#I like so many parts of the album but not the whole thing

[sneeb-canons]

I WASNT SURE ABOUT THAT BUT I APOLOGIZE

I have a couple of reading problems so I misunderstood what the asker meant so thats my fault

BUT genuinely this is important for a lot of you

While i did misread this one, there has still been asks similar to this that i did catch. against both Heart AND Mind. I usually just delete them since ive already stated i was against that [it IS in the rules btw & some of yall need to read that again before submitting. including the shipping and suggestive rules]. But there been quite a bit over time & it still keeps happening even now, along side some other things. [im not good at writing down & explaining my thoughts but i'll do my best]

One being the entire part stated above

Second being how people deal with/handle aspects of depression & the main idea with the album.

A lot of people treat it either as if its for a joke, downplay or ignore it, or even infantilize parts of it [mainly toward Heart]. The last being an especially horrible way of talking about depression and portraying it. Theres a lot of people here [including myself] who struggle with that and its just harmful or annoying to see the main part of the album get horribly misinterpreted for many many reasons.

Which semi goes into the third point being that, for Whole especially, these characters are no matter what connected to CJ himself. So I will repeat that I do not want ANY shipping headcanons, suggestive/nsfw headcanons, and no headcanons about Whole that are too closely related to CJ. That mainly being pronouns or any other sexuality for Whole.

And not only have I stated this but Jash himself has said that Whole is basically just him. Even saying that with HMS; he has his own ideas for them but lets the public decide & choose their own for them. While for the other, he says "He/Him for ‘Whole’, though, seeing as it’s just me."

While yes there are ways to go about HMS being Whole or Whole as a character, he is still connected TO Chonny. This also goes for the other versions of him like the Power Hours. They are, to me, too closely connected to CJ that I don't feel comfortable giving headcanons to a Real Person.

Again there are ways to go about it where its more from the idea of the album/single itself. it being a headcanon about the content but not the actual person. Especially when he clarified it already that at least Whole is just him, so likely the the other albums are as well.

While all of that is not ALL the submissions, a good majority of you are chill thankfully, its happened enough to where it needs to be stated again. Either way just take caution when sending something in and just PLEASE read the rules before doing anything.

Mind has Bluetooth hearing aids. Soul had got him them so he could hear and be able to enjoy music. Yet, neither it nor Mind knew that they could connect to *anything.* Even if he didn't want them to. Heart found this out and connected them to his phone, just so he could play random ass sounds in Mind's ear.

Headcanon #895

[sheirukitriesfandom]

So, the new Nightwish album is out and...

I have mixed feelings.

At first I was disappointed. No big surprises, no moments that Floored (heh) me—after the first listen I went right back to something else.

However, after listening to it for the fifth time now, it's growing on me. There are many seeds of ideas on it that just weren't realised fully, like the oldschool keyboards in Spider Silk or the 80s influence in The Day Of...

The album definitely lacks variety and the mixing, especially of the singles, is subpar. However, the songs flow well and are, for the most part, distinct enough to stand on their own. I also like the darker atmosphere of the album and the overall "Theme park ride" feel to it.

So, all in all, could be better and I expected better from Nightwish, but it's still a solid album that needs a few listens to shine.

Also, I hear the absence of Marko. Troy is doing a decent job but the shoes he has to fill are just too big. I wanna hear a Floor & Marko version of Sway...

[her-canine-teeth]

back to you by flower face (reupload)

[lyculuscaelus]

Absolutely well put. We love constructive opinions, creative ideas, but it’s a big NO when it comes to discrediting the artwork as a whole, disrespecting people especially the artists…

Indeed, the ideas used to conclude this arc might not meet everyone’s expectation, and the resolution in this saga might probably be narratively unsatisfying for some people, but the way some of them comment things…literally, it’s not the end of the world when the “canon” version doesn’t fit your own vision of how things should go like. I just feel like people are being a bit…overreacting in this one.

Yeah, overreacting.

Overreacting when the musical is still just in its concept album stage, when so many changes may still occur if it ever makes it as a stage production… (think abt it: if you hate the jet pack idea, do you actually think it’s gonna make it on stage with the popularity and practicality that it has for the moment?)

Overreacting that the plot of a single song pisses you off, and you’re suddenly disliking the entire saga, and even the musical itself for some people… (I mean, is it not popularly agreed that the songs themselves are all bangers musically, and excluding 600 Strike in your consideration, the other four songs are still well-written, and deserve their own praises?)

Overreacting as if everything suddenly loses its meaning because of this part of the story is not handled the way you want to see it handled, as if the musical couldn’t move on to the next saga anymore… (like, the arc with Poseidon is basically concluded. Whatever come next are the hunting season and the reunions, which do not leave much space for messing up. As for the Vengeance Saga you can still fix it with your headcanons and stuff if you don’t like the ending. If you still considered it flawed—then let it be. Just leave it alone. After all, since when is an artwork not allowed to have flaws? Since when are you required to enjoy the entirety of an artwork, even accepting what you don’t agree with?)

I think at this point, what we all need is to chill down, and like op said, to have fun with the parts we enjoy, to stop wasting time being a hater, to have all the fun you can get—let it be a meme, a reinterpretation, a rewriting…we all can have fun, after all!

Opinions and Interpretation ( Epic Spoilers)

Author's Note (As long as it’s not hurting/attacking anyone mentally, physically, or emotionally, people are entitled to their own opinions, own beliefs, own ideas, and nobody is allowed to make you feel bad for your thoughts/ideas.)

Okkkkkkk, I had a long day, and this was bothering me so I wanted to make a post about this so humor me. I have problems with an issue in and outside the Epic community, so that is something I will speak on. Also an inappropriate situation happened earlier this week that caused someone to become extremely uncomfortable so I am going to discuss that as well. And imma teach this up, so sit down and let’s talk. (This issue is a separate post)

Opinion: a view or judgment formed about something, not necessarily based on fact or knowledge.

As long as an opinion is not hurting anyone emotionally, spiritually, mentally, physically,  you are free to speak your mind in the proper time and place. Your opinions on things, with the things above in mind, should be respected because you are entitled to your opinion. It’s yours and it is precious, cause you are precious. 🥰

Same way switched. You certainly don’t call the opposite party’s opinions “cringe” or  “weird” just because you don’t like them. Are you allowed to discuss why you don’t like it? As long as you are being respectful, go ahead. Do what you do but certainly don’t diminish anyone’s ideas. They are precious. 

Now, the jet pack animation in the Vengeance Saga. Was it unexpected? Hell yeah. Would you like to have seen Jorge choose a different orchestration on how Odysseus got out of water? Maybe. But do we call his idea “cringe?” 

Class: No

Absolutely not! He has stated before how video games have affected the creation of Epic and how he wants to demonstrate it in the animatic. So why are we saying it was “stupid” or ”weird?” Is it inaccurate? Unless Homer has a trashcan of scrapped jetpack scenes we have no idea about, yeah it is. But it is fun. And I think that is what we missed. We are allowed to have fun, as long as we are not posing it as accurate information.

Correct me if I am wrong, but Jorge never said this was a “on the mark” musical of the Odyssey. He is gonna take liberties, and unless a Greek Mythology Association sues him for not following the story to the letter, is it hurting anyone? Do the people who like an accurate retelling of Odyssey have to like Epic? No, absolutely not. Well, I mean unless someone has a gun to your head.

I have mutuals who don’t like Epic, and that is absolutely ok! They aren’t doing anything illegal, and neither are we. UNLESS we are telling and or arguing with Greek Religion Experts, mythographists and the like, that Epic is God's honest truth. In that case, we need to read The Odyssey together and apologize to them.

However, if you are gonna listen to it and just shit talk about it, bullying the creator and the fandom for creating/liking it, scrutinizing the road they chose, and just being a Debbie downer about it, do it by yourself. 

You know what is great too? Sparkle* The Power of Animation *Sparkle. Animators don’t like it, you do it. And that is not an taunting attack like, “oh if you think you can do better, then do it” blah blah nonsense. This is the glory of your talents. You are allowed to let your mind travel in the way that it does, I encourage it.  When I saw the prosthetic Poseidon, I didn’t say in the comments, “actually Poseidon didn’t have a prosthetic, this is cringe and inaccurate.” I didn’t say anything in the comments cus I was screaming and shrieking like a little bitch cus of how much I loved it. I apologize to my neighbors, I was losing my crap, like OMFG, HOW ARE SO TALENTED AND WHAT IS IN YOUR MIND I WANNA SEE IT AND-sorry I’m trying to get to a point.

(Also go check out Neal Illustrators Etsy shop, the pins are up and scrumptious)

All are talented artists/animators. I’m pretty sure when he watches your stuff, he gets so  giddy and excited. No one idea is steady law. We all are allowed to shine and share. I wanna see your talent and ability. 

So please, please.  Epic fans, if you don’t like Jorge’s ideas, look towards the animators. If you don’t like the animator's ideas, do your own. And if you can’t, imagine your own. 

But please, do not send hate or nasty messages toward Jorge and his team or to people in/within the community. Jorge is allowed to have fun, I am allowed to have fun, you are allowed to have fun. We are all allowed to have safe, healthy fun. Don’t spend all your time being a hater. Respect, we all deserve respect. Opinions, we all deserve to have our healthy and good-mannered opinion’s. 

Ok? Ok. Yay!

[woso-dreamzzz]

Photo

Patri Guijarro x Hardersson!Reader

Natalia Guijarro (OC) x Hardersson!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: Patri teases your girlfriend

"And this is one of her eating a plushie. And this is one of-"

"Patri," Talia says," Seriously, stop. You're embarrassing me."

"Good," Patri says, nodding her head," As your sister-"

"We're literally cousins."

"-It's my job to embarrass you around your girlfriend." She winks. "And show her just how out of your league she is."

Talia rolls her eyes, arms crossed as she sags on Patri's sofa.

You laugh a little bit, reaching out to squeeze your girlfriend's knee.

"And this is Talia when we went ice skating when she was little. We took Pina with us and she wiped us both out."

Pina yells out her outrage from the kitchen but doesn't come out to defend herself. She's been slaving out the stove for the whole day trying out some new recipe for lunch.

It hasn't been going well and none of you are going to tell her you've already ordered lunch until it turns up.

It's safer that way.

The burnt smell was really taking over the room which is why Patri busted out the old photo albums to distract you.

"Oh! I like this one!" Talia leans over you to point and you smile. "It was when I was little. At one of Patri's matches."

"Frido's there," Patri says, pointing out your aunt to you.

"And I'm there." You point.

The room goes silent.

"What?" Talia sputters.

You frown. "That's me. Right there. See?"

The picture is old but it was captured on a good quality camera so it doesn't look like it's faded at all.

In the foreground is Patri and Talia. Talia's little in it, maybe around four or five.

Patri looks hot and sweaty, straight off of the pitch after a match. She's got Talia up on her hip, both of them doing a big thumbs up to the camera.

In the background is the rest of the team, most of them are blurry but a few of them are more in focus.

Pina stands a little to the left, head half turned as she talks to someone just out of view. To the right is your aunt Frido.

It looks like she's grinning but she's a bit too far away to know that for sure.

Next to her, is you.

You're little like Talia is, still just a kid but you'd seen enough photos of yourself at that age to be able to tell that it's you.

Frido's hand is on your head, ruffling your hair and you're wearing her Barcelona shirt.

It's funny to think that so many years later, she wears your Barcelona shirt instead.

"That's you?!" Talia asks," But...But...What?!"

"Yeah, that's me," You confirm, nodding," What's so shocking about it?"

"But that's you! And that's me!"

"Yes?"

"But...We were so close to each other! How come we never met?"

You laugh at Talia's astounded face. "I'm very shy," You tease," I was probably scared. And, you know, language barrier. We wouldn't have been able to communicate."

Talia pouts and Patri laughs.

"Maybe it's better this way," She says," Otherwise you'd have been pining after her since childhood. How many more sappy letters would you have written in that time?"

Talia's face turns red and you grin.

"Sappy letters?"

"Don't listen to h-"

"So many sappy letters!" Patri seems delighted to have more things to embarrass Talia with. "For a moment, I thought she would start writing poetry."

"Shut up! You're so annoying!"

But, of course, Patri didn't shut up. She rarely did when the alternative was embarrassing Talia so thoroughly.

"She didn't know your address so she never sent them but I'm sure she would have. She really poured out her heart."

"Oh, yeah? What did they say?"

Patri clears her throat. "Your eyes are-"

"That's enough!"

Talia launches herself over your body to tackle Patri to the ground, the two of them wrestling on the ground.

"Fuck!" You hear from the kitchen right as the fire alarm goes off.

The doorbell rings. The food is here.

You smile, snapping a photo of the picture, sending it off to your aunt as you pick your way through the carnage to get to the food.

[latenightdaydreams]

Can König and Stalker!Reader have a good ending? 🥹🥹🥹

Yes! It's not over yet, but it will end happy I promise. No angst 🥰

König x Stalker!Reader Part 2 (fem)

MDNI🔞

Part 1, Part 3, Part 3.2

Master List ✍🏽

>cw: fem/afab, stalking, masturbation, invasion of privacy

1.0k word count

📸

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Early on a random Tuesday morning, König went to the local pet store and purchased a small aquarium and a few fish. Over the next few days, he set up the fish in their new home in his living room. König doesn’t want pet fish, doesn’t really even like them, but he wanted to throw you a bone.

A loud knock on your front door draws your attention away from the photo album of König’s photos that you’re looking at. You pull your hand out of your pants and walk to the front door to see König standing there. Before you answer the door, you take a deep breath to control your excitement so you don’t appear obsessed as you truly are.

“Hello, König.”

Your voice sends a shiver down his spine. The way your lips pull back into a small, sweet smile makes him feel like grabbing you and claiming your mouth with his. He can’t believe the way you look so naturally beautiful in lounge wear. His eyes travel down your form before meeting your eyes again.

“Hallo, Fräulein. I was wondering if I could ask a favor of you.”

“Of course.”

“I’m getting deployed for a few days and I wanted to know if you could feed my fish for me?”

“Absolutely!”

You respond quickly, almost too quickly. He could see something in your eyes click, an idea forming; it excites him. The corner of your lips turning upwards as you nod your head. He’s excited to see what you have planned for him. Before he leaves, he gives you the feeding schedule, ‘deployment’ schedule, and a spare key to his home.

The day he leaves, you wait a few hours to make sure he’s truly gone before excitedly making your way over to his front door. It’s as if you’re in a dream as the key slips into the lock and turns, unlocking heaven. You step in, closing the door behind you quickly. The first thing you notice is how amazing his home smells and how bare it seems; almost like he never fully moved in.

Slowly, you make your way through the home, taking your time to inspect every drawer and cabinet. When you cannot find anything of interest, you turn your attention to his bedroom. You open the door and look around; his bed is neatly made and everything is perfectly organized.

The hamper in the corner grabs your attention; going over and grabbing a shirt that is laying on top. As you lift it to your nose, the smell of his sweat filling your nostrils as you take a deep breath in. Bringing the shirt with you, you turn your attention to his bed. Piece by piece, you strip off your clothing as you walk to his bed. You pull the comforter back and lay on his bed; picking the side that is clearly used more.

Laying in his bed like this feels like being embraced in a tight hug from him. The idea of how many times he’s masturbated here crosses your mind, driving you absolutely insane. You drape his shirt over your face as you spread your legs open, moving slow circles around your clit before letting your hand drift downwards. Two fingers slip into your tight pussy, wishing it was König’s cock this whole time.

You run your other hand along the shape of your body, imagining those large rough hands caressing you. A whimper leaving you as you pinch your nipple, moaning out for König. If only you could feel the sensation of his heavy body pinning you to the mattress so that you can’t move, completely at his mercy as he shoves his cock deep inside of you.

In his hotel room, König sits on the bed stroking his cock feverishly as he watches you from the security cameras on his bed, pleasing yourself. It’s taking all the restraint he has to not just ruin his plan, return home, and fuck you where you lay now. Such a good eager girl for König, so desperate to get ruined by his cock.

“Das ist meine kleine Hure…” His voice weak with pleasure as he watches you leave a wet patch on his bed.

Over the next few days, the routine is the same, almost moving yourself into his home while he’s gone. König loves to see you in his home, he wishes he could lock you in and keep you forever; you probably wouldn’t even mind. Since there is only one more day before he returns, you leave to a local locksmith to get a copy of his key made followed by a trip to an electronics store.

Early the next morning there was a knock at the door. Knowing it was König, you rushed to answer it. He stands with his hands in his pockets and his blonde hair neatly combed back. You can’t stop yourself from looking at the way his muscles bulge from underneath his tight fitted shirt.

“Hallo, Fräulein. Thank you so much for your help.”

“It was no problem.” You smile as you hand him back his keys.

Once he leaves you rush to your bedroom, opening up your laptop. You log on to the live feed of the camera you hid in König’s bedroom, waiting for his appearance. König, aware of the one camera, walks into his bedroom and begins to undress.

König takes his time taking off each layer of clothing, giving you a little strip tease. He leaves his boxers on for a while as he walks around, teasing you a little bit. His muscles flex as he turns, slowly dropping his boxers. You see his muscular ass as he turns slowly, his hard cock in his hand as he strokes it slowly. He tugs at his heavy balls with his other hand.

Your face is almost pressed against your screen as you’re seeing how fucking big he actually is. He sits on the edge of the bed giving you a perfect view, you don’t even question it because of the show you’re getting. König moans loudly for you, imagining you in his mind shoving your little fingers in your cunt pathetically attempting to get close to the feeling he’s going to give you tomorrow.

Part 3, Part 3.2

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

My brain is on fire same I can’t sleep and am thinking of this:

The way she writes about marriage/family/commitment through these different situations across the album is soooooooooo interesting.

You have a very intense first experience of it in “The Manuscript,” where it is first dangled in front of her/the narrator’s young, impressionable self as shorthand for real love in a situation that ended up being smoke and mirrors. She’s being told everything she wants to hear by someone who basically thinks it’s just foreplay. In the end, when it’s clear that the other person has no intention of actually making a life with her, it makes her feel used, but she forces herself to recalibrate and become the girl she thinks he and all the other hes want her to be. Easy breezy cool. But there’s a sense of loss in realizing those hopes were merely banter to the other.

You have the “grown up” version of it alluded to in “So Long, London” and “How Did It End?”, the years of putting in work to save a relationship and the “deflation of our dreaming leaving [her] bereft and reeling” leading to them “calling it all off.” The implication is clearly that they built a home together with plans for next steps at a point in time, but the commitment is shattered. (Obviously to me it sounds like marriage.) She’s bitter at spending her “prime” years with someone who ultimately didn’t want to be there, even if he couldn’t or wouldn’t admit it himself.

She felt like she did everything she was supposed to, but they were learning the right steps to different dances at as it were. Those dreams were at one point shared, but in the end they weren’t right for each other and she admits that, though bitterly (“I founded the club she’s heard great things about” eg the years she put in for him to help him grow up will end up benefiting his new lover, “but I’m not the one,” “you’ll find someone,” etc.). Mixed in with all this of her resentment of him wasting her youth (sacrificing herself at the altar), and his resentment of her for reasons less defined, and insinuations of betrayal in the shadows. The fantasy of the whole package disappears into the ether, yet she still has no answers as to how they got there.

Then in comes the wolf in sheep’s clothing in many of the rest of the songs, the one who promises her all those things she’s dreamed of since she was a kid instantly. After years of moulding herself to other men’s desires, someone comes in and tells her exactly what she wants to hear at the most vulnerable time of her life, as though the universe is answering her prayers, like some sort of cosmic payback for all she’s suffered, and it’s the most intoxicating drug of all. She’s gone from her wish for a family life feeling like she’s in a way being used for her body, to it being used as a chain to a relationship gone sour, to having someone put a metaphorical ring on her finger and tell her he wants to have babies with her, fuck those other guys.

In her grief and stupor, it’s too good to be true, which is exactly why she falls for it. But of course, it’s all an illusion, because this wolf is an amalgamation of the worst of all the men who came before him. He tells her everything she wants to hear not to make her dreams come true, but to make his. He takes the worst parts of these scenarios to make his move: he’ll stand by her, he’ll commit, he’ll do it out in the open under the spotlight’s glare (all things desperately lacking in her last relationship), but after he beds her he stabs her in the back in private and leaves her. He got what he wanted at the expense of her losing everything she wanted, this time as her world caved in seemingly for good. She feels like she gave up everything she thought she might have had for a chance that this is where the universe has been point her all along, only to be left broken for good (you represent the loss of my life as I knew it).

Then there are two sort of codas to this. In “But Daddy I Love Him” we get a sassier reimagining of “Love Story,” where the girl with the scarlet letter is mouthy and crass and tells everyone to go fuck themselves for cursing her in the first place, choosing her love above all else. And no, those haters can’t come to her wedding. Her daddy may have come around, but they sure can’t. Finally it seems someone is choosing her and will someday give her these things, and she’ll be able to show all the naysayers. (Also interestingly one of the more fictionally-veiled songs which ends happily vs the diaristic ones that don’t.)

Then of course there’s “So High School,” our first glimpse into what the future holds. Probably the only unabashedly happy (nay… electric?) song on the album, it’s all about reclaiming the buzz of youth (which is a whole other post) with a new lover. “Are you gonna marry, kiss or kill me? It’s just a game but really, I’m betting on all three for us two.” It’s, er, a direct nod to a certain now-infamous interview, but again, she’s staking her claim on her future, if not certain then at least hopeful again. This time the prospect doesn’t come with a “but.” It’s not, we’ll be pushing strollers but actually you’re too young. It’s not, we had these dreams for our future but actually I can’t move forward. It’s not, I’m going to promise you a ring and a baby but only until my needs are met and then I’m out. It’s, I know what I wanted and I’m not leaving, and thanks to that now she stays too.

The album dealt with the theme not at all in the way I expected, but is absolutely fascinating.

[nisuna]

I NEED HEAD CANONS ON PERVBEST FRIEND GOJO AND GETO, MAYBE WITH SOME TAG TEAMING🫣🫣🫣🫣 gojo sticking his hand in your bra(with consent) cause he’s,oh!so cold, and your just so so warm. Geto taking questionable pictures of you, your Twinkie had to much cream in it and it oozed on your face, before you even had the chance to wipe the cream off, he takes a picture, all in good “fun”, Geto and Gojo sharing a collection of photos of you. Maybe they came over to your apartment, after a bit hanging out, you go to get food for the 3 of you, one of them gets curious and starts snooping in your room only to find your vibrator or panties, and maybe just maybe they take it with them after you guys get done hanging out, sharing it with each other cause that’s what best friends do! I’m so sorry this is so horny, I was thinking with my choochie 😕😕😕😕

Okay so first of all I definitely DID NOT expect so many people to vote on my poll so thanks for that 😭✋🏻 and over ¼ of you voted for Satosugu tag team so I am here to deliver :^) I changed some things but I hope you still enjoy and I sincerely thank your coochie for coming up with this 🫶🏻 I too must admit that I was writing this with all of my pussy

Thank you for your take!!<3

<3masterlist<3

~kind of long(?) drabble~ Strictly 18+ Minors DNI

TW: pervy roommates&bff!satosugu, questionable consent at some parts but it's all good in the end, panty stealing, groping, vaginal double penetration, nipple play, marking, biting, hickeys, noncon picture taking, jerking off, it's just very messy and nasty, they start off very mean but they actually really do like you a lot<3, use of good girl, baby, angel, smut with fluff, aftercare

When your two best friends first suggested moving in together you didn't think much of it. You've known each other for a long time and they've always been very kind and helpful. You hang out together all the time anyway, so of course you said yes! And the first few weeks were fine, but then you noticed panties going missing and when you asked them if they saw them anywhere, they just shrugged blaming the washing machine/dryer. Sus, but you didn't think much of it, you trusted them.

You did notice them getting more touchy with you though. Their hands straying to your boobs and ass when they hugged you around the house. The first time Satoru put his hand in your bra you told him off but he just whined that his hands were so cold and you were so warm. Sus. They made you sit on their laps, especially when you were eating something cream filled, bouncing their leg and catching you off guard smearing the cream all over your face. As you went so wipe it off they stopped you, only to stick their fingers in your mouth and snap a quick pic.

And if you dared to speak up they shushed you and said that it's just friends having fun with each other. "Relax, it's not that serious." You thought it was quite serious, but you kept that to yourself for the sake of your friendship. They surely cared about you a lot, right?

Oh boy you had no idea just how much they cared about you. They were highkey obsessed. They obviously always liked you a lot, that's why you were friends afterall. But after moving in with you they realized that they liked you way more than they were anticipating. Of course it was them who stole your panties, breathing in your scent and using the fabric to jerk their throbbing cocks off. And the just for fun pictures they took, oh they had a whole album of them. You didn't even notice most of them being taken. And they made sure to always exchange them with each other if they got some new material.

During movie nights they had you squished between their bodies, one of them softly caressing and squeezing the fat of your thighs, while the other was playing with the hem of your tiny shorts. They liked to think that you wore them especially for them, exchanging knowing grins while your eyes were focused on the tv screen in front of you.

You were just too cute not to tease. Especially when your breath hitched as their fingers got dangerously close to your core. Or when you were clutching onto their shirts when their hot breath and lips hit your neck making you squirm. And after the first time they made you cum, they knew they were hooked. And when they finally had sex with you for the first time, they swore they fell in love. You were so cute and obedient and just so so soft. They loved watching you squirm as you tried to take them like a good girl. To your surprise, most of the time they were really gentle with you while praising you throughout their thrusts.

They both fucked you on their own the first time, but slowly tried to get you used to them both being there. The first few times it was one of them fucking you while the other just watched, dick throbbing in their hand and finishing with cumming on your face or tits. They were also very big on aftercare, spoiling you with anything you needed and praising you for taking them like a champ.

But one day they just couldn't help themselves and thought of a pretty little surprise for you. Suguru told you that he had to leave to run some errands, leaving you alone with Satoru, which ended with you on your side while Satoru was pounding into you from behind on your shared bed.

"'Toruuu~ feel so good you're so deep- ah"

"Yeah? Feels good right, look I'm in your fucking tummy, baby. You're so tiny. 'Can feel myself all the way in there", he whispered as he splayed his hand out over your lower stomach, kissing along the expanse of your neck.

You were too caught up in the moment to even pay attention that Suguru had not left at all and was listening to both of you through the closed door, already undressed waiting for his cue.

"Baby?"

"Hmm?", you mewled arching your back as he played with one of your hardened nipples.

"Can you keep your eyes closed for me for a bit? I want to try something out. Oh, and lift your leg a bit. Thats it, good girl", he praised while holding your leg up by the knee. The new angle making you feel light headed.

You were too fucked out to notice the door opening and closing as a certain someone slipped inside the room. He had to hold back a gasp when he saw you splayed out like this. Completely bare, looking insanely soft and spread wide open just for them. Satoru and him exchanged a look and he slowly made his way over to where the two of you were laying. When the bed dipped under his weight next to you, your eyes opened.

"Hi pretty," he pecked your lips.

"Nnngh Suguru are you back already? I thought you were- ah", you gasped as Satoru rolled his hips into you expertly.

"I never left, angel. We wanted to surprise you."

"Surprise me how?" you questioned mouth slightly hanging open and pupils blown wide open.

"We think you're ready to take us both. Would you like to try that, hm? If it hurts too bad we can stop."

You hesitated. Take them both? How? Your questions were answered as you felt Suguru's member prod at your etrance.

"I don't think I can-"

"Oh sure you can, you're so wet. Don't worry, we'll make it fit. You're such a big girl, I'm sure you can take two cocks in your pussy. It's gonna feel so good, I promise."

You were skeptical, but the thought did make you gush around Satoru. He kissed your neck for reassurance as Suguru went to cup your breast, fondling it softly. You felt so nervous, but safe at the same time. You trusted them, so you nodded your head letting out a breathless, "Okay, I'm ready."

"We'll take this slow, we got you."

The first stretch almost make you scream as you slung your arm around Suguru, scratching his back in the process while hiding in the crook of his neck

As soon as they both bottomed out he whispered against your hair, "Shhh it's fine, you're fine. Tell us when you're ready for us to move."

You took a couple of deep breaths trying to adjust to the extreme stretch. After a while you finally nodded and they slowly picked up their pace.

Suguru tried to kiss your pain away swallowing all of your whines in a deep kiss.

"You're doing so well for us, such a good girl.", Satoru whispered against the nape of your neck. And as you felt tears swelling, Suguru made sure to wipe them away smiling at you gently.

After a while it did start feeling incredible you were huffing and puffing as they both moved in sync stuffing you to the brim.

"Feels good", you moaned against Suguru's lips, "more, want more!" And it made you squirm as you felt Satoru suck a deep hickey into the side of your neck.

"Such a greedy girl. But see, I promised we'd make you feel good."

"Yeah, you're so tight and wet for us, good girl. Such a good girl for taking two big cocks so well."

"Want you to fill me up.. please and 'want to cum! Want to cum on your perfect cocks, please make me cum."

Your moans really got to their heads as they picked up the pace fucking into you harder than before.

"Yeah? Wanna cum? Of course we're gonna make you cum, how could we not if you beg so nicely."

"And we're gonna fill you up to the brim, make you nice and plump." with that Satoru moved his hand from your leg to your clit, rubbing thick circles into it, which made you see stars. They were hitting all of the right spots and you felt yourself getting close.

"'m gonna cum, gonna cum, gonna-!!"

And you swore you saw hearts in Suguru's eyes as soon as you clamped down on their cock, creaming all over them and letting out the lewdest moan they have ever heard you make.

"Ah, holy shit. So good, you're so good for us. Oh my god." Suguru praised as they both continued to fuck you through your high, Satoru's fingers not leaving your clit. You felt yourself get overstimulated as you grabbed onto Suguru's arms digging your nails into them.

"'S too much I can't, I can't-"

"Shh you're almost there, you got it, just a little more."

You bit down on your lip, moaning in the rhythm of their thrusts. But you definitely didn't expect another orgasm to come your way.

"Shit! I think I'm gonna cum again, please don't stop 'Toru.. please dont!!"

"Like hell I would!", he slurred. His arm was starting to burn from the tension, but his rhythm didn't falter, rubbing you through your second high.

And at the feeling if your your tight cunt convulsing around their cocks they lost themselves, filling you up to the brim with their warm cum.

"Oh god I'm so full, it's all the way in my womb, gooood" you cried against Suguru's shoulder as he pulled you close and kissed the top of your head.

Satoru kissed the back of your head as the three of you stayed like this for a while, basking in each other's warmth.

You were the first to break the silence, trying to peel yourself from their grasps, "Okay enough.. ah I feel so sticky and uncomfy", you whined. They only chuckled at you being so adorable. Eventually, Satoru was the first to pull out and get up from the bed.

"I'll go make a bath ready and get you a glass of water."

You nodded with a weak smile, feeling Suguru pull out of you as well, but still keeping your body close while stroking your hair.

"Were you comfortable? Did it hurt a lot?"

"At first yes, it hurt quite a bit..", you sighed. "But then it felt really good, I liked it a lot. Thank you for the surprise."

Suguru chuckled against your head, "You're welcome, glad you liked it. I'm very proud of you by the way. You did such a good job."

You felt your cheeks heat up at his praise, but you let out a groan at his next words.

"Sooo.. any positions you'd like to try next?"

And with perfect timing Satoru walked right in on your conversation. "Are you plotting a round two without me??!, he fake gasped, which only earned him a pillow right in his face, almost spilling the glass of water he brought for you.

"Definitely not right now!!"

But it also made you smile at how well you all got along, you were definitely looking forward to your future with them.

-----

Feel free to send me your Hot Takes as well ^^

[smileysuh]

audio

🌙 staring. Hoshi x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. When you’d first started dating, you’d hardly been able to take one of his fingers without moaning like a whore in his ear. You’ve come a long way with your size training, but you definitely still need some good foreplay- when Soonyoung’s home, he has a thing for helping you squirt. It gets you all nice and perfectly lubed up for him, so easy to slip into- but while he’s on tour, you can never get yourself there, so he’s accustomed to audios of slow build-ups and lots of moaning

cw/tw. nsfw audio/ramblefap, use of toys, praise, dirty talk, exhibitionism, mutual masturbation, a little cumplay, mentions of edging, dirty boy Soonyoung, I petnames. (his) tiger boy, baby, soonyoung

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.9k

🍭 aus. established relationship au, tour!svt/long distance, etc...

☀️ mlist + an. we all need a boyfriend as obsessed as he is

“Your boyfriend is a menace.”

“Nice to hear your voice too, Seungkwan,” you laugh, stretching out on your couch to work your muscles after a long nap. “What did he do this time? How’s tour?”

“You know the audios you send him while we’re away?”

“Uh,” you tense up, “yeah, of course I know the audios I send him while you’re all away, how do you know about the audios?” 

“Because your menace boyfriend was listening to one in the gym today.”

“Like- out loud?!”

“No, but I stole his headphones briefly and-”

“Well that sounds like something that’s your own fault, now doesn’t it, Seungkwan? You know what they say, curiosity killed the cat.”

“I’m going to kill the cat, and by cat, I mean your tiger-loving boyfriend.” 

“Wait- but how was he working out to it without popping a boner?”

“That’s a very good question- one I did not stop to ask.”

“Yeah,” you let out a laugh, “what were you doing in the gym anyways?” 

“I hate you, and your stupidly horny boyfriend.”

Being on tour can be rough for a tiger boy like Soonyoung. Sure, he’s doing what he loves, performing, but he’s also… not doing what he loves (you). 

It’s especially hard for him when he’s in a country with an opposite time schedule to your own. Eleven-hour differences are a killer, but at least he has a whole album of pictures of you, and you’ve even taken to sending him audios every now and then.

They’re the type of audios that his members would identify as ‘porn,’ but to Soonyoung, they’re glorious ramblefaps that remind him of what he’s missing- as if he can’t remind himself enough already.

Days where he wakes up to new scandalous messages from you are some of his favourites, and when he checks his phone to find one waiting on his third day in LA - his second audio since arriving in the city - he’s downright ecstatic. 

He listens to the whole thing, in full, while slowly waking up. Soonyoung notes the ups and downs of the audio, the way you pick up your pace and slow down to edge yourself, and he quickly solidifies it in his memory.

Soonyoung is many things; he has a high resilience, an incessant need to prove himself in all areas. Even so, he needs to hear your ramblefaps alone before taking the sound with him to the gym. It’s the only way he’s able to keep a boner in check; if he busts one out first, then goes to work out, and finishes the audio in a bathroom or the closest deserted location.

Luckily for Soonyoung, his band has booked a whole LA property to share for the week they’re in the city, and the on-site gym has given him the privacy needed to already complete one workout listening to your sweet moans without too much hassle. 

Sure, Seungkwan had found him out, but Soonyoung really hadn’t tried that hard to hide what he was up to. 

He loves you, and he doesn’t care who in his group knows it. 

The audio you’ve sent is a little different than usual, and Soonyoung saunters into the gym with a grin on his face, ready to be equal parts amused by your humourous banter and turned on by your sounds.

“Shit.” It’s not the welcome he’d expected from Woozi, who stops spotting Dino to watch Soonyoung choosing dumbbells.

Dino also pauses his workout, sitting up, eyes following the self-proclaimed tiger.

“What are you guys looking at?” Soonyoung asks, taking a seat to begin arm curls.

“We heard you have a new playlist you listen to while working out,” Woozi says, deadpan. “And I want to remind you that Dino is very young-”

“I’m not a baby anymore,” Dino insists, but his unsure gaze returns to Soonyoung. “You’re not really listening to audios of your girlfriend, are you?”

“If it makes you feel better,” Soonyoung sighs, “I won’t listen to them until after you’re gone.”

Woozi grimaces. “That’s really not much better.” 

Soonyoung shrugs. “So I’ll listen to them now.”

“Aish-” Woozi groans, shaking his head. “We were just finishing up.”

“I want to stay a little longer,” Dino argues.

“No, you don’t” Woozi insists, grabbing the younger man’s arm to pull him to his feet. “How long is the audio this time? I’ll tell Jun and Joshie to wait a little before coming down here.”

Soonyoung’s surprised at Woozi’s offer, it’s almost nice. “Tell them to wait like, fifteen minutes?” he suggests. “Actually- maybe more like twenty.”

“You’re gross,” Woozi mutters as he drags Dino from the small gym.

Soonyoung’s already begun his workout with a few laughs, and he can anticipate the chuckles to come as he hits play on your audio and your cute little voice fills his headphones.

“Hey you-” he loves the way you still sound so shy at the start of these things. “So… a little birdie told me the cat’s out of the bag with this whole audio thing. And by a little birdie, I think we both know I mean Seungkwan.”

Soonyoung grins to himself, continuing his bicep curls with little care to the number of reps. He’s busy getting lost in your voice.

“I should have-” you sigh, and Soonyoung wonders for the second time if you’ve already started touching yourself. It’s hard to tell sometimes, you’re good at long rambles. “I should have known it would be hard for you to keep a secret- listening to me at the gym? What a dirty boy you are.” 

Of course he is, always the dirtiest boy, only for you.

“How’s that exhibition kink coming?” 

His grin widens.

“I uh-” it sounds like the phone shifts, there’s a rustle of fabric, and Soonyoung closes his eyes to imagine you lying in bed, “I missed you.”

He misses you too, like you wouldn’t believe. 

“It must be like- God, I don’t even know what time it is for you. I can’t keep up with all these changing places, changing times- but I do know that you’re asleep, or at least, you should be, if you know what’s good for you.”

There’s been once or twice where you’ve sent audios and he’s been awake- in instances like those, he skips the recording and calls you, eager to hear you in your post-orgasm bliss… and see if he can convince you to do a live show for him.

“I like the idea of you waking up to this today,” you continue, “going to the gym- being a menace. Are you in the gym, tiger boy? You probably are- I miss your pretty body. Miss the way you feel- miss touching you. Do you miss touching me?”

Fuck yeah he does. 

“Sometimes, when I get like this- I think about the fact that you left me with a toy smaller than you, and I get mad- but then I remember that you like to torture me with stuff like this. It takes longer to cum with a smaller toy- it doesn’t reach the spots you do… does it make for good, long audios? I bet you love knowing that I’m never truly satisfied- gives me something to look forward to when you come home.” 

You know him much too well. 

“I guess I always have my vibe though… can you hear it?”

The phone shifts again, and a buzzing sound fills Soonyoung’s senses. 

“Can you hear how wet I already am?” 

He can definitely hear you rubbing your pretty pussy along the toy, and he can see a perfect image of you in his mind’s eye. 

“The thought of you working out and listening to this-” you swallow thickly, “you’re gonna have to send me some pictures- you can do that, right, Soonyoung? For me?” 

Today, he’ll probably send you more than a few pictures.

“Fuck-” you whimper, and the sound of you grinding down on your vibe increases. Soonyoung turns up his volume, basking in it. “Feels so good- I think I’m almost ready for the other toy- almost wet enough-”

When you’d first started dating, you’d hardly been able to take one of his fingers without moaning like a whore in his ear. You’ve come a long way with your size training, but you definitely still need some good foreplay- when Soonyoung’s home, he has a thing for helping you squirt. It gets you all nice and perfectly lubed up for him, so easy to slip into- but while he’s on tour, you can never get yourself there, so he’s accustomed to audios of slow build ups and lots of moaning. 

“I’ve been thinking about you all day,” you confess. “Saw your instagram pictures- surfing? You really know how to make a girl needy- wet suit pulled down to show off your chest- fuck. Such a pretty, pretty boy-”

Soonyoung’s pride swells in his chest, and he moves to the shoulder press machine. 

For a few seconds, you don’t say anything, but your whimpers are music to his ears, and so are the sounds of the vibrator being rubbed along your wet pussy.

“Wish this was your tongue- miss your mouth, and your fingers- you reach spots I never could.”

“You and your small hands,” Soonyoung breathes to himself, shaking his head a little. He thinks you’re one of the most adorable people in the world.

“Don’t- don’t make fun of me,” you say next, as if reading his mind, “we both- we both know you like my small hands. Like the way they look wrapped around your cock- fuck! Miss it so bad- do you miss my hands the way I miss yours?” 

More than you’ll ever know.

Soonyoung clenches his teeth, opening his eyes to watch himself in the mirror. His biceps bulge with each push. It helps him calm down and ground himself for a moment- he can feel the way his body is beginning to get a little too excited. 

He needs to pace himself. You’re still a ways off from cumming, and Soonyoung likes to follow you through your audio.

“Okay, okay-” you take a deep breath, “I’m gonna grab my other toy now, think I’m ready-”

Soonyoung continues listening, waiting patiently while you shift on your bed.

“Now I just have to… slip this in- shit, Soonie- That’s just the head, I think I can get a little more-” 

His pretty kitten, biting off more than you can chew.

Your whimpers fill his brain, and he can hear the toy shifting in and out of your core, can hear the slight squeak of your bed as you begin to rock your hips-

“Okay, yeah- just, mmmfph- just a little more- fuck, wish this was you, wish this was you so fucking bad-” you take a shaky breath, “okay, it’s in-”

He can imagine your toes curling, head thrown back, eyes closed- you’re always such a vision for him.

“Fuck-” your voice is as airy as ever, he loves it when you get like this, “it’s so big- not as big as you, but still- I haven’t- mmmfph- I haven’t been using it much- fuck, feels so full-” 

The sound of your bed rocking returns, and then the vibrator- 

“Oh my god- fuck- feels so good today, I can’t- god, I miss you-” it sounds like you’re close to tears, and again, Soonyoung feels blood beginning to rush to his cock.

He opens his eyes, staring at himself in the mirror, trying to focus on calming down, but it’s hard when he has you moaning “wish you were here, wish you were here fucking me-” in his ear.

“Maybe- maybe I need to slow down- I’m gonna cum too fast,” you let out a small laugh, “I’ll try to hold off to the fifteen-minute mark- to give you at least part of a workout now that I know you listen to these in the gym-”

You’re so considerate of him. He hears the vibrations go down a notch, and you slow on your bed rocking too. 

“There- I’ll just go slow and deep- like you fuck me- like you tease me when I get close and you’re not ready for it yet- you love edging me.”

He does.  

“Fuck- my legs are shaking-” so are his arms.

You begin to moan again, rambling subsiding in favour of uncensored sounds of pleasure, and Soonyoung takes the opportunity to move to the leg press machine. 

“Hope you’re- hope you’re having a good workout, baby.”

He loves it when you call him baby- loves all the pretty pet names you give him.

“Fuck- this stupid toy really doesn’t hit the spots you do-” you groan again, fucking yourself harder- 

The sound of the silicon base hitting your wet pussy is enough to have Soonyoung nearly moaning-

He misses your pretty cunt- misses the way you taste, the way you get so wet for him. You’re always so responsive, and it’s one of the many things he loves about you.

“Want your cock-” you whimper. “Please, fuck- Soonyoung-”

The hair on the back of his neck raises with interest, he always begins to go feral when you call him by his full name. 

“Soonyoung-” you moan again, the vibrations going a notch louder. “Fuck- I’m so wet- fuck- need you so bad- oh my god-”

You’re close to cumming, and Soonyoung can’t even fault you for getting to the edge this fast. 

Standing from the workout machine, he quickly heads to the small bathroom next to the gym, closing the door and locking it.

You’ve been whimpering in his ear the whole time, and as soon as Soonyoung is shut into the privacy of the bathroom, he allows himself to focus on the blood rushing to his cock.

“Shit-” he mutters, lifting his shirt to expose his abdomen, catching the fabric in between his teeth to hold it there before reaching a hand into his sweatpants to pull out his hard, aching length. 

He’s already practically dripping in precum from edging himself throughout your whole audio, and he smooths it over his skin for lubrication-

“I’m gonna- fuck, Soonyoung, I’m gonna cum soon- can I cum? Please- I wanna cum- want you to cum- miss your cum-”

His little cum slut, god, he loves you so much-

“Wanna be filled so bad-” you continue to whine, voice getting pitchier. “This toy isn’t enough- fuck- it’s not enough- I’m so close-” 

You let out a strangled sound as the vibrations go up one final notch, the highest setting. 

“Shit- shit- please- I know you’re at the gym, but please- want you to cum with me- you’ll cum with me, right?” 

This is why he pre-vets your audios- if he’d been hit with this unexpectedly, he’d have fully busted a nut on the leg press machine.

“Fuck- ok, I’m almost there, I’m almost there- fuck- shit, shit, shit-” you let out something between a squeal and a gasp, and it has Soonyoung’s entire body tingling- he teeters on the edge with you, abdomen clenching with tension- “I’m cumming- Soonyoung, Soonyoung, Soonyoung- oh my god- oh my god-” 

He’ll be damned if there’s ever a time when hearing you cum doesn’t immediately set him off as well. 

Soonyoung throws his head back, biting down on his shirt while he falls over the edge, coating his own chest and abdomen in rope upon rope of cum while your sounds fill his ears and drive him wild.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck-” you continue to whimper and whine as you both ride out your orgasms, and then you let out a loud gasp, the vibrations coming to an abrupt halt. 

He listens to your shaky breaths as his hand slowly comes to a stop on his cock.

After a beat of silence, your voice comes back, a teasing tone returning; “Did you cum with me, baby?” You give him the space to respond, and, knowing you can’t hear him anyways, Soonyoung simply nods, still trying to calm the rapid racing of his heart. “I’d like to imagine you came too- at least,” you sigh, “I hope you did.” 

He can’t help but smile.

“Sorry it was kind of short- like I said, I’ve been needy all day.” You swallow thickly, taking another deep breath. “I just miss you… a lot”

A few moments of comfortable quiet allow you both to continue catching your breaths. 

“I’m pretty tired, so I’m going to sleep now- but, I’ll send you a text when I wake up. Like I said earlier… send me some pics… please.” You release a small laugh. “Okay, goodnight Soonyoung, love you. Enjoy your workout.”

He’s done with his work out though. He’d been thinking he might be able to return to it earlier, but after cumming as hard as he just did- there’s no way he can go back to the machines. 

Soonyoung is quick to snap a few pictures of his abs, covered in cum, shirt still captured between his teeth- he knows these will make you as feral as you make him, something for you to wake up to. 

Then, he grabs a wet paper towel, cleaning himself, and thinking of all the ways he can really return the favour.

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! I kind of enjoy how phone call/audio things allow more dialogue and ramblefam type writing :)

🍭 support me by. sending a tip here or here - or become a patron to access monthly bonus content and extensions for fics like this one :) find the Patreon teaser below! 

🔮 preview. “I haven’t touched myself yet- wanted to wait till I was recording, but fuck- listening to you cum while I was at the gym earlier was so hot-” he takes a shaky breath. “Okay, now I’m touching myself… wanna see?”

cw/ tw. nsfw audio/ramblefap, use of toys, praise, dirty talk, exhibitionism, mutual masturbation, a little cumplay, I petnames. (hers) baby, princess

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 1.9k I teaser wc. 240

🌙 staring. soonyoung x afab!Reader  

bonus

You’re half asleep when you reach for your phone, latching onto the device and rolling onto your back to burrow under your duvet again. There are multiple notifications from Soonyoung, and you click on one absentmindedly, still blinking away the last inklings of hazy sleepiness.

The picture that immediately pops up and fills your screen nearly makes you choke, and you sit up, rubbing your eyes before focusing on the image of Soonyoung.

It’s a mirror selfie, his shirt caught between his teeth, washboard abs on show- and his body is dripping with cum. 

You zoom in with your fingers, licking your lips as you assess the photo- as you assess your boyfriend, in all his glory. 

He’s got the cutest little smirk, even with his shirt partially obscuring his mouth, and there’s a mischievous glint in his eye- you’re reminded why you love the charming gemini all over again. 

The next picture is a selfie without use of the mirror, and only half of Soonyoung’s face is in it. He’s holding the camera at an angle, showing off the teeth biting into fabric and a perfect shot of his chiseled torso. 

You’re wide awake now, sitting up in bed, sleeping shorts getting wetter by the second. 

There’s more than just images, you realize, as you exit the picture to send a message to your boyfriend. There are videos too. A few of them- and your heart flip flops in your chest.

☀️to read the full 1.9k bonus, subscribe to my Patreon - then - click here

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[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Put it in your mouth

Written for @steddiesmuttyseptember, week 1

Prompts: Make-Up Sex & Pillow Princess

Words: 1,191

Tags: Friends to lovers; Idiots to lovers; Anal Fingering; Oral Sex; Anal Sex; Power Bottom Steve; Service Top Eddie

Notes: Eddie "Foot in Mouth" Munson strikes again. He's putting so many things in his mouth in this one. Get it? (God, I'm hilarious.) 🤭

The sky is turning bright when Eddie crunches to a brake in Steve's driveway. He swings open his door and is halfway up the front porch when he stops.

He shouldn't be here, the nagging voice at the back of his mind says. Between the jitters before the tv gig and interview and everything that happened after, he hasn't slept in close to forty-eight hours. He can't exactly be trusted to make rational decisions, and even if he could, who's saying Steve wants to see him?

Eddie curses, replaying the memory that has been plaguing him the entire way here. He called Steve the second he returned to the hotel, grinning from ear to ear like the idiot that he is.

“Did you watch it?” he blurted the moment the call connected. 

“Yeah,” Steve said. The curt answer could've clued Eddie in, but he was still high on adrenaline and applause, so it didn't. 

“I dunno about you,” he sing-songed, flopping down on the bed and twirling the phone cord. “But I'd say that went pretty fucking fantastic.” 

“Fantastic?” Steve repeated dryly. “Yeah, right. Glad you think so, you fucking asshole.” 

Eddie stopped playing with the cord. 

“Stevie?” he croaked. “What's wrong?” 

Steve laughed. “If you don't know that, you're dumber than I thought.” 

Then he hung up. Eddie was left in his hotel room, staring dumbly at the receiver. When he tried to call back, Steve didn't pick up. 

Eddie wasted the better part of an hour lying on his bed and staring at the ceiling. Why was Steve mad at him? Ever since the beginnings of their unlikely, Upside Down forged friendship, he'd been fervently supportive of Eddie’s music. Showing up to his gigs, listening until late into the night while Eddie worked on new songs. Hell, he'd probably been more nervous about this whole thing than Eddie, seeing him off with a lingering hug and a promise to talk to him later. 

It must’ve been something he said at the interview, but what? Eddie scowled as he rehashed every single question and answer.

Where did he get the inspiration for his songs? He’d spouted some bullshit about ostracization and alienation and smalltown conventions, because the truth would’ve meant breaking about a million NDAs. 

Was he excited about the upcoming tour and album? Yes, obviously, he couldn’t wait to see all those different places, play in front of all sorts of people. 

Was there somebody at home rooting for him? A special girl maybe? Nope, nobody, he was happily single and planning on staying that- … wait. 

Eddie shot up from the bed so suddenly he gave himself vertigo, letting out a very loud and very colorful string of swear words. In the room next to his, someone banged on the wall, asking if he had any clue what time it was. Eddie didn't. He also didn't pause to find out. 

Now, a hasty check-out and one speed-limit-defying drive later, he’s staring at Steve’s front door, all previous courage slowly seeping out of him. 

Maybe he got this all wrong. Maybe he's imagining this. He has experience with imagining things - has spent countless nights fantasizing about what it would feel like, touching Steve as more than a friend. The feel of Steve’s lips, the taste of Steve’s skin. Maybe he should leave, come back with a clear head tomorrow, so that they can talk this over like the sensible adults they-

“Shit, Eddie?” 

The door is open, spilling light onto the porch. At the center of it, nail bat in one hand, disheveled hair back-lit in caramel and gold, is Steve. He's in his sleep clothes - checkered boxers and one of Eddie’s old band shirts that he stole months ago. Those pretty eyes are large with surprise, but when Eddie takes a hesitant step towards him, Steve’s expression closes off. 

“I don't believe you,” he mutters, and makes to close the door. Eddie acts on impulse alone, bridging the distance and wedging his foot into the crack. Steve glowers at him. “What the fuck do you want?” 

“You,” Eddie breathes , and closes the gap. 

From one second to the next, all of his doubts evaporate, because this right here? This is all he's ever wanted. They crash into the wall of the foyer, nail bat clattering to the floor, and Eddie spends a glorious few minutes reveling in the heady rush of Steve’s lips on his, Steve's mouth opening for his tongue, Steve’s nails clawing into his back. 

When they part, Steve is deliciously flushed, lips shiny and slightly parted, ragged puffs of breath tickling Eddie’s skin. 

“Want you,” Eddie repeats. “Fuck, Stevie, I've wanted you for so long. I'm such an idiot, I never-” 

“Prove it then,” Steve says. His arms loop around Eddie’s neck, slotting them further together, and Eddie gasps as his cock presses against his thigh - a long, hard weight through the thin fabric of his shorts. “If you want me so much, show me just how desperate you are.” 

*

“More. Deeper. C'mon, or are you tired already?” 

Eddie moans around an aching jaw. He isn't tired, he's in heaven. There's drool running down his chin, his tongue and neck and shoulders are on fire, but Steve is here with him, sprawled against the headboard like a king, spread out for him like a feast. 

Steve fists one hand into the curls at the back of his head, shoving him back down on his cock, and Eddie swallows him down in one greedy gulp, eager to show his devotion. Looking up at Steve through tear-clouded eyes, he pushes his fingers deeper inside, curling them to hit that sweet spot. Steve gasps and clenches around him, eyes fluttering shut, head tipping back to reveal that long neck. The taste of precum floods Eddie’s tongue, salty and delicious, and he moans around the cock lodged in his throat. Lust coils painfully in his stomach, shooting up his spine like red-hot sparks, and his naked cock throbs with it. 

“Please,” he says, pulling off with an obscene, wet sound. Steve looks down at him, brows raised, eyes bright and glassy with arousal. “Please, Stevie, I need-” 

“Huh,” Steve says, and Eddie can tell he's trying to sound unimpressed, even with the way it comes out around a shaky moan. “You think you've earned it?” 

Eddie smiles. 

“Me?” he says. He swirls his tongue around Steve’s leaking tip, reveling in the whine he gets when he pulls his fingers out. “Oh, honey, this isn't about me. This is all about you.” 

He licks and bites his way up Steve's hip bones, his stomach, that glorious chest and neck, drinking in every little gasp, every shuddering breath. 

“All that time you spent waiting for me to finally get it? I think you've earned it. You deserve to be spoiled rotten. You deserve to feel so good. Please, baby, let me make you feel good.”

“Asshole,” Steve says, but this time, it's full of fondness. “You always know what to say, huh?” 

“Not always,” Eddie murmurs against his mouth, greedily swallowing Steve’s moan as he pushes in. “Only when it matters most.” 

More smutty September

[with-my-calamitous-love]

JAMES DEAN DAYDREAM LOOK IN YOUR EYES ♫

rockstar! chuuya x popstar! reader

part 2/3

smut! you are responsible for what you read 💿

at an award show, the press make many speculations about your rising fame and your relationship with the infamous rockstar, chuuya nakahara.

inspired by style

midnight.

if there was an award show, chuuya was going. he was one of the youngest, most awarded rockstars ever. he's charming and handsome, with hands that play his guitar like a god. not to mention his sanguine voice coupled with his broody, meaningful lyrics. he was the subject of every teenage girl's heart.

he was a man that reveled in the fame, charming fans and interviewers alike. but for the most part, he insisted on letting the world watch him act. he knows damn well what the music industry can do to a star, and he's determined to rise above that.

still, every now and then theres a question that makes his gorgeous smirk falter.

"chuuya nakahara! can you tell us who you've been dating?"

"mr. nakahara! what do you have to say about moving on too fast?"

"chuuya! is it true you've started a relationship with Y/N L/N?"

he takes a deep breath. just dissassociate, and smile for the press. its what he does best. "i think some things are best left unsaid. right now, i'm focusing on my album, out november 1st."

the news of his new music is enough to distract adoring fans from his love life, instead heading the questions towards what he does best. all eyes are on him, orange hair slicked back and a loose, white classic shirt. his ability to look stunning despite the pressure brought upon by prying eyes is nothing short of remarkable.

he hears a lot about his newest music video, smiling every time he hears your name come up. the video you two had released sky-rocketed your name, and chuuya's just happy he could help. this time, he can genuinely smile- only when his mind flickers back to the acted, fake, and nothing more than a staged kiss. right?

funny how a fabricated kiss scene made his heart swell for weeks after.

its the first time he's felt that since his last relationship.

even though he's escaped, theres still people who speak on his past relationship, and evidently his past wrongdoings. for a moment there, it seems everyone believed he was a cheating bastard. that he was an unfaithful player who wanted woman like they were trophies. and for a minute, he was.

the fame had gotten to him. singing for thousands of fans, wining trophies and having his name on headlines made the rockstar believe he was invincible. but he wasn't. turns out too many shots of tequila and almost kissing a blonde girl he thought was his girlfriend can really mess up a rockstar. and it did.

the constant speculations on his relationship status made him sweat with anxiety. he fucked up and he knew it. he wasn't happy in his relationship, and found himself wishing for different in the end, but thats never an excuse to cheat. though he never did the deed, that almost was enough. there were reports and witnesses, enough for the media to take it and run. for months, his pr team worked day and night to keep the story at a minimum. and their efforts were surprisingly valiant, with higuchi choosing to stay quiet about the whole situation. chuuya never figured out why, even after their inevitable breakup, but he was thankful none the less.

somehow, you managed not to hear of the entire situation. maybe thats why chuuya was so eager to rope you into his life.

soon, he was no longer on fire. after a long waiting period, he was free to be adored again, leading him to make his music video with you, the same video that brought him back to this very award show, and the video that made him wish he could be next to you right now.

his anxiety is flaring up. he's still worried his career could go down in flames, that he'll never escape his monumental fuck up. that everything he's worked for won't be worth it if his guilt and regrets aren't monetized.

after a few short kisses and hugs, chuuya escapes to a private room, designated for singers and celebrities attending the show. the room is empty, with everyone already out there and dazzling the fans. everyone except you.

he blinks when he sees you touching up your bangs in the mirror. he knows that nervous shake in your hands all too well. this could end in burning flames or paradise.

he approaches, clearing his throat.

you immediately turn around, seeing him. his blue eyes are immediately drawn into your red lips- just what he likes

"you look nice." he utters, coming up next to you and adjusting his own appearance in the mirror. you had been in here for quite some time, bracing you and your pop-princess persona to get out there. somehow, chuuya senses this.

"this your first event?" he asks, blue eyes flickering to you. you nervously chuckle, almost wanting to lie but immediately knowing he'd call your bluff. "yeah... something like that."

he finds this endearing. and maybe he just wants to be close to you, to help you or because he's a god damn gentlemen, he silently wraps his arm around your waist and leads you out of the room.

the fact that this is your first time being so close to the paparazzi is not lost on chuuya. he studies your face, the way you answer questions so genuienely and so excitedly. he knows they wanna ruin your pretty face, and he prays your strong enough to overcome it.

he's so mesmerized by you he doesn't even notice the way photographers and interviewers are freaking out at the fact that chuuya nakahara and Y/N L/N just walked out on the carpet at the exact same time, fueling the already circulating rumors. he knows that they'll have a field day with tonight, but for once, he doesn't seem to mind. maybe because it's with you.

the two of you walk off, enjoying a few drinks and chatting. you've known chuuya nakahara: the rockstar. but now, you've been getting to know chuuya. the guy who loves small dogs, fancy hats and taylor swift. the guy who has the most embarrassing real laugh that he hides from the media. the guy who likes to stalk his own fanpages, and who can't say no to a signature.

and after a few more drinks and some soft arm touching, the two of you clammer into his limousine and speed off to his penthouse.

✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚

the media likes to believe they know everything about you and chuuya.

they’re convinced you two dating, that you’re using him for fame and that he’s moving on too fast from his relationship. that you’re not pretty or talented enough for him, or that he’s just a passing thought for you.

what they don’t know is that his head is between you thighs, eating you out like a god damn dessert.

your shaky hands fly to his hair, tugging at him while his lips work their magic. he’s fluid and elegant, yet rough while we works you through yet another orgasm.

every now and then he’ll spit on you, mesmerized by the way it drips down your already gushing pussy. he reaches and maddeningly trails his fingers in a sloppy pattern, letting his essence coat you before diving back in. he’ll start with one long stripe going up the length of your pussy, savouring your cries before diving in.

he’s relentless, determined to make your toes curl and back arch. he’ll let the tip of his tongue trace circles around your clit, watching how it throbs. his thumbs move to part you even further, giving him better access to this meal.

he absolutely ravages you, leaving no part untouched as he tongue-fucks you. his grip tightens on your thighs as you finally cum again, letting him lap it all up like its second nature.

your body and mind are buzzing as chuuya makes his way back up with a trail of kisses, a shit eating grin plastered on his face. “told you i only needed 5 minutes.”

despite your flushed out face and spent, trembling thighs, you utter: “s-shut up.”

he laughs, sitting up and getting you some water. his bedsheets are luxurious, as you wrap your naked body in them. when he returns, he sets it down on the beside and lazily lays next to you, lying on his stomach. his back looks great like this, all his muscles on display.

but you can’t shake something you overheard.

“did you really cheat on her?”

he blinks. of course you’d bring that up after having sex.

he sighs, knowing this was only a matter of time. he shouldn’t feel so guilty. he didn’t actually cheat, though he was close to it. some would argue the intent is betrayal enough.

you’re not sure how to feel. rumours are just rumours, especially in the celebrity world. but you want to know if the man you’ve been falling for has a history of unfaithfulness.

he runs his hands through his air, barely being able to look you in the eye. “i.. came close to it.”

he wants to vomit, having to talk about it again.

you simply nod, seeing on your phone the already sparkling headlines about yours and chuuya’s love lives again. if you doom scroll long enough, they’re already reigniting the flame of his past relationship and how it ended.

you really hope this doesn’t end badly. for his sake and yours.

“are you mad?” he asks, thinking he already knows the answer. you pause for a moment. you’re angry, albeit only a little. most of that anger is towards yourself for not finding out sooner. you’re mostly just confused, if anything.

instead, you resolve to shake your head. “no, i’m not.”

and really, for a moment, you werent. the media was feasting off of something new. those that chose to rehash the past were less popular. the people wanted to see whats new, whats flashy and whats dazzling. right now, its you and chuuya together.

“what does this mean for us?” you hesitantly whisper, sliding down into the bedsheets to see him better. truthfully, neither of you know. the only thing thats clear are the feelings you share for one another.

he simply shrugs. “i’m gonna drag you down, doll. you’re a star. don’t let me do that to you.”

what hurts the most is that he’s right, even if its only a little. but you’re either an idiot, or in love. maybe both.

“..thats okay.” you smile, resolving to put love first, music second.

oh, how you’d come to regret that.

but you don’t relent when he pulls you into his arms, covering you two with the bedsheets. phones are tossed somewhere on the bed, and the penthouse keeping the two of you private. right now, you two could be together in secret. let them call it what they want.

[scoops-aboy86]

Crushing (Secret Admirer pt 6)

Steddie Week 2024, July 6: Dizzy / drunken confessions / Crush on You by Bruce Springsteen

Fun fact: there are “sorry”s to correspond with a nat 20. It’s a luck thing, though more reflexive than actually hopeful. 

If you turn 6 upside down it's a 9 and today's the 9th, so I would argue that I am still right on time. 🙃 Anyway, I didn't get to the drunken confession part but it was getting too long, so that can be in the last chapter. Enjoy!

wc: 3034 / rated: T / set during season 3 / also on ao3

Sweet Steve, perfect Steve, golden Steve,

Sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry SORRY

I cannot adequately express how much I regret hanging up on you. It happened a few minutes ago and I’m already writing this because I can’t call back now, not after that. I can’t believe I even did that, I’m so stupid. I’m so stupid because you were saying all these perfect things? Literally everything I never thought I’d get to hear from anyone ever and then I ruined it. 

(The scribbles in the margins are representative of all the times I stop writing just to explosively cuss myself out for being so chickenshit. It looks messy but I am a mess and it’s all my own doing, made my bed and lying in it etc. etc., if I could mount my own head on a pike right now I would Jesus H. CHRIDJDBBWLSNEVEOALAVSVALAMDBDBXJXLFKENSVAVWUELMFBDUSKANS <— an example and demonstration)

I’m sorry I’m a coward. I’m sorry I started this and can’t seem to follow through, I’m sorry I keep yanking you around when it’s not what you deserve sweetheart, it isn’t at all. You were perfect, do you hear me? I had a whole list of songs planned, but picked that one spontaneously because you weren’t digging WASP and I was thinking about the way you’re so hard on yourself sometimes about the guy you were in high school, even though all high schoolers are idiots. (With how many times I’ve had to repeat, I am an expert on this, obviously largely from personal study and reflection.) You didn’t peak in high school, Steve, because you are a wonderful person right now and that’s what matters. You call yourself a romantic sap but I love that about you, please never lose that. 

With every letter you’ve poured out a little of your soul; it only seems right that I try to do the same to make up for my… everything. 

I’m a guy. I’m gay. I’ve never written that down before so explicitly but it’s true. You were so thoughtful about the whole music thing and trying to show we can have common interests but, to be blunt, unless dick is one of those I don’t think this is going to work out. 

No hard feelings obviously. It’s on me for letting this go on so long without being more honest. This is absolutely no reflection on you and does not make you queer by association. I won’t tell anyone—though if I did I’m not considered credible or trustworthy in this town, believe me. 

If you’ve read this far… I mean, I won’t know unless you tell me, obviously. But it doesn’t have to mean anything other than that you’re a good dude. The only person in my life who knows about me and knows my name is the man who’s more like a father to me than my “real” dad; it’s nothing personal, I’ve just had some bad experiences. Remember that concussion I mentioned? … Yeah, that was courtesy of the ol’ sperm donor. Thought I was over freezing up about it after more than half a decade, but no such luck!

On that note, I need to go… not be a person for a while. Take care. I remain, as always—

Your Secret Admirer

P. S. The song you said you liked was Rainbow In The Dark by Dio, off his Holy Diver album. It’s a good album, even if I’ve blown it with you I still hope you check it out sometime. 

Eddie drops the pen over the side of his bed, practically throwing it. He drops the notebook he’d scribbled the letter in to the floor; he’ll tear it out and mail it later. 

Probably. 

Maybe. 

He’ll think about it, once he’s done not wanting to think anything at all. 

~

Dear Secret Admirer,

Are you okay? I can’t call you back, so the best I can do right now is write. I shouldn’t have pushed you again, I keep doing that, like an idiot. 

I was having a nice time

Call back whenever, if I’m there I’ll pick up. Call back tonight even, except I can’t get this in the mail until tomorrow so never mind, but I won’t be mad, I promise. Or you can write to me. Please. At least to be friends, if you’re tired of how I always come on too strong (which is literally what Robin keeps telling me with that damn whiteboard all the time, go figure). And maybe you can tell me more about your music, like that one with the rainbows? I think that maybe you’ve been writing to me so much because maybe you’re lonely too, and I know how much that sucks. 

So, I’ll be here. Whoever you are, wherever, I hope you’re okay. Stay safe. 

— Steve

~

All Steve can think about is how stupid he was, pushing Secret Admirer like that. He hasn’t gotten a letter yet, and genuinely doesn’t know if he ever will again. 

Robin doesn’t ask why he’s quieter than usual during work for the next few days. Dustin returns from Camp Know Where and Steve tells him he doesn’t want ice cream because he has to stay in shape for the ladies, but it leaves the bad taste of a mostly-lie in his mouth. 

Because, oh yeah, breaking news: he thinks Secret Admirer is probably a guy. 

That would explain the adamant secrecy, the way the letters are careful not to suggest one or the other. No matter how embarrassing Steve is, a girl would have less to lose compared to a gay dude being outed in Hawkins. And he knows for a fact there were rumors circulating after Jonathan Byers gave him his first and mildest concussion in ‘83. Rumors about what he’d said, what he’d spat at the guy, all no doubt spread by Tommy and Carol. All his past actions coming together to prove that he can’t be trusted, can’t be confided in, even after everything. 

It’s almost secondary that it doesn’t seem to make a difference to his feelings. He may have fallen for someone who happens to be a guy—so what? It’s better than crushing loneliness. Better than no one caring. Better than being forgotten aside from his douchebag legacy at school and all his parents’ dashed aspirations for his future. 

Then Steve finds himself trapped in a Russian elevator with Robin, Dustin, and Lucas’s little sister (who should absolutely not be here, what the fuck were they thinking) and he just. 

He just regrets never getting to say goodbye. 

~ 

Eddie gets Steve’s letter the day he manages to crawl out of his room long enough to mail his own, checking his PO Box like a nervous tic. He’s absolutely floored by what he reads and screams into his pillow some more because it doesn’t change anything, because Steve wrote it while still not in possession of all the facts. 

After a drive out to Reefer Rick’s to replenish his stash, Eddie does the bare minimum of his regularly scheduled drop-offs. No rest for the wicked, because even the wicked need gas money and shit, but it’s all just halfhearted busy work. 

Then he goes home. Against all common sense and knowing that for the sake of his own heart he probably shouldn’t, he spends the rest of the day trying to call. Every time he punches in the numbers with his heart in his throat, but no one ever picks up. 

~

“Ask me anything,” Robin prods blearily from her stall. “Interrogate me.” 

Steve tries to think through the swimming in his head. “Okay, uh… When was the last time you peed your pants?”

“Today!”

He almost laughs. “No way. What?”

“When the Russian doctor brought his bone saw out. It was just a little bit though!” 

He can picture her holding one hand up, fingers pinched together to indicate a tiny amount. And, okay, fair. “Yeah it’s definitely in her system,” he mumbles to no one. 

“My turn,” she declares. “Have you… ever been in love?”

Steve does laugh this time, not because it’s funny but because the question hits him right between the eyes. “Shit, yeah, a couple times. Uh, first was Nancy Wheeler, junior year.”

“Ooooh… She’s such a priss, though.”

“Yeah, turns out, not so much.” He shrugs, even though she can’t see, hands dangling from where his arms are draped over his bare, scraped knees. There isn’t a part of him that doesn’t ache—including his stomach and throat now, fucking Russian drugs. 

“Huh.” Robin pauses. “So… who was second?”

Sighing, Steve drops his head back against the metal divider at his back. “That blind phone date I told you about.”

It’s a toss-up as to whether he’s admitting this because of the aforementioned drugs or because he’s just too tired to give a shit anymore. What does it really matter, at this point?

“Really? Wow. Okay, I didn’t realize that got so serious.”

Steve lets his eyes fall closed, despite what is likely his third concussion in almost as many years. “It kind of didn’t, I just got… over-invested, I guess. I don’t know if he’s going to write again anyway.”

“H… he?”

“I think so. It was a secret admirer kind of deal, so I never actually knew, but… every time I brought up meeting in person, things went wrong. And like an idiot I kept doing that, so. I don’t know for sure, but I think it might be over.”

Robin’s hand smacks on the tile floor—gross. “How do you not even know for sure after a phone date? Gay guys still sound like guys, Steve.”

“I know that,” he says, a little stung by her reproachful tone. “I talked and he didn’t, he just played some of his favorite songs for me to see if I liked them. Which I did, some of it. It was like, really hard rock or something, not what I usually listen to—”

“I’ll say, Mr. ‘No, Not My Wham! Cassette!’”

“—but it was okay. There were some really cool guitar parts.”

“And it… doesn’t bother you? That a guy was, uh, hitting on you?”

Again, Steve shrugs. “More writing love letters than just hitting on me, but… yeah. I was in pretty deep by the time I figured it out, but I guess not. Is it my turn to ask another question?”

“Um… Sure?”

He’s not sure why she sounds so nervous, figures it should be obvious what he’s going to ask next. It’s kind of a staple of their friendship at this point. “Who sent me that ice cream cone? The strawberry with rainbow sprinkles?”

Dead silence. 

“Robin?” he asks with a flicker of nerves, because, well. It’s been a long day. (Or two days? He’s lost track of how much time they’d spent underground.) “You OD over there?”

“No… I am alive,” she replies, but in such a quiet voice that it doesn’t really reassure him all that much. 

He shifts, scooting on his ass to get under the divider between them and pop back up on her side. It gives him a wedgie, but that’s the least of his problems. 

Robin wrinkles her nose at him. “Steve, these floors are disgusting.”

“Yeah, well, I’m already covered in blood and probably some puke, so.” He tests his tongue on his bottom lip, trying to decide if the split is still bleeding or if it just stings for the hell of it. “Who was it?”

She bites her own lip, then whispers, “Is it your secret admirer?”

“I’m ninety-nine percent sure,” he tells her. 

“Okay.” But she’s still hesitating. “Before I tell you… About what I said down there, about Click’s class. I wasn’t staring at you because of you, it… it was because she wouldn’t stop staring at you.”

Steve blinks, confused by the sudden change of topic. “Who? Mrs. Click?”

Robin shakes her head faintly without breaking eye contact, literally without blinking as she whispers, “Tammy Thompson.”

“But she’s a… Oh. Oooh.” He remembers Tammy. She’d always fawned over him in that class, back when he’d been so busy mourning the way things had gone with Nancy that he hadn’t given her the time of day. “Yeah, I guess I see the appeal. Pretty, perky, blonde… She’s a total dud though.”

Robin gapes at him. “What?”

He waves a hand. “I’d just broken up with Nancy, and she was all over me all the time, dropping these hints about wanting to go out. It’s like she wanted to be a rebound relationship.”

“So? She’s goal oriented!”

“She wouldn’t leave me alone! Also, she wants to be a country singer but she couldn’t hold a tune if someone put it in a bucket for her.”

Sputtering, Robin smacks at his shin, one of the few places he isn’t bloody or bruised. “I will not take this superiority from the guy who’s surprise-crushing on Eddie Munson!” 

Shock zings through Steve like he’s just had his fingers jammed into an electrical socket. “On—really?”

He remembers Munson too. Who wouldn’t? Loud and weird, and the guy had always seemed perpetually on, always bristled like a porcupine. Stalking around campus in a black leather jacket regardless of weather and ripped black jeans. (Dark colors.) That denim vest with all the weird band patches on it. (Music that Steve didn’t know anything about.) Big flashy rings on his fingers, and Steve knows he’s in some sort of band, probably has guitar calluses. (Hands that would give him away at a glance.) Up on cafeteria tables with his Hellfire Club shirt and long hair, taunting the jocks who gave his friends shit. (Nerd, check. Not into sports, triple check. He’s pretty sure the dude had failed gym at least once for refusing to wear gym shorts.)

Literally the last person in Hawkins who should’ve had eyes for King Steve.

“Munson likes me?” Steve can’t feel his face too well, what with the beating he’d taken earlier during interrogation, so he’s not sure if he’s blushing. His voice definitely does something funny on the last word, though. 

“He said not to tell you who it was from because he thought you might toss it if you knew it was from him,” Robin admits. “Which seemed like a reasonable concern at the time, but that’s because I didn’t know—”

But then Dustin bursts in on them. The kid looks frazzled, and from there on out it’s all running and more blood and a monster made out of people and fireworks and death, their bathroom conversation forgotten. 

~

Eddie had given up on calling around the time the fireworks show started over the mayor’s kiss-ass 4th of July fair. Downed a couple beers while trying not to wonder if Steve found a date to take. Is still awake when Wayne comes in from his shift, and wanders out of his room because anything’s got to be better than staring at the ceiling. 

“Starcourt burned down,” his uncle tells him while Eddie moves zombie-like through the motions of making them each a cup of coffee. “Radio said the police ain’t ruling out arson. Drove past it on the way, there’s search and rescue folks crawling all over the rubble lookin’ for survivors.”

After Wayne goes to bed, Eddie tries dialing Steve’s number one more time. 

No one answers. 

~

After much pleading from Robin, and since Steve’s car keys are still god knows where and his parents are out of town, the Buckleys graciously agree to let him stay in their guest room. It’s just as well, Robin insists; with the concussion, someone should be around to check on him every few hours. 

“That’s only for the first twenty-four,” he points out the next day. He knows the drill. 

“I don’t care,” Robin insists. “You took a beating to protect the rest of us. You could have been killed, Steve! I am checking on you every few hours for the rest of my life from now on, just see if I don’t.”

“Please don’t,” Steve groans, but he’s grinning. Despite the way his ribs and head throb, and the dark circle under the eye that isn’t literally still swollen shut, it’s nice to have someone to be normal with—not ignoring what had happened, he’d learned his lesson about that with Nancy, but taking it into account and then going ‘yes and.’  “Or at least make sure to always knock first.”

“Why w—Ew! Never mind, if you’re feeling good enough to make jokes then you’re probably fine, offer rescinded.”

“You’re still gonna,” Steve points out, then knocks back the painkillers she’s brought him. Mr. Buckley’s shoulder surgery prescription, meet two broken ribs, black eye, and recently re-set nose. 

She sits on the edge of the bed, next to the duffel bag of clothes from his house that her mom had driven her to pick up for him. “Yeah yeah, shut up.”

Silence settles over them for a moment while Steve tries to get comfortable. And fails. His ribs really aren’t doing him any favors today. The discomfort is why he’s still in unflatteringly baggy shorts borrowed from Mr. Buckley and a t-shirt Robin had thrown at his head as a joke (and then helped him out on, since he can’t lift his arms that high without wanting to scream) that declares him a fan of Siouxsie and the Banshees. 

He has no idea how to pronounce Siouxsie and is kind of afraid to ask. 

“Sooo,” Robin starts. “Eddie Munson, huh?”

“Uh.” Steve can’t run a hand through his hair with his stupid ribs, not when he’s not running entirely on adrenaline or before the painkillers kick in, so he settles for twiddling his thumbs. “Yeah? I guess so. His letters are… They’re really good, Rob. I kinda don’t know why he keeps writing when my replies are so crappy. Like… I can’t even do them justice trying to explain.”

“Huh.” She waits a beat. “Well, I checked your mailbox, just in case, and there was a hand-addressed envelope that I brought back for you—”

Ribs be damned, Steve lunges for that duffel.

Tag list (and if you missed the earlier chapters check the "#secret admirer steddie" tag on my blog): @hotluncheddie @lawrencebshoggoth @sofadofax @tangerinesteve @steviewashere

@cryingglightningg @theresebelivett @sleepy-steve @rozzieroos @lunaraindrop

@just-my-latest-hyperfixation @wheneverfeasible @swimmingbirdrunningrock @yesdangerpls @matchingbatbites

@ihavekidneys @p0lybl4nkk @grtwdsmwhr @cheesedoctor @whalesharksart

@thetinymm @envyadams-vs-me @practicallybegging @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @dauntlessdiva

@nerdyglassescheeseychick @fuzzyduxk @chaosgremlinmunson @greatwerewolfbeliever @goosesister

@dolphincliffs @friendlyneighborhoodgaycousin @beckkthewreck @pitrsattabhaadmeinjao

[ohsohoney]

When it comes to love you're just as blinded.

Part One

Eminem x Musician

Summary: It starts with a drunk embarrassing video, it spirals into something a whole lot more.

Note: Hey! First time writing for Em so I figured I'd use a side account and see how it went? Honestly this is a whole series in my mind so might add onto this first part soon! An oc character but can be read as a reader insert if you prefer:)

Set in 2014, just after the release of LP 2

Warnings: Lots of swearing, dark humour

Masterlist

I was mortified.

More so than I’d probably ever been, in truth. All because of a stupid video that had been taken a couple of years back when I’d had one drink too many on a holiday I’d always dreamt of.

To be fair though, the majority of the blame lied heavily on my younger sister’s shoulders, who’d found the stupid thing whilst reminiscing through old memories and thought it would be hilarious to post online. Forgetting about the millions of fans who would soon see it– and not just mine, it would seem.

No, because that just wasn’t how the internet worked, was it? And when a newly nominated artist, who had only been in the game for a couple years, was filmed rapping an old noughties classic instead of singing like expected, it was basically bound to go viral. Didn’t help that I was a Londoner through and through and had the accent to prove it, making the whole video that much harder to watch. In truth, I continued to cringe each time I was reminded of it, which was practically anytime I opened up social media or witnessed the guilty expression that continued to mar my sister’s face.

“Stop doing that.” I huffed at her later on when the worst of it still continued to storm on, almost whining actually as I looked away from my phone screen and down at the food I wasn’t really eating, just picking at. I was supposed to be mad, infuriated even, but it was proving to be a fucking chore when she kept on looking at me like that.

“Doing what?” Lottie retorted, not even attempting to wipe the culpable look from off of her face. She was currently residing back at mum’s now, seeing as how she had school and I’d only just landed back home, but I’d give it a day before she was back here again. My flight over had been strenuous, it always was when flying to and from Cali, but still I made time for her– even after the most recent stunt she had gone and pulled.

“Don’t do that either.” 

I’d meant to sound scolding but the soft laugh that escaped me truly was accidental. I couldn’t quite help it, I knew that being mad at her wouldn’t solve anything now and that she hadn’t really meant any harm by posting the video. That was just the type of person she was, she acted before she thought things through and didn’t ever think much for the consequences. Then again, she was still only fourteen and her putting the drunken moment on her Instagram story had just been one of those sibling type moments, the kind where you’d rip the piss out of one another simply because you could.

“I mean it, Lotts.” I sighed around the words, eyes flitting back to the screen and the way she was chewing on her lower lip. “It’s being sorted and, I don't know, I guess it’ll die down sooner or later. Mila reckons so anyway. We’ll give it a day or two, hey?”

A day or two did pass. And no such thing happened.

I’d been cooped up at home ever since I’d touched down at Heathrow, having jumped in the first cab available and fallen asleep the second I’d gotten in through the door. I’d been working out in LA for a couple weeks with a few other writers, just messing about with new sounds and ideas for the next album I eventually wanted to release. So I hadn’t been witness to the media catastrophe Lottie had created until later the next afternoon when Mila, my manager, had all but mowed down my front door, having called my phone three dozen times and gotten a guy she was currently seeing in the city to come buzz my intercom. It had been a wake up call and a half to say the least.

Still, she had assumed it would all die down fairly quickly, went as far to say that it could do wonders for my career– even with me being visibly tipsy– after having had the absolute gall to say that I hadn’t sounded half as bad as I thought I did. I’d cackled hysterically into the phone at that, then had somewhat of a meltdown, in utter disbelief over the apparent reaction she claimed the video had gone and garnered. Because I was absolutely not looking. Knew that if I did there would be too large a chance that I’d check myself into the nearest psychiatric unit. 

But as I said, a couple of days had passed and typically something like this would have eventually blown over when the next big story hit the headlines. White girl can spit a verse, who cared? Only then the VMA’s had happened and shit hit the fucking fan.

I hadn’t attended, shit like that had always irked me. I could perform in front of a crowd of thousands and step off feeling as high as a kite, but stick me on a carpet and force me to interact with cameras, questions, and people? That was where I drew the line.

At the start, I had tried. I’d been new on the scene and people had reasoned that I would just end up being another one hit wonder, so the label had figured it best if I got myself out there, if only to interact with other artists and producers in similar circles.

It had gone down a treat– like a cake being knocked over at the wedding of the year. Maybe even worse. I didn’t like to linger too long on it.

But I’d tried again and again afterwards, although it had only proven to worsen my mood each time and forced me to retreat, avoiding my team and the responsibilities I had lined up for a short while after. It was only following a particularly uncomfortable night that Mila had called it quits and had a contract drawn up stating that I only had to attend a certain amount of events a year. It had been at that moment that I’d realised just how fucked I would have been in this industry without her.

Even so, life still continued on without me and the VMA’s were just another show I would be mostly avoiding, only making a statement at the end of the night online for the nominations I’d been gifted.

It was around midnight when I heard the scream.

Lottie was staying with me, typical for whenever I was back in London for a few weeks at a time, and so I’d felt my heart literally drop to my feet at the very sound of her screech and legged it across the entirety of the house. At first, I’d thought she’d slipped and fallen, maybe cracked her head open on a counter. And then the thought of an intruder had crossed my mind whilst I’d gone skidding over the landing. So anyone could understand why I was so worked up when I finally threw open her bedroom door only to find her simply sat there on her phone, hand covering her mouth.

“What the hell is your problem? It’s just gone twelve, Lottie! I thought something had happened!” I rebuked her, chest heaving as I dropped the heavy bookend I’d managed to pick up somewhere on my way over down onto her desk. “Shit.”

Her eyes were wider than I’d ever seen them though when I finally did get around to catching my breath and chanced another glance back at her.

“I was literally just about to fall asleep.” Which really meant that I’d been getting into bed to scroll through my phone or read a book when I’d heard her shout. “Then you screamed as though Freddy Krueger was stood at your window.”

“Elia.” 

I blinked, Lottie rarely did that, used my entire name and not the usual shortened version or whatever other epithet that came to mind– and truly, there was a large variety, the shit I’d heard this kid come out with was insane. But I shook my head at the thought and quirked a brow at her. “What? Did someone die?”

“No,” She answered me, dropping her hand away from her face even though her jaw was still gaping, “But I just might.”

Rolling my eyes at the theatrics, I exhaled and walked over to slump on the end of her bed, figuring that something had happened between her and one of her friends, or maybe some lad she might’ve been speaking to. “And it deserved a scream like that? Honestly Lotts, just be thankful this place doesn’t have any neighbours listening in through the walls.” I told her, thinking back to my own adolescent years and the woman in the flat beside ours, “We’d have someone knocking at the door in under a half hour.”

It was her turn to roll her eyes then as she scoffed at me– like I was the one being dramatic here– before she then shook her head and shuffled hurriedly over the mattress to sit closer. “No Lia, just listen, look.”

Confused, I sighed and tilted my head when Lottie moved to shove her mobile in my face. I squinted at the sudden contrast, showing off my age and the horrific tragedy that was my eyesight, and tried to make sense of whatever it was that she was so hellbent on showing me. 

From what I could first make out, it was just a Twitter thread, but then Lotts then clicked on the main video at the top. I waited as the clip buffered for a second, then a familiar face panned into focus and I felt my brow furrow. I peered over at Lottie for a split second before her eyes were widening in retort and she gestured her chin back towards the screen.

I narrowed my own eyes in turn, but watched on.

It had to be a coincidence, I reasoned. That of all people it was him that Lottie was currently showing me.

“Well, aren’t we in for a show tonight! Eminem is in the house, people!” An interviewer started, she was a tall, leggy blonde who held a too big microphone too close to her chin. “How are you feeling?”

I shouldn’t have been as surprised as I was to see him on the VMA’s carpet, not after the comeback he’d made late last year with LP 2, but I was, eyes caught on the bleached buzz cut he’d since reverted back to for the album’s release. Fuck, I’d be so pissed if it came out that he was performing tonight and I’d gone ahead and missed it.

Lottie thumped my shoulder, hard, realising fairly quickly that I hadn’t really been listening, and so I scowled in retort but gritted my teeth to keep from thumping her right back. She might’ve been my sister, but I had well over a decade on the kid and was marginally her guardian, just not in writing.

The rapper had seemingly just finished commenting on a question the tall blonde had asked him and so I forced myself to pay closer attention, brain whirling as I wondered what could have possibly been so important that it had Lottie screaming bloody murder in the middle of the night.

“I feel that!” The woman practically beamed at the rapper, head nodding along to whatever he’d just said, “But it’s good to hear that you’re enjoying being back. In truth, I wasn’t sure I’d catch you here tonight, there’s been a lot of buzz surrounding you at the moment and not just because of the album!”

My heart stuttered in my chest. Actually, I was pretty sure it had gone and fallen out of my arse, especially when the interviewer continued to press on the topic and it appeared as though the man in question understood exactly what she was getting at. His stoic facade cracked just a tad and– there! A smirk. An ever so slight crook of his mouth. I shot a startled glance over at Lottie but her gaze was fixated on the screen.

“I mean, have you seen it?” The interviewer prompted whilst he simply stood there, fisted hands clasped before him. No sign of the split second curve he’d just had on his lips. “The whole world’s been wondering about your thoughts on the singer!”

And there it was.

“I can’t,” I started to say, turning away from the phone just as a rush of nausea flooded through me, but Lottie held strong, hand coming up to catch my shoulder so that she could position her phone back in my eyeline. “Lottie–” I tried. Please.

“Just listen.” She persisted, face so serious.

Immediately I wanted to rescind my earlier statement. This was now my most mortifying moment. In fact, I wanted to hide in the nearest cupboard and never come out again. How the fuck was I going to show my face in public, not to mention at the next event, after this?

I swallowed thickly, entirely unprepared to hear a word he had to say about me. I mean, who would be? This man was leagues above a majority of the industry, me included. Never had I ever even thought that he could hear my name in passing, let alone listen to one of my songs playing in some shop he was coincidentally in or a random radio station. But here he now was, rolling his lips as he pondered over a question which concerned that stupid fucking video. 

“I hate you.” I whispered at Lottie, mostly in hopes to cover up whatever he was about to say, but also because I was embarrassed beyond belief. And this was all her fault.

In the time spent since the drunken video had first gone up and now, I had yet to even think about him ever seeing it. Because the idea was that far fetched. But this was me, so of course he had.

“I’ve heard it.” Marshall confirmed, his head dipped in a barely there nod. My throat cinched. I wondered briefly how quickly I’d be able to tie myself a noose.

“And?” The woman prodded and internally I cursed her future bloodline, hoping that she'd somehow spawn the next antichrist or that her grandchild would become a shit-headed politician.

The man in question merely hummed, hollowing out his cheeks. “I was surprised, I have to admit. But she’s good, even when wasted.”

“I wasn’t fucking wasted!” 

I hadn't even realised I’d spoken out loud until Lottie snorted on a chuckle. I turned towards her, brows raised high, “What? I wasn’t. You were there!”

I rolled my eyes when she didn’t deign me with some sort of assent but my head snapped back over to where she still gripped the phone when I heard him speak again, his voice echoing throughout the quiet bedroom.

“Then again, her shit goes hard. So it shouldn’t be too much of a surprise.”

That heart of mine that I kept on talking about? Yeah, I had zero clue as to what the fuck was going on with it now, only that my chest was wound as tight as it possibly could be and my eyes stung as I withheld the urge to even blink.

“You’re a fan?” The woman asked him, appearing genuinely surprised by the notion, even though it sounded more like a declaration rather than the question it was.

Marshall hummed, sparing a brief glance over his shoulder when a group shuffled on past them, disrupting the interview. It didn’t deter the woman though and I couldn’t blame her, no matter how much it pained me.

“So, could this mean we’ll be seeing a new featured artist on whatever you put out next?”

I made some sort of inhuman sound at that, but barely moved a muscle. And then I all but shutdown when the rapper's wide eyes flickered over to peer straight into the camera’s lens, “I mean, if she’s down.”

The next scream that was emitted once again came from Lottie, but I couldn’t think to scold her for it, not when I was hardly even functioning and wanted to implode myself. 

The girl toppled over onto me, shaking my shoulders whilst she squealed unabashedly. “If. She’s. Down!” She repeated, squealing with excitement, “El, this is insane! How are you not screaming too?”

The air I forced from my lungs came out in a breathless chuckle as I clung to the forearm that was still wrapped around my collar. In truth, I didn’t know how the hell I was supposed to react. 

“Figure you’ve screamed enough for the both of us.” I replied faintly, not really thinking but somehow managing to carry on, mostly out of sheer shock. I glanced her way, “I feel a bit sick.”

Lottie just shook me harder and when we eventually went falling down onto the duvet in a mess of limbs I wondered what I was going to do with the knowledge that I’d just been given. God. He knew who I was. The shock of it was almost like reliving my first time on stage all over again.

That night I ended up listening to Lottie rant on and on for a good while after whilst she scrolled through her Twitter feed and the rest of the internet. Mila eventually intervened, calling after having seen it too, and was as smug as ever. “Told you.” She’d said the second I’d hit the answer button and I hadn’t had the heart to play it off or act as though I hadn’t seen it either. 

After the interview eventually finished trending and stopped being posted here, there, and everywhere, I was left with a flow of new followers but also a nightmare of opinions spouting from every corner of the planet on any comment section I had to offer. I forced myself to come off most apps I had downloaded after that and resorted to gaining my daily entertainment, and any real news, from Lottie. Which seemed sad, in retrospect, but honestly? It was more than a little self-serving and I’d even managed to get a shit load of stuff done.

I worked on a couple new songs, sticking to what I did best, but my mind did end up drifting away every so often, back to a conversation I’d had with Mila and Travis at the label a couple days after the media storm had passed. It seemed they all wanted me to try implementing a few new concepts into the music I was currently working on before we started to draw up ideas for the next album. Travis reasoned that even attempting to add a couple freestyles into the motions whilst I went about writing would do me wonders later on. 

I just felt uncomfortable with it all, really. I’d never been a rapper. I mean, I loved it. It was mainly what I’d been brought up on, having grown up in an area where every kid on the estate was either attempting to become the next big thing or just blaring the biggest hits out of their car stereos. But that was just it. I listened and sang along, had even built up an extensive collection which I was immensely proud of, but the label were now aiming for this next album to make it onto a Grammy nominations list. It was all they had been fretting over since I’d somehow managed to chart the last one– although a single number one and an almost throw away making it to number seven didn’t make me all that hopeful. 

Even so, it forced me to wonder how it would all work if I started to switch things up now. I could appreciate all genres but I didn’t wanna become the next hopper just to appease the people yessing me and then fall off.

The entire concept had me confused and so I had taken to keeping my head down for a while longer.

Lottie had headed back to mum’s earlier that morning, seeing as I was due to make an appearance in Paris for Fashion Week, attending the Vogue show alongside Vivienne Westwood. An utter dream, yes, but also still an incredibly daunting reality. Even so, it was something I couldn’t quite worm my way out of even if I had wanted to– see, with that contract there still came clauses.

I’d been prepping for my upcoming early morning flight most of the day, showering later on than anticipated just so that I could pack my case and eat before I eventually climbed into bed. Hoping to somehow get a couple hours kip.

I’d thrown on a robe and kept the speakers blaring once I’d eventually jumped out from under the spray, wet hair curling at the ends as I worked on throwing something quick together in my kitchen.

It wasn't long before I went and took the bowl I’d just made out into the living room with me, simply so that I could curl up on the settee and wrap up the few emails I’d been working on earlier. I was just nodding along and humming to the next song that played through the overhead speakers when my phone started to buzz against my ankle, shooting a funny feeling up through the bone. I was quick to pick it up, wrinkling my nose at the feel and not paying much mind to the caller, figuring it had to be either Mila or Lottie.

“Hello?”

There was a short pause as I shifted the phone against my ear before a voice eventually sounded, “This Elia?”

Frowning, I casted a quick glance at the phone’s screen to find a number with an unfamiliar area code staring back at me. I let my gaze stray on over towards a clock I had hanging on the far wall only to find that it had just gone eight. 

I fumbled for a moment, “Um. It is, can I ask who’s calling?”

A low cough rumbled through the line before the same voice spoke again, I shuffled to set my laptop off to the side on the sofa, brow furrowed. “It’s Em– Marshall.”

Suddenly my head felt so very empty and my mouth was working around words that couldn't seem to find their way out. Em. The Em?? Fucking, Em?

I’d obviously been quiet a beat too long, drowning in the sudden panic that had shrouded me, because he spoke up again, “That Nas playin’?”

I shot a startled glance over my shoulder to where the fancy sound system was installed, the biggest reason I’d gone and purchased the home, in truth, and was immediately reminded of the music I had piercing through the air. Clumsily, I rolled off of the corner of the settee so that I could stumble over to turn the thing off, doing exactly that before I was forced to blink at the sudden silence that greeted me.

I winced and was quick to turn the music back on, keeping it low. All the while I still held my phone close to my chest.

“Uh, yeah. Hi!” I blundered helplessly after a moment, carding a hand through my damp hair as I stared at the empty wall before me stupidly. I wasn’t sure what to say, let alone do. I could sort of wrap my head around the interview, his brief mention of me. But a fucking phone call? It was on another level.

He chuckled though, enough so that I felt myself flush bashfully at my obvious awkwardness and forced my body to move back towards the sofa, if only so that I didn’t have to stand on shaky legs anymore. 

“Hi.” He mimicked, voice low albeit a tad amused.

I smiled. Unable to do anything but, in all honesty, as I lowered myself down onto the cushions, vaguely aware that I should probably be saying something else now that he’d gone and replied, but was simply more than a little caught off guard by everything. 

“Sorry, I– Well, I didn’t expect your call. Or anyones really.” I murmured, trying my best to shake off the nerves that were apparently wreaking havoc on my brain to mouth filter. “I just jumped out of the shower, had yet to turn off the stereo. Sorry.” How many times had I just apologised? I wanted to scream.

“You’re good.” He assured me, voice unlike what I probably would have expected and so I blinked once more at the sound of it, reminded that it was actually him I was talking to. But all that was fluttering through my head was ‘what the fuck are you doing calling me?’ “Nice choice, I gotta say. This an alright time for you to talk? I don’t wanna disturb you much.”

My eyes widened at both the compliment in song choice and well, him. Then withheld another sudden urge to scream, the hand not holding my phone clenching into a tight fist against my chest. “No, no, of course not. I mean, you’re fine! Not disturbing me at all.”

His next reply sounded more than just a little mirthful, “Sure ‘bout that?”

I willed myself to relax and took an inconspicuous breath as I pulled my legs back up under me. “I’m sure.” I told him, laughing lightly at myself for being so socially inept– or maybe it was just this entire scenario I’d been shoved into. “How’d you even get my number anyway?” 

I hadn’t meant for it to sound so forceful or abrupt, but it had been yet another question my sluggish brain hadn’t been able to find an answer to. 

“Mila?” He answered me, and I blinked stupidly at the name. “We had a mutual contact, figured I’d chance askin’ her instead of gettin’ lost in your DM’s. That cool? She said she’d let you know.”

The conniving cow, I thought to myself, though I wouldn’t have put it past her to have reasoned with herself that I would’ve probably freaked out if she had told me beforehand, before then having proceeded to just let my phone ring out whilst I stared pitifully at it. She knew me all too well. 

“She did not.” I replied through a baited breath, “But no, yeah. You’re alright, just caught me off guard is all. You’re probably the last person I expected to call, if I’m being honest here..”

When I heard him laugh once more I grinned, all too pleased with myself. It was a low gruff sound, not deep enough to be sarcastic or ingenuine, but rather warm. It surprised me.

“Oh yeah? Even after everything that’s gone down lately?”

My eyes slipped closed at the instantaneous reminder and I winced. The video. Honestly, in the whirlwind that wasn’t just my life at the moment, but this phone call too, I could have almost forgotten about it.

“I still can’t believe you saw that.”

Marshall let go of another amused huff that I figured to be a chuckle, breathing in deep enough that he forced me to wait on his next words. “I don’t lie. I meant what I said. But tell me, how many drinks d’you have in you?”

I curled my tongue against the back of my teeth in hopes to keep from grinning too hard, feeling a slight sting at the tip. “I was tipsy.” I argued pointlessly, knowing it would be a tireless venture, “I’d only had a couple.”

He hummed, seemingly not convinced.

“It was years ago, too!” I felt the need to tack on, the rosy hue the alcohol had given my cheeks sprung to mind and made me wonder. My face wrinkled as I dragged a helpless hand across it. “Who even sent it to you?”

“A couple people, actually.” Marshall ended up revealing and his words sounded playful enough that I could almost picture the curl of his mouth. “My daughter was one.”

Without thinking my hand flew up towards my mouth and I shook my head as I let it rest against my palm. “You’re not being serious.”

“Dre too.”

I let go of a hissed curse and crumpled a little bit in my seat before laughing stupidly at myself. If I couldn’t talk myself out of this then I supposed I would just have to get over it. I hoped thinking sensibly would allow me to actually follow through on that sentiment, but I very much doubted it.

Marshall laughed again, slow and easy almost as though he’d shared it with me a hundred times before. “I wasn’t kiddin’ neither. ’s why I called.”

Pulling my head from out of my hands, I wet my lower lip, mind promptly flashing back to the clip Lottie had shown me. “What’s that meant to mean?” I asked him, treading cautiously. 

“Listen.” He began, pausing only briefly to inhale before he then added, “I’m workin’ on another album–”

“No.” I interrupted, eyes suddenly wide and alert, “Already?”

A tittered snort followed the disruption but my mind was already reeling. 

“You’re not fucking with me?”

In all honesty I had prepared myself to wait a couple more years for another drop, hoping for him to feature or for someone to send for him if only so that he’d make a track in reply. I’d been obsessed with his recent work, even going as far as to add it onto the tour bus playlist late last year. It had actually been played so much the roadies and the band had threatened to rip the system out. But a new album? Fuck. I hadn’t expected it.

“Who else knows?”

There was a slight click on the other side of the line. Or scuffle. “As of right now? Like six people.”

I swallowed down the understanding that then hit me, but my stomach lurched at the very thought of it. “And I’m one?” I chuckled, holding back the hysterical laughter I felt bubble as my hand fell over my heart, “Wow, I feel honoured, Mathers.” It was teasing, the rib I meant, though my eyes still widened when I realised what I’d gone and said, not wanting him to take it the wrong way. 

I needn’t have worried. 

“As you fuckin’ should be.”

I gave a real laugh at that, almost a full-belly type shit. But could you really blame me? 

I was still smiling as I went to retort, humming with it, “God, you really just went and sprung that shit on me.”

“Hold you to keepin’ it on the low for now.” Marshall said, reminding me how paranoid the press and Hollywood had made him out to be in the past. I wondered how much truth there was in the sentiment. I mean, the man was almost a recluse– not that I could blame him, I was pulled from the same sort of cloth there– but to put a secret like that in my hands? It had to take some amount of faith.

I nodded seriously, even though he couldn’t see the gesture. Seemed he could hear the sincerity in my answer though, “‘Course.” I told him and then chewed on my lower lip for a second before a soft snicker escaped me. “That the only reason you called though? I mean, as honoured as I am to be one of the infamous six, I’m surprised you just phoned to let me in on the know. Have I just been roped into some sort of celeb elitist group? Weird initiation.”

His huffed laugh was breathy and made my mouth twitch that little bit more. 

“Nah. You always this weird though?” Marshall wondered and I bared my teeth in a light grimace, figuring I’d gone too far with that one. Or maybe.. I'd just hit the mark? I snorted lightly at the thought.

“It was an honest question! I’ve heard horror stories.” And wasn’t that the truth, events and parties weren’t all about the awards and just getting trollied. Some of those fuckers were as strange as people could come.

The man clucked his tongue, although I could hear the slight smile in his sarky response. “Uhuh. Sorry to disappoint but nah, initiation starts in the belly of LA. Gotta dissect a virgin and drink Ciroc out of their intestines. Funnel that shit down.”

The snort I gave in turn was ugly and loud enough that it forced a hand to fly up and cover my mouth, but it didn’t appear to bother the rapper none, who chuckled before clearing his throat.

“Change this shit to Facetime.” He said not a second after, swiftly cutting short my absurd amusement. “Then we can talk about the album.”

I fumbled for a moment. “I look a mess.”

“Good thing this ain’t a fuckin’ fashion show then.” He only pressed, “You think I give a shit what you look like right now?”

That struck an odd chord in me for some reason, but I didn’t want to linger much on the feeling. “No. But I do, dickhead. It’s half eight at night, I have sudocrem on my face and I look like a dog off of Lady and the Tramp.”

I was so flustered by the very thought of acquiescing to the man’s demand that I didn’t even think much of the name I’d gone and called him. 

“Again, do I give a shit? And what did you just call me?”

I paused, reeling back to whatever it was I’d just spouted at him. Upon rehashing my words I felt my tongue press between my lips to keep from laughing loudly, if Mila or Lottie had been there I’d already be strung up by a pair of metaphorical balls. 

“You heard me fine.” I brushed it off, if he wanted to call me out of the blue and act all chummy then chummy was what he’d get.

Besides it wasn’t like I’d meant the term maliciously, I used that type of endearment with everybody. Something my manager had tried and failed to force out of me time and time again.

“But back to this whole ‘seeing my mug thing’. Not happening, mate. Why couldn’t you have called like, six hours ago? I looked like an actual person then.”

“Dickhead.” He muttered beneath his breath, barely even loud enough for me to have heard him and I could only guess that he was shaking his head with it, hopefully somewhat amused. “You ain’t an actual person then?” He said in reply, forgoing the name calling for now, “Figures, you give off lizard vibes.”

“Fuck you!” My laugh was sudden, jaw having dropped a tad at the quip. “Lizard vibes, the fuck are you then? And yes, an actual person! You can’t just call people, drop a bomb, and then demand things!”

“Shit typically works.” He quipped all too quickly that it had me shaking my head around another quiet smile of my own. “Just entertain me though, for a moment.”

My head fell back against the arm of the sofa, eyes casted towards the high ceiling which loomed above. I couldn’t quite believe I was actually considering it.

He didn’t even have to goad me before I relented. I huffed, blowing a strand of hair from out of my face as I sat back up, “Fine. Just gimme a sec.” 

He hummed.

Elbowing my way off the settee I skidded over to the closest mirror, dragged a hand through my mostly dried hair and made sure that I didn’t have racoon eyes from any lingering mascara I’d had on before my shower. The patches of sudocrem would have to stay though, I deemed, seeing as he already knew about those. 

I gave up on the preening and sighed as I fell back onto the sofa, thankful for the dim lights the living room offered in that moment. It was just as I was switching the call though that a thought hit me, making me question if the reason he’d asked me to start the Facetime was due to him wanting to give me the option to turn it down or simply because he had no idea how to do it himself. “Still there, old man?”

A scoff echoed into the room before my phone screen stuttered and I was left staring at the sharp lines of his face. It wasn’t like I hadn’t actually believed it was him I was talking to, but seeing the man was another thing altogether. He was a real person and that idea alone had me reeling. 

I wrinkled my nose almost shyly around a smile when that sharp gaze of his slid away from something behind the camera to meet mine. He tilted his head to look me over, the hood of his jumper moving with the motion. 

“I was right about the lizard thing.” Was the only greeting he offered me, jutting his chin out as he feigned all seriousness. 

My mouth dropped open upon hearing him and my tongue quickly flicked out towards a canine to keep from biting back at him. There was humour written in the gesture though, even as I moved to narrow my eyes. “He’s got jokes! Reused ones, I might add, but jokes nonetheless.” I snarked, lifting my eyebrows at him in exaggeration, “Hilarious.”

His mouth curled very, very briefly, but I was quick to work out that it was all in the eyes with him. They held a certain amount of mirth as they flickered over my face. I wondered what he saw. 

“Suits you though. Even with all the…” He waved a hand over his own face, probably referencing the white dots I had littered in a few places.

With a shake of my head I raised a hand to my chest, feigning a fond appreciation for the sardonic comment. “Is that the famous charm the world’s heard so much about then? Really know how to make a girl feel special, Mathers.”

His eyes slitted but still shone with a slight glaze, he hummed deeply in retort. “Best believe it. Why d’you think I’ve gotten divorced twice?”

A low whistle escaped me before I then laughed, eyes squinting with the strength of it. “Figured you might just have a kink for courtrooms.” 

His tongue swept into his cheek at my boldness, fighting back a real smile as he glanced away and then back again. “I’m down bad for a good Judge. Spank me vibes, you know?”

I chuckled outwardly at that, amused by his quick witted replies. But that in itself didn’t surprise me, it was well known just how hilarious the man could be, his stoic demeanour only prodding that revelation further. 

That sternness his face seemed to consistently hold softened though in that next moment and I watched on as he shuffled a little closer to the camera, sat somewhere indoors with enough natural light that he could have only been in his kitchen. It hit me then how wild this whole thing suddenly was. “What’s with the last name anyway?”

I blinked, caught off guard by his ask. “Um,” I fumbled, a slight wrinkle forming between my brow, “What do you mean, me calling you Mathers?”

He hummed and I had to think about it for a second. Ultimately I ended up gifting him a shrug, “Don’t know. Just feels strange to call you Eminem or whatever.” I laughed lightly at myself, hand falling to my knee to toy with a loose thread on the hem of my robe. “What do people usually call you?”

It was his turn to shrug then, his being a singular and fluid motion whereas mine had been more thoughtless. He was watching again though, the wide eyes I was so used to seeing in old interviews where he was always playing a part were now gentler, narrowed sure, but softer and slightly wrinkled at the very edges.

I tugged on the frayed thread, wrapping it around my finger enough to whiten the skin before I had to let it go again. “Is Em okay? Or just Marshall maybe?” I queried, watching him too.

“Whatever you want.” He murmured and it was then that I noticed he’d propped his phone up somewhere in front of him because a pair of hands came to rest at the bottom of the screen just as he pressed further into the counter he was sat at.

I wrung my lips to one side, teeth biting into the inside of my cheek enough to keep from smiling much more than I already was. “Most people call me El or Lia. Elia just started to feel unnatural away from, you know, everyone else.”

It was the worlds now, as well as one of few reasons I had for the stigma I felt around my own name. 

The man jerked his head in a short nod in response whilst his fingers intertwined against a marble countertop. “So we should just slide that into the writin’ credits then? Or you finally gone take me up on that offer of a feature?”

You know that odd feeling you get when you’re on the tube or a plane and so suddenly your ears just pop and there's this ringing sound that floods the single sense? It just happens, out of nowhere, and you blink. So all you can immediately focus on is the sound. The odd feeling of it driving waves deeper and deeper into your skull. And the only way you can recover is by holding your own breath?

That was what that question felt like to me. 

“What?”

His eyes were alight, akin to a low flame of flickering amusement and perhaps hope. “You deaf now too? Know you heard me.”

Of course I fucking heard him but that didn’t mean I understood. “This is for real?”

Finally, he let go of a dulcet chuckle, almost a ringing sound in and of itself. “You gone make me repeat it? You in, or not?”

“How is that even a question?” I breathed back to him, my hand shaking against the hem of my robe. “Yes! God, if I ever say to no to an ask like that you better fucking shoot me. What the fuck, Marshall?”

That chuckle again.

It was unlike anything else, the only sound I could hear around the blood rushing between my ears. Stupidly, I pinched my thigh and released a stuttered breath when the twist of skin radiated a short snap of pain up my leg.

“That the go ahead then?”

I must’ve looked so incredibly starstruck but I couldn’t even bring myself to care, this was unreal. I nodded, almost frantically at him. “Of course that’s the fucking go ahead! Are you sure about this? I mean, I don’t know how much help I’ll be. I mostly write radio shit.”

“Your earlier stuff ain’t.” Em shot back, the quip startling me enough to snap my jaw shut because not a lot of people ever dug that deep. But he continued on before I could think to hone in on the slip, “‘sides, your lyrics are what I fuck with. That shit makes you think, has you lingerin’. Playing with words is the aim, I want people thinkin’, leachin’ onto each syllable and every phrase. You do that.”

The air in my lungs lurched.

I could only offer him one reply, “When do we start?”

[usedpidemo]

Shangri-la (Oh My Girl Yooa)

Thank you for the commission! I hope it's to your liking.

—————

“What the?”

What welcomes you inside the bedroom takes you by complete surprise. It’s the kind that leaves you with more questions than answers. She had been very vague about the whole ordeal, skittering around the details. she was completely straightforward about one thing: to get fucked. That’s the main selling point.

Her inviting tone, her sultry expression, her lust—it’s still freshly imprinted on your mind from an hour ago. You’ve heard those words—their many variations—a handful of times, but hers is by far the most enticing and the sweetest sounding:

“Wanna have sex with me tonight?”

—————

Admittedly, it was never on your bucket list to attend a concert, let alone a group who sings primarily in foreign. It was supposed to be just a kind gesture for a roommate.

He’s your resident nerdy K-pop fan, the kind that gets bullied in real life and on the internet. He’s the full package; posters on the bedroom wall, a book full of photocards, and a shelf of albums and lightsticks which he considers as his sacred temple. You were never meant to go beyond a toe’s dip into this unhealthy obsession he’s engrossed himself in; completing his homework was enough exposure. 

If there was one takeaway from your observations, it was quite obvious: the girls are really hot. And that’s all that you needed to convince yourself to go. 

Besides, you were his roommate—and his only friend. Out of the kindness of your heart, you have an obligation to be there for him, at least until you graduate.

For the most part, the show was entertaining. Again, the girls were pretty attractive, and they were dressed in outfits that flaunted their bodies exceptionally well. Your friend’s relentless screaming accustomed you to the crowd’s energy, which was no joke. Even in a small, intimate venue, there were several moments where you felt that the place might collapse off the audience’s deafening shouts alone. At least you came prepared with noise canceling earplugs.

It’s not a huge surprise when he suddenly vanishes after the show. He’s been in and out of sight the whole time; getting freebies, merch shopping, taking numerous bathroom breaks, to the point where he just straight up forgets he left his phone with you before running off again. 

To make things worse, it’s the dying moments of the night, when everyone in the VIP section, the two of you included, gets to greet the members for only a brief passing moment. He’d been acting like his entire life has been building to this moment, completely neglecting the fact you were his ride home. 

Of course you’re not entirely sure about who’s who in this group. Six equally pretty girls, all wearing the exact same shirt and short skirt combination, down to the colors, with equally warm smiles. You didn’t have enough time to familiarize yourself with each of their names; the internet in the area has been failing you for hours. The staff was strict with phones the closer you approached them. It didn’t help that everyone screamed through their introductions, too.

Unsurprisingly, nothing substantial came of your interaction. A series of repetitive, awkward bows and near-silent whispers of “hello.” You’ve been putting off Duolingo for months, and it showed. It should have been a forgettable affair, considering the hundreds of people they’re greeting just from tonight’s queue alone. It’s not like you particularly stand out from the rest of the crowd; a casual shirt and jeans combo that’s indistinguishable from the dozens in attendance, and you don’t have anything on you that screams ‘overly dedicated fan.’

So when you’re pulled aside by the same staff closely watching the queue during the meet and greet, asked to head backstage as part of some secret lucky draw, you’re not surprised. There’s an age-old superstition that states that you’re more likely to meet celebrities the less you’re familiar with them. It rings true, and you have first hand proof.

You’re led to this singular door in what’s basically an unused narrow hallway. The kind that criminals use to trap their victims. Definitely safe. The staff member instructs you to head in before leaving you there alone. Nothing more, nothing less. 

Instead of your friend, you find one of the members you just met, waiting on the other side. You have so many questions, but she she gives you another to entertain:

“You wanna have sex with me tonight?”

Much to her amusement ,you’re taken aback. At first, you’d think she was pulling some kind of prank. By the way she smiles and laughs, it’s a reaction all too familiar to her, like this is some kind of cliche. It’s not a surprise to hear those words from any girl, knowing your experiences at college parties and bars, but from a traveling singer? Simply put, it’s quite ridiculous.

“You’re joking right?” you say, hand close to the door you just entered, ready to make a beeline for it. You glance around the enclosed, compact space, searching for any possible hidden cameras recording the scene.

She shakes her head, taking a step forward. “Not at all. You should consider yourself lucky.”

“Do you do this all the time?” you ask, her reply not easing you in the slightest. Your hand inches a little closer to the door. It’s not like she’s going to hurt you; if anything, her thin figure’s probably what should worry her if you dare to even breathe heavily on her, let alone touch. 

“Yeah. Every stop. You look really cute,” she says, reaching her hand out to you. “And you look like you can give me a good time tonight.”

There’s something flattering about her words, coming from an idol singer, complimenting you that hits a chord harder than other girls. Her sincere tone, doll-like eyes twinkling, and expressive lips certainly help. It’s alluring—devastating—to a casual like you; how much more to someone who worships her. 

Then, here comes the killing blow:

“So, what’s it going to be?” She kisses you on the chin, wrapping her arms around your neck. It’s not suffocating, not in the slightest, but you might as well be entangled by them. Her eyes, sharp and fiery, are daring you to say otherwise to her seemingly coarse question. 

Leaning your head against her shoulder, her scent and soft skin prove to be intoxicating. You can’t get enough. That hand you’ve been pressing on the door is no longer there; it’s coiled around her back, taking inventory of her slim waist and arched back, then teasing at the fabric of her shirt. Even if she wasn’t the girl you just watched perform on stage, she’s too gorgeous to turn down. And it isn’t like you’ll find your friend, anyway. Perhaps this is your way of getting back at him for being insufferable all throughout.

“Here?” you ask, whispering in her ear, playing with fire. 

She holds you by the cheek, tilting an eyebrow. Shaking her head, she drags her tongue on the ridge of your ear. “Somewhere nicer.”

—————

It’s only you and her in the backseat of one of their vans, windows tinted and the front closed off that it’s safe to assume that the driver can’t hear you—perfectly convenient. He probably doesn’t know you’re even there. 

It’s inside the car that you finally become familiar with each other. YooA, or as she’d prefer you to call her, Shiah, and you have this light bulb moment where you put it all together. You bring up this collection of photocards in your friend’s book holder; you recognize her face on some of the cards. She laughs. Heartily. Her face lights up, honored at the thought, and it’s a sincere look. Other artists would simply wave it off and move on, but she appears intrigued by the effort to obsess over her.

She calls it a bias, and you call it an obsession. In the other’s eyes, you’re both strange. To you, it’s unhealthy and strange; to her, it’s part of the appeal, part of the culture.

So it’s all the more surprising when you admit you’re simply there because of him, that you would have looked the other way otherwise. And in response, she has this warm, wholesome smile; she doesn’t appear offended by your candidness. You don’t know a thing about them, other than they’re delicious eye candy.

“So this is your first foray into K-pop? I hope it was a good one,” she says, flashing you a cute pout. “That means a lot for all of us.”

Yeah, you nod, your eyes wandering down her slim body, draped in darkness, only brought to the light by passing street lamps. You notice how slender and lanky she is. It doesn’t change the appeal; she’s unreal. “I should go more often if that’s the case.”

Shiah chuckles. “You didn’t pay, then. I bet you’re getting more than what he bargained for.”

To which you nod, barely holding in a particularly uncharacteristic grin. She catches it. An opportunity to twist the knife.

It’s a casual affair when you reach the hotel. There’s a surprising lack of fanfare upon your arrival. You assume idols have as much popularity as any other celebrity, but you’re both left alone—and without security, walking past the front desk without a care or a question. Tension gradually builds as you climb floor after floor, until you step out that elevator and into her room, away from prying eyes. 

What welcomes you inside Shiah’s bedroom catches you off-guard.

“What the?”

The person sitting at the center of the bed turns to your direction, shouts out your name. You can recognize that voice anywhere.

“Hey! There you are!”

You immediately turn to Shiah, who replies gleefully, “Of course I knew. Your friend told me everything. He wanted me to invite you along.”

Forget that your friend orchestrated the whole ordeal. It’s the fact that he wants you to join him in a threesome. You expected him to be greedy with the rare opportunity to have a beautiful idol all to himself, but instead, he’s somehow still involving you in the action. There’s a lot to take in, and you don’t exactly know where to start.

“Is this even allowed?” you ask, unsure of your place in this room. You’re slowly soaking up the scenery; none of it makes any sense. Scattered on the bedroom floor is Your friend’s shirt and his bag, freebies and personal belongings alike,, while Shiah casually saunters around the mattress, gradually removing pieces of jewelry from herself and placing them on the nightstand.

“Of course, dude!” says your friend. His energy hasn’t waned in the slightest. You’re amazed his voice hasn’t changed at all, let alone his ability to speak. He had been screaming beside you for the entirety of the show, you’d probably go deaf because of him if not for your earplugs. “I wouldn’t have asked her if she wasn’t allowed to, or if she didn’t feel it.”

“He’s right,” adds Shiah, unbuttoning her jeans. Looking at her again, she grabs your attention with the casual stripping of her pants, pooled around her ankles, leaving only pale colored panties that leave nothing to the imagination. “Plus, I haven’t tried having a threesome before, and tonight seemed like a good idea to try that.”

Surely, you’ve heard weird things before, but none were as out of pocket as this.

“C’mere dude,” says your friend, gesturing to you to take the spot beside him on the bed. “We’re going to fuck an idol tonight. And not just any idol, my freaking bias!”

Your eyes continue to linger on her. Shiah, now undoing her top, candidly tossing them aside. The one time you regret not having your phone on hand to capture without obstruction. Her tits are bite-sized handfuls, nipples firm and on full display, and her figure is so paper thin, you’ll break her when you hold her by her ridiculous proportions. The only thing missing is some fragile warning label plastered on her skin as a reminder to handle her with care.

This is the most awkward you’ve been with your friend since you first met, when he first moved into your dorm. Seated on the mattress, you’re anxious of what’s about to happen. You worry she won’t be able to handle you two; he worries that he won’t be able to ruin her to the fullest extent. 

She meets you at the center in nothing but panties. She scans you both from head to toe, and notices your contrasting expressions. Facing you, she says, “Hey. I wouldn’t do this if I wasn’t confident about the idea. If you don’t make me unable to walk after tonight, I’m gonna be quite disappointed. So chin up.”

Reassuring of a tone it may sound, it doesn’t ease your worry even a little. It doesn���t discourage her either; it’s part of the challenge.

She drops to her knees, and that’s when you come around on the idea. Her fingers make work of your pants; yours first, then your friend’s. With eagerness written on her face, your hard cocks hang between her tiny face. Pausing, undecided, she takes a moment to think which one to satisfy. The way she eyes both yours, then your friend’s—you can tell how hungry she is: how she wants them shoved inside her mouth, down her throat, taking all that delicious load. If she could fit both at once, she certainly would.

“Which one should I take first, boys?” she asks, innocuous sounding, her doll-like eyes pleading up with a playful pout. Knowing full well she already has this whole thing already planned out. You and your friend swallow hard, telepathically aligned, thinking of the same idea, based on the rather silent response.

Shiah has your eyes fluttering, hands already gripped to the edge of the bed, lips letting out a string of delightful moans. It sounds like relief, agony, and ecstasy all at once. She’s leaving soft kisses on your tip, her tongue running circling around your length, and her fingers slowly pumping at your base. All your doubts and hesitations, gone in an instant. The very few glimpses you catch of her, her eyes speak to you, staring, telling you to take it all in.

She feels so good, handles you deftly, as if she’s already acquainted with your cock, even though it’s the first time. Pushing all the sensitive, perfect spots and getting you into a steady rhythm. 

“See? I told you it was gonna be—fine—fuck—” 

Your friend folds just as quickly as you do, if not faster. His words, instantly reduced to echoed grunts, groans, and curses, his hand palming Shiah’s scalp. She’s focused, taking turns with each cock, kissing and teasing you both with the prospect of shoving it down her needy, thirsty throat. One hand on your dick and the other on his, stroking you at near-synchronized tempo, then vice versa. You wonder exactly why she’s even hesitant and nervous about taking two at once when she’s clearly a natural at satisfying cocks. 

She’s well aware that she has only one mouth to fulfill her craving for cock. There’s a look of regret every time she stops sucking one cock in place of the other. It’s almost as if she’s failing, even though the pleasure-ridden expressions on your faces say otherwise. “I hope this is good enough,” she frowns, taking a moment to plant another direct kiss on each cockhead. “I wish I could fit you both in my mouth, but I—”

“Shhh.” Your friend interjects, tugging harshly at Shiah’s dark locks, then rubbing his hand around her forehead. “You’re doing so fucking well, so much better than we hoped—”

Suddenly, he finds himself slowly crumbling. Precum coating around her dainty fingers, while he loses grip on his consciousness, lying flat on the bed. If there’s anything you’ve learned in the very short time you’ve had Shiah on her knees, it’s that she’s particularly gentle. You can feel she’s not going to ruin you instantly and that she’s nowhere close to crushing your cock, unlike some of the girls you’ve known in the past. 

This is all new to your friend, after all. It shouldn’t be surprising.

Still, she continues to pleasure you both, taking a moment to slip his erection inside her throat, slurping and swallowing his cock whole. Her eyes instantly slam shut, mumbling a songful hum, finally soaking in the taste after intentionally restraining herself from her lust. Turning to your side, your friend clearly can’t take her; his mouth agape, his chest heaving, breathing heavily, his eyes widely staring at the ceiling in a useless effort to distract himself. In his mind, she’s relentless, overwhelming, cruel.

Her eyes slide in your direction, brows furrowed, apologetic. You shake your head, smile lightly, perfectly understanding of the situation. It’s not that she’s ignoring you; her other hand’s pressing on the base of your cock, down to the underside, pressing on your balls. She’s already left her mark on you even though she’s doing the bare minimum. The layer of precum on her fingers is clear proof. That should be more than enough. 

And when you find your friend completely unresponsive, breathing through his mouth, you tilt your head at an angle and make this poor sleeping impression—something he hasn’t had in over 24 hours. It’s the command that causes Shiah to slip his cock from her mouth with a silent pop, his dick throbbing with her spit dripping from the tip. Her focus turns over to you; her eyes meeting yours, her hands pressing on each knee, and your fingers brushing loose strands of hair aside to see her pretty face, flushed but flawless. It’s now just down to you two. 

She gives your head a playful swirl, and you lift your brows in approval, subtly biting at the lip to show her you like it. Her eyes lock in, scanning through each subdued wince, waiting for the go ahead.

It’s the slightest head motion that nearly ends you. You’re uncertain if you even said yes or no.

Shiah looks so much better with your cock in her mouth than anyone else’s. She knows, too. You pause to take the sight in—your length buried deep in her mouth, occasionally poking her throat, her cheeks hollow, her eyes looking wide at you with a fiery glint, begging you to take her, use her, ruin her. You’re perfectly positioned to work her; your hand is palming the back of her head, giving her this assertive stare that appears demeaning, but you can tell she prefers to be seen that way. It would be criminal to have her on her knees and not have your way with her.

And you do just that.

You hold her still, using the little increments of strength to motion her into a bobbing motion. She surrenders herself into your control, moving her head back and forth with the grip of your hand. Like the swing of a pendulum, you watch your base disappear and appear between her lips. You’re nowhere close to burying yourself entirely in her mouth, but she feels so incredible, so intoxicating, she may as well be deepthroating you.

It’s not the firmness of her luscious lips kissing your cock nor her lewd expressions that shake you, but her suction. She hums this wistful note while sucking your cock—a song of satisfaction. In contrast to the steady rhythm you’re attempting to impose, she drags your length along her tongue, forcing you into this playful tug-of-war whenever you draw your cock back, directing where your cum should land. She envisions it: the notion of your hot load collected on her cheeks. Her fingers point where she wants them, using her pleading eyes and brows to entice you. 

And you’re not going to deny her request. She’s too charming and expressive to turn down. Even more so when your cock is lodged between her lips. 

You utter this particularly incomprehensible mix of a groan and a grumble while your throbbing cock unloads the warm cum she desires. Without wasting a single drop, she takes it all, puffing her cheeks with your seed while carefully pulling your cock out her mouth. Your hand is no longer resting on her head but rather around her shoulder and collarbones. She plays with the load in her mouth, gargling, swishing, before swallowing it all. Afterward, she sticks out her silky tongue, face completely flustered, showing you the aftermath: leftovers of your cum painting her mouth.

“God, Yoo—I mean, Shiah—” you breathe, lightly falling back on the bed as your legs go numb. Your flaccid cock isn’t enough to show how much she’s drained you in one fell swoop. “How are you so—”

“I told you I wouldn’t be doing this if I wasn’t so confident about it,” she remarks, rising to her feet before pushing you down on the sheets, straddling herself on your lap. Her energy remains steadfast. It’s infectious. Winking and pouting, she adds, “Now fuck me till I can’t walk.”

You’re completely sold on the idea, but you can’t do it alone.

Pushing Shiah off you, you shake your friend back into consciousness. You’re holding her by the shoulders, giving her lips a quick kiss. A soft gesture telling her to be a tad patient. Her eyes clue you in; she’s dying to be fucked, to be used, to be ruined. Your friend looks around, feeling hazy, completely unaware of what transpired, even though it’s only been less than 10 minutes. 

“What’d I miss?” he asks, still trying to make sense of things. The last thing he remembers is Shiah on her knees. Now he sees you and his bias in each other’s embrace. Surprisingly, he’s not fazed in the slightest. The bed’s tremors—rumblings—are good enough indicators.

You’re unable to completely look him in the eye, and you don’t know what to answer, so she does it for you: “Your friend blew a nice load inside my mouth. We were just about to have round two. Join us.”

To her amusement, the reply has you staring at her utterly gobsmacked. It’s not the fact that she’s telling it straight, with zero sugarcoating, but her candid, conversational delivery and deadpan expression, as if they’re close friends catching up on lost time. He doesn’t seem bothered, nor does he ask any further questions. Knowing him, he’d be disappointed if you didn’t. 

Really, what’s there to question when given an opportunity to fuck an idol without any conditions or red tape. He’s not making the most of the moment as you have, and the hurried jump off the bed to take position behind her indicates he’s not going to waste any more time. You’re scared you might get into a confrontation over how you’ll take her.

“Say the word and I’ll move aside,” you tell him, calmly. 

“Let me have her tight ass,” is the reply, straightforward. Chalk it up to tension, but there’s a hint of harshness in his voice, as though some bitterness is leaking. He subtly pulls her away from your side, prompting you to let him take full control. 

You aren’t surprised at where he ends up taking her. The bed is the comfiest option, but in his mind, the safest and the most cliche. A shower to ease the tension and stress in the muscles—that’s a good one too, on top of having her possibly pressed against the panels and the idea of soaping her tits while fucking her in the wet. This luxurious suite, which feels like walking from the one end of a parking lot to the other on weary legs, has a handful of mirrors to watch her get railed on. None are as captivating and inviting as the biggest one—the large glass windows that overlook the city, lit up by lights from nearby skylines and the illumination from the living room. 

He presses her tiny frame against the window, then on air, giving her tiny butt a firm slap. Followed by another. Something about Shiah with her back arched, yelping with each spank, arouses him. Her too. She whines, biting on her lip, hands trying to latch to anything. There’s plenty to claim—from her bite-sized chest, to her slinky waist, to her soiled panties. Something he slips down to her ankles. 

In the moment, your friend doesn’t acknowledge you. He’s all up in her hair, licking the shell of ear, a set of clenched digits digging into her warmth. Her eyes fluttering, she whines, pressing a hand around his waist, mumbling, begging, “Fuck me, please, fuck me.”

You can tell she’s apologetic, wants to be punished and manhandled like a naughty girl. Your friend has this glare in his eyes—a look of hunger. His fingers pump away at her core, without care for pace or comfort, just the satisfaction of hearing her cries and the need for her to cum. Bumping her against the window, he’s kissing her, claiming her as his own. Red marks form everywhere on her neck, collarbones, and back. Her entire body. All his. 

You let him. You watch. Not out of guilt, not out of arousal. It’s his moment.

He looks over his shoulder and finds you just watching. “C’mere,” he growls between muted groans, tone low. It should be awkward (it is) but all that tension disappeared the moment she got on her knees. Approaching the twosome in such a strange fashion, he continues to finger Shiah, shifting her away from the window, binding her from behind by one hand. He’s suppressing his tongue, teasing his cockhead against the entrance of her pussy, barely able to restrain himself. 

When you’re in front of her again, you’re greeted by a hot mess. Her juices are dripping down her thighs, pooling around her feet. His coated fingers line around her warmth, around her tight hole. His lust is on full display, cussing out a storm about how incredibly wet and tight she is while she prepares herself to get fucked into oblivion. It’s not the first time you’ve heard him say these things; he talks a loud talk about how he’d fuck his biases in explicit detail, writes particularly concerning essays about the positions they’d be railed in, how they would cum, and how many times he would make them cum. 

At the end of the day, it was none of your business.

And ultimately, he might have been onto something.

You let out this loud unsuppressed moan burying yourself inside her tight cunt. She’s suffocating, overwhelmingly tight—the kind of heat that can make you cum almost immediately. You’re still recovering from your first orgasm, putting you on the backfoot. Still, her walls are too inviting not to get hard again. Meanwhile, your friend, who’s been eager to fuck Shiah’s ass for the longest time, is in no rush. His cock is barely entering her tight hole, slowly easing himself inside her with deep breaths. He’s grabbing a handful of her flesh, openly moaning and grunting taking her.

“F-fuck, Yoo—” he mutters, grabbing at her petite cheeks with an ironclad grip. Pulling her closer to his body so his cock can split her in half. He’s growing greedy—and desperate.

Everything you’re doing to Shiah can be seen in the window’s reflection: you pounding into her tight cunt, your friend’s cock spearing her from behind, her body practically sandwiched between your twosome. The combined weight is more than capable of crushing her slim frame, her skin like tire marks on both your chests. Neither of you move with an understanding of working as a team, and it shows; your collective strokes are unsteady, erratic, chaotic.

This isn’t good for your back—at all. Shiah’s bent forward in part to your friend’s slow, deep thrusts into her delicious ass, rippling with each stroke. She’s clutching to your shoulders for support, screaming from the absolute depths of her lungs getting doubled up. The uncomfortable position is mostly clouded by the overwhelming sensation of your cocks tag teaming on her two sensitive holes. You’re leaning, steadily falling back. That inescapable warmth—that intoxicating heat—keeps you coming back for more, friction be damned.

God, Shiah’s pussy is so fucking perfect.

And that’s what you end up muttering. In an endless choir of ecstasy-charged moans, profanities, and wet sloppy slaps of skin against skin, you throw those words out to the wind. So good, so tight—those doubts you had entering the room, now just thoughts from yesterday. She’s everything you want in a satisfying fuck; your hands intertwined with her waist, rocking her frame with every plunge, savoring each entry into that needy womb.

It’s no surprise then that she cums so soon.

It’s been slowly building to this moment. The signs were there all along; the blink and you’ll miss it patch on her jeans, the phallic object in her purse, the wet puddle forming on her panties, the not so subtle gestures she’s giving fans between performances—she’s been desperate to cum on a cock and her wish can finally be granted. 

In dramatic fashion, she’s all over you. Clinging to you like her lifeline, showing you how you’ve ruined her. Body trembling, legs quaking—the ripples send shockwaves through your body, also in the process of falling apart. Throwing out her hips, a new layer of juices coat both cocks, dripping to the floor. You’re there to break her fall, but you have nothing to stop yours. 

Passing through deaf ears, her screams revert to soft pleas. “Cum, cum in me—please—fuck—” she whines in bursts, riding out her climax in waves, waiting for you two to join her over the edge. You’re preoccupied with the raging fire in your loins, restraining your urge to release your seed inside her needy cunt prematurely. At this point, you’re almost done, holding onto the last of your resolve not to spurt right then and there. The layer of her slick coating your cock doesn’t do you any favors, either.

Propping her body straight, your thrusts remain relentless. Steadied pace, at your own will, rocking her senseless—that’s how you want to finish inside her. You want to keep her in that position: cupping her tiny chest, wrapping an arm on the neck, resting a hand on your light shoulder. Shiah’s body is the perfect plaything.

All of that is too good to be true.

“Cumming, gonna cum—” you mutter, rather ashamedly, though you’re holding up better than anyone ever expected, especially after already orgasming once. You press her to your friend, almost a flat out shove. The line couldn’t be any thinner. “Shit—”

Your legs are on the cusp of crumbling, but at least they’re generous enough to let you savor this moment. Spilling your pent up need, you fuck that remaining cum into her. It’s fulfilling, euphoric. All the proof is down there, dripping between her legs and on your cock. The sight of her splayed, wrecked hole, oozing with seed, tempting you to stick a thumb around her slick core. She squirms at your sensitive touches, still needy and in want.

Only after the orgasm does your vision clear again. It’s an amusing scene; your friend is still pounding into Shiah’s tight ass at a feverish pace. Last one in, last one out—at least you think, that’s how the saying goes, until he lets out this guttural groan, indicating he’s reached his own climax too. If not for the setting, it’s an accomplishment worth cheering, the kind that’s worth a celebration of a life milestone. Cocks buried to the hilt, the sight of her holes spilling seed never grows old. 

At least you both can agree on one thing: staying inside the welcoming warmth that is Shiah’s heat. Neither of you want to leave, even when you regain mobility in your legs.

You’ve got the rest of the night to ruin her, leave her room hobbling or crawling on her feet. Your friend has a bucket list of positions to fuck her in, so it’s the least of your worries. Besides, both of them know you have no intention of leaving. And in the middle of this non-existent conundrum, while your friend is leaving soft kisses all over her back as a victory lap, she takes a moment to glance at you both. Noticing the similarity of smiles on your faces and your supportive nature towards your friend, she’s reminded of something she shares with her members, apart from the fact they’re getting railed at this very moment:

True friendship.

—————

(A/N: Expect a bit more crowdedness aka more-somes over the next few fics. I also haven't written an Oh My Girl member since Arin in over a year, so that's one off the list! This one took a while, had a whole other story involving roadtrips and hitchhiking, which I ultimately scrapped. Thank you for reading!)

(P.S. If you want to have your own story/idol written, you can ask for a commission :D)

[riediaries]

satoru knows every part of you. every things you like and hate. he's able to locate each and every mole you have on your body and how many it is. it's like knowing you have been a second nature to him. in order words, he knows your whole nature and that's how you fell in love with him.

he knows you don't like eating a watermelon with seeds on it. you don't want to spit it out after or let alone eat it.

satoru silently observes you as you payed all of your attention to the sliced watermelon on your hands. picking every black seeds you see in the fruit.

you were getting irritated and he sighs, picking a sliced watermelon on the table and removed all the seeds in mere seconds.

"here, eat this. i already removed all of the seeds." he hands you a sliced watermelon. the red juicy part was clean. no seeds. just like how you like it.

"ah.. thanks.." you murmur, accepting the fruit and that was first time you felt a fluttering emotion on your tummy as you stare at the watermelon he handed you.

"mhm.." he hums. "you don't like it with the seeds on it, right?" he asks and you nodded. he hums again, nodding his head in a subtle way.

no seeds on her sliced watermelon, got it.

you like the beach, especially the sunset. he remembers peeking on your phone one time and due to his curiosity, he opened your photo gallery and you have a folder named 'sunsets<3'.

it has a lot of your pictures in the beach, capturing the breathtaking sunset and there are also pictures with just the sun but he likes the pictures with you in it. you're prettier than the sunset, anyways.

"we should go here sometime. the four of us." he tells suguru as they walk on the sand barefooted.

they just finished their mission and their flight will be tomorrow morning so they're spending their time to relax.

satoru keeps his eye on the setting sun. pink and purples hues were seen on the sky.

picture.. yes. i should take a picture for her. he thoughts and brought out his phone to take a picture. he sends the picture to you.

annoying blue-eyed freak: sent a photo.

annoying blue-eyed freak: sunset's pretty here today. you might like it.

you take a look at the photo he sent and the photo's automatically saved on your folder 'picture he sends'.

sunset lover princess: thanks, love it.

he smiles over the three letter word you sent. yep, his day's now complete with just your reply.

unknowingly to him, suguru secretly took a photo of him and he captured the most breathtaking satoru gojo photo to exist.

it's a photo of him on his side, smiling on his phone and the background is the sunset.

cool bangs: sent a photo.

your phone dings. you thought it's another photo of sunset from satoru but no. it's satoru with the sunset but he's not looking at the camera.

you stare at it for good few minutes.

cool bangs: if you're just going to stare at it, you might as well save it. i might delete it.

that message from suguru alone had your fingers saving his photo and put it on another album. a secret album named 'photos i love'.

yes, definitely 'love'.

satoru also knows that you love movie nights with them. horror, romance, or action. name all the genres present. you once told him that it's not about the movie you're excited but being able to spend time with your friends.

being a jujutsu sorcerer at a young age costs your freedom as a child and to dream. you will never know when you will die or vanish from this world. that's why you're spending all of their freedom time with you and they're actually okay with it.

same feelings, as they said.

"ahh! suguru! tell me when the haunted dolls are gone!" satoru clings to suguru as he scream out of his lungs.

"no, you watch it satoru. be a big brave man." he teases the young boy more. "i heard she likes men who's brave and can watch horror movies with her." he whispers to his best friend.

satoru eyes his best friend with a look of suspicious. "are you... sure?"

"her biggest turn off is actually a scared cat like men." he hums, adding more false informations about your type. "meaning, a boy like you, satoru." he dramatically covered his forehead and his eyes to express his disappointment for his best friend.

suguru knows that even when his best friend is screaming like a lady, you'll still like him. even though he can't bear to watch a single horror movie, you'll still like him because he's satoru. the annoying blue-eyed freak that constantly running on your mind twenty-four seven.

the two best friends eyes the two of you. shoko and you, unimpressed on their nonstop bickering and satoru's screams and unbothered on the horror scene in front of you.

wow. just wow. what a scene.

ever since then, you always invite them to watch a newly released movie, mostly horrors but in rare cases, you want to watch romance.

"oh sweet. they're kissing like it's the end of the world." satoru commented as he pushes a mouthful of popcorn on his mouth.

shoko and suguru went out for a smoke since romance is not really their thing but they still agreed to watch just to see you happy. and they couldn't refuse when you were that cute begging them to watch it with them.

"because that's how they are desperate to be with each other." you reply. "i mean, you'll surely kiss a person like that when the world's trying to separate you. you will pour all of your emotions in that kiss to express your feelings." you further explains.

he raises an eyebrow at you. "i thought you're only interested in horror. why are you so knowledgeable about love?"

"books..?"

"yeah? and?"

"what do you mean by that?"

"have you ever kissed a person like that before?" his question caught you off guard and you turns to him.

"what? no! it's not like that! do i need to have an experience to explain those?" you defend yourself. you haven't been kissed yet!

"want me to give you an experience, then?"

you were caught you off guard and you didn't have time to react when he leans to you, kissing the side of your lips. too close to be called a kiss. too close to end your 'no first kiss' phase.

"i like you." he mutters as he looks at you straight in the eye. you're still close to each other and you can feel his breathe on your skin. "more than any of my favorite sweets." he adds, making you laugh.

"i like you, too. more than any favorite sunset i had captured and saw." you confess.

he smiles but his face immediately turns into a sour face. "even though i can barely watch a horror movie?" he asks cutely and you burst into laugh.

"w-who.." you can't stop yourself from laughing. "who said that?"

"suguru." he mentions his best friend. so, the dark haired male is the suspect on spreading false claims.

"I like someone who removes all of the seeds on my sliced watermelon." he smiles at that sentence.

"i like someone who will immediately thought of me whenever he sees sunset and sends me a picture of it." he smiles even more as he closes the gap between you slowly.

"yeah? and? you like someone who's very handsome, too, right?" he grins. "you like a certain someone whose contact name is 'annoying blue-eyed freak', right?"

it made you chuckle. how did he even know that one? you always made sure to lock your phone and keep the password to yourself only.

"i like someone who can't watch a horror movie with me and full of screams–"

he shuts you up by putting his lips onto yours and then pulls away.

your 'no first kiss' phase have officially signed off.

satoru clearly knows that you love movie nights, especially horror movies with him screaming but satoru knows that you love him even more than your collection of horror movies and the sunset you have ever captured and saw in your whole life.

[lumosinlove]

Write Me In

Part Five

~

His office felt weird. New York felt weird. Even being with Cassie felt weird. Leo was so groggy in his real life that sometimes, when he was washing his face or sitting in a meeting or grabbing a bagel for lunch, he wondered if he had just been sleeping that whole time with Finn and Logan. He wouldn’t put it past himself to dream up something like that. Leave it to him to think making dinner for two of the biggest names in the music industry was a daydream. And the kissing, of course, but he spent far more time thinking about salt water in Finn’s hair and the way Logan looked walking around the markets. It was all smeared gold in his mind. And then there were the dirty dreams which he kept accidentally thinking about in meetings.

The article was going to lead this month’s issue, which meant it would come out right as Finn and Logan started up their tour again. A crew was being sent out to Nice for the cover shoot and Leo had been so jealous when he found out that he’d had to excuse himself from the meeting for a moment. He missed them. He probably scrolled through their messages too much.

The thread started when Leo had settled into a cab and opened the app to text them that he’d landed, only to find an incoming FaceTime call interrupting him. Leo had saved their numbers under their initials—as if that would really fool anyone. So, when Finn’s first FaceTime had popped up, he’d been more than surprised to find difficult little rock star calling him instead, complete with a photo that Finn seemed to have taken himself—him and Logan basking in the sun, hair wet from the ocean and cheeks smushed together.

Leo had answered with, “and what’s Logan saved under then?”

Finn had just grinned and ran off screen—presumably to grab Logan’s phone because a second later, Leo got a text of !! from grumpy<3

Leo figured that was subtle enough to keep. He’d pushed his headphones into his ears and let Finn’s voice fill his head as the city rose up and greeted him in its sunset.

Somehow, without so much as a ripple, talking to them had started feeling like talking to old friends. Once a day. Twice a day. Photographs of their lunches and messy work spaces in between. When Leo received his fist voice memo, he’d had to lock himself in the bathroom at work and breathe a few times before hitting play.

“Hi, Le,” Finn’s voice said. “Okay—we’re writing today. Lo, hello, say hi.”

“Hi, hey,” Logan said, then let out a wicked cough. “Sorry, Finn made me do one of those ginger shots and I’m in hell.”

Leo covered his laugh with his hand.

“Shut up, it’s good for you,” Finn replied. “Okay, anyway. So, this is called—oh, I’m gonna be on the piano. But this is—and I’m gonna try to play it straight through.”

“Stop interrupting yourself,” Logan said, then it sounded like he got closer to Finn’s phone. “It’s called Neon Signs and it’s off of the new album, and we know your editor wanted you to hear one more song for the piece so—ouais. Go, Finn.”

“I was going to say I’m on the piano and on the album it’s also piano. So. There.” He laughed and played a few chords. “Okay. It’s about one of the times when we almost got together, but we didn’t. We were at a bar that we weren’t old enough for.”

“And Finn got us stuck outside because they wouldn’t let us back in,” Logan said.

“Fool them once, and all that,” Finn cut in.

“It was freezing.” Logan’s voice, then a pause. “And I kissed him.”

“Again,” Finn said, laughing. “Anyway, spoilers. Here we go.”

There were a few seconds of dead air. Just Finn breathing. Leo pressed his headphones against his ears and kicked up his volume in time to hear Logan whisper something in French and Finn hush him.

I wanted you to meet me outside.

We’re not old enough to drink, no, not quite.

And leaving this bar means risking getting stuck out in the cold.

But I said ‘follow me’ you said ‘all right.’

Pulling up your hood against the frost bite.

And now that we’re here, there are too many things I want you to know.

But somehow I can tell tonight is not when you’ll be told

That just the look of you beneath that neon sign

Sure is something to behold…

It’s soft and blue…

Like me and you…

Maybe I’ll do this forever,

Only kiss me when it’s snowing.

Cause at least it isn’t never,

Though I can’t see where we’re going.

If only that light from that neon sign

Made you see me

Just as brightly

Oh God

Where’s my,

Neon,

Bar sign?

One that you can read.

Put it over me.

Bathe me in signals and the arrows pointing where I want to lead.

“Oh,” Leo said softly to himself—reacting to the lyrics, but also to Finn’s piano. It was a meandering, sad tune. As if even the music wasn’t sure what its next note would be. The song took them out of winter next and through to summer. Into humidity, and strings lights and patios and dorm rooms, sweltering with the door closed and no AC. A goodbye—was this them going to college? And it was Logan singing. Fall and desperate for something to last. Finn fumbled a little on the piano, cursed softly, and despite the next sad lyric, Leo could hear Logan smiling. Instead walked into my own past. You’re sitting on the bed and I’ve never felt less or more alone.

Leo listened to it four times. It was hypnotizing. Yes, he knew the story. He’d been given the precious task of telling the story—but they were telling it, too.

Meanwhile, the article was going through drafts and drafts. He’d fought hard to keep the section about Logan’s market in. His editor hadn’t seen the relevance, and maybe Leo’s relevance wasn’t entirely music-based, but those markets were in the songs. Maybe not in so many words, but Logan was as gentle as his voice could be when he was there. He stood still in that space, listening to the rhythm and thrum of the people around him.

Sending cover shoot to you without me :/ Leo typed out.

Finn replied almost instantly: I’ll refuse to pose until you arrive.

Then Logan: I will lock them out.

Ha, Leo wrote.

No Ha. It’s my house.

I’m at the office—in the final meeting for the article. He thought for a second, then smiled as he typed out. Everyone’s so happy for you.

You are coming to our first show, Logan typed out, and then a few seconds later, ? accompanied it, as if Finn had forced it out of him.

I’m coming to a show. Not sure when yet, Leo said. I’m on another project and have to finish it up before—

His eye caught on his phone’s clock. Jesus. He’d been in here for ten minutes texting like a teenager between classes. Before what? Before I can come back to you. Before I can come home, before I can come back because I miss you.

The thrill that came from being able to know he missed them because he knew them was strong.

—before I can make it, he finished. Have to go back to meeting now

Finn sent him five rows or pink hearts, Logan said, we miss you, and Leo sat back down in his meeting with a smile on his face that earned him weird looks. Cassie stared at him until someone asked her a question.

~

“Okay, so you’re gonna spill all your beans now.” Cassie jabbed him gently with her fork at lunch. “Like. Right now.”

“I don’t have beans.” Leo tilted his bowl to her. “This is my mama’s chicken salad recipe. Want some?”

Cassie groaned. “Just tell me why you’re grinning at your phone like an idiot every chance you get!”

“I’m not.”

“You are, you are.”

“I’m not, I’m not.”

“Yes, yeah, yeah, yeah.” Cassie grabbed onto his arm. “Tell me.”

“I’m excited for them,” Leo said. “That’s all. I’ve always looked up to them, and this is a big deal.

“So we are talking about Finn and Logan?”

Leo froze, caught. “Oh.”

It wasn’t his fault. They filled every little space of his mind. And if there was somewhere they couldn’t reach, they pressed up against that part, all warm and insistent.

Cassie threw her head back and squealed. “Leo. Tell me, tell me—”

“Oh-ho my God, they kissed me.”

Cassie stared at him, voice cutting off. Leo slapped his hands over his own mouth.

“You don’t know that,” Leo said quickly, just as Cassie made a soft, breathy sort of screeching sound.

“Wh-at?” she set her fork down with exaggerated precision. “What did you just say?”

Leo glanced around the courtyard they were in, but they were alone. In the shade, sun dappling down on them, and alone.

“They?” Cassie’s hand on his sleeve twisted the fabric. “They kissed you?”

He hadn’t meant to say a word, but the knowledge was like a fire inside of him. Being wanted like this. Being wanted by them.

Cassie started laughing, surprised and delighted. “Leo.”

“Yeah, they—apparently, um.” Leo shook his head. He didn’t even know how to say this. “They’ve been tracking my career since I just had the blog, and we were out by the fire pit and we almost—but we didn’t. And then we talked and I told them about Jack—sort of.”

Cassie’s blue eyes went wide at that, but she stayed quiet.

“And they sort of got why I was saying no.”

“You said no?”

“At first, at first.” Leo pushed his lunch away and dropped his voice. “Okay, okay, okay, sworn to secrecy.”

She squealed again through a shut mouth and hit him repeatedly in the arm.

“So, Nice,” Leo said. “Logan’s house.”

“Yeah, fuck you, by the way, meant nicely but with jealousy.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know. But, so that night happened where they made the move a bit—”

“What does that even mean?”

“Mm, hard to explain. They were actually—” Leo’s laugh interrupted his words. “They were so bad at it.”

“Finn O’Hara is bad at making the moves?”

“Only when he means it, apparently.”

Cassie’s waved him on. “Okay, more, I need more.”

“So, we talked it out at the markets.”

“Ah. That’s why you like those sections so much. It’s all coming together.”

“Shut up.”

“And they kissed you there?”

“No,” Leo said. “Logan kissed me, just once, and um…” Leo bit back a grin. “And then later, Finn. Mostly because—I mean we said we’d take it slow and Logan was just keeping that promise, but I may have lost some resolve with Finn because—fuck, because.”

“He’s Finn O’Hara,” Cassie said. “I think ‘fuck, because’ is a fine reason.”

“And that’s when he said they want me to come back once I’m off their project. I mean, I know I have the follow up piece but…then I’ll be done.”

Cassie had her chin in her palm, the way she sometimes did when she was thinking. “Holy shit.”

“Yeah.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah.”

She sat up straight. “Both…of them?”

Leo opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again. “Honestly, I haven’t been even…feeling strange about that. Is that weird?”

“No,” Cassie said, shaking her head. “I mean, not if it’s working. You’re not, like…jealous?”

“No,” Leo answered. It was the truth. “I know I probably should be.”

“They are basically high school sweethearts,” Cassie said. “Like, this article, the way you describe them…That’s soulmate shit right there. I don’t mean you don’t fit with them, I’m just…”

“I know where you’re coming from, but…” Leo sighed, smiling. “And I went there, too, but it’s just not like that. I like the way they are together. The way they treat each other. I like it as much as I like the way the are with me.”

“Holy shit,” Cassie said, then laughed. “Oh man.” She pushed her lunch aside in favor of pulling her laptop out of her bag. “Holy shit, holy shit, which show do you want? Which show, Le, I want to book that all out right fucking now.”

“It’s one night.”

“Yeah, well, it’s gonna be a hell of a night.”

Leo reached forward and grasped her hand. “Don’t even joke about that with me, I’m a wreck.”

“Yeah, well, you need all the help you can get. You were there for, what, three weeks, and you just kissed?”

“I am—”

“No, I commend you, cowboy, you just have eons more willpower than I do.” She raised her eyebrows at him. “Now, which show?”

Leo had been thinking about it. Of course he’d been thinking about it. He pictured them in different cities. Walking different streets. But, in the end, there was no question. Leo wanted to be where they had figured everything out. Maybe they’d figure out each other, too.

“Italy,” Leo said. “I want Italy.”

~

He was nervous to see them, that was for sure. Cassie always followed through on her work quickly, but Leo felt like he had blinked through being home before he was staring down at an empty suitcase again. Italy. Milan. It would be warm. He’d be there for a week. Something casual for the shows. Something nice for press events. Something comfortable for…mornings? He stared in his underwear drawer for too long. When was the last time he’d had to care what he looked like in his underwear, much less what his underwear looked like. That turned into staring at his t-shirts for too long, only to pick up his Heartthrob O’Hara t-shirtand fold it into his suitcase. Then he sat on the edge of his bed and googled Logan Tremblay t-shirt. They weren’t that good. Grainy photos just plastered on fabric. He typed in Night Swimming lyric t-shirt. There were hundreds, but Leo had fun scrolling. He’d probably added too many things to his cart when he finally found what he was looking for. The shirt was white with four words in forest green on it.

OH MY

GREEN EYES

Leo bit back a smile and ordered it to be delivered tomorrow.

The next night, he was cooking dinner and squinting at his iPad, when the recipe webpage disappeared in favor of an incoming call.

“Milan?” Logan asked when Leo answered.

“Yep,” Leo said. He leaned his elbows on the counter. “Is that okay?”

“That’s longer,” Logan said.

“I know,” Leo sighed. “But it’s when I’m in between projects and can write your follow up.”

Finn mirrored his position, squeezing into the frame beside Logan. “Why don’t you come here right now? I’ll write you a note, get you out of school. Photoshoot tomorrow, you can watch us kiss on camera.” Finn snuck a hand out to grab Logan’s chin when he wasn’t looking and turned his face to kiss him, even if Logan was smiling too much to make it last.

Leo leaned forward. “I…As tempting as that is...”

“I liked it when we were your job,” Finn shot back. “You were around all the time.”

“Oh yeah? Not me,” Leo said. Finn blinked, and Leo fought a smile because he’d got him. “Kissing subjects is…”

“Fun?” Finn said. “A right we may exclusively reserve?”

Logan looked over at him with a smile and Leo was tempted to take a screenshot. He didn’t know how that would go over. He’d never taken a photograph of them himself. He knew that spooked some celebrities. In the beginning, he’d thought he’d die if he offended them. He still felt like that a bit.

“Shut up,” Logan said to Finn. “We don’t want to be Leo’s subjects.”

“I was kidding.”

“Listen,” Leo said. “It’s a right you can reserve, I’d just prefer you do it as you and not as Night Swimming.”

“Deal,” Finn said. He put his palm over the camera briefly, as if they had shaken on it. “What are you doing?”

“I’m cooking dinner.” Leo said, mimicking Finn’s sing-song—and then realized he’d basically just sung in front of Finn and tried to forget about it. “What are you doing?”

“Waiting for you to come back,” Logan said.

Leo arched a brow. “To cook you dinner?”

“Non,” Logan laughed. He rested his chin on a palm, and Leo got basically an entire screen full of those green eyes looking over—him, he realized. Logan’s gaze darted over his face like he could do it for hours. “Other things.”

Heat washed over him, and Leo bit his lip. “Hmm…Play me more songs?”

“Can do, Sunshine,” Finn said.

They kept him company while he finished cleaning up, taking him through the packet they’d been sent concerning their photoshoot tomorrow.

“We’re doing it down by the sea,” Finn said. He was lounging on the couch, Logan at his feet holding a cup of tea. “And some house shots.” He tapped the leather couch. “Probably right here. Or the kitchen…Well, if it’s the kitchen, I know what I’ll be thinking about.”

Leo laughed as he shut his dishwasher. “Yeah, that kitchen gets a lot of action when I’m there.”

“Not when I’m there,” Logan said.

“Don’t worry, baby,” Finn said, running his fingers through Logan’s hair. “We’ve got a pretty good track record in Italy, don’t we?”

~

Leo didn’t sleep much that night. He usually didn’t before a flight. Something about the anticipation. Not that this was bad anticipation. He let himself drift and think, rather than fall and worry. Still awake, but lighter. The story was out of his hands now, gone to turn into paper and ink. He would write his follow up, but then…

Just three people, Finn had said. Just three people.

On his nightstand, his phone lit up his dark ceiling. Leo turned his head. There weren’t many people who could get through his Do Not Disturb. Part of him got nervous, wondering if something was wrong, and he propped himself up on an elbow quickly, pulling the phone off its charger.

you’re awake

Three words, soft as a whisper. From Logan. Just Logan.

A moment later came the ?

Leo rolled onto his back, grinning.

are you spying on me somehow?

Finn said you have trouble sleeping, came the reply.

I do sometimes, Leo sent. And then, do you not like question marks or something?

I just thought I was right

Leo laughed out loud, all to himself.

well, I am awake.

are you okay? Logan asked.

Yeah. Just thinking.

A bit of a pause, just long enough to make Leo bite his lip.

about what?

Leo typed his reply out slowly, carefully. Savoring getting to say these words. Getting more than one kiss from you.

An immediate reply. maybe I won’t ruin it this time

Leo smiled. I think the last thing you did was ruin it.

:)

God. Smiley faces from Logan Tremblay.

go to sleep so you get here faster, Logan wrote. or just get here now.

Job—remember?

:(

Leo laughed again. I do have a surprise for you when I get there.

what is it? Logan asked immediately.

“Classic,” Leo whispered to himself, but just sent a smiley in return. Then, after a moment’s thought—

goodnight, green eyes

~

The article, when it came out, was hot as lightning. The photographs were gorgeous. Natural. They turned into each other like puzzle pieces, dressed in the muted, gentle browns of the house, and then the bright jewels of green and blue. But it was the opening show that came after it that caused the storm.

Leo didn’t get a single bit of work done—but neither did Cassie, so it was fine. He had never watched a grainy live stream closer and made Cassie go out and get him lunch so he didn’t have to get up. He brought his phone to the bathroom with him. He’d never refreshed Twitter so many times to find new photographs and videos. Finn, getting a pride flag thrown up to him at one point. The moments when they shared the microphone now sometimes ended in a kiss. A kiss. Leo was laughing and choked up all at once. Logan’s hat said rouge.

“Is there a reason you didn’t choose that show?” Cassie asked.

He’d thought about it. Being there. He could have gotten out of work—not in a I’m sort of kind of dating them and suddenly I miss them every second please let me go way but in a…this is important for the follow up way. But. He hadn’t. Somehow, he couldn’t bring himself to.

“This is a long time coming for them,” Leo said carefully, and found it true. “This is something they thought they’d never have. It’s theirs. And I wanted them to have it more than anything.”

Cassie’s eyes softened. She’d wrapped her arms around him and squeezed. “They better know how lucky they are if they’re getting you.”

Leo smiled and tilted their heads together, turning back to the show.

“Well, fuck,” Finn’s voice echoed through the stadium as he sat down at the piano. “You guys know what song’s coming by now, I guess.”

Rooftop, Leo thought, and shushed Cassie so harshly that she rolled her eyes and knocked him lightly on the shoulder.

Logan was still on stage, though, and getting up from behind his set. Leo’s heart leapt right into his throat.

“Something’s happening,” Leo said. “Something’s happening.”

“You shush,” Cassie said.

“Or at least you thought you did,” Finn said, then leaned back and laughed, the microphone barely catching it over the answering cheers. Logan crossed the stage, taking his time. Finn made room for him on the piano bench seat and Logan slotted perfectly against his side.

“No, look,” Finn played a few chords. “Rooftop has a special place in my heart, but it’s no part of tonight. Tonight…” He looked at Logan. “Tonight how about a little duet, Tremblay?”

Leo knew these chords. He loved these chords. And now, he could think of the lyrics that were about to come. They were probably some of the first words written about both of them letting themselves have each other…It was perfect. The crowd knew the song, too, and they were manic when Logan started playing the piano’s lower register, almost like a bass to Finn’s higher, softer melody.

A crew member brought out a second microphone and fixed it over the piano. Logan thanked him with a nod, and leaned in.

“You should have seen Finn trying to teach me piano,” his voice echoed.

Leo leaned closer to the screen. “Oh my God.”

Cassie sorted. “You’re so smitten.”

“They’re playing Keep.” 

“Yes, I know, I am a fan, too!”

I see you in the morning staring out over the waves.

I find I don’t need my instincts, never thought I’d see the day.

I could just roll over, yeah, I could close my eyes,

Cause I don’t have to grasp at glimpses, no, I’ve got my whole life.

I’ll tell anyone who asks, 

“Harmony, harmony,” Cassie said, imitating Leo’s accent.

Leo wrapped an arm around her shoulders and put his palm over her mouth. But she was right. The harmony, Logan joining in on the chorus, was exquisite.

I’ll show anyone who wants to see.

Like sea glass, or pebbles found on the beach.

Oh God, look at what I get to keep.

I’ll hold it as long as my breath lasts.

I’ll say it in all the languages they speak.

Like histories or songs sung while out at sea,

Hey Sunshine, what do you say you keep me?

Cassie made a strangled noise before Leo could. She pulled Leo’s hand away from her mouth.

“Sunshine? He just—They just changed the lyrics,” Cassie said. She got her arms around Leo’s waist and shrieked, making everyone in the office look at them. “He changed the lyrics.”

Leo was going to melt into his keyboard. Or cry? No. He was going to love them.

“I see you in the kitchen just before we go to sleep—” Finn gave his head a little, sharp shake, smiling, and when he looked up, Leo saw that he was crying, unable to sing through it. The crowd filled in. I find I don’t need my instincts, you are mine to keep.

Leo touched his lips lightly. Leo wouldn’t forget that sound, the stadium singing for them like that, even through a video. Not ever. He wouldn’t forget the feeling of knowing how much Finn and Logan deserved it. And how much he wanted them to have this. And how sweet is was when Logan played the last note, Finn wrapping an arm around him and pressing a lingering kiss to his temple, and Logan catching Finn’s tears with a gentle hand.

Finn found one of the stadium cameras, touched a hand to his mouth, and held it out.

Oh God, Leo was going to really love them.

~

Leo could feel the change in the air the moment he stepped of his airplane. Humid, but light. He rolled up the sleeves of his button-down and put his sunglasses on as he stepped into the warm afternoon. He was a little groggy from his flight, but not too bad. He was hungry, though, and in desperate need of a coffee—which he was most certainly in the right place for.

“Mr. Knut?”

Leo turned, pulling his suitcase up to his side. A man was standing there, sleek in a light gray suit and a driver’s cap. He had a neatly tripped gray beard, kind eyes, and a light British accent.

“Yes?” Leo said. “Oh, are you—”

“Mr. Tremblay’s driver, yes. Ralph, it’s a pleasure.” Ralph motioned towards his suitcase. “Might I take care of that for you, sir, on the way to the car?”

“Oh, no, that’s all right,” Leo said. “But thank you. It’s nice enough of him to send you to get me. Very kind.”

“Yes, he was very keen. This way, sir.”

Leo followed him the short distance to the car park, remarking on the weather just because he wasn’t used to being called sir. Ralph was kind about it, offering small talk right back. The car was shiny and black, the windows so dark and opaque that Leo guessed that was why Logan used it. He stored his suitcase and laptop bag and stuttered around Ralph opening his door for him.

“Oh, wow—thanks so much.”

“Of course, sir.”

Leo slid into the smooth, leather seat. The whole car smelled new. There was a water bottle waiting for him in the door side pocket, nestled into a tortoise shell cup holder. Leo took his sunglasses off just as the door shut—

And then someone was grabbing onto his shirt and tugging. An insistent, warm mouth covered his, swallowing Leo’s sound of surprise.

Logan. The warm, pine scent of him. The feeling of canvas when Leo made to touch his hair. The weight of him swinging a leg over Leo’s lap. Callouses on his hands where they smoothed up Leo’s neck.

“Hello,” Leo gasped. “Fuck.”

“Hi.” Logan barely said the word before he was kissing him again. Leo had to let his head rest back against the seat he was so dizzy with it. His mouth probably tasted sour, he was probably sweaty, maybe he even smelled from the plane, but Logan didn’t seem to care.

“Where’s—”

“Sound check,” Logan gasped, and then he had Leo’s bottom lip gently between his teeth, pulling and letting go. “He’ll be at the hotel by the time we get there.”

“You don’t need—your sound checked?”

“I need this.”

From his place on Leo’s lap, Logan put a hand on the ceiling. For a moment, Leo wondered what the hell he was in for in the back of this car, but Logan’s fingers found a button that he pushed and up a partition between them and Ralph began to rise.

“Hotel, sir?” Ralph asked as the sheet rose.

“Merci,” Logan confirmed, and then the partition cut them off in a muffled, tinted-window bubble of their own making and Logan’s hungry green eyes were all Leo was left with.

Their breathing sounded loud to Leo’s ears. He got his first good look at Logan. White t-shirt, black cotton shorts. Green hat, backwards. Tan, gorgeous, just like Leo remembered him, but even more real. A small scratch on his cheek from somewhere. He’d cut himself shaving on his chin, a little red dot. Leo reached up and took off his hat, letting his bangs fall forward in their gentle waves. They were pretty light from all the sunshine.

“Can he…” Leo whispered. “Can Ralph hear us?”

Slowly, Logan shook his head.

Leo reached up and tucked his fingers through Logan’s hair. He could have lived off of the way Logan’s eyes slipped closed. “How long is the drive?”

“Thirty minutes.”

“Hm.”

Logan’s smile looked like one of his soft, lulling songs. “What does that mean?”

Leo didn’t answer. He’d been taken by surprise, but that was fading now. All it left behind was want and relief. For now, he was done with the distance and the florescent lights of his office. He was back in Logan’s arms.

Thirty minutes felt like five. Logan’s soft sounds filled him right up as Leo kissed his neck—that was when Ralph’s gentle knock from the driver’s seat came. Leo broke off, startled. His mouth felt puffy—and good. Logan’s warm weight felt like the only thing holding him together.

“Ouais,” Logan called. “One moment.”

As Logan leaned their foreheads together, the world filtered back in. Leo became aware of the sound of a crowd outside, and had to laugh.

“Are we about to be photographed?”

“Probably a little,” Logan said. “It’s okay. You wouldn’t believe how many times Finn and I have had this happen.”

“What, got a little heavy in the car?”

Logan grinned, ducking to kiss Leo again. “Mhm.”

“That’s…” Really hot.

Logan slid off his lap, back to his side. They both spent a moment trying to pull themselves together. Logan would have to get out first, which made Leo feel a little better.

“They’ll bring your bags to the room,” Logan said. He slipped on a pair of sunglasses. “Ready?”

Hands banged against the windows, making Leo jump. There were some chants of Finn’s name, along with Logan’s, and Leo realized they didn’t know who was in the car. “I—yeah.” The room. “I think so.”

Logan considered him for a moment, then took off his own hat and placed it, bill forward, on Leo’s head.

“Oh,” Leo said. “Do I look—”

“You look how I want you to look. Merde, I want Finn to see you.” Logan grinned. “But it may be a bit much for a photo.”

Leo reached up and touched the hat. It was green and had said the word LOVE on it. That was a story Leo wanted to write. Logan could say a lot with his hats. There were whole twitter accounts dedicated to the way he hinted at future songs or albums with what was on his hat.

LOVE. Leo was wearing the word love.

“I know I shouldn’t hold your hand quite yet,” Logan began, trailing off.

Leo laughed. “That would spark some wild rumors.”

Logan looked at him over the rim of his glasses, the shadow making his green eyes bright. “Stay close to me, okay?” He popped the car door and the sound of the crowd doubled, frenzied, screaming, yearning. “Stay close.”

Leo could hear his own heartbeat. He could feel it in his throat. He did want to hold Logan’s hand. “I will.”

And Leo experienced the cameras and fans from an entirely different view. He’d followed Finn and Logan around. He’d never walked with them, not like this. Not side by side in a way that signaled to everyone he was with them.

He stuck close to Logan’s back, as promised. He caught some curious looks, felt phone cameras trained on him. The sun was bright and he was very glad for Logan’s hat. He tried to take it in, if for nothing further than that this was the biggest crowd he’d ever followed a star through from this close, but it was over in a flash. They were in a cool hotel lobby, marble and stone, and a smiling woman, motioning them to the elevator. Logan’s two security guards got in with them.

The sudden silence was loud. Logan took his sunglasses off, casually folding them into his shirt and leaning back against the wall as they rose.

“Here we go, Tremz,” one of the guards said, fist bumping Logan as he passed him through the open doors. “See you tonight. Remind Finn the dinner res he asked for is at eight-thirty.”

“Thanks, Paul.” Logan looked back from the hallway. “Leo?”

“Sorry,” Leo said and strode forward. “Thanks—Thanks, Paul.”

Paul was a massive guy, but when he smiled he looked like a teddy bear. “You got it, man.”

There was only one door on this hallway, right in front of them with a large brass knocker, and no sooner had the elevator shut than did it swing open to reveal Finn—sweaty, in a soft looking gray t-shirt and running shorts, and grinning.

“Jesus,” Logan said. “You scared me.”

“I heard the ding,” Finn said cheerfully.

He was looking right at Leo. Leo drew Logan’s hat off, trying to catch his breath.

“There were crowds,” Logan said, as if explaining.

“Yeah,” Leo said. “Are you guys famous or something?”

Finn ignored the joke. He walked right up to Leo, wrapped him up in his arms, and held on tight. Leo had maybe been expecting a kiss—probably something a tad more obvious than Logan’s sneak-attack. But the hug was better. Finn was warm. He smelled like sweat and sunscreen from being on stage.

“Hi,” Finn whispered in his ear. He pulled back, holding Leo’s cheek briefly, then gently tweaked a curl of Leo’s blond hair. “Hi, Sunshine.”

Leo covered Finn’s hand, turning his mouth against it. “Hi.”

“Come here,” Finn said, laughing. “Come in.”

“Ouais.” Logan put a hand low on Leo’s back, guiding him through the suite door. “Where’s my surprise?”

“What surprise?” Finn asked as the door shut behind them. Sure enough, Leo’s bags were waiting there, neatly side-by-side near the small kitchen.

“Not till later,” Leo said.

Logan narrowed his eyes. “How later?”

“Tomorrow later.”

Logan huffed.

Finn came up behind him, pressing a small cup into his hand. Espresso.

“Oh, how did you know?” Leo sipped it down easily. Hot and slightly sweet with sugar.

“You’re in Italy,” Finn said. Next he was wrapping an arm around Leo’s waist. “You understand that if it’s a physical surprise, he’s going to dig through your luggage?”

Leo toyed with his delicate espresso cup.“Not if I say not to.”

Finn’s chin hooked over his shoulder. Leo could feel his laugh against his skin. His strong chest against his back. His hips— “You think he’ll listen to you?”

They both regarded Logan, who was still glaring at them—and glancing at Leo’s suitcase.

“I think he will.”

“Hm,” Finn said, and Leo felt a kiss land on his neck. “I think you’re right.” Another kiss to the exact same spot. Over a mark Logan had made? “I see someone has already gotten to you.”

“I was accosted in the car,” Leo said.

“Classic.”

Logan just rolled his eyes and began dragging Leo’s suitcase into another room.

By that night, the fans who didn’t read up on their music stories had already figured out who he was. Leo Knut—last seen on the road writing the coming out piece on Night Swimming. Sure enough, Twitter was full of wearing Lo’s hat wearing Lo’s hat???

“Ooh, you’re so undercover,” Finn commented when he glimpsed Leo’s phone once they were back in the car, speeding through the night on the way to dinner. “They don’t know what’s coming for them.”

Leo clicked his phone off even as Cassie texted nice hat. He looked at Logan, at a purplish bruise Leo had left on his neck. “No, they really don’t.”

Logan covered the mark with his palm and grinned out the window. Leo laughed, looking, too, then paused.

“Hey, are we leaving the city?”

“Yep,” Finn said.

“Where?” Logan asked.

Finn shrugged exaggeratedly. He’d changed into a dark blue button down, light slacks, and pretty brown leather shoes that Leo badly wanted a pair of. He’d pushed a dark green button down towards Logan, dark trousers, and white, pristine sneakers. He’d taken one look at Leo and told him he was perfect, but Leo had showered and changed anyway. Dusty red shirt. He’d followed Finn’s lead and left the collar loose.

Logan kicked at Finn from his seat across from the both of them. Finn just stuck his tongue out and took Leo’s hand across the console between them. Leo stared at it for a moment. Finn’s pale fingers that would be playing a guitar to thousands of people tomorrow were right there wrapped up in his own.

“Where?” Logan insisted.

“Jesus, Lo, can neither of us try and surprise you? I know you found all your presents as a kid, but you’re not finding the ones I give you.” Finn dropped a wink. “I’ll give it to you when I decide.”

Apparently where was a castle. Literally a castle. Soft lights flooded up the old stones to reveal turrets and archways. A man in a tuxedo was waiting for them at the entrance. They were given champagne in thin, airy glasses and leave to roam the lit gardens before their dinner was served. The air was mild, but the feeling of Finn and Logan at his shoulders was better. Finn had something to say about every flower, every piece of architecture, as if he had studied up for this night. They ate dinner under the stars, watching fireflies dart through the greenery.

It wasn’t until they had been served an array of desserts and left truly alone that Leo thought to bring up the article and how they were doing—it was different to ask without a screen between them.

“We’re so good,” Finn said. He looked at Logan, who nodded. Finn wrapped an arm around Logan’s chair, scooting it closer to his. Leo watched him lean into him. His brown eyes flickered to Leo even as his lips brushed Logan’s skin. “Lo?”

“Ouais, I…” Logan gave up on words and tucked his face into Finn’s neck, laughing.

Leo leaned back in his chair, glad the table let him stretch his still plane-cramped legs out under the table. “It’s so nice to see you up there. Really. I can’t wait for tomorrow. You just look so…free.”

“We feel free,” Finn said. “And it’s thanks to you.” He held out a hand across the linen tablecloth and, after a moment, Leo took it. “How are you, Le?”

Leo let out a slow breath, watching the way Finn’s thumb tracked across his knuckles. “I’m…” He laughed a little. “That’s quite a question. Really quite a question.”

Logan laughed, and when Leo realized he was laughing at him, he threw a sugar coated almond at him in a neat arc across the table—which lost all its effect when Logan caught it in his mouth.

“Non, seriously.” Logan leaned more into Finn’s side. “Leo?”

Leo looked around them. They both had a knack for finding these slices of paradise. Though, lately it had been feeling like any where they were was heaven, even his own kitchen.

“Being on tour with you was wonderful,” Leo answered. “And Nice was, of course, perfect. So beautiful…God, this is beautiful.”

“Why am I sensing a but?” Finn asked, brows drawn together. Logan looked downright nervous.

Leo shook his head, bringing his other hand to hold Finn’s as well. “No. Well, yes, but not like that.”

They both looked at him expectantly. Patiently.

“You’ve been sweet in waiting for me. And honest about wanting me.”

“We fumbled and recovered,” Finn said.

“We do want you,” Logan said earnestly.

“Well, I…I hope so,” Leo said softly. Finn’s hand tightened around his.

“Yeah?” Finn whispered.

Leo nodded. Logan couldn’t quite reach with the angle, but he reached for Leo, too, hand on Finn’s wrist.

“It’s been—what? A week and a half of video calls? You know all these glorious places are amazing, but when we’re just sitting around…I mean, when we’re just talking… Or you’re watching me wash dishes, do laundry. And I start to feel like…”

He felt the words well in his throat like tears as he looked between them. He understood Cassie’s hesitation. He understood his own hesitation. He’d been nervous that he’d come back and something would have changed. Like adrenaline leaving the system. But it hadn’t.

“I’ve never not known how to be without someone before,” Leo said. “But you make me feel like I don’t remember how to be alone.”

Finn’s smile was tearful and Leo realized he felt a little like that, too, even as Finn leaned forward and kissed him. It dissolved into a laugh, into kiss to his cheek. A piece of silverware clattered to the ground as Finn tugged Leo’s chair closer and hugged him as best he could.

“Rouge, you’re pulling the table cloth, the table—” Logan’s voice came, laughing. Leo heard his chair scoot back and then there was another pair of arms around Leo’s neck, Logan leaning over the back of his chair. He managed a sloppy kiss to Leo’s mouth, despite the angle.

Leo closed his eyes and held on. He waited for Finn to make him laugh. Or Logan to say something in French. But they stayed quiet, surprising him. He peeked one eye open, only to see that Finn, whose forehead was pressed against Leo’s temple, had his eyes closed, too. Leo didn’t dare move him to try and get at Logan, but the content sigh he felt against his neck was enough to go on for him. Wind whistled through the trees around them, bring the smell of some sweet flower. Leo closed his eyes again and leaned back into Logan’s shoulder and Finn’s arm. It was like a blanket, their quiet. They’d been more serene than he’d expected from the beginning—puzzles, dinner, reading, morning runs. This was something deeper. It was as if something unhappy had finally been able to settle for them, too. The questions were still there. How will this work? What will people think? But they were muted and far off.

They looked up at footsteps on the patio, only to find a surprised waiter holding a pitcher of water.

“Ah,” the waiter said. “Pardon me. Uh…”

“Hi,” Finn said, only lifting his head. “Yeah, we’ll take the check.”

~

They laughed about it on the car ride home, the waiter’s face. Speeding through dark hills, and then streets still filled with chatter and light. Leo watched out the window as they slowed in narrower streets. It gave him a glimpses of passing faces. Laughing, eating, kissing.

Finn’s hand pressed to his thigh. “Are you composing sentences right now? I think you are.”

Leo looked over at him. “Maybe. And you?”

“I’ve been watching you two write in your heads for the last ten minutes,” Logan said. He’d stretched his legs out so their feet slotted together in the car space between them.

“Well, no one got on my lap, I had to do something to pass the time,” Leo said, squeezing one of Logan’s ankles between his own.

Logan just looked at him with bright eyes. “I don’t want to have to stop.”

Leo let his head fall back against the seat and he put his hand over Finn’s. “You just deal with that every day?”

“All day,” Finn said. “You don’t even want to know the things he says to me before we go on stage.” Finn laughed and scooted over in his seat, pressing right up against Leo’s side. “Actually, you probably do.”

No one was waiting at the hotel this time. There were no bright flashes to catch what Leo was sure was an intense flush on his cheeks. They stayed close in the elevator, their security shaking their heads at how giddy they probably sounded—all that content silence had bubbled into talking over each other and far too loud laughter. Finn fumbled a little with the hotel key, but then they were inside the suite and met with a blast of AC. Finn went to turn it down, but Logan got his hands on Leo’s waist and pulled until Leo had him pinned right up against the side of the entrance hall.

“This is how I first met you,” Leo said, staring down at him. He traced a hand under Logan’s jaw and watched the way he bared his neck for more. “I was so surprised. And you were so beautiful. And also you literally did not stop making out with Finn which was, like, okay then.”

Finn’s laugh reached them. “I asked him that after you left. I was like, how long was he standing there actually? And he wouldn’t tell me.”

“What’d you want, Lo?” Leo whispered, leaning down to kiss him softly. “Me to walk in ready to go right then?”

“Non, I wanted to see if you thought I was hot,” Logan said, then laughed as Leo pulled back to follow Finn’s voice into the living room. He called after him, “And you do!”

Finn had his dress shirt half unbuttoned and his belt in one hand, frowning at something on his phone.

“You okay there difficult rock star?” Leo asked, trying not to stare at his pale chest against the blush color.

Finn looked up, all big brown eyes suddenly—how did he do that? Switch between unbearably hot to unbearably sweet in two seconds—and smiled. “Oh. This isn’t what it looks like.” He gestured to himself with his belt. “I just wanted to change. And yeah, just tomorrow’s call times.”

Call times. Show tomorrow. Leo took a breath. Right. What time was it? Midnight? One? Leo knew they should sleep. He’d seen them on the nights before shows many times now. Logan drank mint tea. Finn read. Unless they had friends at the shows, or family, they tried to get as much sleep as they could. Logan slept in as much as he could. Finn seemed incapable of sleeping in, but he went for a run and he ordered up a big breakfast. God, Leo wanted to make them breakfast again. He wanted the way they sat with him, looked at him, made him coffee.

Leo nodded. He emptied his pockets, setting his phone and wallet on a side table. “I hope it’s not too early? I know your routines the night before a show and this isn’t it. It’s early for me, technically. But it’s late for you.”

Leo’s eyes drew down Finn’s body again. The half-untucked shirt. He was pretty sure those socks he was wearing were the ones advertised on TV offering arch support. Why, why was that hot right now? It was. And maybe Leo wanted the way Finn looked right now to be exactly what it looked like. What then?

Finn was quiet, glancing at Logan as he came into the room and sat on the back of the couch to look at Leo. Finn drew in a slow breath, stretching his arms up and behind his head, so that when he spoke his voice came out tensed like his muscles—which Leo could see more of now, the sharp cut just above his waistline. “I mean, you could…” He grinned, dropping his arms and relaxing. “We could get you on the right time zone.”

Leo bit at the inside of his cheek. That wasn’t exactly the line he’d heard in Finn’s voice during all of his laundry-folding day dreams, but it was so very Finn that it was better.

“What did your team think when you said I’d be staying with you?” Leo glanced up around the room. “I mean, in the same…” Bedroom? “Suite.”

“They’re our team for a reason,” Finn said. “They know what’s their business, and what’s ours.”

Leo raised an eyebrow. “And my being a reporter isn’t their business? I bet at least a few people would disagree with that.”

“You’re not the kind of reporter they worry about,” Logan said. “Unless you suddenly revealed a long-range camera in your suitcase.” He tilted his head teasingly. “That’s not the surprise, is it?”

“No,” Leo laughed. “Definitely not the surprise.”

“And just to be clear,” Finn said. “Because looks like we’re not great on being clear—”

“Room, not suite,” Logan cut in.

“Jeez, way to grab my punchline and yank it out from beneath my feet.” Finn strode closer and put his hand on Logan’s shoulder. “But yes. We were hoping…I mean, there is another room. Two other, in fact, for you to choose from.” He tilted his head. “But I was hoping just your suitcase would be staying there.”

“We,” Logan said, rising from his seat.

“We were hoping.”

Logan stood in front of Leo. He held out his hands palm up, and Leo put his palms into them. Logan gave a gentle tug. When Leo hesitated, worrying the inside of his cheek, it took about half a second for concern to flicker over Logan’s face.

“Le?” he asked gently. “What…What did I do?”

“No, no, no,” Leo said. “Nothing. I want that. I really, really want that. I just…” Leo sighed, cursing himself. The nerves he’d felt while packing sprung back at him. Look at them. Look at them.

“It’s been a while for me,” Leo said softly. “I mean—I mean a while. And you two know each other—so well. I just don’t want…to, like, disappoint, or…”

“Non,” Logan said.

“You couldn’t,” Finn added. “Leo, you couldn’t disappoint us. Like, ever.”

Leo knew that. He did. He even believed it. It didn’t stop the idea that he would from making him want to crawl under the covers and hide.

“I’m looking at two people who know each other inside and out,” Leo said. “And I love that about you two. But—yeah. That’s all.”

Finn and Logan looked at each other. Leo didn’t mind the silent communication ability. He even liked it. It was sweet. In his dreams, he got that ability with them, too. One day.

Finn stepped forward. It wasn’t the stage walk. It was just him. Even in the button-down that Leo now knew to be the softest linen, it was just him. Not all the photos Leo had seen of fans catching him on the street—sunglasses, t-shirt, notebook or coffee…smiling, talking with them, and uncapping Sharpies with his teeth. Leo had looked at the photos from that particular day a lot. A lot. Summer in New York, headed to the recording studio, stooping so a girl could slip a necklace she had made him over his head.

“Okay.” Finn smiled softly. “There’s one thing we can do no matter what. It’s late. We can just get ready for bed and…and then whatever you want.”

Logan nodded. “Whatever you want.”

“We do know each other through and through,” Finn said. He tucked a stray curl behind Leo’s ear, but Leo felt it spring back into place. “Which is why we know how much we want you here.”

Leo shook his head, putting a hand against Finn’s chest. “You don’t have to convince me. I’m just…” Leo looked to Logan. “I…This is like a dream? A really good dream.”

“Leo.” Finn’s voice was overly serious, but Leo caught the spark in his eye. “Were we your celebrity crushes or something?” 

Leo’s laugh surprised him, head falling back. “Finn.”

“Aw,” Finn wrapped his arms around Leo’s waist. “I embarrassed him. Look, Lo, we were his celebrity crush.”

“First, I meant because you’re so sweet. And second, I’m pretty sure you could attempt world domination with the number of people who would name you if asked who their crush is,” Leo said.

“Maybe,” Finn replied. “But I only care about one.”

It was the little things, first. Logan left small pools of water all around the sink when he washed his face. He went to Leo’s luggage, and Leo only had time to call out a warning don’t before Logan was pulling out a t-shirt with a delighted laugh. Thankfully, it wasn’t his surprise one…But it was Finn’s.

Leo was brushing his teeth next to Finn O’Hara in Italy, and Logan Tremblay was holding up his HEARTTHROB O’HARA t-shirt with a grin on his face that said it all.

“That was also a surprise,” Leo said around his toothpaste. He groaned, and put a hand over Finn’s delighted eyes as passed him to go rinse his mouth.

When he leaned up from the faucet, Finn was there, rinsing beside him. Leo cleared his throat, laughing a little under the feeling of Finn’s gaze. He tried to escape, honestly he had no idea what to say, but two hands caught his hips and a hard, warm chest met Leo’s back.

They looked at each other in the mirror. The lights were soft and dim, bringing out each of Finn’s freckles. Leo put his hand over where Finn’s rested low on his stomach.

“I’m embarrassed,” Leo said, smiling down at the sink. “It’s stupid, right?”

With a slight pressure to his hip, Finn turned Leo around. Leo rested back against the counter’s edge, and Finn nudged his way to stand between his thighs. He carded Leo’s hair back from his face, the ends damp from washing his face.

“Nothing about you could ever be stupid,” Finn said.

Leo traced the N of his NASA t-shirt, then one of the trails on a shooting star. “You probably see people in that shirt all the time. Probably have signed that shirt a million times.” Leo closed his eyes. “Shit. I’d say I’m not some crazy fan, but younger me was definitely a crazy fan.” He looked up at Finn. “But you know all about crazy fans.”

Finn smiled a little. He barely had to tilt his chin forward at all to brush their mouths together. “I do know a little about that.”

“So maybe the shirt doesn’t even matter?” Leo asked hopefully. Finn’s brown eyes were staring at his mouth—that still had toothpaste on it maybe?

“Everything about you matters,” Finn said, and kissed him.

It brought back the rush of the ocean. The heat of the sun, sitting against those cliffs when Leo had been so confused, so in want. He knew how to hold himself together. God, if there was one thing he was so very good at in this world, it was holding himself together.

“Maybe I’m your crazy fan,” Finn whispered. “I’ve been stalking your writing for long enough.”

Leo laughed. “Mm, that’s true.” He reached up for Finn’s shoulders, pulling him closer.

He didn’t want to hold himself together anymore. He didn’t want to hold back. Nothing he knew even compared to this. Not the fame, not the novelty. This. Worn out t-shirts and getting to have a perfect fit in a legendary love like theirs. These were new muscles, letting himself go, and he’d been straining them with these two. They felt stronger now.

The band of his pajama pants was wet from being pressed back into Logan’s puddles. Finn tasted minty, and with him standing between Leo’s thighs like this, Leo got to tilt his head up into the kiss.

“How do I look?”

They broke apart to see Logan standing in the bathroom doorway. He wore a soft looking pair of gray boxers, and his chest and arms filled out Leo’s t-shirt in a way Leo had never, would never have even thought, to imagine.

While Leo sat there staring, Finn laughed. “That thing looks like it’s about to fall to pieces.”

He wasn’t wrong. There was a hole near the collar, the letters were faded at the edges. But it was so damn soft from years of being washed that Leo couldn’t bare to part with it. He reached up and pushed his fingers through Finn’s hair. That gorgeous red hair. Maybe there was so much more he couldn’t part with now.

“Ouais, me too,” Logan said. Leo didn’t know what he was talking about until he walked forward and reached up for Finn’s hair, completely messing it up. “Everyone’s obsessed with it, but how can you not be?”

Leo laughed as Finn squinted one eye shut but let them have their fun. It was soft and thick, the sorter strands at the sides feathering through Leo’s fingers like velvet.

Finn put a hand on Logan’s chest, tapping over the letters of Leo’s t-shirt. “I always guessed that was why everything they put my name in is red, too.”

“Marketing?” Leo said.

“Yeah.” Finn sighed, shrugged, then smiled. “Le, that shirt really is about to fall apart.”

“I…wear it a lot.”

“Oh yeah? All around the city with my name on your heart?”

Leo bit his lip. It was more than that. It was what he wore when he was sad, or had had a bad day. When he was sick, or exhausted, or angry.

And then, over the past month, that comfort had shifted to them. A bad day at work ended with four hour FaceTimes until Leo was too sleepy to talk anymore and Finn’s soft voice. Goodnight, Sunshine. And when he couldn’t sleep, somehow Logan always knew. The soft light of his phone lighting up his bedroom from his nightstand and never letting him feel alone or sinking or like he would never sleep again.

“Le?” Finn asked softly. His hair was a mess from their hands. His eyes were pure syrup again, asking, checking, worried—loving?

“Hi,” Leo said. “Sorry, hi.” He put a hand on Finn’s cheek and looked at Logan.

Logan tilted his head. “What are you writing right now, Soleil?”

Leo closed his eyes briefly at the nickname, leaning his head back to bask in it. “Dialogue, I guess.”

“Ouais,” Logan said, wrapping an arm around Leo’s waist. It completed the circle of the three of them. “Of?”

“How to ask you to take me to bed,” Leo whispered.

“Yes,” Finn breathed, and then Leo was being kissed.

He’d written a lot of words in his life. It was almost funny to be asked what he was writing right then. He wasn’t even sure this was something that could be written. What did kiss have on what Finn gave him? It was just what Leo remembered. The heated energy from that middle of the night kiss in Nice, only tripled.

“Hey.” Logan’s voice was low. Leo felt fingers tighten in his hair and he gasped, breaking Finn’s kiss long enough to be pulled to another mouth. The ocean and the shade. The shade and the ocean. Finn’s laugh echoed against the bathroom tiles. He was watching them. He had a hand on Leo’s back, and probably Logan’s, and let them kiss.

No, Leo couldn’t have written this down. Logan, pulling him towards the bedroom. Finn flicking off the bathroom light and leaving them in the yellow-pink glow of a reading lamp and the moon.

“I’d raise the sun if I could,” he said. He caught Leo up around the waist again. “Just because it’s dark in here doesn’t mean I want it to be.”

“Finn.” It sounded pleading, but Leo hadn’t meant it that way. Not stop. Not more. Just… “Have some compassion for how full my heart can be right now, O’Hara.”

And then Leo took that famous NASA t-shirt right off of him. The stars and the comet trails, they were still there. Finn’s torso was its own sky map and Leo, wondering what Finn liked, bent to kiss a trail of his own along one thin collarbone.

What words existed for the feeling of Finn chest rising and falling against his mouth.

What words could Leo have used to describe the smile Logan gave him as he let Leo pull his t-shirt off of him next? All Leo could comprehend was the sheer strength of his arms and the dark trail of hair that led down into his boxers.

There were no hesitations, like Leo had thought there would be. The pauses were woven in, just turns and folds and lifts like pages. Yes? This? Grins and breaths and—Logan’s sounds. Logan. Logan knew what he wanted. Finn knew what Logan wanted. Leo, very quickly, knew what Logan wanted and shared a slightly dazed grin with Finn about it. He got to watch Finn’s practiced fingers, and see how much Finn enjoyed giving Logan everything he could possibly desire. It was as sweet as it was unbearably hot. Finn looked so pale against Logan’s tanned skin. Marble. That was a word Leo had used before, but it applied. Jesus Christ, it applied.

What did grip have on the way Logan clutched at Leo’s shoulders when they were at last as close as anything could be, his thighs shaking against Leo’s. Bliss, certainly, was nothing compared to the look on Logan’s face when Finn’s hand pressed over the strong curve of his adam’s apple and asked him how he liked it, told him they looked gorgeous. Throbbing held nothing to the way Leo’s heart pounded, and more than nothing to how close those words brought him to the edge. Rhythm. That’s what Logan had. Leo set his hands against the small of his back—two dimples there, made for Leo’s thumbs—and held on.

“Mm—” Logan’s breath came out short and he froze, mouth open against Leo’s neck. His back was slick with sweat now. Finn sat back on his heels just beside them, working himself slowly.

“What you waiting for, baby?” Finn breathed. He’d not been moving much, but there was a sheen over his nose and temples, too. Just from watching. Now, he shifted behind Leo and wrapped his arms around his waist, nuzzling under his jaw.

Leo reached between them and Logan muffled his sound in Leo’s neck. Logan hadn’t been warm from the second he met him, but oh, he was warm now. Burning in Leo’s hands, against Leo’s body.

“I just want it to last,” Logan said shakily, but he was moving again, like he couldn’t help it. “You’re leaving in two days.” Logan wrapped his arms fully around Leo’s shoulders. “Don’t.”

“Don’t even know how—” Leo’s eyes slipped shut and he tried to breathe through the mix of white hot pleasure and blue tenderness pulsing through him. “How to think about leaving.” He smoothed his hands up Logan’s back, feeling the way it flexed as Logan moved against him.

“Ouais,” Logan said, a smile slipping across his face. He pulled back, his breathing jumping as their hips shifted. He kissed Leo hard, then cursed softly and let his head fall back. “Fuck…Leo…”

With his hair falling back and out of his eyes like that, Leo’s language left him entirely. He’d seen him like this on stage, lost in the music. He’d watched from the VIP booth, from the wings. Logan was closer to him than Finn was, always staying in one place. He’d seen the lights catch his every angle as he threw his head back, sweat dampening his dark hair, and played with everything he had. Tonight, Leo felt like theirs in that same way.

The sheets were kicked towards the end of the bed, or pooled on the floor. Leo’s head was on Finn’s chest, Logan’s forehead pressed to the top of his spine. Leo couldn’t stop touching them. He trailed his fingertips down Finn’s chest and watched goosebumps follow in their wake. Logan had a thigh thrown over his hip and Leo stroked the unbearably soft skin behind his knee. He dipped his thumb in the divot below Finn’s bottom lip.

Finn smiled sleepily, his eyes closed. His eyelashes were dark just now. In certain lights they tinged lighter, like his hair. “You’re ticklish.”

“You’re soft,” Leo replied.

“Is he asleep?” Finn whispered.

“Non,” came Logan’s voice, though he sounded part of the way there.

“I’m not kidding.” Leo reached back to hold Logan’s hip. “I’m getting up if I start keeping you awake with my tossing around.”

That was a lie. There was nothing that could haul Leo out of where he was right now.

“Nu-uh.” Finn kissed Leo’s temple. “No tossing. Not with the weighted blanket I have.”

“You travel with a weighted blanket?” Leo asked skeptically.

Finn reached out and picked up Logan’s hand, kissing his knuckles. “Sure do.”

“Oh,” Leo laughed.

“One-hundred percent effective, I promise.”

When Finn turned the lights off, it sent the room into near complete darkness and so Leo could do nothing but feel, in every nerve, and expanse of exposed skin, the way Logan nudged his nose into the soft hair at his nape, and the way Finn rolled onto his side to hold them both.

“Show tomorrow,” Finn whispered. “You ready?”

Leo smiled. “Do I have to be ready? I think that’s supposed my question to you two.”

“You have to be ready,” Finn placed a kiss to his neck. “It’s a Leo show.”