the most conventional…couple? group? and even if the other two acted like they wanted to rip each other's heads off, it worked, no matter what. In every universe, you worked, no matter what.

i hate the ending but i need this out its getting ridicolous and im not reading ts over AGAIN either way it isn’t as much as i thought it was i was just fr dragging my feet through this like i love it but i just dont wanna do anything

im sick :( i havent been productive in like weeks so i figured id finally do something while im finally at home and i have nothing else to do lol.

i miss my man jeffrey and in the time that ive been doing nothing my attraction to weird little freaks has started to dominate even more over like.. normal? people? girl idk im losing my mind someone give me freak(i went to a rob zombie concert oohhh i need that man so baddddd)

anyways…enjoy ig oh also i literally just looked up throuple cuz i was stuck on a title and that was the first thing that poppedup and it made me giggle so

[icumpinkglitterxo]

Rock Star

a/n: ALL THE SONGS MENTIONED ARE STILL HOLE SONGS IM NOT TRYNA STEAL THEM!!!!!!!!!! for the sake of this fic and also my sanity were gonna just pretend like courtney love doesnt exist and that the reader is basically courtney love only not as problematic idk how to describe this...i know i couldve lit just made up a band but im uncreative and i love hole and hole writes the best songs ever and plus it makes sense to me bc i love slash and im also literally a modern courtney love. this is such a weird fic its also shorter than i wanted but whateva

enjoy ★

warnings: none its fluff 🤍

You and Slash had been dating for a while, and you both knew quite a lot about each other, however, there was one thing that Slash didn't know about you.

You were in a band called 'Hole', in fact, it was your band. You loved your band because it was the easiest way for you to express your feelings, especially considering how hard you found expressing them in other ways. You had thought about sharing this with Slash, because you knew he also struggled with expressing his emotions and that he used his guitar to do it, but you weren't sure if he would like the style of your music.

You knew it was ridiculous because Slash loved music and he encouraged everyone to make music in a way that feels true to them. You also knew that even if he didn't like the sound, he would still support you anyway. You still had your doubts though, so you decided not to tell him.

However, that would change tonight.

It was a Saturday and Slash and Duff decided to go out to some bars and get drunk. You were fine with that because you had a gig that night anyway. What you had failed to realise, however, was that your gig was at Whiskey a Go Go. Slash practically lived there.

You and the rest of your band were just finishing setting up, and you had excitement coursing through your veins.

You all walked on and then you spotted Slash's big head of hair in the crowd. You panicked a little, but he wasn't facing the band, he was at the bar talking to Duff. You take a deep breath and pretend he isn't there. You take a step closer to the mic and speak, "this song's about a jerk. I hexed him, now hes losing his hair," then start playing your most popular song, 'Violet'. Unlike most bands, you like to get your most popular songs out of the way first.

As soon as you spoke into the mic, Slash turned his head, instantly recognising your voice. He questions himself, thinking maybe he's just too drunk.

He turns to Duff, "hey, man, does that look like Y/N to you?" Duff looks up at you, "yeah, actually. Sure as hell sounds like her anyways." Slash doesn't reply, instead his entire focus is on you.

Throughout your set, you play your more popular songs, 'Violet', 'Celebrity Skin', 'Doll Parts', 'Petals', some of your more underground songs, 'Babydoll', 'Nobody's Daughter', 'Reasons To Be Beautiful', 'Awful', and even some unreleased songs, 'Over The Edge', 'Dicknail', 'Seasons Of The Witch', 'I'm So High', and 'Beautiful Son'.

Throughout your entire set, Duff had talked nonstop to Slash, clearly not realising that he wasn't listening. He was too mesmerised by your singing and your playing. He had always found female guitarists sexy, and finding out he was dating one excited him.

He admired how you talked to the crowd, how messy yet so well put together your songs were, how your voice could change from soft and sweet to loud and raspy.

In a way, your vocals reminded him of Axl's because of how high and low you could both go. However, he didn't find Axl's vocals angelic like yours. He wanted you to continue playing forever, but he was also so excited to talk to you about your band.

When your set was done, you walked off and Slash pushed and shoved his way through the crowd to get to you. Duff followed behind, not wanting to be left alone.

Slash grabbed your arm and you panicked, but relaxed seeing it was just him. "That was sick as fuck," Duff said, casually. Slash stared down at you before starting to ramble uncontrollably, "Holy shit, Y/N! That was fucking incredible! You sounded absolutely amazing and it was so raspy yet so soft and so loud yet quiet and the way you play and the way you move when you play is just so satisfying! How come you never told me you were in a band!? This is the best thing I've found out about you, and your music is clearly written and sang with such complex emotions and your lyrics are so raw and intense and your songs sound so messy yet put together so well and, and, I just, I'm at a total loss for words, I love you -" He cuts himself off.

Your eyes widen and even Duff turns his head to look at Slash. "What!?" Both you and Duff say at the same time. Slash stays quiet for a second.

"I love you," he repeats.

Duff stares at him like he's crazy. Your eyes soften and you smile, "I love you too," you say. You knew you loved him early in your relationship, but you were too scared to tell him.

He smiles and he grabs your hips, pulling you in for a kiss. You melt into the kiss, smiling against his lips.

He pulls away, clearly too excited to handle. "I'm assuming that wasn't all your songs in that set?" You giggle and shake your head. "Okay, we have to go home right now!" You tilt your head, "what, why?" Slash looks at you with a look as if you were being unreasonable, "because you have to play me every one of your songs! I've got to hear all of them! And how you wrote them, and why you wrote them, and when, and -"

You grab his hands, "okay, okay," you say, giggling at how excited he was, "I'll show you everything, okay?" His eyes light up, "oh my God, my girlfriend's a rockstar, I'm dating a rockstar!" He says, excitedly, as if he wasn't a famous guitarist himself.

Since learning about your band, Slash did everything he could to promote it, especially considering the fact Guns was starting to get more and more famous. He would do things like talking about your band at shows, in interviews, covering some of your songs and even having your band do some openings for Guns. Your band started to get famous too, and occasionally, you and Slash would have your own shows, playing a mix of Hole, Guns, Snakepit and even some songs you had wrote together.

[abiiors]

A small little blurb of Matty taking care of sick reader on a cold rainy day. (Im totally not sick and I’m totally not projecting)

because ik sicktember ‘23 is happening, i just thought i would use their prompt for today "sick in an inconvenient place"

hope you feel better soon, babe. sending you hugs <33

walking into work today was a bad idea. fuck, getting out of bed in the first place was an even worse idea. perhaps the worst one ever or so you’re convinced now that you sit at your desk shivering and sweating simultaneously. 

for some reason, cool air blasts out of the ac. the temperature is set so low that the whole area feels like a walk-in freezer. and then there’s the torrential rain outside on top of everything. 

you know, despite having an umbrella you will be drenched by the time you make it to the bus stop. and just the thought of being cold and damp while you feel like you're on the verge of death, makes you want to burst into tears. 

another sniffle from you. another glare from the new guy sitting across from you and you decide enough is enough. 

matty :( is the only thing you need to text him before he’s calling you within thirty seconds. 

in the background, you hear the same pitter-patter of rain, muffled and drowned out by other sounds and the riff of a guitar here or there. but it’s very much present. very persistent. 

“what’s wrong, darling?” he asks as soon as you pick up. 

when you pathetically sniffle some more, you hear him move. a door opens, then closes and the sounds behind him vanish. 

“hello?” he asks again, “you there?”

“i feel like shit,” you croak out. maybe you even speak for the first time that day because you surely don’t remember your voice sounding this dull and hoarse. 

“no shit,” he sighs. “you don’t sound all that well…”

“i don’t feel all that well…” you rub your face tiredly, massaging your achy temples. it’s only 3 in the afternoon. you still have 3 more hours of work to go. 

“can you pick me up? please i can’t, i feel so shocking, i–”

“sweetheart,” he interrupts. “go tell your manager you’re leaving. i’ll be there in fifteen.”

—

and he is there in fifteen as promised. his car is parked as close to the curb as possible and matty stands next to the open door holding out an umbrella, and holding out his other hand for your bag. 

the sight fills your entire body with relief, even as you watch him get half-drenched trying to hold the umbrella above your head, shielding you from any stray droplets. once you’re safely in the car, he closes the door, running to the other side to get in and tossing both your bag and the wet umbrella onto the backseat before he fully focuses his attention on you. 

matty tuts in sympathy. “oh you do look awful…”

you roll your eyes, annoyed and weirdly emotional but as soon as his cool hand touches your forehead, half of it melts away. 

“you’re really warm,” he frowns, bringing the same cool hand to your cheek and checking again. “lets get you home, okay? you’re practically falling asleep here.”

“i’m just really cold,” you complain in a small voice, wiping at your nose with the sleeve of your sweater like a small child. it makes him smile. 

“i’ll turn the ac off,” he says and leans over to press a kiss on your head. 

the car is mercifully warm after that and even though the chills are still there, at lease there’s no cold air blasting in your face. you know he must be uncomfortably warm under the flannel he’s wearing but the drive only lasts another ten minutes before you’re rounding onto the familiar street and stopping in the driveway of your home. 

matty turns around to get the umbrella again, stopping halfway to press another kiss, this time on your cheek, and hurries out the door to come to your side. you coax your achy body to move, to get prepared to make a dash inside. but the most you manage is a wobble up to the front door followed by wheezing and groaning. 

matty’s face falls in sympathy. “aww, c’mere baby,” he coos, letting you burrow your face into his chest while he unlocks the front door. he tries his hardest to walk like that, to let you stay close to him and steal some of his body heat while he gets your stuff inside. 

“can you tell me what hurts?” 

“everything,” you whine, “my head, my body. my throat hurts a bit too.” 

setting the things aside, matty cradles your face, bringing you both to the sofa to sit you down. 

“no more moving for you okay?” he speaks into your hair, seeing as how your face is once again tucked into his chest. “gonna take care of you.” 

you nod, closing your eyes and breathing in his comforting scent. 

“now how about you lay down. i’ll get you some stuff and we can just relax and cuddle for a bit. does that sound good?”

and you only need to nod once again to convey that it sounds absolutely fantastic. 

[ashisill]

Take it back

Warnings: crying, overstimulation, language, unprotected sex, choking, you being mean to Josh (he’s okay I promise), m dom/f sub, oral (m/f receiving), slight jealously, and I believe that’s all.

~

“More Josh” you whined as Josh slowly slid in and out of you

You had a long day and Josh was trying to help you unwind. All was well but you wanted more. “Harder baby”

He sped up, but it wasn’t enough. You started pulling at his back, and digging your heels into him. Your whines became louder as your need became stronger.

“Sweetheart what’s wrong? You look like you’re about to cry” Josh asked so sweetly.

“I n-need m-more- please more”

“Calm down baby. What do you want more of?”

“Harder. Rougher. I need it” tears threatened your eyes.

“Breathe baby. I’ve got you”

He slammed into you giving you what you wanted. When you winched in pain he stopped . “I can’t darling I don’t wanna hurt you.

“No it feels good. Please”

“I can’t hurt you. I can’t”

“Please” you choked out tears failing from your eyes. “I bet your brother would” that was mean. By brother you meant Jake. Look at him he’s entire personality tells you everything. The way he practically fucks his guitar on stage. Yeah you knew how he’d be in bed. Fucking ruthless.

You covered your mouth in shock from your words. In fear of hurting his feelings you went to apologize. Instead it only made him want you more.

“Oh that’s what you want” he smirked at you. His sweet demeanor changed into a side of him you’ve never seen. “You want me to fuck you like Jake?”

You stared at him in shock. He grabbed your throat “use your words or your not getting shit”

“Yes” you cried. “Yes please Josh”

“That a girl. Do you want it?”

“Josh I want it so fucking bad”

“You poor thing. On your knees”

“Baby please”

“Stop fucking whining. You heard me”

This was hardly Josh at all, but you fucking love it.

You got on your knees, and put your hands on your lap. If you were good maybe he’d give in, but you forget he can see right through you.

“Trying to be a good girl to get what you want?”

“No I just wanna be good for you”

“Good answer pretty girl. Open up”

He slid himself inside your mouth. “More”

He hit the back of your throat, and you tried hard not to gag. “Look at me darling. If it’s to much just tap my arm”

His pace picked up and you gagged around him. Instead of pulling out like he usually does. He nuzzled himself deeper. You gagged again, but you didn’t get a break. Over and over occasionally he pulled out, but not for very long. “You got it baby. I’m right there”

Tears once again were streaming down your face. He grabbed the back of your head, shoved you down. until your nose brushed against his stomach. “All the way that’s my pretty girl. I’m about to finish you ready?”

You signaled to him that you were, and he let go in your mouth. You stuck your tongue out to show him the mess he made. Then swallowed all of it and wiped your lips.

“Such a good girl aren’t you?” You nodded your head hoping he’d give you what you needed. “Come here”

He laid down on his back, and you followed his lead. He patted his lap for you to sit on top. “You look so pretty up there. Actually I think you’d look prettier here” he pointed at his mouth. You sat there confused he’s never asked you to do this before.

He noticed all the thoughts running through your head. “Unless you don’t want it��

“No!” You shouted and made your way up him. He grabbed your hips and pushed you down. You gasped out immediately. He began to work his tongue at an unforgiving pace. He always teases you with small kitten licks, but not now.

“Josh slow down baby”

He completely ignore you, and gripped your hips harder. That warm feeling that you knew so well began to form in your stomach. “Josh im gonna cum” you pulled at his curls and began to squirm.

With his hands around your waist moving you as you rode his face. Your orgasm took over and you lost complete control. He shoved you off, and flipped you on your stomach. “Ass up mama”

Before you could adjust yourself he slammed into you. You moaned out wishing you could stop yourself, but when you went to cover your mouth he wouldn’t let you. “Don’t you fucking dare. Let me hear you”

“Josh it feels so good”

“Is this what you need pretty mama? Some rough sex. You want me to destroy this pretty pussy?”

“Oh god Josh yes”

“Say it. Say you take back what you said about my brother. You know damn well he can’t give you what I can”

“I take it all back. I do. I promise. Your the best. You fuck me so good. Fuck I love your cock, and only yours”

“Sweetheart I’m not gonna last if you keep squeezing me like that”

“I can’t- I can’t help it. I think I’m gonna-”

He pulled out immediately making you cry once more. You begged for him, but he just laughed at your efforts. “So needy. Are you begging for my cock darling?”

“Please baby please I need it so bad”

“You need what?” He questioned purely just to tease you.

“I need to cum”

“And how exactly?”

“I need your cock. I need you inside me. All the way please Joshy please let me cum”

“That’s what I like to hear” He slid inside, but didn’t move. “Come on baby take us there”

You whined in protest but he insisted. You started pushing yourself back on him then moving forward. Fucking yourself against him. He put his hands his own hips watching you do the work. You tried as hard as you could to keep going, but eventually your pace began falling. “I’m trying so hard Josh”

“I got us pretty mama”

He laid his chest against your back, and gently grabbed your throat. “Let go for me. I’m right behind you”

You did just as he said, and let your release take over your body. You cried out his name, and he cried out yours. All that dominating attitude left as quick as it came. Your gentle sweet boy was back, as you laid in his arms. “That wasn’t to much was it?”

“For you maybe” you laughed.

“Yeah let’s hope you don’t want a round two”

You both agree that there was no way in hell that would happen. You laid on his chest, and his arms wrapped around you. Your eyes began to get heavy, and you made sure to remind him you loved him. He talked softly about his love for you as you fell asleep to his voice. You remembered then just how much you loved Josh being gentle with you.

[aidlyncanon]

Lets Talk: Tyler Hernandez

a.k.a. sai explains sbg

When I think of mischaracterized sbg characters I almost immediately go to Tyler Hernandez. Why? because he's so mischaracterized due to people focusing on ships too much.

This isnt a post for me to say "fuck you ik these characters better and im right" since people to perceive things differently this is just more me sharing my full Tyler analysis which I find most people (ive talked to) agree with me.

This is gonna be separated into four categories: personality, full death analysis, relationships, my opinion on fanon tyler takes.

I didnt realize how long this is gonna be until I actually started typing it so warning it's a long one :)

Personality

Were going to go from start to current on this.

Not much is known about how Tyler acted before his father's passing, other than he used to be your average loving kid. He enjoyed playing baseball with his father and his dad taught him and Taylor a few songs on the guitar one of them being Happy Birthday (which he later taught ben). Once his dad died his entire life practically got uprooted.

I find it odd that theres a chapter explaining his development and character yet he's still so mischaracterized. He slowly lost interest in everything, never doing anything fun. Instead focusing on taking care of his family like he watched his father do.

Despite how some portray it, Tyler doesn't find joy in playing baseball anymore. It became just a way to get into college. He doesn't see the point in indulging in things that he deems distractions or stupid. For example at the Sorrel Weed House he (rightfully so) found the phantom "prank" stupid, dragging Taylor out of the building. Like Ashlyn he too saw no point in friends. He didn't have time for 'such distractions'.

He's not one for sugar coating or beating around the bush, he'll be blunt. Such as him telling Logan he's pathetic for being scared of Barron while they deal with phantoms every night. While even Ashlyn acknowledges he was harsh she stated he did have a point, that Logan needed to learn how to defend himself.

Despite being easily annoyed and irritated at the beginning he cared for them in some form early on. Like when Logan got hurt in the bus he went to check on him, or when he heard Aiden yell Ashlyn's name when she got taken onto the roof Tyler almost immediately went to go check what happened.

Whether he realized it or not the others were beginning to be of concern to him. He slowly began warming up to them. This is first majorly seen after they get the jeep from Ashlyn's house. This being the first time we properly see him smile. He also shut Logan down when he tried to dodge Aiden's compliment. Telling Logan he should be proud of himself.

Tyler also is relatively observant, noticing and acknowledging the fact that Logan wants to do something to help Barron's new victim (Noah). He assures Logan that they'll all be there if he needs help. Not only showing how he's grown to care for them but that he'll help them when needed.

At Lily's birthday Ashlyn acknowledges that Tyler's become less of a jerk, quite literally stating in the comic that he's grown and become more comfortable around them. Allowing himself to make friends despite growing up thinking it was a waste of time.

I would talk about his death itself but the section below is gonna go into depth about it.

He has no will to keep himself guarded in front of them. His only concern being getting to Taylor. That's a pattern with how he operates. He WILL put those he holds closest above himself. He quite literally was about to die but the only thing on his mind was the fact that he'd be leaving them alone. That something might've happened to Taylor. That he needed to get to them.

Taylor states in the season two premiere that he began having fun with them, possibly beginning to see the group as his family. (Theyre family its canon shush). When Ashlyn goes to apologize to him he appears shocked but he doesnt accept her apology. Why? because he doesn't blame her, he knows it wasn't her fault. He cares for her, we can see how much he has grown. He even gave her a nickname that wasn't a form of insult. By which I mean he calls Aiden idiot and other things but not a genuine nickname.

After finding out that Aiden also died but woke up before him Tyler went to text Aiden. Whether that was to check on him or just to have someone to talk to who knows.

He's let down his walls for the group significantly, like when Logan, Ashlyn, and Ben found him in the facility. He in his own way asked for comfort, thanking Ben when he comforted him.

Overall Tyler's grown to care for all of them, seeing them as family. He's allowed himself to be open and vulnerable. Relying on the others at times (throughout his injury) as well as letting them rely on him (like when telling Logan the group will be there when he talks to Barron)

Death & Aftermath

His death was a pivotal point which is why I made a whole section dedicated to it. Not only is it a turning point for Tyler but for the story and everyone else.

NOTE: so I was going to do a full analysis here on this HOWEVER i'm just going to make it a separate post since this is long enough as it is and I want to keep this focused on Tyler whereas his death and aftermath discussion will be about everyone.

Relationships

Ethan Hernandez

Not much is known about his dad other than the fact he played a huge role in Tyler's life. He taught the twins a few songs on guitar, Happy birthday being one of them. This allowing Tyler to teach Ben for Lily's birthday.

Mariana Hernandez

After losing his dad, Mariana essentially wasn't mentally there. She's still dealing with her grief causing her to at times be unable to remember her husband isn't alive. This was shown when she wondered why her husband wasn't off work for Lily's party.

Tyler had to take care of both her and Taylor. When she came back to reality after Tyler died she stepped up to take care of him and be there for her children. He cares for him mom a lot.

Taylor Hernandez

Most of this goes without saying, hes protective of his sister, after all he needs to be. I assume this comes from the fact the twins canonically have separation anxiety (stated by Red on insta). This likely stems from losing their dad at an early age.

His sister is always his priority, when he woke up his first instinct when he heard a scream was to get to Taylor.

Ashlyn Banner

They don't hate each other despite what some fans believe. They actually never hated each other.

At the beginning they had conflicting ideals, Ashlyn thinking it'd be smarter to wait while Tyler wanted to go back to the Sorrel Weed House. This caused them to bump heads at times.

During the first night when Tyler cause Ashlyn to snap at him telling him to "be useful" he, despite being irritated prior to this, did make himself useful by helping with the chair legs. Ashlyn noticing his silence and wondering if she was too harsh. Showing that even then she had nothing against Tyler.

Tyler grew to care for others this includes Ashlyn when he hears Aiden yell her name, he also ended up carrying her to the car when she got concussed. The feeling of care is mutual first shown when the fight at the arcade happened. When background guy punched Tyler, Ashlyn immediately kicked the guy square in the head.

Ashlyn commented on how he was less of a jerk and how it was nice of him to teach Ben Happy Birthday for Lily's birthday since he can no longer sing it.

When Tyler died Ashlyn felt guilty, blaming herself for the incident. She was so upset that she couldn't protect him and the others. Tyler on the other hand didn't blame her at all. Brushing her apology off as if it was nothing. Because it WAS nothing, from his perspective she had no reason to apologize.

She was the first to find him in the phantom dimension. She was the one to administer the sedatives. Telling him "we're going to get you down... okay?" to which he responded with "okay..". She waited until he was sedated and she was off the ladder to fully react. Putting himself and his wellbeing first. She checked on him when they parked the car in the school that night.

When looking for the others in the facility she made note that she was worried for him (and aiden), remembering the way she last saw them both. Once finding Tyler and his bloody room she was shocked and concerned. Unable to react at the sight.

When Ashlyn revealed that she was the one to bring their parents into the phantom dimension Tyler shut her down real quick. Saying she was being melodramatic and that she would be the one who could get them out. Adding the "and anyone else who you decide to drag in" to which she replied saying she didn't decide to bring anyone in. With him ending the discussion with "then stop acting like it".

"they hate each other" they never have

Aiden Clark

Aiden and Tyler mutually made digs at each other. Aiden getting on Tyler's nerves easily. Overtime their arguing turned into playful banter. They grew to care for the other.

Aiden was worried when Tyler had died, while still managing to partially keep up his facade it is easy to tell he was worried for his friend.

Aiden not typically dropping his smile except in moments where someone he cares for is harmed. Tyler's no exception to this, as when he sees Tyler on the Tree he is visibly scared and in shock. Literally shaking from the sight.

Over the course of the comic Tyler grows accustomed to Aiden being around. His jokes and just presence. Eventually allowing Aiden to rest against him while they shared a wheelchair.

Ben Clark

Tyler offered to teach Ben guitar for Lily's birthday. The two have grown close. When Tyler died and woke up at the hospital Ben was seen with a "r u ok?" message on his phone. Tyler trusts Ben. We can see this when after they get Tyler off the tree Ben carrys him on his back. In the back of the car Ben keeps his eyes on Tyler.

Ben goes back to carrying him while they walk through the school. Once they get to the room he sets Tyler down and begins to re-bandage him due to Tyler bleeding through the bandages. When the roof begins to collapse Ben can be seen protecting Tyler's head and body under the desk.

When they find Tyler's room in the facility Ben too is shocked. Once Tyler says "...you know it doesn't really... make me feel... any better if you... react like that..." Ben immediately kneels next to him, ruffling his hand and giving him a smal thumbs up. As his way of trying to be there for him. This getting a small thanks from Tyler. Ben then sends Logan and Ashlyn to find the others and get a wheelchair while he stays with Tyler.

Ben can be seen redoing Tyler's bandages multiple times. He also was the one to push Tyler's wheelchair while they were walking around the facility.

Logan Fields

At the start Tyler thought Logan was pathetic for beinf scared of Barron. Eventually, like the others, he grew to care for Logan. When Logan got hurt he went to check on him.

At the arcade he noticed Logan wanting to do something about Barron so he encouraged it, telling Logan that him and the others will be there just incase.

When Tyler reunited with everyone in the hospital Logan can be seen crying, relieved his friend was okay. Like Ben and Ashlyn, Logan was shocked at Tyler's state in the facility.

During the walk through the facility Tyler mentions that "we should probably be a bit faster" where we got logans iconic "youre the one in a wheelchair" retort (love him).

My Takes

These are just my own personal opinions.

"Ashlyn and Tyler hate each other" you dont need to like the ship but to blatantly ignore their development is crazy. I wouldn't even put it up to development since they never hated each other. Theyre both just the type to believe and stick with their opinion and positions. They had conflicting ideas which lead them to debating but to say they hate each other couldn't be farther from the truth.

I honestly can't stand the way SOME fans make it seem like tyler hates everyone except Logan for some reason. He wouldn't be close to anyone except the GROUP. Why? because like ashlyn he didnt see the point in friends, not cause they hated everyone but because it was a waste of time in their minds.

Also he wouldn't use cringy ass nicknames or petnames, the only real nickname hes given is "carrot top" which yeah is funny but it's not like babyish does that make sense? Other than that the only thing person he really calls names is Aiden who he uses like insults PLAYFULLY. Again he doesn't hate any of them.

I don't understand how people can manage to mischaracterize him so bad when there's an entire chapter that explains about half of his character. Quick focusing on just early S1 sbg cause he had plenty of development in the first season alone.

If you've actually read this im fucking shocked, this shit took me like two hours to write omg.

Who next? (minus Logan until the little bit of backstory we now have is public not fast pass)

[inventedfangirling]

Pran's Growth : from pran-so-cool to pran-in-love

Since I did one for Pat I thought I should do one for Pran too although this one turned out slightly different than Pat's and far faaaar (im talking crazy levels of scrolling far) more detailed because i'm only human idk how to be brief about Pran FORGIVE ME.

Look at him he's my baby, i just CANNOT. So that now we have established that I have unexplainable levels of fondness for him, and so can only view his actions through love tinted glasses which means i'm basically Pat which means I'm super qualified to write this post, lets move on to what i actually wanted to say.

The first glimpse we get of Pran's mind (if you look in the chronological order of events in the show's universe) then its during his conversation with Pat where they discuss what song to perform for christmas.

Here we see the normally closed off Pran share his feelings (albeit about the topic of the song) with Pat with an ease that feels uncharacteristic of the Pran we come to see later. Because while Dissaya was still overbearing and controlling, Pran hadn't had to bear the worst of it yet. For a single child without friends that he could really open up to, it was natural for Pran to feel a pull towards Pat boisterous though he was, because he offered him a space where he could for the first time in his life open up in. 

It could be argued that Pran didn't reveal anything to Pat (it could be argued otherwise too i will get to it soon) but for a person of Pran's nature, who finds expressing himself difficult the space Pat offered for him to express his creativity and his passion for music and song writing was by itself a lot. But it's not just that. Pran is not only talking about a random song is he? He is talking about putting his actual feelings into the song. How he likes the feeling of hesitation of wanting to jump in but being afraid to be heartbroken.

He is knowingly or unknowingly speaking about his own feelings with respect to Pat. I say unknowingly because it is hard to imagine Pran really revealing his heart like that if he really knew what he was going through at that very moment.

And how does Pat react to Pran's words. He pays attention, listens intently and encourages Pran's idea. Pran opened up and Pat let him and Pran actually felt great about it. Its one of the rare moments in his life where he could be honest about something so special. 

And then Pat goes on doing random thoughtful acts like making the guitar pick out of his own ID just cos he saw Pran was struggling to play the guitar without it. He had nothing to gain and he still did that. He is nice to him. He says hi to him by the juice stand, he tells him he'd see him in the music room. Like he wants to see him there. Pran almost forgets their family feud. He was falling in love after all. How could he not?

The feeling being new to him, Pran like any teenager was curious to see what would happen? 

What if I step closer? What if we spend more time together? What if i was more nice to him? Could something actually happen?

But then he sees InkPat in the music room and Pran loses the spirit he had suddenly gained. 

Maybe not. Pat probably didnt feel the same way.

 And then the bracelet thing happens. 

Of course he didnt feel the same way. 

And then the christmas show happens and they practice together again, they play music together again and music and his feelings for Pat have somehow been inextricably intertwined ever since that conversation they first had about the song. And so here he was finally singing the song in front of people, declaring his feelings out loud, and the crowd was actually cheering and grooving to their song and the whole vibe of it puts him in a space where he feels anything could happen and in a rare moment of indulgence he turns to smile at Pat while singing the song he wrote about them. 

But then before he could even taste the feeling of freedom that that performance was potentially offering him, it all comes crashing down as he sees his parents standing in front of him, face aghast and anger writ large on it. And before Pran knows it he's shipped off to a boarding school away from everything he ever knew.

For any teenager that's a harsh change. For a neurodivergent gay introvert like Pran it would have been an even more isolating experience. Finding himself in an unfamiliar environment with no friends, no family and just a bunch of strangers, his only companions the anger and frustration at the whole situation at his mother and the boy who broke his heart (oblivious though he was of it).

How could Pran have let this happen? How could he have ever thought there was something there? And even if there was, that something could happen? How could he let him in? Of course it was gonna end up like this.

3 years at the boarding school pass and we can assume that Pran makes his own set of friends during this time. But we know that none if any are close enough for him to even bring up later on. Which means the one person who got him to open up, who gave him a safe space to talk and share feelings was still Pat. The one person he didn't have to be anything other than himself was, Pat. The only person who he ever felt comfortable enough to open up to was Pat. And Pran can't believe his terrible luck when he sees him stand across from him. 

Unlike Pat who has seemingly gone back to acting like a spoilt child fighting for no reason who is trying to hold onto the person he had become the past 3 years when Pran sees Pat all his feelings come rushing back to him. Despite it all, despite the three years of gap where he swore to never let himself be in such a position again, the moment he sees Pat he is gone again. Because the three years felt like nothing suddenly. And he's once again standing across from the boy who broke his heart.

Why the hell did this have to happen? Out of all the universities he could go to, why this one?

And this time things are more conducive to their budding friendship. And Pat  soon gives up his macho act and somehow keeps finding excuses to spend time with him. Of course Pran's feelings sprung back up in twice the ferocity.

His defences were still up but what the hell was happening?

Why is he helping him out for no reason? Why is he offering to do that? What the hell is being like this way for? Why is he smiling at his dimples like that? This possibly can't be real.

And yet. Day after day Pat keeps coming back and Pran's defenses are slowly threatening to come down and it's scary but its also exhilarating, but it's mostly scary.

And then he's proven right. To have been scared.

Because of course Pat never feels the same way. Of course he likes Ink. Of course that's what was happening all along. Silly Pran letting himself hope again. How foolish of him.

Episode 5 is Pran scrambling to pull back and secure his defenses, Pat is never getting through this wall again. He's done with this. He can't possibly be heartbroken over and over and over again for the same oblivious guy who probably has not a single clue what he's doing to Pran's heart.

And then the freshy night happens and then Pat acts a confusing combination of angry and hurt at the bar and Pran is supposed to be celebrating but he can't wipe Pat's betrayed face from his mind and then if that wasn't enough the confrontation with Wai happens and things come to a shrieking halt in the rooftop where Pran has finally had it. He tells him.

He finally lets it out, in the most Pran way he could at that point, telling Pat to not give him any hope to not do this to him. But instead of the final nail on the coffin that he expects Pat to hammer in, he knocks the winds out of him as he tells no, because no he actually does not want to be friends. He actually wanted what Pran wanted?

After all this time?

And then they step closer and wait for a while before Pat finally leans in, giving him the kiss that he had been dreaming about since god knows how long. Except the kiss is too short and maybe Pat had only that much to give, but Pran had years worth of love and want and longing he had been carrying around and he wanted nothing more than to let it all go. And so he does. He pulls Pat closer and gives him the kiss that he's been wanting to give him forever. 

Pran tells Pat every single one of his feelings through that kiss. Because he was never going to ever be able to put them into words was he? But alas...if Pat wasn't putting the final nail on the coffin, then the wave of realizations that follow the kiss tells Pran that he needs to be the one to do it.

It's never gonna work out ever. This is the most they could ever have. And knowing that Pat returned his feelings doesn't make it any easier.

Because what the hell was he doing? Letting himself go like this!? Setting himself up for getting hurt again? Pat may have kissed him, but he liked Ink too didnt he? And even if he didn't any longer, their families hated each other. And the last time they knew they got close, Pran had to go through hell and back. 

How could he do this to himself again? No.

It is over. It has to be over. He can't keep getting hurt again.

And he pulls back.

By miles. He is done letting his guard down and getting hurt and causing hurt. This is best in the long run. He should just stay away from Pat. No matter how much it hurt. It was never gonna work out anyways.

But then Pat comes back. Pran pushes him away. He has to give up at some point. He has to. Why would he keep coming back? But Pat keeps surprising Pran. He keeps coming back and butting in and being a pain in the ass and Pran is at his wit's end because he just doesn't know how much more he can withstand. He could see how much effort Pat was putting just to have a conversation with him. And eventhough he was staying away to protect himself he also thought he was doing it for Pat's sake too. That it was better for everybody in the long run. But Pat's steadfast efforts finally get to him.

He was still the one person in the world he could truly be open in front of. His defenses were somehow at his weakest. And sitting there on that beach dreaming of a reality where their parents don't have a life consuming feud going on Pran actually lets himself open up once again. After that it was just a matter of time before Pran was lured into the who falls in love first challenge bet. Bringing their love for competing with eo into this was the only way Pran could be eased into this.

Pat knows him so well. They've come so far. What the hell, he could win this challenge couldn't he? Pat followed him all the way to their hostile architecture trip didn't he? He would cave in.

Pat keeps surprising him though he keeps finding new ways to flirt and stump him, and Pran never to be beaten has a few tricks up his sleeve too.

Neither end up winning and things stay in that will they won't they when will they limbo and there was all chance of it continuing indefinitely and then Pat surprises him again.

He doesn't take Pran's easy out. Pran had basically offered to confess and end this bet. Pat was being handed an easy win. But he declines it. And then he surprises him even more by walking into the loss, showing up to play Kwan in a drama he didn't even need to act in, in a play he signed up for just to flirt with Pran and now the play he is offering to do, entirely and completely for Pran. At this point Pat really had the upper hand in the bet. And he still willingly volunteers to lose. He puts himself out there, knowing he will lose. Because on the other end of it Pat saw a relationship with Pran. Why prolong it any longer? And how could Pran not melt at that. Bet be damned. 

And that's why he cooks curry for Pat and when Pat tries to eat it himself, Pran stops him, looks at him meaningfully and then feeds it to him, as if signalling to Pat that if you lost for me, i'm losing for you too.

And so they start dating. And Pran now has to get used to this feeling of his defenses being down. His vulnerabilities exposed and his heart basically out there to be hurt. It was absolutely terrifying. And he wouldn't have had the courage to go for it if Pat hadn't done what he did. Showing him that he valued Pran and his feelings over his own ego. Pat's consistency and sacrifice proved beyond a shadow of doubt as somebody Pran could actually trust himself with. Over and above his overwhelming love for Pat, I believe it is that trust that helped him take that step. 

And Pat keeps showing him every step of the way that the trust was given in safe hands. After every fight, every disagreement, they stop and they talk and they communicate. Pran asks for time. Pat gives it. Pran asks him to keep it under wraps. He's okay with it. Pran compromises on a lot of things himself. He steps out of his comfort zone, willingly does things he wouldn't have dreamt of otherwise just to make Pat happier.

Because he realizes that if the relationship has to work, they both need to put equal effort. By being with Pat, Pran while being in a safe space gets to open up his heart in ways he would have been afraid to otherwise.

It is implied that Pran is the one who cooks for both of them, he leaves cute notes to make Pat smile when he's upset, he does random thoughtful things like putting the paste on the toothbrush for a waking Pat, he hurries home immediately to comfort an upset Pat, and even if it made his friend mad he still showed up to practice sessions and games because he wanted to support Pat and be there for him.

When Wai outs them it is the tremendous trust that he has in Pat and their relationship that helps Pran go over to assuage Pat and helps them get through it together. Every step of the way every block in the path they handle it together. His trust in Pat, his belief in their love growing more and more.

And that's why when Pran sees that Pat is quite serious about staying on at the beach, despite his reservations and fears and wanting to be there for his mother too he still goes all in. Of course he does. Of course he goes all in for the boy he has loved ever since he knew what love was. The one person who kept showing up over and over. The only one who he had complete and utter trust in, to be there for him. 

Because finally, finally Pran could see what he couldn't even dream of when he was young and a life he didn't dare let himself think about in their few months of relationship. A life with Pat, the kindest warmest love-shaped boy he knew, no matter how silly he could get, he would always want to be there for him, with him and he no longer felt like he had to clutch onto his defenses like they were the only thing he really had, because no? He had Pat didn't he?

The only person who knew what it was like being in Pran's shoes, and who loved him nonetheless and maybe even all the more because of it, the way Pran did with him, because he knew Pat would never hurt him knowingly.

He could do this.

He could do this with him.

His belief in their love, his trust in their relationship, the commitment that Pat expressed to him in that conversation, ensured that no matter what challenges came up later in their fake break up era, things would still be okay. It's because of that faith that Pran knew that he could afford to go to Singapore for a couple of years and they would remain strong though it all because of that assurance and confidence he felt in himself, in Pat and this relationship that they had nurtured and cherished.

We see him grow up from a boy who was scared of feeling things to a boy who was brave enough to overcome that fear to let himself be open to hurt to crying in the arms of Pat, letting himself be his most vulnerable to braving hurt to fighting for what he loves and doing what he feels is right.

We see his growth from when he went from being afraid to express his feelings to expressing that in actions and then in words and asking Pat to do the public confession and writing a song for him and asking him how good he was in bed and demanding Pat call him sweetly.

Unafraid of his wants or desires and no longer averse to expressing them. We see him growing beyond childish hijinks to buying a gift for the man who had once hurt his mother, because two things can be true at once ( Ming was an asshole, but he was still Pat's father). He was building a life with Pat, and a meticulous planner like Pran was obviously not going to leave his relationship with his future father in law to chance. 

And that's my take on how Pran went from "You still owe me" to "Every time i'm near you, nothing good happens" to "Can you please stay away from me?" to "You know that fact (that you aren't my friend) now leave" to "Someone like you what's to like?" to "You've got to stop doing this to me Pat" to "Why start when you know how it's gonna end" to "It's the kind of relationship i always avoid"  to "I care about you more" to "if you want my hand be brave" to "If i do that (thinking of it as a song for Pat) then how can i ever really quit" to "Being with you already feels like freedom" to "We like each other. Why does it bother anyone?" to "I can be anywhere as long as i have you" to "I wrote this song for him." to "Give it to him for me" to "If not you i won't allow anyone else to use it" to "Call me nicely" unafraid of expressing his feelings and desires, heart more open and loving than the one he started off with.  

To conclude and in short throughout the show the growth we see in Pran is perfectly illustrated in his password change from the Pran (who was uber protective of his own self and was emotionally repressed and closed off trying to appear cool and unaffected) of Pran So Cool to the unabashedly in love Pran (having made rapid progress in expressing his feelings and braving fears) of Pran in Love, and it's Pat's love and kindness that helped him along the way. 

The world didn't change him. Pat's love did.

[seandiazworms]

can you pretty please write like a scenario where the reader is like in a band and they invited Sean to their party/concert.

Then Sean is like omg yessss ofc I’ll be there but then he’s like freaking out to lyla on what to wear or say. basically like what was SUPPOSE to happen with Jen but it’s happening with the readerrr😝

plus ur writing is literally so good like wtf

chef kis

sean diaz x rock f!reader (draft)

heyy guys i originally wrote this like a year ago but i was super unsatisfied with it and couldnt bring myself to finish. reader is mentioned but isnt actually there, just a convo between sean and lyla. im cleaning out my stuff for space so thought i would post it. sorry for neglecting everybody!! warning: unfinished

“fuck i got bubble gut…”

lyla snorts, “sean, you are literally the most disgusting person i’ve ever met.”

“yeah, right,” sean mutters. “so anyway, should i wear… this?” sean moves his head to the left, shoving a pair of black baggy jeans into the frame. “or what about this?” he moves his head to right, showing the exact same pair of pants, only slimmer in size.

“well, her band’s all about that hardcore shit aren’t they?” lyla says—clearly distracted. sean can tell from a mile away because if she were focused, she would’ve already interrogated him on if he was into you or not. plus, the glaringly white skype chatroom is practically reflecting off her face.

“hey, can you not text right now? this might just make or break, like, everything about me,” sean whines. “who’re you even talking to? if it’s eric tell him to go smoke out of his dumb electric guitar bong or something.”

lyla continues typing, “god, chill. you’ve been to concerts before, just wear whatever… also eric says fuck you—and that his bong is hardcore—” lyla scans her eyes across the screen “—and you’re just mad you’re broke as shit.”

“what the fuck, no,” sean scoffed. “i just don’t spend my paychecks on stupid shit like that. tell him to go fuck off.”

“oh ho ho, you don’t wanna hear what he has to say about that…”

“you’re right. i don’t,” sean mutters. his eyebrows furrow into concentration—staring at the little frame of him in the corner of the call.“should i make my hair messier? do you think she likes messy hair—‘cause i’ve seen the guys in her show highlights…”

“umm…” lyla’s typing crunches through sean’s speakers. “just like, do your usual thing y’know? no need to stress…”

lyla can hear sean’s abrasively move his finger across the screen, the red hang up button appearing. “lyla if you say something stupid again i will hang up on you right now.”

lyla jolts her back in surprise. “woah! no need to get worked up! if you want me to see the same two pants i’ll look at them…”

sean glances at the call screen, and he swears he feels his impending doom churning in his gut. lyla’s screen changes over to their call. she stares blankly at him. then a familiar, slow, disgusting, vile grin forms on her face. the dreaded face of someone who finally connected the dots, and feels the need to run their mouth all about it, stares right back at him.

“wait…” she says, practically oozing in intrigue. “sean, do you—“

“no,” sean says firmly. he runs his fingers through his hair in frustration which only provokes lyla more.

“you do!”

“no!”

“oh my god you totally do! how’d i not see— god i must be fucking blind!” lyla slaps herself over the head.

“why’re you hitting yourself—“

“shut up! okay since when?”

“since never, because she’s not cute…” silence passes between them. “…and i appreciate her craftsmanship…”

lyla scoffs, “bullshit.”

“what? i do!”

“name at least one band that we met at that party—and no, misty mice doesn’t count.”

sean’s face scrunches in pure frustration.

“uhh… look—“

“pfft! you are such a poser!”

sean rolls his eyes, “oh don’t pull this dumbass shit on me!”

“okay, whatever. point is you only go to small shows when i beg on my knees—“

“—that’s what she said—“

“shut up,” lyla rolls her eyes. “you’re trying to distract me and it’s not working.”

sean shrugs. he only has so much snarky remarks in him.

lyla leans back on her swivel chair, that stupid smirk still playing on her lips. “tell you what, sean—“

“to be honest i don’t really care lyla—“

“no, shut up. tell you what sean, she’s cute. i get it—would.”

“the fuck is that supposed to mean—“

“would?”

“yeah?”

“you know damn well what it means!”

sean’s irritation becomes all the more apparent on his face. still, lyla remains unphased. her legs rest on her desk as she leans back, basking in sean’s discomfort.

“well, no, i don’t—“ sean grumbles.

“yeah you do!”

“well, i don’t ‘would’ people because i’m not some kind of… virgin loser!”

“you quite literally are one,” lyla scoffs.

sean stares blankly at the screen in fury.

“y’know what?”

“what?”

“i’m hanging up—“

“no!” lyla lunges forward toward the camera. “you are not gonna do that to me sean diaz! not today!”

“stop being a dick and help your boy out then!”

“with what? clearly you don’t need much if you don’t even like her…” lyla says, staring at her nail beds.

“you really want me to say it don’t you?”

“say what?” lyla swivels around in her chair, throwing around the plushie sean and her got from a rigged claw machine.

“oh fuck this…” sean whispers.

they both sit in silence and sean begrudgingly inches closer toward his laptop.

sean sighs, “since i saw her at that afterparty, y’know the ones you always go to, but i only went this one time and you made me take seven shots—”

“i fuckin’ knew it!” lyla hollered at the top of her lungs.

“okay, we’re done—“

“no, no, no, we’re not done! wait- okay. you want help right?”

sean’s face is practically inflamed at this point, the tips of his ears a vibrant hue of red.

“yes! finally! fucking hell…” he aggressively swivels around, kicking his feet.

sean had never seen her this amused in his entire life—not since she had coerced him into downing eight shots and recorded him vomiting in the snow. or the time she had convinced him, while high, that there was a homeless baby epidemic that he needed to solve. or the time that eric threw sean’s pants at the top of his cabin and he had to crawl to the top, only to fall into the slush of snow underneath. he didn’t actually remember any of that happening—lyla had shown him the video first period the next morning. he absolutely hates that video with all his soul.

[cupidjyu]

a bit too shy pt 2

(hyung line) when you're shy and don't give affection easily !!

genre: kisses, hugging, shy reader, flirty and in-love boyz, guitar-player jacob notes: i am back :) im still tired but eventually, i will get there...😣�� word count: 1.1k

sangyeon

your boyfriend had gotten home after a few days of being away for work. you missed him dearly and felt hopeless being all alone. even though he video-called every night, you so badly missed the sight of him right in front of you, his charming and sweet smile beaming at you.

you already knew that he was home currently. just before, you had greeted him happily. he even swooped in, pressing a long kiss to your lips, making you giggle, your face growing hot all over.

now, he was sitting on the couch, using his computer. you stood near the kitchen counter, currently trying to work up the courage to hug him. you not only missed seeing him, but you also missed his touch. and look, you were planning to before! but you chickened out last minute.

so, with a deep breath, you approached him. he looked at you and he could immediately tell that you wanted something.

he smiled, almost encouragingly. you simply stood there, fidgeting nervously.

“sangyeon,” you mumbled.

“hm?” he hummed, smiling at you sweetly, his eyes turning into crescents.

you cringed slightly, feeling your cheeks flush, “can i…?

and he gazed at you endearingly, finding you incredibly cute. he nodded without a reply, opening his arms as if he could read your mind. you let out a quiet breath of relief.

you were now sitting next to him. slowly but surely, you hugged him, wrapping your arms around his torso and then hiding your face in his shoulder, feeling shy all over again.

“this is nice,” he spoke into the silence as he smiled giddily to himself. he felt like his heart was soaring.

“i agree,” you mumbled, snuggling closer. 

“you don’t have to ask, you know?” he replied.

“i’m not the best at these things,” you pulled away, pouting.

he winked before pecking your cheek softly, “then allow me to teach you.”

jacob

“want to watch me play?” 

jacob had once come up to you, asking you this question. you were always curious about how well he played guitar since he always talked about practicing and making songs. he just never showed you until he was ready.

“really?” you looked at him excitedly. he nodded with a wide smile.

the next day, he led you into his room as he sat on the bed, holding the guitar in one hand. he beckoned you to sit next to him and watch. and so you did, in awe, as he began to play, his pretty hands handling the strings gracefully.

and what surprised you even more, was that he started singing.

he was smiling while singing the most romantic words, to the point you even felt your face start to grow warm. what if he was singing about you…?

when he was done, he set the guitar down and glanced at you.

“so?” he laughed, bashfully. “what do you think?”

“that was amazing,” you replied in honesty. “you should have shown me earlier!” he simply giggled.

“i was thinking about you while singing,” he teased, smirking slightly. you felt yourself blush as you rushed to shove him away with a huff. “hey, don’t be like that…” he glared playfully. he leaned in closer, peering up at you through his eyelashes. “don’t you think i deserve a kiss as a reward?”

you eyed him, “for what?”

he shrugged. you gulped. and quickly, you leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to his lips.

“you did great jacob,” you muttered. he scrunched his nose, smiling fondly at you.

“thank you, my dear.”

“no pet names.”

“you love them.”

younghoon

younghoon has a strange addiction to watching cute baby animal videos. you’ve discovered that a while ago, but never really said much about it. one day, you decided to watch with him as the two of you were relaxing on a bench at the park.

one of the clips was of two adorable bunnies, cuddling together. younghoon immediately cooed, turning the screen so you can see clearer. you smiled, watching.

and much to your surprise, the bunnies simultaneously turned their heads. they kissed!

he gasped, making even more incoherent noises. “this is so cute,” he pouted, his cheeks puffing out as he turned to you.

you shrugged, merely finding him funny. “it’s okay.”

“hm…” he thought for a second. and visibly, an idea popped up in his head. he quickly faced you with an excited expression.

“should we recreate it?”

you sputtered, your ears turning red, “wh-what? i never said-”

“aw but,” he pulled off his best puppy dog expression. you paused.. and then you groaned. curse him and his wide eyes.

“i guess so… but just this once,” you warned him. he nodded eagerly, waiting patiently. you fidgeted anxiously before finally, you closed your eyes and kissed him. he quickly pulled you closer, making you feel fireworks go off in your stomach. when he distanced himself, he smiled.

“you should do that more.”

“i’m trying…”

“then recreate every cute animal video with me,” he proposed. “please?”

“on second thought, maybe i shouldn’t try anymore,” you got up to start walking away from him, jokingly.

“hey! you said-” he whined. “y/n! please!”

hyunjae

you quietly cheered to yourself as you closed the lid of the lunchbox that you had prepared for your boyfriend. it was early in the morning, the both of you incredibly exhausted, but you so badly wanted to prepare food for him before he left for work.

you saw him walk in and he looked very charming, all dressed up. he turned to you, tilting his head with a cute smile.

“what’s this?”

“ah-” you handed it to him. “i made it for you…”

he was speechless, his eyes wandering over the small box. “oh.”

“is it bad?” you panicked. “i could try again next ti-”

“no, no,” he shook his head. he looked at you with a tender smile. “thank you so much.”

you shyly smiled, batting him away. you then followed him to the door to wave him goodbye. but just before he stepped out of the apartment, he quickly turned back around to face you, raising an eyebrow.

“aren’t you forgetting something?”

you widened your eyes.

“no?” you tipped your head slightly. “did i?”

and then he tapped his cheek, staring at you expectedly. you sighed, glaring at him.

“so… im waiting…” he pouted. you huffed before hesitantly pressing your lips to his cheek. he smiled dearly, his eyes lighting up. “amazing,” he stated. “see you tonight! and next time, on the lips?” he giggled, puckering his lips before walking out the door.

you laughed fondly, watching him go, your heart still beating a mile a minute. 

“don’t skip down the hallway, hyunjae.”

“nope, i love you too much,” he called back.

[dariasonlinedairy]

Do you have any hobbies ? :))

To answer this question, yes! I do have hobbies. Let me tell you about them:

1. Drawing is my main hobby, i started drawing like a decade ago, i loved the shapes and colors and people at my school and city know me because of drawing (and since i participate to drawing contests etc)

2. Graffiti! I started it like some months ago, thanks to my crush who is a big tagger from my city, he actually does cool graffities and i want to be popular with my tags, just like him <3

3. Reading! I also have this hobby for a long time, this year i readed almost 2 books for a month, so i can say that i readed like.. 14 books and more than 20 chapters this year! Books owe a special place to my heart since they make me happy everytime im reading and they transport me to another dimension.

4. Listening to music! As i said like 2 asks ago, i can't live without music, and soon (i hope) I'll start to play an instrument too! I'll play drums or acoustic guitar, i love those instruments, especially when they are played in solo or covers of songs i like.

5. Baking! I don't really bake that much but everytime i bake, or cook, i find myself loving the art of food and experimenting with it, baking holds a special place in my heart since everytime i bake, or cook, i do these with joy and love in my heart. And in my stomach too since i eat whatever i do))

6. This doesn't count as a hobby because I've practiced it only some times but.. Skating! I find it very dear to me. My first time skating was last year with my current crush, and i fell in some bushes and my whole body hurted and i was full of marks on my body, knees specifically. But thanks to him, now i wanna skate and I'll get a skateboard on my birthday, in the summer!

7. Again, i don't know if this one counts but.. Organizing stuff! I really love organizing, i keep everything organized and I'm a really organized person, everytime i am organized and i actually feel bad if things aren't organized, not clean, i just need things to be organized. Like pinterest boards or playlists!

8. Playing video games! I play them once or twice a month, alone or with some of my friends. They're cool but i don't play them much since they hurt my eyes (I'm wearing glasses since i was 4 so..)

And lastly, which holds the most special place in my heart is.. 9. Journaling! I love journaling with all of my heart! 💗 I started journaling last year in june and i fell in love with it. It is one of the hobbies i find myself being comfortable since no one has to see it. Oh and because of journaling, I've started to be more.. Poetic? Yeah, something like that and now i also like writing poems, and now i write more calligraphic and beautiful.

I have lots of hobbies i wanna try but I'm not gonna mention them since it will take more than 4 paragraphs to mention them all. Thank you for the ask, Artemis! Waiting for more, love you and have a great day! 💟

[fruitybashir]

it's been 3 minutes since i read the last chapter and i just wanna ask how are our boys doing right now? will they eventually tell kris' parents that they were fake-dating but are together now? was the first officially-in-a-relationship sex good? how long has bojan been in love with kris? did he realize it during their whole friends-with-benefits thing or earlier?

okay okay okay lets get into it

1. how are they doing right now? well timeline wise, currently they are suffering. but right after the end of the fic? doing fantastic. im imagining since its a friday, kris takes another sick day and bojan skips his classes just bc fuck that, and they just went through a lot and finally have each other again and theyre both not willing to let the other out of their sight again for even just a second. kiki has probably noticed kris has not been doing so well lately, so he gladly covers kris' shift. they're gonna just lie in bed a little bit, answer texts from the other guys making sure the others know theyre doing fine, and then they take jans advice and fuck like rabbits.

on saturday they go to band practice together again and maybe just bc kris is a little shit hes gonna go "yeah the song was nice but the guitar could use some improvement" and maybe thats when they start working a third guitar into songs instead of just kris taking over bojans parts? who knows?

2. will they tell kris' parents that theyre fake-dating but together now? i think kris would want to keep that one a secret, mainly bc he knows theyre never gonna let him live it down and maks definitely wont, but he (very begrudgingly) does tell them. and they have a good laugh about it. for all eternity. bc i think miha and chantal are the kind of people who would find that shit hilaaaaaarious and bring it up all the time, they think its very very funny

and they also obv love bojan and are very glad to have him properly in their family now <3

3. was the first in-relarionship sex good? it was the fucking best. they didnt have to hold back anymore and enough "i love you"s were said to fill a book with it and then some. it was incredible.

4. how long has bojan been in love with kris? god i wish i knew. i just write the guy, i dont know what the fuck is going on inside his head. i think hes had a mild crush on kris for a while, over the last few years, not very deep or meaningful, mostly when kris picked up jan or smthn bojan would go "damn hes handsome" but that was the extent of it - also bc he was still struggling with his sexuality then.

i think over the holidate timeline .. hm. i imagine that crush skyrocketed when kris just slammed him against the wall that one night and then proceeded to give him the best head hes ever had lol. and i think he definitely acknowledged it as a crush then and it slowly developed into more. i think he maybe realised he was in love shortly after kris stayed with him when he was sick? the major factors there being that kris didnt just take care of him, but actually cared for him. he didnt just drop off some meds and left, he actually took the time to stay with bojan, took a sick day just to be with him, cooked for him, made sure he ate and drank enough, kept him company, everything. thats already an admission of love if you ask me. (both platonically or romantically) but that really did a number on bojan.

i even think bojan let himself admit that it was love pretty early on, but always had the safety layer of "we're just doing this for fun, so its okay if im in love with him bc the "only" consequence is having my own heart broken lol" but then when kris wrote him dopamin and bojan realised this could all be real, suddenly there were more potential consequences to deal with and well you read the last chapter lol