#I realized I was always hot I just wasn't playing to the right audience

[big-tiddy-goth-ghoulfriend]

I was making dinner a few nights ago (zuppa toscana in bread bowls) when I had a million dollar idea followed immediately by crushing disappointment. I was standing in the kitchen, like you do when you make dinner, sleeves rolled above the elbow, chopping potatoes, performing an inspired duet with my bluetooth speaker.

I looked at my girlfriend and said "You know, it's a shame that we're losing tiktok in like a week. I feel like 'fat soft butch wears flannel and sings hozier while baking and making soup' would really do numbers with the sapphics".

[mahgyu]

❝ I ONLY LOVE IT WHEN YOU TOUCH ME, NOT FEEL ME ❞

──── Warm jets of water bathed every inch of Toji's skin, the sound of water falling onto the floor in a cascade echoed throughout the bathroom. With his heightened senses, Toji quickly noticed the presence of another person with him in the bathroom, but soon flashed a brief smile when he realized it was you.

After observing over his shoulders, he goes back to soaking his dark hair, removing any remaining traces of shampoo. You allowed yourself to feel the droplets dripping from Toji's body as you hugged him from behind, uniting both bodies.

Even though you and Toji were just hooking up, the intense connection between you two was undeniable and the chemistry you possessed was palpable. When your bodies were together, they exuded lust.

"I don't usually shower with an audience, doll." He says playfully, without even turning in your direction.

"Would you prefer I leave?" You ask softly, as you slowly kiss Toji's shoulder blades.

"You know well that staying here is dangerous, don't you?" He turns to face you, his eyes locking with yours, both gazes silently expressing desire, orbs burning under each other's stare.

"Tsk, and what more could happen?" Your arms wrap around Toji's neck after your suggestive question.

"Playing the dumb little girl doesn't suit you at all." He responds promptly, moving his face slightly closer to yours.

You feel graced by the sight before you: Toji displaying a small and suggestive smile, his tempting scar curving along with it, his wet hair dripping and water running down his muscular body. Now, still trapped under Toji's penetrating gaze, you can feel him brushing his cock against your skin, soon bringing his mouth to your ear.

"It's getting hot in here, don't you think?" He whispers, the warm breath blowing against the side of your face, making your body shiver all over.

You are already more than surrendered to Toji's firm touches on your equally water-soaked body. His mouth trails a path to yours, where he doesn't hesitate to kiss you with a certain roughness. The atmosphere shifts completely; the only sounds echoing through the bathroom are the waterfall of the shower and the vulgar sounds coming from the two of you.

"I need you so much, Toji..." You whimper, pouting softly against his lips.

In a sudden gesture, Toji lifts you effortlessly off the ground, pressing your body against the cold and wet wall. His mouth moves away from yours just to better capture your expression when he thrusts his hard cock into your intimacy.

Your pleasure rapidly escalates, your senses overridden by an overpowering urge to cry out for Toji after the initial thrusts into your needy pussy.

"Do you like it this way, kitty? Do you like how my cock hits you just right, huh?" Toji taunts mockingly, growling hoarsely as he hits deeper.

It seemed magical the control Toji had over your body, how powerless you felt when his cock was treating your pussy this way. It was never in your plans to be completely surrendered to Toji, but it wasn't something you could decide or choose, he had that hold over you.

"A-ah, Toji!" Your whimpers please Toji's ears. The shower water still flowed incessantly, both the moans and the friction between bodies seemed to compete for which sound sounded louder.

"Come on, sweetie, cum for me, cum with me." Toji urges. Your vision blurs and the knot in your belly unravels as you reach the peak. Toji reaches his own climax simultaneously, releasing the thick and milky liquid inside you, mixing it with your juices. The sweat of both is washed away by the shower above as you both try to align your heavy breaths, your once desire-filled gazes now reflecting satisfaction.

⠀

So I don't leave you all missing me for too long 🤭

I tried to correct it briefly, but I'm too tired to distinguish what's right or wrong there, sorryyy :c

Your interaction is very important to me, reblogs and comments are always welcome. 🫶🏻💕

[symbiotic-slime]

Heat like Fire

a/n: happy halloween my fellow monsterfuckers!! couldn't have a spooky season without blessing y'all with a spicy venom fic

pairing: Venom/Host!Reader [AFAB, Gender Neutral]

word count: 1.5k

content: NSFW, developing relationship, mating cycles, tentacle sex, mild dom/sub, tentacle bondage, biting, degradation

Mature Audiences ONLY

You sat on your cracked leather couch, staring at the screen of your TV. A cheesy Hallmark-style movie was playing, though you weren't paying attention. You felt sick. Your body ached, your skin was clammy, and the worst was that nothing you did seemed to help. The ice pack did nothing to cool your body, the meds hadn't put a dent in the aches.

And someone was being... decidedly quiet.

"God, Ven, what's going on?" You groaned, your head woozy. "Are we sick? I feel like I've got the worst flu of my life."

“No, we're not.” They sounded defensive, like there was something they were hiding from you.

"Are you gonna tell me what's going on? You seem to know," you snarked.

Silence.

"Ven? I just want to know what the fuck is going on with my body."

"We are in heat," they said, their voice heavy with guilt.

"We're in WHAT?" You demanded, springing out of your seat.

"Heat, [Y/N]."

"Like some kind of fucking animal?!" A sharp pain shot through your stomach, and you were forced to sit back down. "No... no no no this can't be happening. Humans don't go into heat."

"Symbiotes do."

"Fuck." You buried my head in your hands. You shifted your weight, moaning as slick rolled down your leg. "What are we going to do? It's not like we can just go out and find someone who's willing to fuck us through this."

"You could always call that person you were seeing before."

"Alex?" You asked incredulously.

"Yes," they hissed. "I'm sure they'd love to see you like this."

"I don't think someone who ghosted me would want to help with this. God, I don't even think I could explain this to them," you groaned. "Even if I could, I don't think I'll be able to wait long enough for them to get here. I feel like I'm gonna pass out."

There was a tentative pause, an odd silence in your head.

"We could always help you with it," they mumbled, their voice subdued, almost nervous.

Were they offering to have sex with you?

"You mean like... making it go away?" You laughed nervously.

"If we could make this go away, morsel, we wouldn't be here."

They were definitely offering to have sex with you.

And you weren't... opposed to it.

Your body quite liked the idea. Blood rushed to your cheeks as your legs spread further apart. Your pussy throbbed at the thought of their tendrils wrapping around your skin, toying with you while you're completely helpless.

You told yourself that was just because of the heat. It wasn't that you was actually attracted to them, you were just reacting weirdly because your body needed to be fucked.

That was totally what this was.

"What... what would that be like?" You fidgeted, my hands tapped against my thigh.

"It could be anything you want," they purred, sending shivers down my spine.

You moaned, loud and obscene, and quickly shoved a hand over your mouth.

"You need to be somewhere comfortable, morsel. A nest."

You cocked your head to the side. "Like a bed?"

"Yes, that would work."

"Can you take us there, love?" The pet name just slipped out, but it felt right. "I feel like my legs are gonna give out if I try to stand."

"Of course." Your body was rigid as they seized control of it. Their movements were jerky and uncanny, but you didn't collapse into a heap on the floor. That was a bonus.

They laid you down on the bed gently, removing your clothes as their tendrils delicately wrapped around your legs.

You moaned and arched your back, desperate for any sort of friction.

Your face grew hot when I realized what you'd done. You squirmed. "Fuck," you groaned. "Why am I like this?"

"It's because of your heat, [Y/N]. We already established this."

You sighed, exasperated. You couldn't take it anymore, you needed them inside of you. "Venom. Please just shut up and fuck me."

More tendrils slinked out of your body, pulling your hands above your head and pinning you to the bed. You tugged on them, testing their strength. There was no give to them.

"We know exactly what you want," they purred into my ear. "What you crave."

You whimpered, throwing your head back against the pillow.

The tendrils around your legs tightened, keeping your legs spread far apart. The rest spoiled over your body in a shibari-like pattern, claiming you as theirs.

"We know our morsel likes this," they said as their tendrils played with your nipples, twisting and pulling until you were a moaning mess beneath them.

"Please, Venom, I need you to fuck me," you whined.

"Beg for it."

Usually you would be mortified by the idea of that, but you beyond embarrassment.

"Please," you whined, your slick soaking the sheets beneath me. "I need you to fuck me. Please, Ven, I need you inside me."

"Well, since you asked so nicely..."

You moaned as Venom's tendrils traced up my thighs, caressed every inch of your body. One of the ones playing with your chest split off, wrapping around your neck to form a collar. You squirmed and tried to bring yourself closer to them, but the bonds didn't budge.

"You can squirm all you want, morsel, but you're powerless against me. You couldn't stop me even if you wanted to."

You whimpered. You were so weak in comparison to them, so powerless, and you wouldn't want it any other way.

A tendril found your clit, rubbing it ever so gently. A jolt of electricity shot through your spine, your back arching into the sensation.

One of their tendrils finally eased its way into your cunt. You moaned as another joined it, pulsating inside of you.

"You're so loud, slut. So eager. If we had our way, we'd be making you scream." Their voice was low and lust-ridden as their tendrils forced their way into your mouth. "But we can't have anyone interrupting us, can we?"

You sucked them further in, loving the feeling of them gagging you. They chuckled darkly and indulged you, pushing themselves further until you were choking.

And fuck it felt so good.

They pulled back in my throat, letting me breathe as they slowly began to thrust into my pussy.

You tried to buck your hips up into them, only to not be able to move. You needed more, more of them inside of you, pounding into your pussy and breeding you.

They must've sensed this desire, as they started thrusting into you at a steady pace. Their tendrils stretched you so well, so perfectly.

Their tendrils pressed deeper into you, hitting your sweet spot.

Your moan was muffled by the tentacle in your mouth, one which was coated in your spit. Drool rolled down your chin, landing on the pillow beneath your head.

"You take us so well, sweet one," Venom purred as their tendrils continued to fuck into you. "It's like you were made for us."

Venom wasn't lying when they said they could give you anything you wanted. Their tendrils pounded into your sweet spot every time. Their tendril on your clit, rubbing and sucking, brought you closer to the edge faster than anyone ever had before.

The heat was building in your stomach. You felt your stomach muscles tense, ready to release.

Tendrils pulled away from your chest. Their head emerged, fangs bared in a feral grin.

"We can tell how close you are morsel," they growled. They moved their head closer to you until their fangs brushed against the sensitive skin of your neck. "We think we know how to push you over the edge."

Their fangs sunk into your flesh, drawing an obscenely loud moan from you. You threw your head back as you came, your toes curling. You shook softly as the feeling enveloped you.

You collapsed, your body like a dead weight. The tendrils holding you in place loosened. Some retreated back inside of you, while others gently caressed your form.

The tendrils inside of you pulled out slowly, drawing a small moan from you before retreating back into your body.

"Did you enjoy yourself, sweet one?" Venom asked.

"I think that's an understatement, dear. God, we might just have to make that a regular occurrence." You smiled, pulling their head in to kiss between their eyes.

They blinked, uncharacteristically quiet as they healed the bite mark on your neck. They left just enough of a mark that it looked like a hickey, a reminder that you were theirs.

They stared at you for a moment before purring, nuzzling into your face.

"We love you, [Y/N]."

"Love you too, Ven."

[lushlovers]

Hands, J Burrow

summary; something about his hands..

warnings; joe being cocky..., mentions of smut, teasing, joe being hot for no reason,

word count; 552

note; i love hands, thank you to my favs for another great game yesterday. so so sorry for my disappearance, i'm finally free from responsibility and home for two weeks

Your fingers absentmindedly ran along Joe's hand that was planted lovingly on your thigh. Tracing along the veins that lie there, following them up his arm, he wasn't paying any attention to it. You're always touching his hands, so much that he doesn't mind to pull them away.

Tonight the show of choice was "You," as he scrolled looking for something good to watch, you noticed there would be a new season. Why not re-watch to assure everyone's all caught up?

However, your mind was no where near on the tv show, choosing instead to admire the man next to you. His free hand traced tiny symbols on the bare skin of your calves, up and around your knees, causing unintentional goosebumps. He never had to try to be attractive in any way, never failing to do it so effortlessly.

"Are you gonna watch or stare at me the whole time, baby?" He finally spoke up, you hadn't even realized he was talking due to your eyes drinking in how his hands flexed with every little movement he made. Stumbling over your words a bit before catching yourself, "Sorry?"

He snorted at that, "I said, are you gonna watch the show or keep staring," your mouth dried up, any rebuttal you had managed to cut up with completely going blank in your mind, his brows raised in amusement. He uses his index finger to lift your chin, bringing your eyes to meet his, searching your eyes for anything at all.

A quick surge of confidence courses through you, "I prefer this view much better." Sealing the deal with the best 'fuck me' eyes you can muster and a smirk on your full lips. Joe's almost certain his bloods run cold and no amount of heat would soothe the chills along his taut skin.

"You know I love an audience, mama." He's smiling now, pearly, cocky, and mischievous, he knows exactly what he's doing. The hand that was once massaging your calves is inching it's way closer to where your shorts cut off, not quite close enough though.

His eyes are no longer boring into your own creating more tension, but instead reading over the text he'd received typing up a short, bored response and setting his phone screen down. Suddenly he's so interested in Love and Theo's conversation on the big screen in front of you.

You stare at the way his rough thumb plays with the hem of your his t-shirt, silently begging him to pull it over your head and take you right here. He, however, refuses to even look in your direction. How is a girl supposed to just sit there when he's doing shit like that?

"Joey," you whine, leaning into his collarbone, pressing wet kissing on whatever skin you can get to. He does his best attempt at shrugging you off, despite wanting nothing more than to give in and kiss you as hard as ever. That wouldn't be as fun as watching you huff and puff out of his peripheral.

The next thing he knows you've pulled your legs from his lap, choosing to scoot further from him, just out of reach. Now, you're sitting legs crossed and arms folded over your chest, obviously putting on an act so he'll give in, which he always will.

[rebeccccccaaa]

ᴄᴀᴛ’s ɢᴏᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴛᴏɴɢᴜᴇ?

__________________________

ᴄᴀᴍ ʙᴏʏ/ʀᴏᴏᴍᴍᴀᴛᴇ! ʙᴜᴄᴋʏ ʙᴀʀɴᴇs x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀᴀᴜ

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: You have always been more modest not really ever having time to explore what could have been some sort of sensual alter ego and when Bucky finds out hes determined to bring the sex goddess in you out.

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: slight fluff if you count flirty bucky, smut ofc (minors dni) [cam boy bucky (slight tipsy bucky and reader in the beginning); brief male masterbation (bucky has his door open during a session); fem!rec oral; hair pulling; spanking; real dirty talking; strong language, degradation; loss of virginity/ virgin reader but not innocent, touch starved reader, and overstim, overall pretty rough but aftercareeee]

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ’s ɴᴏᴛᴇs: sorry in advanced if you don’t like iced coffee lol

_____________________________

“There’s no way; you’re such a fucking liar,” Bucky threw his head back with laughter.

“I knew I shouldn’t have fucking said anything,” you scoff, rolling your eyes before standing up with annoyance.

“No! Don’t go, come on. I didn’t mean it like that,” he chuckled.

“Yeah right,” you scoffed.

“Can I ask why?”

“I mean, honestly. I just never really had time. Although, I did avoid sweaty football players all of high school, but being in uni I just want to grind and grind, you know? Finish school and get my degree. I don’t really have much time going out and getting laid,” you explained.

“Shit, does my… ‘side job’ make you uncomfortable? I didn’t realize how you would feel about it being a vir-”

“Buck, I’m a virgin, not innocent,” you chuckled.

“Damn straight,” Bucky laughed.

“Let me help you,” he said, making you laugh out loud.

"With what?" you asked in disbelief.

"Let me take your virginity. 'S better than fucking some random drunkard in a one night stand, and let's face it, you're not getting a boyfriend anytime soon."

You couldn't help but keep laughing at what he was saying.

“What?” he asked, confused.

“You’re so full of shit, Barnes,” you snorted, too drunk to notice that Bucky wasn’t laughing.

“Offer stands whenever, pretty girl.”

That was four weeks ago.

Since then, you feel like the tension between you and your roommate was especially thick since your tipsy confession. You couldn’t tell whether the things Bucky would say now were intentionally inappropriate or you just had a dirty mind. He seemed to always be shirtless; always.

“Did all your shirts catch fire? No, they got stolen, huh?” you joked.

“Har, har. Don’t be such a prude, pretty girl.”

“I’m not a prude,” you mumbled; at least he had the muscles to flaunt.

One quiet Friday evening, you sat in your room working away at your desk. You had been at it for a couple hours and as much as you wanted to throw in the towel you were so close to finishing everything you needed to finish this weekend. You went to the kitchen to grab a snack, maybe make a coffee, before drilling for the last hour to get everything done.

“Hey, pretty girl,” Bucky said, standing with a glass of whiskey in hand. He always drinks before filming.

“Gettin’ ready for your… stuff?” you asked.

“What stuff?” he asked cheekily, making you roll your eyes.

“Yeah, I haven’t posted anything in a couple weeks and my subscribers are thirsty,” he told you.

“I can only imagine,” you joked.

“Well, baby, I’m in the next room if you wanna stop imagining,” he said flirtatiously

“Fuck off. I’m just here to get coffee,” you smirked, grabbing the things you’ll need from the fridge.

“Well, then I’ll leave you to it,” Bucky said, smacking your ass hard before leaving for his room; you scoffed rolling your eyes at his antics.

You turned around making the coffee itself mindlessly before you grew slight concern when you had yet to hear the door of Bucky’s bedroom to shut. He always kept his door shut whilst you wore headphones blasting music so you wouldn’t have to listen to his unnecessary moaning and cursing. You silently begged the machine to hurry it’s brewing as Bucky began talking and moaning to his audience.

You gritted your teeth hearing him so clearly. Your breathing quickened and you felt your cheeks heat up. You hated how you wondered if he really was as vocal in bed as he portrayed online. You hated the way your stomach flipped and the tingle between your thighs. You’ve never felt so aroused before, you didn’t know what to do.

“Fucking hell,” he groaned, and you swallowed the dry lum in your throat.

You don’t even know how long you stood in the kitchen listening to Bucky. You were incredibly aroused, wetness pooling between your thighs. Your hands gripped at the counter desperate to not let your knees buckle as he got closer to his release.

“God, fuck you James,” you mumbled to yourself.

You couldn’t take it the groans he practically was screaming from his room. You stomped your way to his room to yell at him to close the door. You were enraged but you don’t really know why. Bucky’s side job never bothered so much until now and truthfully he wasn’t really to blame for how turned on you felt hearing him.

“Can you close the goddamn door?” you yelled approaching his bedroom.

“I hate to interrupt but I can fucking hear you- in the… kitchen,” you trailed off.

Bucky sat on his bed completely nude. His cheeks were red and his forehead had a layer of sweat as did his very smooth and very toned chest. Your body completely froze. It’s not that you hadn’t seen a man naked before. You’ve watched porn during the more stressful and lonelier nights, but Bucky was beautiful.

“Care to join?” Bucky breathed with a stupid smile.

“Jesus,” you gasped.

“I ain’t forget about that offer, pretty girl,” Bucky stood, chuckling when you visibly trembled.

“Whatcha say? You ready to finally deflower?” Bucky walked closer to you with a devilish smirk plastered on his handsome face.

“I’m sorry-” you stumbled over your words.

Your stomach fluttered from nervousness and arousal, your skin bursted into chills despite how hot and sweaty you were beginning to feel. You kept your eyes trained to anywhere but Bucky’s assets.

"What's wrong, pretty girl? Cat's got your tongue?" he teased.

"James," you said sternly.

"Baby, I can make you feel so good. All you have to do is say the word," he whispered in your ear, making you shudder.

You know deep inside you that this wasn't a good idea in the long run. It sounds so tempting now but what would happen afterwards? What would happen to your friendship?

"Stop thinking so hard. Just let me make you feel good, please," he begged.

His hands caressed your sides and you couldn't resist squirming; he hasn't even touched you.

"I can tell you're starving. Itching to be touched by someone. Those lonely nights with a laptop and your fingers isn't enough. I can help you, pretty girl. Give you so much and more; give you nirvana. Just say the word," he spoke slowly, sensually; you were damn near shaking just from his words.

"Please," you whimpered.

"Please what?" he teased; Bucky was drunk off the power he had over you.

"Fuck me. Use me. Ruin me," you begged.

"As you wish."

Bucky grabbed the back of your neck smashing his lips to yours. He grinded his hips into you and you feel his hard on digging into you. Your fingers dug into the soft skin of his chest leaving small red marks and scratches littered.

Bucky moved his hand up behind your head, curling his fingers in your hair pulling harshly. his lips instantly attached to your neck biting and sucking to mark you, so you remember he was the one who made you feel euphoric in the coming days. He wants you to remember this night.

"Shit, that feels so good," you sighed.

"That's just the beginning, pretty girl. Get on the bed," he demanded.

You scurried to bed tearing your shirt and shorts off leaving you in your dark lacey undergarments.

"It's like you were ready for me to fuck you," he chuckled darkly.

He crawled up the bed to you like an animal hunting and taunting its prey. You couldn't help but nibble on your bottom lip, anxious for what was to come from Bucky.

His hands gripped your waist firmly pulling impossibly close to his body. He kissed you again and you swore you could stay like that forever. His lips felt so soft again yours, you melted against his body from pleasure.

His hands circled your back and pulled at the bra clasp before swiftly undoing it and letting free. You shrugged your shoulders to your ears allowing the straps of the bra fall gracefully down your upper arm before Bucky curled his finger over the front and tossed it aside to admire your chest.

Your shoulders subconsciously caved in, embarrassed to be so unclothed in front of someone for the first time. Again, you weren't innocent but anyone would still be nervous for their first time. Bucky smiled softly at your timidness; his hands rubbing your sides slowly and comforting to help ease your nerves a bit.

"You are so gorgeous, baby."

"Don't get sappy, Barnes," you joked; but in reality you don't need another reason to fall deeper for him. Not that you're falling to begin with.

"Yes ma'am," he grinned.

He flipped the both of you over so you laid on your back. His hands gently kneaded your breasts pulling moans from you with every squeeze. He leaned down, taking a nipple in his mouth, sucking and biting your perked buds, circling his tongue around. Your back arched into him and you think you can handle the pleasure but you find yourself involuntarily getting higher and higher. Moaning and gasping louder every time Bucky would bite down hard on your nipple. The last straw was when Bucky brought his fingers between your thighs and barely pressed against your aching clit that you fell suddenly over the edge crying Bucky's name.

"Did you just-"

"Fuck, I'm sorry! I don't know what happened. I- Everything just-"

Bucky cut you off with a deep kiss.

"Don't be sorry," he chuckled.

"It's really hot that I was able to make you cum by just playing with these beauties," he flicked your nipples and squeezed your breats making you tremble.

“Shit, too much,” you whined.

Bucky ignored you once again, dipping his head back down, flicking his tongue over your overly sensitive buds. The squeal you made made Bucky chuckle darkly but he didn’t want to torture you so his lips trailed slowly down the valley of your breasts to you belly and hip bones. His fingers curled over your panties dragging them slowly down your legs.

“Fucking hell, pretty girl. You’re dripping. You’ve just been aching for me to get my hands on you for a while, huh?” Bucky taunted.

“Please,” you whimpered.

“Absolutely gorgeous.”

Bucky’s hands rested against your knees pushing them as far as they could go before diving in you like a starved man. Truthfully, Bucky had dreamed of this moment since he met you for the first time moving in. As the days, weeks, and years went by, the urge to resist kissing and fucking you stupid was getting all to much. But now he finally has you under him, at his mercy and he was determined to pleasure as much as he could before getting his cock anywhere near you.

Bucky brought his fingers to circle your entrance, waiting until your legs were nearly shaking from the teasing. As he pushed his fingers past your folds, he brought his mouth down again kissing right above your clit. You gasped and sighed in pleasure as he pumped his fingers in and out of you heavenly.

“Shit, feels so good. So, so good,” you moaned.

Bucky’s tongue brushed over your clit and you couldn’t resist bucking your hips, pushing his fingers deeper inside you. Your back arched off the bed and your hands shot to his head tugging on his dark locks harshly. Bucky’s moans from your tugs vibrated against you and you knew you weren’t going to last any longer.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum Bucky! Shit!” you shrieked.

“Come on, pretty girl. Be a good girl and come all over my fingers,” he said.

Seconds later, you reached your high, crying Bucky’s names again as if it was the only word you knew how to say. Your head practically dangled off the bed, scooting closer and closer to edge desperate to pull away from Bucky’s talented mouth.

“God, you’re beautiful when you fall apart like that,” Bucky mumbled against your heated skin.

Sweat lined your forehead and your chest, your hair was scattered across the sheets like a maniac, and your skin along your neck down to your inner thighs was littered with little bruises and bite marks from Bucky. You looked ethereal.

“One more. Can you give me one more?” Bucky asked softly.

“Fuck,” you whimpered.

“Such a good girl. I know you can, come on.”

Bucky gently flipped your body over, laying you on your stomach. He kissed down your spine, whispering sweet and kind things to you. You can’t even register what he’s saying because his godly erection is poking your ass and you're practically aching again to be railed by him.

“So eager for my cock, aren’t ya? Already being such a greedy little whore.”

“Please, Bucky,” you begged, wiggling your ass against his crotch.

“Don’t worry, baby. I’m gonna fuck you so good; gonna ruin you for anyone else,” he whispered in your ear before biting on your earlobe.

He stood tall on his knees behind you gripping your hips, roughly pulling them flush against his pelvis; you pushed yourself up on your hands. He grabbed his aching cock, the tip red and leaking with precum. Bucky doesn’t even know how he was able to last so long without cumming but he did and now all he wants to do is cum deep inside you.

“Ready, pretty girl?” he teased, rubbing your cheeks softly with his hands.

“Fuck me good, James,” you moaned.

Bucky lined his dick with your entrance slowly pushing the tip past your folds. The burning sensation caused you to hiss and tense around Bucky, who instantly stopped his movements.

“No, it’s ok; you’re just bigger than I was anticipating,” you fussed.

“It’s ok. If it’s too much you tell me to stop,” Bucky told you.

“No, don’t stop, please!” you whined.

“Don’t get greedy,” Bucky warned.

“Think you can handle all of me?”

“Fuck,” you muttered.

He pushed his hips further in you slowly, careful to not hurt you. His hands ran slowly up your body before curling his fingers through your hair and pulling your head up. Once he bottomed out, he rested for a minute until you were ready for him to move.

“Holy fucking hell, baby. Feel so good wrapped around my cock, shit,” Bucky groaned above you.

“I feel so- full.”

“‘S like you were made for me, pretty girl.”

Bucky’s hips began to move faster and faster pulling moans from you that was music to his ears. Bucky relished in your sex. He used every ounce of willpower in him to keep control but you felt so heavenly, so sublime. He couldn’t hold back any longer. You could tell that Bucky was holding back and you didn’t want him to. He pleasured you twice already, it was his turn to feel good and if letting go would do that for him you would let him.

“Come on, Bucky. Fuckin’ ruin me!”

“Don’t say shit like that,” he grunted, still thrusting his hips.

“I can take it, baby. Use me,” you told him.

Bucky’s hips stilled only for a second before you felt a sharp stinging on your right ass cheek.

“You want me to fuck you like a whore? Fine, I will,” Bucky growled before pulling out and flipping you over.

Bucky rammed his hips into you fast and rough. His hand went to wrap around your throat squeezing the sides and your eyes rolled back. Tears brimmed your eyes and you cried out over and over again. You felt used, corrupted, violated. You love it.

“Fuck, yes!”

“Shit, I’m gonna fucking come,” Bucky groaned.

Bucky released your throat before dipping his head in the crook of your neck. His groans and moans were muffled by your skin. Your hands wrapped around his neck and your legs too wrapped around his torso pulling his body flushed against yours. Your nails ran down Bucky’s back; he breathed in sharply through gritted teeth before moaning loudly in your ear from the pleasurable sting.

Chasing his release along with yours, Bucky’s thrusts became relentless. Animalistic. Feral, even. Everything felt overwhelming. It didn’t take much longer until you felt Bucky’s stuttering thrusts and the spurts of warm cum coating your velvety walls. Bucky completely relaxed on top of you, his breath heavily hitting your sweaty skin. You scratched his back softly coming down from your own high breathing equally as heavily.

“You feeling ok, pretty girl?” Bucky asked quietly.

“Yeah,” you whispered with a stupid grin on your face.

“You did amazing, you know?” Bucky kissed you softly; your stomach fluttering at the action.

“What now?” you couldn’t help but ask.

“Now, I’m going to take care of you,” Bucky said, hopping off you and the bed.

You laid there breathing slowly now. You didn’t have the energy to move at this point. Your inner thighs burned deliciously and the soreness began to be more apparent all over your body. Bucky came back with a warm towel and bottle of water from the kitchen. He cleaned you up with the towel and you could help the soft moans and whimpers that escaped from you. Once you were cleaned, Bucky helped you sit up and held the now open water bottle for you to hydrate yourself. You couldn’t shake the butterflies and chills you got from Bucky’s stare. He couldn’t take his eyes off you anymore; like you hung the moon and stars for him.

“What?” you asked shyly.

“Nothing,” he grinned.

“Come on. You’ve gotta go pee,” he said carrying you in his arms towards his bathroom.

“No, I just want to go to sleep already,” you whined, voice muffled in the crook of his neck.

Bucky sat on you on the toilet and waited for you to… do your business. You just sat there squirming, and shaking from the cold that hit your body.

“Come on. You have to,” Bucky explained.

“I know, but I can’t pee in front of you. I’m shy,” you mumbled.

“Seriously, I just fucked-”

“Bucky, please,” you cut him off.

“Oh alright. Come back to bed when you’re finished, pretty girl,” Bucky said before leaving you.

You couldn’t shake the smile off your face. He was being so caring and nice to you, it warmed your heart. You felt a bit of heartbreak however wondering if this was just a one time thing. You cleaned yourself again and washed your hands before snatching one of Bucky's t-shirts that laid on the floor. When you came out Bucky was fiddling with his camera that was still set-up and your heart dropped.

Had he recorded the whole thing?

“I was gonna delete all the footage, but in all honesty you look so fucking sexy. Might keep it for myself,” he said winking.

“You recorded the whole thing without telling me?” you asked, tearing up.

“I didn’t mean to. I’m not gonna post it anywhere. You sorta screamed my name a few times so footage ain’t good anyway,” he said, making you scoff and roll your eyes.

“Hey, hey. I’m kidding. I’ll delete all of it, I promise,” he cupped your face.

“Come here; I gotta do one more thing for you,” he said, laying you down on the bed once again.

“What are you doing?” Bucky grabbed another towel and some scented lotion placing it on his bedside table.

“I’m gonna give you a massage. You’ll be less sore tomorrow morning. I’ll admit I was a bit rough,” he said, kissing your belly as he lifted his shirt off your body.

“You do this to all the girls you sleep with?” you teased, not really wanting an answer but you’ll play a part if it keeps from being humiliated because of feelings.

“Only the pretty girls,” he says, fully referencing his nickname he gave you a while ago.

“And how many pretty girls might you have?”

“There’s only one,” he whispered; his hands massaging along your back slowly, sensually.

“She must be really lucky,” you whispered too, afraid of speaking too loud.

“If anything, I’d say I’m the lucky one.”

“You think?”

“Yeah, she’s… she’s perfect. Beautiful. Smart. I could go on about her.”

“She sounds like a prude,” you joked.

“She was,” he chuckled.

“But trust me, now she’s a real feisty and sexy woman,” Bucky said before biting down hard on one of your ass cheeks.

“Ow! Bucky!” you squealed, making Bucky laugh.

Bucky tossed the towel away and placed the lotion back on the bedside table before grabbing the blankets and crawling under them with you. He held you close, entangling his legs with yours, wrapping his arms around you tightly.

“You mean all that?” you asked barely audibly.

“Yeah. I do, pretty girl.”

“You don’t have to delete the video,” you smirked, making Bucky laugh out loud.

He kissed your forehead snuggling closer to you, letting peaceful sleep envelop you both.

=============================

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Bucky Barnes Taglist:

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[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

Here is I, the person who is throwing classic Harry Potter Fanfic tropes at you to ruin and fix and make a whole thing if you so wish.

Seer Harry. I can't tell you how many seer Harry fics I have run across. So tell me Muffin how badly would this actually go? Everything is open to interpretation for how you think seers would work. But let's say Harry goes either blind or becomes blind over time. In true seer fashion for irony sake. Which i have seen a seer done right in My babysitter is a vampire but I rarely actually ever see them used to the full potential. And knowing the dumpster fire that is Harry and Dumbledore this won't end up well.

I mean, we're talking canon Harry here with the only difference being he's now a seer? And will someday go blind?

Alright, let's do it.

A Caveat

No one plays with canon Harry. We all make significant changes to his character, some that are more obvious to the audience than others. It's the Harry Potter fandom way.

Harry is made smarter, kinder, 'darker', more elitist, more political, you name it fandom's got it. Rarely is Harry ever pure Harry (I say raising my hand as I am shamelessly guilty of the same phenomenon).

So, if you were to see this in a story, or if I were to write this in a story myself, I wouldn't be working with canon Harry. I don't know who I'd write instead, but it'd likely be a very different character to suit my needs. I suspect every other author would be the same (even if they don't admit as much and produce something pointless and terrible.)

But since this is meta, that's not what we're doing here.

Harry Potter is a Seer

Remember that Harry is dumb. I don't mean that he's not book smart or he occasionally makes stupid choices, that kid is dumb as bricks and is dumb as bricks throughout the entire series. This isn't really the post to iterate through why he's an idiot, just take my word for it here. He is.

But more than that, I'm not sure he'd ever realize he has this gift or it's in any way extraordinary.

So, Harry has increasingly terrible vision that seems to get worse every year and occasionally hallucinates things that then later happen. Doesn't that happen to everybody? Isn't that what that phrase 'deja vu' is all about? It must just be your regular wizard thing.

Harry didn't realize talking to snakes wasn't a common talent until it was brought up by Ron in Harry's second year. Similarly, I doubt anyone would talk about this and so Harry just assumes this is a normal thing and that his eyesight is shitty (Hermione, after all, always seems to know what's on the exam too so he can't be the only one.)

But honestly...

This might as well be canon.

Harry gets ominous visions of Quirrell doing something? SNAPE MUST BE UP TO SOMETHING. Quirrell, must have been manipulated or else cursed by Snape to do the something he may or may not be up to.

Harry gets ominous visions of this hot kid in a basement somewhere? DRACO MUST BE UP TO SOMETHING. Harry's not sure who Mr. Hottie is, or where this basement is, or what's even happening but if Draco's not in on this Harry will eat his hat.

Rinse and repeat.

Harry might confess to having these visions but may very likely blame his connection with Voldemort (as most of the visions are going to be about Tom Riddle or in some way related to him.) This is something that is known about/told to him via Dumbledore and Harry wouldn't think to go "Oh wait, no, I think I'm a seer".

He eventually goes blind and likely blames his scar and the evil magic left there by Voldemort. This causes him more capslock rage than usual and he spends the rest of that year learning how to grapple with his blindness. He figures being able to 'see' where the next step is on the stairs is his magic overcompensating.

[eremiie]

hbd cornelius springer <3

❥ nsfw | 3.2k words | connie x fem!reader

❥ content - blowjob

❥ the birthday boy deserves some birthday head!!!

happy birthday connie springer, and happy belated birthday @arlerted ily both a whole lot <3... i started this at like 4am so pls bare with this

"you enjoying your birthday?"

connie turns around at the sound of your voice, soda can in hand while he closes the fridge door.

the way his face lights up when he connects your voice to your face makes you beam. his eyes get wide, eyebrows rise up, and a crooked smile graces his features as you walk forth, your hand trailing against the kitchen counter.

it makes you smile, the ways he's immediately stoked to see you. it's endearing if anything and your heart flutters at the excitement that twinkles in his eyes at your appearance.

"duh... yeah of course i like it."

"duh... yeah of course i like it."

"duh... yeah of course i like it."

his stupid smile shifts into a small smirk and he picks up his drink to take another sip. "what're you lookin' at?"

seriously? were you that obvious?

he leans back against the corner of the kitchen counter, twirling the soda can in his hand to shake his drink up while steadying himself with his elbows. you can tell the question was one he was genuinely waiting on an answer for— it was to just rile you up and one for him to shrug off with a 'just messin'.

you roll your eyes. there was no reason to give him an ego. "your ugly party hat." your tone is snarky, and a breathy laugh leaves connie's throat as he shakes his head at you. he beckons with two slender fingers.

"come 'ere."

your stomach turns at the gesture— no at the sentence and you curse the slight stubbornness that keeps you standing where you stood with your arms crossed. "what?"

connie holds your gaze easily, and instead of giving you an answer his hand reaches out to pull you towards him by your forearm.

you stumble forward until you were situated between his feet, a strong hand encasing your wrists and his breath fanning across your face from the proximity of you and connie.

his eyes look more hazel up close, green and yellow dancing like a fiery bright fire. you can feel the denim of his jeans rub against the fat flesh of your thighs from where you stand, and connie makes no effort to move back.

it's a clear invasion of your space but neither you or him seem to mind— and you hope connie didn't take the way your heart jumps in your chest and your suddenly uneven breathing as a sign that you did mind. no, it was the exact opposite of that if anything.

"are you enjoying the party?" his voice comes out a little too smooth for your liking. where was the slight cracks in his voice as he spoke or the lilts in his tone as he tried his best to be a flirt?

the way he looks at you doesn't help. his eyes are low lying, having trouble staying focused on only just yours. you notice them flit a little lower every now and then before popping back up to match your gaze.

you hoped you came off as unbothered— stable and unfazed by his sudden demeanor. if it wasn't obvious by now your slight attraction to connie was something that you couldn't seem to let go of ever since you had first met him.

you hated how goofy he was and how the lame jokes he'd crack would always make you laugh regardless of how stupid. you hated how  somehow he'd always coerce you to do the handy work when it came to class projects because he was too lazy to get up off his own ass and help you. you hated how even through all these little silly quirks of his if he really wanted to with a few slip ups here and there he could make the hairs on your arms stand and have you stop breathing just from a slick look and slick sentence.

you hated all these things because they all made you feel gushy inside no matter how dumb it was. they made your body warm and gave you this comforting feeling that you couldn't get from anyone else.

so when connie repeats another "hm?" catching you off guard for the second time, that warm feeling returns because this time the pads of his fingers drum against your shoulder, a little to close to the junction near your neck.

"as long as ymir and sash keep me entertained, then yeah. this little 'party' isn't that bad." your quick with your response this time once he sets you back on track and you calm a bit.

"so ymir 'n sash are the life of the party for ya?" he pouts, and you scrunch your nose up when he leans in a little more, a mock pitiful expression on his face. "damn, 'n i'm supposed to be the birthday boy... that's crazy."

you can tell he's a little under the influence. despite it being his birthday he was actual one out of a few to keep their drinking at a light tonight. you couldn't say the same for armin who was currently passed out and curled up at the safety of mikasa's side on the large sofa, or for reiner who was last crying to ymir before she managed to 'shut the fuck up jockey' him as you walked pass.

you liked it like this though, liked to know that the interactions between you and connie weren't entirely the alcohol talking.

but it wasn't like it was ever really anything but him talking when he got more than comfortable with you.

light touches up the soft skin of your thighs, moving you around by placing his hands on your waist (where you must say they fit like a puzzle), or attacking you in tickles when he decided to crash at you and sasha's place and you wouldn't pass up the remote.

those were all connie, but it was nice to know that the person in front of you was mostly connie as well.

"you are... you just haven't been keeping me company as you should have." you lift up a hand right in front of his face and pretend to inspect your nails before dropping four fingers down to your palm and turning your nails to you once again.

connie let's out a low laugh at the gesture before using his own palm to cup the top of your hand. you expect him to push it down and let go but he only holds it in his grip with that same dumb smile plastered on his face as he doesn't fail to keep eye contact with you.

"ha-ha, so funny. you act like we didn't dance together," you recall the memory of connie hoisting you up from the couch and spinning you around until your backside was pressed against him, asking you to 'dance'. if anything that encounter is probably what encouraged the tingle between your legs and pushed you to follow connie into the kitchen. "sit together for like a good ass while, and play cards together— cheating together i might add."

you giggle, "did eren not realize that practically half the deck was under my ass and in your pockets?" connie reciprocates your giggle in his cheery tone and he raises the soda can to his lips again to empty it out inside his mouth.

"nah, but for real, what more company do you need?"

in the back of your head you had a solid idea of the kind of company you needed from connie, but you weren't even sure if your mind was quick enough to formulate it into a sentence that sounded appealing to the ears, enticing even.

a dramatic sigh leaves your lips and your hands come up to connie's head, one index plucking at the thin string below his chin and the other one holding the loud party hat until you were pulling it off and fiddling with it in your hand.

connie's hand automatically comes to rub at the short grey strands with a small frown at the absence of his hat. he stands up straight so he's peering down at you and his arm swings over your shoulder as he begins walking the two of you towards the exit to the kitchen abandoning his empty can of soda. "what?"

you slow down your pace so that he slows down and pull his arm from around you just as quickly as he placed it there massaging his knuckles in the process.

the eagerness to stay alone with him and not go back out where the chatters of all your friends would become tenfold is what makes you more bold, is what makes you back connie up towards the kitchen island until your practically leaning on him with doe eyes, fluttering your lashes and saying, "just wanna be alone with you for a minute..." you hesitate for a moment before beginning to speak again, "i gotta present for you, but we gotta go upstairs."

it's like your words alone manage to somewhat crack the demeanor he had going on. how his mouth slightly parts and how his body tenses up slightly tells you. you're thankful for the small adrenaline rush a measly walk to the archway gave you.

"shit, what's upstairs?" you relish in how he feeds into your words instead of stuttering under pressure and his hand moves to the small of your back pulling you even closer.

it's noticeable that he likes to feel your skin on his, and his hands are warm against the skin of your hip, practically singeing it with just his touch. it sends a hot feeling throughout your body and you indulge in him some more, fully enveloping your hand with his free one and giving a nice smile.

"if you come with me then it'll be me and you," and he lets you pull him along like a dog on a leash, sticking as close to its owner as possible as he's so close behind you that you can feel him up against your back as you begin to nonchalantly walk past your group of friends conversing in the living room.

for you it's easy to ignore their remarks and looks of 'finally'. after all, you knew they were coming. but connie couldn't, shooting silly faces to his audience as he lets you pull him along.

"they're finally fucking."

"go, birthday boy!"

"gettin' some birthday pussy!"

"_______, bite his dick off for me!"

the only phrase to elicit some sort of reaction from you is the mumbly one from sasha from whatever was in her mouth as she encouraged you to injure connie.

all the phrases seem to get one out of connie, from him pretending to fuck you from behind causing you to pinch the tan skin of his wrist to him making kissy faces at jean, eren, and even to ymir who further encouraged you to take a chomp out of his little friend.

you lead him through his bedroom door, immediately locking it because you know he'll forget and then turning to face him again.

when you turn back around connie's still looming over you, his hands lankily at his sides and it's as if he doesn't know what to do with them.

it makes you titter, and you take a step towards him pulling at his wrists place his hands back on your hips. "so what's my present?"

your hands come up to come his face and his skin is soft under your touch. he's warm and his breathing is unsteady as you lean forward to press your lips onto his.

he quickly returns the kiss, more fervently than you if anything. connie immediately groans as if the feeling of your lips on his was something he was craving.

connie pushes you against the door, a small thud eliciting from the way your back hits it and he lets go of your hips to cup your face and bring you deeper into the kiss.

the way he presses up so close against you makes you part your lips slightly giving him enough time to slip his tongue into your mouth until it's slotted alongside yours.

his knee parts your legs and bump against your crotch making you moan and let go of his face, holding onto his shoulders instead.

you pull back to breathe for a brief moment— and connie's eyes are overcast with lust. he doesn't have that twinkle from earlier and his grip on your hips is tighter than it was a few seconds ago.

he breathes heavily and rests his forehead against yours then dropping his knee. "that wasn't all i get for my birthday, right?"

with another roll of your eyes you shake your head. "it'd be a little rude of me to leave you like this, yeah?"

you slide down the wall until your knees hit the carpet and sit back on your shins. your delicate hands slide down connie's chest until the tips of your fingers are brushing over the buckle of his belt.

"yeah," connie's eyes flutter shut and he places a hand on the door to once again steady himself. "'d be real fuckin' rude of you."

your hands make work of his belt, unclasping the loop, unzipping the zipper and unbuttoning his pants to begin shrugging down the denim.

you had barely even started doing anything yet connie's mouth was slightly parted in anticipation. it was amusing how even the slightest touch from you could elicit a reaction out of him.

you pride yourself in this, and you take your time letting your fingertips massage the length of connie's clothed cock beneath his boxers. his body stutters overtop of you for a quick second and you move your hands to the hem of his boxers to begin pulling them down.

he's pretty; a slightly flushed tip that complimented the tan color of his skin. he's clearly already hard and you swear when your hand wraps around him his dick twitches in your touch. "god," he mumbles.

his dick is heavy in your hand, and he's thick to the touch. with a few test pumps you prop yourself up on your knees once more and place a hand over his thigh. "c'mon," his tone is encouraging yet hurrying, needy.

you click your tongue at him before using it to kitten lip his tip, like you were just trying to get a taste. connie hisses above you and drops his hand down to the top of your head.

"c'mon, we can't take too long with everyone still down there."

you know he's only saying so because he wants to feel your mouth around him. he's only being needy because it's something he'd been craving over the course of a few months. you are something he had been craving and now that you were under him he wanted all of you, starting with what you were willing to give which happened to be your pretty throat.

nevertheless, he's the birthday boy and you want to help pleasure him, making him feel a euphoric feeling that you know he's longed for.

you stick your tongue out and slap his tip against the flat of your tongue, and connie lets out another short groan, his fingers scrunching your hair.

connie shudders from above you and you almost feel bad for teasing him. you let the warmth of your mouth consume him completely— well, as far as you can while your hand works at the remainder.

"yeah, yeah..." he hums and he opens his eyes  again to look down at you.

your mouth around him felt heavenly, and the image of you sucking him off was even better; cheeks hollowed out and hand pumping his length.

you were so pretty.

connie brings the hand in your hand down to your cheek to feel himself through the skin, his tip pressed up against the inside of your cheek as he slightly rolls his hips forward to fuck in your mouth gently.

you pull off of him, pushing spit to the front of your mouth and letting your saliva drip onto his cock.

"fuck, you can't do that," he whines and rubs his tip against your lips until you open up again for him and his hand returns to your hair. "stick your tongue out."

you obey. using the leverage he has on your locks, he pushes deeper into your mouth, bobbing your head as he thrusts forward. small moans leave connie's lips. he's infatuated with the way your tongue slides against his underside as you try your best to relax your throat to let him in.

he loves it, loves how your mouth is so wet and sloppy around him, how it feels so good to be inside you— and he wants to feel every part of you, not stopping at your mouth.

saliva drips from the corner of your mouth and you try to suppress the gags that try to come up. you whimper from underneath connie, and he pulls out to give you a minute to breath.

it's funny how he's breathing harder then you his chest heaving. "that fuckin' mouth,"

you give a slight smile at the compliment, pleased to know you were pleasing him.

"i need it s'more."

what kind of person would you be if you didn't give the birthday boy what he wanted?

so you give him more, using connie's thighs to keep yourself steady, relaxing yourself and breathing through your nose as you let connie fuck your mouth.

he becomes erratic, the grip he has on your hair is slightly painful but you know he's too caught up in his lust, too caught up in the haven that was your throat.

he's so lost in the pleasure that he doesn't warn you when he's about to cum and you only know by the way his cum spills down your throat making you cough and pull off of him.

what you could only assume was a "sorry" comes from him as he calms down, pulling up his boxers and jeans but forgetting to buckle his belt. his hand reached out for you to grab it.

you take it and he pulls you up until you're almost at his height again, that same dumb smile on his face. "did you like your present?" you hum after you clear your throat.

"duh..." his thumb comes up to wipe at the saliva around your mouth before pushing the digit between your lips. you waste no time entertaining him, sucking your spit up and popping off of his thumb. "you thinkin' you could gimme something else though?"

you snort, "what happened to we couldn't take too long cause everyone's downstairs?"

"i'm still hard, it's my birthday, i really don't give a fuck who's downstairs." his words contradict his earlier statement but you brush it off, pulling him by the string of his jacket and pressing another peck to his lips.

"get in the bed birthday boy."

[quicksilverownsmysoul]

Take Me Home Tonight

Summary: Warren accidentally confesses to you and is forced to realize that he’s been in love with you for a while now. This is Evan’s warren lipka I just wanted to specify

Word Count: 2928

Warnings: None this is pure fluff, Warren being his usual goofy and incredibly hot self

You were having the time of your life right now, nothing was funnier than drunk Warren Lipka. He was the definition of a hot mess, one second he was grinding on some random lady on the dance floor and the next second he was passed out on the toilet, pants down and Spencer had to go and get him. You always volunteered to be their designated driver when they went out, you loved getting to see Warren like this. And because you would never get drunk in front of Warren, you knew you were a bold drunk and whatever you did he would never let you forget it. 

You scanned the room trying to make sure you had eyes on them. Spencer was snoring with his head down surrounded by empty bottles and various wrappers, he was sitting at a table towards the center of the bar and Warren was near the front of the bar. He was currently fighting with some woman over the karaoke machine. Warren wrestled the microphone from her and her friends cussed him out before he flipped them off. He took the makeshift stage stumbling on the last step. 

He squinted his eyes till he found you, you gave him a wave, water still in hand. He gave you a lopsided smile before pointing in your direction, pushing his hair back. “This one goes out to my girlfriend!” The crowd wolf whistled as they turned to face in your direction. You rolled your eyes.

“I’m not his girlfriend!” You shouted back with a laugh. 

“Yea but I wish you were!” He shouted back. 

“Wait what.” You felt your eyes bulge out of your head and turn to look at Spencer, he had the same shocked look on his face. You looked at him for an explanation and he just shrugged his shoulders, as clueless as you were. Warren whispered something to the guy running the machine and a second later Eddie Money started blaring out of the speakers, drowning out your attempts to call him off the stage. 

Warren bopped his head to the music, jerking his hips out, still pointing in your direction. “I feel a hunger, it’s a hunger, That tries to keep a man awake at night!” He began to sing and it was awful. He was basically screaming and his voice was raspy from all the alcohol. But he put up so much of a performance into the way he sang the audience didn't seem to care. He held eye contact with you slowly moving off the stage and towards you.

The spotlight followed his movements, the light creeping closer to your secluded corner of darkness. “Are you the answer?” Your heart pounded at the implication of his words and the way his eyes seemed alert. He continued singing until he was directly in front of you. He threw the cord around you and used it to pull you close, you stumbled into him catching yourself on his chest. He leaned forward, his close proximity making the hair on your arms stand up, he lowered his voice as he nudged the side of his head into yours. “I can feel you breathe, I can feel your heart beat faster…” 

He watched you with half lidded eyes, moving closer, his lips nearly brushing against yours, but before you could make contact he pulled away from you nearly causing you to trip over the cord as he yanked it back towards him. He danced back towards the center of the bar and jumped up on the table where Spencer was at. He threw his head back and screamed out the lyrics “TAKE ME HOME TONIGHT! I DON’T WANNA LET YOU GO ‘TIL YA SEE THE LIGHT!” 

He waved his arm in the air, signaling the crowd to sing along with him. He nudged Spencer with his foot and he began to sing along with the rest of the bar patrons. They were all drunkenly sighing along with Warren, their gazes locked on you. He moved his arms around madly jumping up and down on the table, going absolutely crazy. You laughed watching him thrust his hips forward, matching the beat of the song. He pulled Spencer on the table with him and they both began to drunkenly sing to you, your face hurt from smiling so widely. You took out your phone and began to record their little song and dance. You also took a picture of drunk Warren pointing at you and screaming be my little baby. He had nearly slipped off the table while doing it, so it was all blurry and his eyes were wild.  You made a mental note to make it your lockscreen later. 

He started up at the chorus again, this time him and Spencer belting it accompanied by the other customers. “TAKE ME HOME TONIGHT!” Warren jumped a little too close to the edge of the table and launched him and Spencer on the floor, knocking over the neighboring tables. You were doubled over in laughter, Warren hadn’t even stopped singing he just carried on as he laid on top of Spencer on the floor. 

The security guard walked over to the two of them and picked them up by their shirt collars. He tried taking the microphone from Warren but he just held it closer still signing into it, even though the music had stopped. The security guard looked at you and called you over. “Come get your boyfriend!” 

“He’s not my boyfriend!” 

“BUT HE WISHES HE WAS!” The bar patrons chanted together, remembering what Warren had shouted to you earlier. Your face burned in embarrassment as you want to collect them. Ripping the microphone from Warren’s hands as he whined and handed it to the security guard. The crowd cheered Warren on as you guys were escorted out, he bowed and blew kisses to the crowd. You had to drag him by his arm all the way to the car, Spencer just walked alongside you guys smiling to himself. 

You shoved Warren into the passenger's seat and he groaned as he hit his head on the roof going in. Spencer laughed at him. “Shut up!” Warren called reaching into the back seat. 

“Stop that!” You said, pulling him back into the front seat. You buckeld yourself in before starting up the car. “I can’t believe you got us kicked out of my favorite bar.” You scolded. You weren't really all that mad about being kicked out, you were more upset about the way Warren had said he wished you were his girlfriend. You knew that when Warren was drunk he would say and do just about anything so you learned not to take him seriously. But you had been crushing on him for years now and for a second you had felt a flicker of hope that he returned your affection. 

Warren just pouted with his arms crossed for a moment before playing with your radio flicking through the channels. He smiled when he heard the song he was singing earlier again. “Oh no not again.” You said reaching over to turn the radio off, he smacked your hand away and kept his own covering the buttons. 

“Warren.” You warned, glancing over to glare at him. He just smirked and started singing again. 

“Come on (y/n) sing with me!” 

“No.”

“I feel a hunger….” He leaned across to the seat getting really close to whisper in your ear. “Come on, you know you wanna sing with me. You know you wanna take me home tonight.” He slurred. You pushed him back into his seat laughing at his poor attempt at flirting. But it got you to play along. 

“Oh yeah, I’ll take you home tonight.” You said in an over seductive voice, reaching over to run your hand up and down his thigh. 

“Really?” He asked, biting his bottom lip. 

‘Yeah I’m gonna take both your asses home and make sure you stay there.” You pushed your hand into his chest knocking him back into his seat. 

He groaned, lulling his head to the side knocking it against the window with a soft bonk. “You’re no fun.” 

You winked at him. “I know.” You softly hummed the tune to yourself the rest of the ride home and Warrens smiled to himself at watching you. 

You dropped them both off at Warren’s place, he said his dad wasn't home so Spencer could crash there. Warren had nearly fallen down the stairs into the basement, but you caught him and propped him up. He blushed as you gently helped him lay down in bed and removed his shoes. You laid him down and he grabbed your hand as you moved to leave. “What, no goodnight kiss?” You rolled your eyes and moved back towards him. He closed his eyes and puckered his lips, you made him lay back down and settled for a kiss on his forehead. 

“Goodnight Warren.” He was glad the lights were off so you couldn't see how red his face had gotten from your simple kiss. He hadn't expected you to do anything at all. 

“‘Night.” 

Warren woke up in the middle of the night, needing to pee. As he was washing his hands he was hit with a full memory of what had happened last night. He stumbled out of his room and made his way to Spencer who was passed out on the couch. “Dude.” He shook him. “Dude wake up!”

Spencer jolted awake. “What do you want Warren?” 

“Did I do what I think I did last night?” Warren said slowly, his brows furrowed.

“If you’re asking if you indirectly confessed to (y/n) by serenading her with an Eddie Money song and then asking her to take you home tonight about a million times then yes.” Spencer curled back into himself hugging the blanket closer. He was always thankful when you made a bed for him. You always remember to give him a blanket and a pillow. Warren always forgot and he ended up having to use a newspaper or a couch cushion to keep warm. He turned back, opening one eye. “She also kissed you goodnight and left you a care package.”

“I’m sorry she kissed me?” Warren said, yanking Spencer's blanket away. 

“Yes.” Spencer said bordely, blindly fumbling for his blanket. “On the forehead idiot, you asked her for a kiss and that’s all she gave you.”

“But she kissed me?”

“Yes. Now give me my blanket back.”

“One more thing.”

“What?” Spencer groaned, trying to get his blanket back. Warren kept holding it out of his reach. 

“You said she left me a care package.”

“Yea, on the table.” Warren dropped the blanket back on Spencer and practically sprinted over to the table. “ But she left a gatorade for me too so don’t drink them both!” Spencer added before going back to sleep. There was a little wooden tray with a gatorade, an aspirin bottle and a whole bunch of little tricks to help with a hangover. He smiled at your sweet sentiment and downed some of the pills hoping they would ease his pounding head. He held the little care package in his hands, smiling at it unconsciously. You were always so thoughtful, you always took care of his dumbass and got him out of whatever trouble he managed to get into. You were always there for him when he needed you. He had always had lingering feelings for you but he’d brush it off as a crush, Warren Lipka didn't have “deep feelings.” 

But the longer he looked at the care package you left him and as he reflected on the events of last night he couldn't deny it any longer. “Shit.” He mumbled running a hand down his face. Spencer had turned to look at him. “I’m in love with her.”

“You're just now realizing this.” Warren tossed a pillow at him and Spencer batted it away. “So what are you going to do?”

“Nothing.”

“What?” 

“I’m just gonna hold all my feelings in until I die.” 

“Are you serious?”

“Deadly.” 

Spencer sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He yawned out his reply. “Just tell her you liked her like a normal person.” 

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“What if…” Spencer sensed the change of tone in Warren’s voice and he now had his full attention. “What if she doesn't like me back. I don’t want to ruin our friendship.”

Spencer bit his lip, debating on telling Warren what you had told him. Warren noticed Spencer's suspicious behavior and his eyes narrowed. “You know something.”

“No I don’t.”

“Yes you do.” Warren plopped onto the couch beside Spencer. “Tell me.”

“I’m not really supposed to-”

“Tell me. Tell me. Tell me. Tell me. Tell-”

“Okay!” Spencer huffed. Spencer looked around as if making sure you weren't there to overhear him. “She told me that she likes you.”

“WHAT?” 

“Don’t yell, I still have a hangover.” Spencer groaned, pressing his fingers to his temple. He got you to take some aspirin, Warren followed.

“She likes me, since when??” Spencer bit his lip. Warren yanked his gatorade away. “How long has she liked me spencer?””

“Since high school.”

“WHAT?”

“Dude.” Spencer yanked his gatorade back. “I told you to stop yelling.”

“You knew that she liked me since high school and you never told me.”

“She made me promise not to tell.”

Warren glared at him. He wanted to be mad but the knowledge of you liking him outweighed his anger. “And you’re sure she still likes me?’

“Yeah.” 

“Positive? This ain't something I can't take a risk on. I need to be one million percent sure.”

“Yes.” 

“Yes what?”

“Seriously?” Spencer signed. Warren glared at him and he rolled his eyes. “Yes I’m sure she still likes you.” 

Warren went up the stairs of the basement taking two at a time and yanking the door open. “Where are you going?” Spencer called up.

“To go see her.”

“But you don’t have a car. And it’s the middle of the night.”

“I don’t care and I don’t need one.” Warren slammed the door shut on his way out. Spencer winced and went to lay back down. “That idiot is going to run there.” He grumbled.

You woke up to hear pounding on your door. You were still in bed and your roommate went to answer the door. She took one look out before slamming it shut. “Who is it?” You asked.

“Your hot friend.”

You got up and  opened it, Warren was on the other side, bent over and breathing really hard. “Warren?”

“Hey.” He wheezed out.

“Are you okay?”

“Mhmm.”

“You know it’s like 4 in the morning right?”

“Mhmm.” 

“Are you sure you’re okay? You’re really sweaty and you sound like you’re dying.”

“I’m good just give me a minute.” 

“Do you wanna come in?” Warren glanced behind you and saw your roommate leaning back in her chair, trying to see what was going on. 

“Nah. I-'' He took a deep breath before starting again. “I kinda want us to be alone for this.” 

You closed the door behind you and leaned against it waiting for him to continue. Warren stood back up, pushing his sweaty hair out of his face. He was all disheveled, still dressed in his clothes from last night. But his shirt was unbuttoned, exposing his chest to you, you did you best not to look. “So.” He started off, looking down at the floor. 

“So…”

“About last night.” Warren fiddled with the hem of his shirt. “I meant what I said.” He looked up to see your reaction, you were watching him with wide eyes silently asking him to continue. “I really like you, like a lot. And I have for a while now but I was too scared to admit it. I didn’t want to risk ruining our friendship.”

Your heart was beating out of your chest, you were pretty sure the whole dorm could hear it. “You… you like me?” 

“Yeah.” Warren rubbed the nape of his neck, his brown eyes staring into your own, waiting to see your answer. 

You smiled and glanced down at the floor. “I like you too.”

“Really?” His voice was hopeful, the edges of his lips curling into a smirk.

“Yeah.” You guys stared at each other like idiots with wide smiles on your faces. 

“So…” Warren started again this time a little more brave. ‘Would you maybe like to go out sometime?”

“I would love to.”

Warren pumped his first in the air. “Yes!” You laughed and went to open the door to your dorm. “As much as I love confessing to you in the hallway it’s the middle of the night. You should probably get back to bed.” He nodded. “So I guess I’ll see you around.” 

“Yeah, I’ll call you later to set up our date.”

“Okay!” 

You began to close the door before Warren rushed forward, he put his hands on the door frame, stopping you from closing it. “Wait! Can you uh, can you drive me home. I don't think I would survive running all the way back.”

“Sure.” you giggled, grabbing your keys and locking the door behind you. Warren smirked at you as you guys made our way down the hall. 

“So what you’re saying is you’ll take me home tonight.” He sang the last part, winking at you. You pushed his shoulder. 

“Don’t make me regret saying yes to going out with you.”

Taglist: @xxspqcebunsxx @coffeeandteaintheevening @kitwalkerangel @xmaximoffic @no-mercy-bby @evanmybeloved @livingmybestfictionallife

[in-superbloom]

did you ever hear about the girl who got frozen? (a.i.)

right where you left me: prologue

pairing: ashton irwin x olivia jones (oc)

warnings: uhh a kinda grieving theme i guess? but no deaths. it has a sad tone overall, but nothing major (in this chapter hehe). foul language because i can't help myself. the tiniest mention of alcohol, but as a memory. think i should probably warn you that this contains a very sad ash. also not much dialogues. this is mainly for explanation and introduction, but very important for the story. if you find anything else that might be triggering, please let me know so i can add it here !!

author's note: oof okay. so. this is the prologue of a series very very dear to my heart that i've been working on for what it feels like my whole life but really it's been just a few months. but i'm in love with the story (which rarely happens with my own writing) so i hope you can enjoy it too !! this is also my very first time posting a fic since 2013 so pls keep that in mind <3 no i am not shaking as type this ofc not also: although i have the full story ready in my head, this is the only chapter that's written. i wanted to wait until i had at least a few ready before posting this but i'm too anxious for that lmao just saying this bc it will take a good while until i have any more chapters, so <3 (p.s.: i went over this thing a million times since may so if you find any errors pls look away, i'm not fixing this thing anymore. thanks <3)

another note: anna from the future here to say that i completely forgot about the playlist i made for the story lmao here it is in case you're interested k thanks bye <3

credits: title is from taylor swift's song right where you left me. model in the picture: paola locatelli. banner by me.

i also wanted to take a minute to thank some really nice friends that i've made here over these past few months & that i'm extremely grateful for @wastelandcth @suchalonelysunflower @littledrummerangie i cannot thank you babes enough for inspiring me the way that you do & for letting me yell about this to you && for encouraging me so much 🥺 i'll never be able to explain just how much this means to me, so i'll have to settle for saying thank you at any change that i can get <3 i love you all 💜 also gem my baby, thank you for the inspo with the banner 💚

@bluesdelis look babe i did it 😌 you know how grateful i am for you & for you letting me have a breakdown every week about my writing for the past 8 years so let's not dive into that or else i will write something bigger than this prologue jsjsjdjd love you 🖤

i hope you all have a good reading and a nice day ♡

let me know what are your thoughts about the fic ! ♡

word count: 4.1k

☆☆☆

Cold. That was the first thing that Olivia’s brain processed.

Still with her eyes closed, she buried herself more into the duvet, while her arm blindly reached for the furnace in human form that she calls boyfriend. However, as soon as her arm was only met with cold sheets, her eyes shot open.

Blinking the sleep away, she sat up on the bed, searching for the infamous red clock resting on Ashton’s bedside table that was supposed to look like a vintage alarm clock. Olivia had ordered it online at an auction website a couple of years back, as a gift for his 23rd birthday, since it was something he had mentioned multiple times prior that he was looking for, but still hadn't found. But when it finally came in (two weeks after the due date), it looked nothing like the picture she saw on the website. Feeling beyond frustrated, she wanted to send it back immediately and ask for a refund and maybe leave a not so polite review on the seller's page. But Ashton stopped her right away, laughing like the situation was absolutely hilarious to him, while saying, 'I like it, it’s quirky'. So, the clock stayed and found a home right next to him in their room.

Some days, however, she would wake up at some ungodly hour because of the blaring noise of the only ringtone the clock had. But whatever annoyance she could feel towards the object, it always vanished as soon as she felt Ashton's lips gently touching her face in a good morning kiss before he would get up to start his day, leaving her to catch some more hours of well deserved sleep.

As the furthest from a morning person as a touring musician could possibly be, Olivia had always feared that living under the same roof as Ashton would turn her into an early bird like him, but she's thankful that it never happened (not that he needs to know about that).

When she sees the red clock, she smiles at the sudden but welcome memories of them flooding her foggy brain, but frowns slightly when she realizes it reads 12:13 pm. Ashton rarely lets her sleep past 10 am.

Gathering all her strength and will, she rises up from the bed, smoothly picking up a grey wool sweatshirt from the chair (way too baggy on her slim body, but it smells like him), pulling it over her head and relishing on the soft material warming up her body. Making her way to the door and calmly going down the stairs, she can’t help but stop for a minute to admire the picture frames on their walls, one in particular catches her attention – probably one of the most prized pictures and memories they had. It felt older than it actually is, but it was around 4 years ago, she's sure – a little while after the two of them met. The picture was of their group of friends that still remains the same: Ashton and his best friend, Luke; Olivia, her best friend, Calum and their old hometown friend, turned into Calum’s new friend at college, turned into everyone’s friend, Michael; and her then newly band members, Suki, Eli and Ravi. Together, their group was the life of the party through all their college years, and it showed by the big smiles and drinks in hands they all had in the picture. It was a very special night, the first time Olivia’s little band played for the public – for a small audience sure, but it was a wonderful night nonetheless. What a long road it had been since that night.

Her nostalgic thoughts were interrupted by a shiver that went through her whole body, and it made her realize how oddly cold the whole house was, not only their bedroom. Which, granted, it was November in New York and the weather was just getting colder, but that’s exactly why Ashton always made sure to keep the house warm enough. As much as she loved the chilly season, the warm weather always reminded him of his hometown, and who was she to deny him that?

The smell of fresh made coffee could be sensed even before she reached the kitchen. Arriving there, the curly haired woman still found no signs of her boyfriend, so she went straight after the coffee maker pot sitting on the far left corner of the cream marble counter. Smiling softly at the tons of memories of Ashton's sleepy figure making their favorite beverage, she reached for a coffee mug on the cupboard on top of the counter and poured the remainder of the hot liquid on it (it's her favorite mug, if she must choose – it was a gift from a fan, and it had printed on it a collage of the pictures of her and Ashton that were posted on social media through their first year of relationship).

Moving to the glass doors that lead to the mini garden they cultivate, she didn't have to open them to spot the 6-feet-tall man sitting on a bench outside, looking oddly small in his oversized clothes, coffee mug tightly held between strong hands. Something about his figure made Olivia frown, however: he was staring with an unwavering look at her small but eye-catching pot of yellow daffodils that were almost as much of a pet to them as Stitch at this point. Sensing that there’s something definitely off about his semblance, she made a mental note to talk to him and find out what’s wrong later. So she goes back to the kitchen, knowing that he might need this quiet and private moment for himself.

She lost count of the minutes that went by (couldn't have been more than five) before she hears the garden's door opening and closing, and then his bare feet are dragging his brawny body to her. Except, he goes over to the sink, walking right through her, not showing any sign that he even saw her hunched figure over the counter table in the middle of the room.

Alright, someone's in a mood.

Olivia tries to swallow the annoyance already bubbling inside her – he knows how much she hates to be ignored, no matter how mad he might be – by trying to think of what she can say that won't piss him off. This is always a hard feat to accomplish when Ashton gets in these moods, but there’s a reason for them to work so well together.

“I missed my favorite body heater when I woke up,” she says in her best sweet voice, knowing how quickly his resolve crumbles when he hears that voice.

Still, no reaction.

That settles a worry at the pit of her stomach, because Ashton is never like this. Even when he's not in the mood to talk, he always gives some kind of reaction to her words; it doesn't matter how small, just enough to make her feel acknowledged.

When he's finished washing his mug and the few scattered dishes across the sink – she noticed that he already had lunch, if the lone plate in the drying rack is anything to go by –, he dries his hand in a towel, turns around and throws it on top of the same counter Olivia was leaning up against. Once again, he walks away not even sparing her a look.

Indignant, she leaves the now empty coffee mug on top of the table and follows him as he walks up the stairs, any determination to not aggravate his mood now well gone.

“Hey! In case you didn't notice, I'm right here. Whatever got you in this sour mood, I'm certainly not to blame, so can you stop being a child now and talk to me?!”

Ashton just keeps walking – more like sluggishly dragging his body – until he reaches their bedroom and suddenly stops just merely two feet inside the room, looking around with vacant eyes; like he was expecting to see something that wasn't there.

“Okay, that's really mature of you. Are you planning on ignoring me all day then?” Olivia questions exasperated, staring angrily at the back of his neck, where the condor tattoo lives – her favorite of his, but that sight doesn't bring her any peace today like it usually does.

Her glare only breaks when she hears the familiar sound of dog tags swaying on her right side. Shifting her gaze to the direction of the sound, Olivia notices Stitch, their small, black & white French bulldog – who she thought was outside in the garden – slowly trudging his way from around the bed until he stops at Ashton's feet, looking up at one of his humans with sad eyes. That realization only makes the worry in her stomach grow uncomfortably.

“Hi buddy,” Ashton's voice cracks a bit from the lack of use, but he smiles softly at the sweet dog, and crouches down to pet him.

Olivia can't help but gasp as she notices three things all at once that leave her overwhelmed: first, how she didn't even notice Stitch was in the room when she woke up – which never ever happens, in fact, most days he wakes her up whenever he deems her bedtime as finished and can't ever contain his excitement when she finally gets up; second, how the windows blinds are closed, which, again, rarely occurs under their roof, not if Ashton can help it. And third, how sad and melancholic the whole scene in front of her is – how sad and melancholic Ashton is. Pointless to say by now – that's also a very rare occasion.

A chill creeps up Olivia's spine, putting her body into high alert and also serving as a reminder of how everything looks out of place today. Trying to keep her head from spiraling down way too soon, she wraps her arms around herself and crouches down beside her two favorite boys, trying once more.

“Ash? Can you hear me?” even with her throat closing, she softly asks, purposefully putting her face in Ashton's point of view. Her only answer is the low whispers he's letting out to Stitch, while cradling the tiny dog in his arms, spreading gentle kisses on his head.

“I know, bud, I know. I miss her too,” is the only whisper she could understand and immediately wishes she hadn't. The weak wail that comes from Stitch's throat seems to fit perfectly with how the three of them feel.

Ashton then looks up and for a couple of seconds, and Olivia can swear he’s staring right into her eyes. But when he shows no reaction, she knows he’s just staring ahead and not at her, with that look that says there’s too much going on inside his head. She feels the urge to embrace him and get him to talk about whatever is on his mind, so they can share that weight like they always do, but when Ashton gets up from the ground and settles on the bed with Stitch, Olivia can physically feel the crack in her heart caused by the feeling she’s left with.

While Ashton is pulling the duvet over him and the dog, with clearly no intentions of getting up anytime soon, Olivia stands up on her feet with a new-found determination – she needs to figure out what the hell is going on.

This nightmare had to be just that, right? Nothing but a very vivid dream – she's had those before. Scary sure, but they always go away, and soon enough she's back into Ashton's arms, with Stitch jumping on the bed ready to lick their faces off. She just needs to wake herself up from whatever fucked up dream this is – right?

She's running down the stairs this time, frantically in search of something, of what exactly, she doesn’t know – but she knows she needs an answer. The more she looks for something, the more desperate she gets, not knowing what to look for. Then suddenly, something catches her eyes.

The white and blue calendar that's held up by magnets on the side of the fridge. She knows their calendar is red and yellow. They got it from their favorite flower market. Slowly, as if scared of what it might be there – “It's just a calendar, for fucks sake” – she approaches the damn thing. Upon inspection, she deems it as a normal calendar – she really doesn't know what she was expecting – until.

She knows what's wrong with it now.

It's November. She knows it, because the Asian and last leg of her first world tour is about to begin November 21st, eleven days from today. Right after Mike's birthday, she knows this.

Then why does the calendar say today is January 14th?

☆ ☆ ☆

Ashton woke up with a jolt. He quickly sat up, frightening the little Frenchie that was asleep right next to him on the bed. Trying to make sense of his surroundings, he roughly rubbed his face to get some sleep off of it and soon reached for the dog that was staring at him with sleepy but sad eyes. Ashton is sure Stitch understands far more than a dog is supposed to understand about their current situation.

The room is covered in shadows, almost pitch black, but he can see the sunlight even through the thick dark grey blinds covering up the windows. Ashton knows he won't be able to sleep again at that moment, so he gets up from the bed – much slower than he used to. His heartbeat is still out of control because of the nightmare that woke him up, but he can't bother to pay attention to it when Stitch is softly wailing beside him. Ashton lets out a ghost of a smile when the dog rests his head on his right upper thigh, looking up at him with an expression Ashton knows all too well.

“C'mon you little ravenous creature, let's feed you,” the bulldog excitedly jumps to the ground, already running his way down the stairs, not even waiting for Ashton to get up.

That gets a real smile out of him, but it vanishes as soon as he glances at the alarm clock on his bedside table. It reads 5:13 am, nothing out of the ordinary for him. But that small and inoffensive clock, with its red paint peeling off, holds a lot of memories for him. Memories that two months ago would bring joy to his heart, but now he almost wants to throw the object across the room.

It was a stupid thing, really. He had been wanting a vintage alarm clock and Olivia got one for his birthday. But the product they received was definitely not the one she bought, and if he's being honest, he didn't like it as much as he made out to. But seeing her so excited in the weeks before it arrived, and how disappointed she was when it did, he couldn't help but try his best to make her smile that luminous smile again. It's part of his nature by now.

That's also the reason why he lets her think that he doesn't notice when she wakes up at some ungodly hour (her words, not his) along with him, because of the annoying and only sound the alarm clock is able to produce. He always leaves soft kisses in every inch of bare skin he can find on her sleeping figure, so she goes back to the dream land and doesn't wake up before 10 am. No one wants to deal with that kind of bad humor, not even him.

As much as he likes being a morning person and absolutely enjoys her company in the mornings, he knows she'll take any and every extra hour of sleep she can get before starting the day. And that's why he loves that she's so stubborn that his early bird tendencies never got to her – he knows she feared that this would happen when they moved in together, but he met her like this, fell for her like this. He wouldn't change a single thing about her.

Ashton drags himself out of the bed, wincing slightly at how cold the wooden floors are under his bare feet. He doesn't bother putting some socks on, or a sweater – the cold weather in the house is uncharacteristically comforting to him. Nothing feels warm without her anyway.

While descending the stairs, he mentally curses himself for not being strong enough to look past the picture frames on the wall. One in particular catches his eyes – a picture from the night of Olivia's first concert with her band. The memories of that night are still painfully vivid in his mind: the laughter among their group that eventually infected everyone at the pub, Suki and Luke's first kiss and the silly smile that didn't leave his best friend's face all night, the standing ovation Olivia got after her three-songs set, and her captivating and breathtaking smile that made him realize right then and there, while watching her sway to the music, that he was definitely falling in love with her and there was nothing he could do to stop it – not that he wanted to.

So many memories held up on that wall, in the relatively short time since they met, that he can't help but wonder if that's all they'll get in this lifetime.

Ashton is abruptly taken out of his thoughts by Stitch's barks coming from the bottom of the stairs. He quickly jogs down the few steps left and goes straight after the dog's food in the kitchen's cabinet. After Stitch starts to happily devour his breakfast, Ashton goes to make his coffee, doing enough for two people like he always does, since Calum drops by most days for a chat or to drop Duke before going to work. Although all three of them know he just can't bother to make food for himself in the morning, while Ashton is the group's elected chef. Ashton always says he just needs a boyfriend – Olivia says Calum already has one who makes him breakfast every day.

He grabs an apple from the fridge and makes his way outside to their garden. Even though a lot of their memories took place there, the garden is the only space in the house where he doesn't feel like suffocating all the time. At least here, he can breathe some fresh air and look at the sky when he's feeling overwhelmed – which is basically all he's been doing for about a month now.

Yet, a lot of the garden has Olivia's name written all over.

He remembers vividly the day she came home after spending two weeks in LA doing some pocket shows, with a pack of daffodil seeds and the largest smile. She excitedly told him that a friend gifted it to her when she mentioned the little garden they were planning to build together at their new house. The friend told Olivia that daffodils symbolize rebirth and new beginnings, so as the good lover of symbolism that she is, Olivia loved the idea of having those flowers to symbolize their new beginning.

Ashton, on the other hand, wasn't a fan of the flowers at first – he just didn't see the appeal to them. But nonetheless, he indulged her, letting Olivia plant the seeds near the bench they used to sit during the quiet and unrushed afternoons, so they could admire the sunset, and she could happily look at the daffodils.

Pointless to say – the damn flowers grew on him.

Now, however, looking at them without Olivia and her contagious joy next to him, they were back to be as dull as they were before, if not more so.

Still lost inside his head without any sense of how much time went by since he sat down, Ashton doesn't hear the front door closing, and doesn't notice that he's no longer the only person inside the house until someone sits next to him on the bench. Yet, he doesn't show any sign of acknowledgement to them.

A few minutes go by before either of them speaks up.

“Luke said you didn't go to see her yesterday,” Calum starts softly, not wanting to disturb the calmness of the morning.

Ashton takes a few seconds to respond, “No point in doing that.” The black haired man licks his lips while thinking carefully about his next words.

“You know staying inside this house all day by yourself won't help either,” Calum turns his head to his left and takes a good look at Ashton's uncharacteristically hunched over figure, and immediately thinks that anyone can tell this man is not himself anymore. His second thought is that Olivia would hate seeing him like this.

“And what exactly do you expect me to do? Move on with my life like nothing happened? Like I'm not slowly and painfully losing the love of my life? Just because it’s easy for you doesn't mean it's easy for me.”

Calum closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He knows Ashton doesn't mean it, it's the anger and frustration talking. He knows it. Doesn't make it sting any less.

“I'm not telling you to move on with your life, because that's far from what I'm doing, and I certainly don't expect you to do it. I'm just saying you need to occupy your mind or else–”

“I'll go insane? Think it's a bit too late for that,” Ashton interrupts with a bitter tone that doesn't belong to his usual chirpy voice.

“You know it's not,” Calum sighs and drinks the rest of his coffee, moving his body slightly, so he's facing the blonde man, “I got a job interview for you at that school you talked about so much last summer, the principal said you can go any day this week. I went ahead and sent her your resume as well as explained everything that she needs to know about Olivia, so you don't have to. You just gotta put on some decent clothes and show up.” he sees Ashton's face softening a little and takes it as a victory. A few beats go by and then, “Maybe take a shower too. That's gonna make you feel better.” Calum leans in closer to his friend's personal space and takes a sniff, causing Ashton to deflect from him slightly, but not to push him away – another small win.

“Definitely take a shower, you stink. When was the last time your hair saw shampoo?”

“Fuck off,” is Ashton's only reply to the younger man's inquest. But Calum can see a smile creeping up on the blonde's face, which brings out a smile of his own.

“I'll send you all the details later today,” he checks the hour on the watch on his wrist and gets up, “Just please, Ash, go. I can't lose you too.”

Calum gently lays a hand on Ashton's shoulder and squeezes a little. The man doesn't look up, but gives a curt nod to his friend, who's satisfied enough. Calum stops on the threshold of the garden glass doors to give some kisses to Stitch – who came to make Ashton company as soon as he finished his food –, and then he puts the coffee mug on the dishwater. And soon enough, he's on his way out of the door. But not before snatching a tangerine from the fridge.

Ashton is left by himself once again. As he hears the sound of the front door closing, he thinks that this might be his life from now on. Just him and Stitch, trying their hardest to make it through another miserable day without the love of their lives. While everyone else comes by just to make sure he's still breathing. Breathing, maybe, but alive?

Swallowing the tears, he looks up at the sky. It's a deep, beautiful mix of orange, pink and blue, but he knows that it won't last long and soon the rain will be pouring down. He thinks about how much Olivia loves the rain.

God, he needs to pull himself together. She would hate to see him like this. Maybe he should take Calum's offer after all, he really needs to occupy his mind.

Making a mental note to thank Calum later, and also to apologize for how rude he was to him this morning, Ashton slowly gets up from the bench to put his mug on the sink and makes his way to the living room, with the small dog loyally following his every step. He puts on some cartoon that for once doesn't remind him of her (she always lovingly made fun of him for still watching those) and cuddles with Stitch on the couch. He can take a shower later.

Not half an hour goes by, he falls asleep and has a good dream for a change. He dreams of the days he spent with Olivia in the Philippines last February, right before her first world tour started. Some of the most magical days of their lives – surrounded by delicious food, a whole new culture to learn about and the warmth of the sun. Infinite counted days full of love and passion, where they were the only people in the world.

Even his subconscious knows to hold on to that brief moment of happiness, because he might never live that again.

[tuiyla]

Sue me but I don’t care that Santana got mad at Klaine for singing at her in IKAG. Maybe they were trying to help but as a person with at least a single brain cell you’d realize (as a gay person yourself) having people spotlight you and your sexuality for a musical prompt for the Glee club is not ideal, especially when you’re being outed.

I’ve said this once and I’ll say it again, every single feeling Santana had in that episode was valid. Just because the show made it seem the opposite doesn’t make it true. She was right to feel hurt that the two people who should’ve understood that this Lady Week is downright offensive, didn’t, and instead went along with it.

They’re all teenagers who probably don’t know what to do in this situation and this episode sucks so it’s hard to blame any of them, and I’m not. But it bothers me when people throw a fit all because Santana called Blaine’s bowties ugly.

Oh I agree Anon; to be clear I'm always gonna be 100% on Santana's side when it comes to the hot garbage on fire thrown into the sewers that is IKAG (and 90% when it comes to everything else). She could have burned down McKinley as a result of all that happened and I'd be like yeah, checks out, you're doing amazing sweetie. Or better yet go to Reggie "the Sauce" Salazar's house and punch him in the mouth. But I digress and this answer is gonna be long anyway so let's get to it.

This is a bit of a tricky topic because I feel like how we view it depends on how willing we are to accept a Doylist perspective, which I am. So what I mean is that we, as the audience, can recognize that the whole concept of Lady Music Week is appalling and Finn blackmailing Santana into it is,, disgusting on such rage-inducing levels. Because we're capable of critical thinking, we know it's not right and most definitely not some well-intentioned heroic bullshit. But within the show's universe, we're supposed to believe all of them are helping, actually, and Santana should be grateful.

I've talked about this before so I won't repeat myself much on the topic of Klaine [spoiler alert, I'm about to do exactly that]. Basically, I think there are two sides to it. On the one hand, we can recognize that Klaine meant well, so much more so than Puck who sang about fucking his teacher and didn't give a single shit about Santana, and Finn with his... everything. Klaine, at the very least, had the spirit and they genuinely did want to help. And I think in a different context this could have been a good scene and reason no. 56 why I'm mad at IKAG is that it robbed us of a meaningful Kurtana scene that wasn't just Klaine playing along with the horrifying concept of Lady Music Week. So you hear that, angry person who's about to argue with Anon through my inbox, we're cutting them slack and recognizing they meant well. You can reflect on this but include the number four just so I know you actually paid attention to what I said.

I also think, like I've stated before, sometimes fans can be a bit too harsh on Klaine specifically because they are gay and should have known better. Yes, they should have, but once again within the internal logic of the show, what they're doing is good and it's Santana who's lashing out ~because she's such a bitch~ (more on her in just a bit). So I feel it's not entirely fair to single them out when Puck and Finn were so much worse; Klaine shouldn't be judged more harshly because they are queer, it was all Finn's idea and he should know better, too, don't let him get away with any of this. I've also touched on this in that previous post but them going first was doing them so dirty because of course Santana would be most defensive during the first performance. And this entire paragraph is something that isn't directed at you, Anon, because like me you aren't actually blaming them and not more harshly than Finn and Puck, like some people do, I just think it needs to be noted.

But you know on the other hand, you're right. Yes, it's the episode itself that frames this in such a fucked up way that anyone with a sense of decency should disagree with but, in canon, Klaine still went along with it. They had good intentions, much more so than Puck who didn't care and Finn who just plain sucks, but they still made her uncomfortable and went along with this shitshow of forcing her to listen to men perform songs by women because... that helps, apparently? So while I personally don't blame Klaine at all and don't hold it against them because they had good intentions and were the only boys to actually care about Santana at all (hear that, everyone?), I also think it is very, very fair what you're saying. Santana was very valid to snap at them and I only wish, if the writers were gonna do that, that she directed it more (or entirely) at Finn and/or Puck. Because like I said, Klaine get it just because they go first and that's not fair towards them, but it's also not fair to hold it against Santana. Once again, she could have burned McKinley to the ground and I'd still be on her side.

They were all done dirty by this tbh. Because it's actually a good scene for Santana, by IKAG standards, what with the way Naya acts it. Of course she'd be pissed. Of course she'd get defensive. The way she says she's trying is genuine. You can see the conflict in her eyes. Her going all snarky after the performance is so understandable. Is it right that was only directed at Klaine when they were the most caring in the situation, no. But long story short TL;DR Anon, I agree with you. Santana calling Blaine's bow tie ugly is the least ~problematic~ thing in all of this. Lady Music Week got framed as this super altruistic thing that was actually awfully patronizing and not helpful at all. Instead of having a meaningful scene with Santana, Klaine only got to participate in the context of this, so however good their intentions were it was always gonna be messed up. Santana, who'd be in her every goddamm right to be pissed about this, gets framed as an ungrateful bitch and even then it's only directed at Klaine when it shouldn't be.

The whole thing sucks. Glee and Matthew whatshisface should apologise for this episode. To me personally and to humanity. Klaine shouldn't have been the ones Santana got to snap at but she had every right to snap and I'm never gonna hold that against her, no matter how the show frames it all and who had what intentions. This got long because it's a landmine of a discussion but if people still get pissed after all this, lol, I've done what I can.

[sometimesrosy]

Hey. It's been a long time since I had a question. Maybe the 100's demise was the reason.

Now coming to my actual query. This past year I have binged numerous shows ranging from American to korean dramas or Turkish dizis. There is certain thing that I have felt and noticed throughout i.e., the woman characters aren't given even a slight leeway by the audience. If the even make a slight mistake, the audience remembers it always to stand against that character. Whereas if there is a male villain, people gets cheerful seeing even a slight bit of humanity in him. They even wait for its redemption.

Let me take an example of a Turkish show "kara sevda(black love)". A one line synopsis can be put like- two leads who love each other endlessly but can never be together. So, the villain in that show is beyond redemption. That character has fallen so far off that there is no coming back. But still when he is playing with a baby, people's comments are like 'best moment of the show.' 'see he is such a good person'. 'the female lead should accept his love'. Am like what?

And if I tell you about the female lead. She is a good person at heart who is sacrificing love for family. And she is labelled "selfish" by audience. 'She doesn't deserve the male lead' etc. And you know I too felt like that for the majority of the show until I reached the point of self reflect.

Even Clarke from the 100 faced so much hate that there wasn't any visible backlash when in the end the makers made her a villain. The backlash was for Bellamy death and stupid end instead.

Looking through tv series, it's so easy to see why tv or films doesn't have female anti heroes. Male anti heroes are so easy to find and also widely successful like Damon from tvd or Klaus.

What is your take?

Yup!

Yes.

Definitely.

You are absolutely correct. The leeway for female characters to show human imperfection is very, very thin. Meanwhile, a guy can literally blow up a planet, kill his beloved father, have temper tantrums with kicking and screaming and torture the female main characters and fandom-- and the creators-- think that makes him a hero. And the requirements for his redemption, if there are any at all amounts to:

WOOPSIE! I'M SOWWY.

I simply do NOT understand that phenomenon.

I mean, I get the need to relate to darker characters, morally gray characters, to explore our own negative impulses...but the whole tendency is, for me anyway, given a more sinister light when you compare how the audience tends to treat these outright villainous male characters compared to even SLIGHTLY morally gray female characters. Maybe just flawed.

It also interferes with satisfying redemption arcs. Because YES watching someone face their dark past and attempt to become better and be redeemed is a great story... but if male characters only have to wear a cape and be hot to be redeemed.... then that's not a satisfying redemption arc. And if women can't do ANYTHING to be redeemed because they are considered irredeemably selfish or whatever for the same flaws someone's Hot Dark Badboy smirks about and isn't even sorry for? Then we barely even get redemption stories for women.

And that's part of the problem, isn't it? Women aren't allowed the same representation as men... even as flawed characters.

The point of good representation is not to represent only the best, most perfect, most desirable, most successful type of people. The point is to allow everyone of any sex, race, gender, sexuality, religion, class, ability, etc to take part in the full spectrum of humanity in our stories, good and bad and mediocre. A female Mary Sue is just the female version your general male hero. One is considered bad storytelling the other is taken as The Way It Should Be.

Women are not allowed to have flaws in most of our pop culture, or women are ghettoized into only women's fic or romance or YA, or women take backseat to male villains, or whatever.

I'm writing a book where the woman abandoned her child, and she sleeps around and cons people and avoids commitment. I purposely wrote her to be unlikable.... or rather, she's not unlikable, she's clever and funny and weird, but she has characteristics that women aren't supposed to have. She essentially acts like a male anti-hero, until her call to action and she is forced to face her past mistakes. But I know that these are things that audiences say are irredeemable for women. Abandon her own child?? No. Not allowed. Even though plenty of male characters go off on adventures leaving wife and child behind and it isn't even considered a character flaw, just... a male adventurer. Or honestly, just a guy. Sure one who's imperfect, but that old ball and chain was probably the worst, right? He had to move on and now he has a tragic backstory and complexity and oh the audience will probably either want to be him or want to be with him, because, that's how these things work.

Not saying that characters shouldn't be dark, do bad things, have flaws, be anti-heroes, have redemption arcs, or have a deep, multilayered villainy.

But I am saying we might want to be a little more critical about what we consider irredeemable for certain people and what war crimes and abuse we let some characters get away with in the name of bold (white) masculinity.

IS the nature of being a (white) man we look up to someone who destroys other people?

I think that toxic masculinity IS seen as sexy. Unfortunately, that's one of the reasons it's seeped into our culture. Manly (white) men who abandon kids and kill without remorse, but with muscles. Manly (white) men who murder whole regions because bad things happened to them, and smolder while doing it. Manly (white) men who commit genocide regularly, but fall for the heroine and save her once. Manly (white) men who are serial killers but with an intriguing depth.

tbh there's lots more to say on the topic, some of it very controversial. These are the stories we like to hear and the characters we love. And it might be rooted in the toxic masculinity that our society has been selling to us as propaganda for decades, if not centuries-- but we don't like to be told to examine our biases, our tastes, our preferences, or our beliefs. It's threatening to our sense of self.

However, that is how you unravel all sorts of toxic belief systems, from misogyny to racism to homophobia to bigotry of all kinds. I added the (white) to this post after I read through it, because I realized non white male characters are not allowed this leeway, either. So this phenomenon is generally (not always) limited to white men. Why?????

my theory? we're still making the colonialists the heroes of the story, friends.

[circuitdc]

Okay, now that I can collect my thoughts, I can now express how my experience of going to see Tears for Fears live was.

I saw them on Friday. It was my first concert that I actually wanted to go to and it was one hell of a show. I went with my dad whomstve got hooked on the new album because he played the CD in his car nonstop the week before. We were listening to it on the ride to the concert.

First, I should mention that I got the VIP pass where you can go see sound check before the actual concert. But it got delayed for some reason so the group we were with were baking in the hot sun until they called us into the amphitheater. In that time, I met some interesting people who followed the band around the country. There were two older women who were diehard fans. Another woman wore a vest that was comprised of little cards portraying the Songs From the Big chair album cover. She was very quirky but in a fun way. I was chatting with a couple of them and they all seemed impressed that I had so much knowledge of their discography, since I was one of the youngest fans there it seemed. From the Hurting, all the way up to The Tipping Point. The herd of people lost their way and ended up going into a small alleyway while the security was wondering what the hell they were doing. Very strange moment. So we go and find a seat and they were already playing. They advertised on the website that they'd play 2 songs but they really played 4. Long Long Long Time, Break the Man and Everybody Wants to Rule the World and to my extreme surprise and delight, Ladybird. A song they hadn't played live since 2004 when Everybody Loves a Happy Ending was a fresh album. Roland only played portions of it, with a different, more acoustic flare to it. It almost brought tears to my eyes. One guy shouted "Call me Mellow." Wrong song buddy. Fake fan alert!

So after that was done we pretty much waited around, bought some merch. I got a long sleeve golden sun shirt and an album cover shirt and a poster that I threw in my album cover tote bag. We ate overly expensive junk food until it was time to see the show where Garbage opened. From what I heard of their music, I wasn't really a fan of them. But after seeing them live and how they performed and how awesome Shirley Manson is, now I really like them. They went so heavy. She kicked ass that night! We also sang Happy Birthday to Curt!

After that about a 20 minutes before TFF came on, they played over the speakers the whole cover album of Songs from The Big chair by BrotherTiger, which if you haven't heard should totally check him out. That was cool until I looked down and realized that my feet and tote bag were soaked with beer from someone behind me. The true concert experience. Then some middle aged guy with long hair took his seat next time mine, complaining my hair was too long. I said right back at ya buddy. He kinda looked like me in 40 years. Hopefully not.

Finally Tears for Fears took to the stage and started playing their set. I sang every goddamn word throughout the entire concert, my throat was on the verge of dying by the end of it. During Everybody, I ended up dancing with that girl with the vest from earlier. Right after that, we'd sung Happy Birthday to "That guy from Tears for Fears." again, but with more feeling! During Break it Down Again, during the salute, Roland yelled to the people in front of me "Get off you're fucking phones!" Then returns hippie man and ends up knocking over my tote bag into the beer puddle, ruining the poster I just bought. Some of the other paper things survived but the smell of beer filled my car on the way home. Fun times overall.

The last thing to note that I'm both laughing at and pissed off about. When it came time for the last song, Shout. There was always a chance that Roland would pass the microphone to the audience to sing the chorus. I was in second row, but he passed the microphone to the people right in goddamn front of me! Like he was RIGHT THERE! I tried to reach over to at least try to get my voice to be heard, but I was just too far away. That would have absolutely made my night to be so perfect. Ughh!!!

So yeah, TLDR absolutely loved loved loved it. I would totally see them again.

[yolkyeomie]

Crescendo | Kang Yeosang

summary — The beating of a heart is like a crescendo, screaming louder and louder in one's chest until it's reached maximum capacity, and you’re about ready to burst.

word count — 8.6k words

pairing — yeosang x female!reader

genre —violinist + college au, band au there if you look around a little bit, fluff with like a hint of angst in the later parts

disclaimer — SORRY THIS IS SO SHORT,,, this is more of prologue than anything tbh. also I have almost zero knowledge on college and violins so if this is horrible I’m so sorry. also typos. lots of typos.

part I | part II | part III

I.

There was just something about summer that you liked so much. You just couldn't exactly put your finger on what.

Maybe you liked the sunny days that it would bring? The giant ball of light in the sky beaming down at full power onto every human in sight. It would illuminate the world with a golden glow, bringing out the more natural and earthy colors hidden from the other seasons. The heat would call for unplanned trips to the cool waters and hot sand of the beaches or a quickly made dash to the nearest frozen ice cream shop. Perhaps it was because there was no more school, no more time needed to spend on slaving away for hours at a desk just to not retain any knowledge given.

Or maybe you liked it because it was the time you’d see children the happiest. Every time you biked along the sidewalk to and from your home you’d come across a playground almost always filled to the brim with the joyous sounds of laughter. Children scattered around the playgrounds like little ants to a picnic, grabbing whatever they found the most intriguing for the day. Some would be swinging, some would be sliding, some would even be chasing each other around without any of the equipment catching their attention at all.

However, there was a possibility that you enjoyed the summertime because of the theater your town held. It wasn't very big compared to the ones that could be found in the big cities of your country, but it was nice nonetheless.

There were white walls lined with a fake golden trim along the floors, bright lights nearly blinding one as they walked inside of the theater for the first time. There was a slightly smaller stage than normal, not too tiny but definitely smaller than you’d seen in the more famous theaters. The seats weren't in their traditional curved angles either. They were in neat straight rows leading all the way to the back of the theater where the volunteer tech crew would operate behind the scenes.

There were white walls lined with a fake golden trim along the floors, bright lights nearly blinding one as they walked inside of the theater for the first time. There was a slightly smaller stage than normal, not too tiny but definitely smaller than you’d seen in the more famous theaters. The seats weren't in their traditional curved angles either. They were in neat straight rows leading all the way to the back of the theater where the volunteer tech crew would operate behind the scenes.

Every year your high school would hold recitals for their students in that theater. They would use these performances as a way to showcase their students' growing talents in the art of music or to spotlight their shyer students who never had gotten a chance to show everyone what they were made of. You weren’t in any sort of music group nor did you know how to play any instruments, so you never participated. But you did show up to every recital you could.

When you were in tour first year the only reason you had attended the performance was because your English teacher had promised to raise their overall grade for the year if they did. You were a decent student, overall you had average grades but wasn't the most outstanding person in your class. A few extra points to curve your grades were always appreciated so you had planned on attending the performance.

You had tried to grab a couple of friends to go with you, but all of them coward out when they got the chance. Some would say they were too busy, some would outright tell you they didn't want to sit through a performance they had no interest in. So you ended up simply going with your family, more begrudged than you originally were for the recital.

You had sat through choir members and members of the school's small orchestra and band repeating nearly the same song over and over again. Each song had a different tune, maybe a different style depending on how much creative liberty the singer or player gave themselves. One song was sung a bit louder than the others, another song was played by a small thrown together orchestra than simply a soloist, but they were all the same.

It was boring, and you were growing tired of listening to the same thing constantly. The only thing willing you to stay in your seat the entire time with the arm crushing strength of your mother and your need to get extra points on your grades for the year.

Near the end of the recital was when you had gotten hooked. Your family had finally decided they were going to pack it up for the night, her father had to work early in the morning and you were going to be thrown over towards your grandparents for summer. Just before you could have risen out of your chair to leave behind your parents, you heard it. A different melody than the ones that have been rocking your brain that night.

There was a boy walking on the stage, probably no taller than you was at the time. He was tiny for a first year boy, probably one of the shortest in his class as well. His hair was like a fluffy brown bunny's tail, bouncing and tousling itself around with every step he took. There was a string instrument in his hands, from what you could see was a red-tinged wood violin. You couldn't quite see the expression on his face either though, due to the distance you were from the theater stage.

You hadn't even realized you were holding your breath until he plucked one of the strings, letting the note resonate through the theater and bounce off the walls and into their ears. He had played a note, on a different key from the other performers. He was playing a song that his fellow violinists hadn't picked. He was different.

The sound was like a siren's song that grabbed the audience's attention and placed it to the stage. His melody started out soft and somber, almost as if the violin itself was conveying its unspoken emotions. The violinist was trying to use those emotions his instrument lent him to serenade the tears in the audience's eyes to fall and hit the ground simultaneously, creating their own beat to his song.

After a moment of enticing the audience to his performance, he sped up his pace. His quiet song suddenly grew in size until it overpowered every other sound in the room. He strummed each string with a quickness you didn't even believe was possible, his bow striking each note like it was powerful enough to create an earthquake. In a sense, it was like he and the violin had become one being, his string instrument becoming an extension of his arm as he played.

The audience whispered in wonder and amazement of the boy's talents, unable to take their eyes away from his figure. It was an enchanting sound so you couldn't blame them. The violinist had brought you into a world completely different from reality, where every object and plant in sight was made out of his musical chords.

How does a boy, barely over the age of fifteen, have this much power in his hands? You would be cursing yourself if you didn't grant him the title of prodigy right then and there.

Unfortunately for you, you couldn't listen to the rest of his alluring song. Your family had dragged you out of the theater to finally retreat to their humble abode for the night. After that night you had declared to yourself that you’d find the violinist who played that song, whether you had to search all summer for him or dig around your school for him. You’d attend every recital and every performance your school's small orchestra had just to get him to play for you again.

However, you lucked out each time you tried. Your school's orchestra didn't allow students outside of their instrumentalists into the classrooms. The violinist boy was too short for you to find in a crowd at their performances either. You even tried to find someone who might be close to him, but no one seemed to step up to the plate. This went on for the rest of your high school years. The only time you could see him where those days after the school year had ended, listening to him play those high energy tunes and somber melodies for his recital before he disappeared from existence once more.

That was, until now.

Plus you made a little bit of money on the side as well, and who didn't like money? Sure most of it was going to your tuition for college but there were times where you liked to splurged on your own interests every once and awhile.

"You seem tired," a feminine voice commented, making you turn around to face her. It was a girl, around your age, walking towards you, her long sleeves rolled up against her arms to mirror the way her shorts looked. She sat down on the pavement next to you, handing you a water bottle ice cold to the touch. "I would be too if I rode around in this crazy heat. I'm surprised you haven't melted at the mere light of the sun yet."

"I almost did," you responded, taking the water from her hands gratefully. "Today was unreasonably hot... I felt like I was sitting right in the middle of hell. And the fact that my bike is made out of metal, too? It's a miracle I didn't get third degree burns or something."

The girl went quiet for a moment, her brow furrowing in thought before speaking again. "You know I can always do it for you? The delivering stuff. It's my family's business anyway, I should be helping them out, not relying on you to do all of the hard work for me."

"Are you serious?" you questioned, suppressing the unusually strong urge to laugh. "You can't even ride a bike or skate. Nor do you have a car either, it'll take you hours to get from one house to the next. And I like the money I earn from doing this for you, I can't get a job anywhere else so this is just perfect for me."

"But still!" She complained, a pouting donning her lips as you screwed open the bottle cap. "I feel bad seeing you bike along in this hot ass weather for my family! I gotta do something to give you... at least a little relief."

You laughed at her desperation, placing the water by your side to face her fully. "The relief you can give me is not playing your cello so loud in the morning. You play wonderfully, trust me, but it's so loud and I'm so tired." you clarified, reminiscing on every time she'd walk up to her house with the sound of a cello's notes wavering through the air.

The girl wasn't in their school's orchestra, she had picked up on the instrument as a hobby. She didn't have a desire to play it in a school setting or professionally no matter how much everyone would suggest otherwise. Yet she suddenly began to really start practicing more often when her next door neighbor had moved in two years ago. You remembered exactly how frustrated the girl was when she discovered that he played guitar at maximum volume in the middle of the night without any regard for anyone else.

To counteract his annoying behavior, she'd open up all the windows in her house and began to play her cello as loud as she physically could in the morning times. It became a war of the instrumentalists after that and neither of them seemed like they were going to stop any time soon.

"Oh you know I can't do that," She responded, glaring at the house to their left where the guitarist resided. "He'll take it as me surrendering to him. I don't even want to think about what he'll do in the middle of the night once I stop. Probably bass boost his guitar so that it's even louder than normal! Oh god, I won't ever get any sleep if he does that."

You found it funny really. The two had never even met each other face to face. "Right... and we don't want that happening do we?" The girl shook her head vigorously in response to your words, taking your sarcasm very seriously. "I still think you can at least tone it down a little bit... this is our last year, in a few months we'll be dragged off into a bigger city to attend colleges and universities for another four or more years. Are you really going to be playing your cello first thing in the morning in your dormitory?"

"Well..." the girl pauses, taking your words into consideration. "No... I won't really need to since I'm not bringing it with me."

"Exactly!" You exclaimed, clapping your hands together and giving the girl a mocking smile. "Now I think you should at least go over to that boy's house and settle this raging war before you move onto better things. Make amends with him, he might even become a new friend of yours for the future. If not, you're not gonna see him again. There's a very high possibility that he's not going to the same college as you, or that he might not be going to college at all!"

She rolled her eyes at your suggestion, forcing herself off of the ground reluctantly. "Fine. I'll go make amends with him or whatever. But I'll only do it if you give up on the violinist boy from the recitals."

You stiffened at the mention of your high school goal, your very unsuccessful goal of finding him and making him play a song for you. "It's like you said, this is our last year here as teenagers. You've been trying to find him longer than I've been waging this musical war on my neighbor. It's about time to lay to rest, you. Seriously, it's more painful to watch than those terribly edited movies from my parents' watch for the "nostalgia"."

"Ouch there was no need to stoop that low," you mumbled, making the girl laugh in turn. "But I guess you're right. I've failed at finding him for this long, I might as well just give up now."

The girl nodded before patting your shoulders in reassurance. "If you really want to hear someone play music so bad for you, you can always ask me. I know a cello sounds nothing like a tiny violin but I can always try?"

"Actually that doesn't sound like a bad idea," you mumbled after a moment of thinking.

"Perfect!" The girl hummed, nearly jumping with excitement to show off her talents and pleasing your several years long urge to have someone play for you. "Usually I only play for my family but I'm very willing to show off what I've been working on. There's this one song I've using to annoy the guitarist boy in the morning and—"

"Go," you reminded her, your smile growing wider at her friend geeking out about her work. "Go get your cello and actually play it for me."

She nodded at your words, skipping on her feet as if she was as light as a feather towards her house. You knew it would be a bit of a struggle in moving her instrument from her room to the outdoors but if the girl was willingly and happily doing it, she had no reason to stop her.

It was a little funny though, how much you were surrounded by people who were gifted and talented in the form of music. Your school's orchestra knew you because of how you’d always try and snatch a peek into their classroom and attended their performances. Your closest friend was a cellist, but only played for hobby and the boy next door was a guitarist. All these connections started happening because a boy you had been chasing after for four years was a violinist.

You'd think you’d pick up some sort of instrument to attract them to you, and trust and believe you tried. You attempted to start playing many instruments after that summer night in your first year. Guitar, flute, piano, trumpet, you even tried to learn the violin yourself. You just weren't musical gifted, you didn't have the patience nor the ears to learn any sort of instrument that passed your way. The best you could do was play a sad tune on the kazoo or laugh into a harmonica.

It's even funnier when other’s learn that your mother used to sing and play the piano while your father played the clarinet when they were in high school. Go ahead and laugh, you knew you were a musical disappointment. Music was practically flowing strong in your blood and you sucked at it. Don't even get started on dancing either, it was a frightening sight to see. Those who could live to tell the tale never told the tale to anyone.

A melody began to float through the air once your friend disappeared into her house, catching you off guard. It wasn't the sound of an electric guitar, shocking the hair and making your skin prickle with its overbearing and booming sound. It was soft and sweet, vibrating through the air as if it was playing with the wind that blew by every few minutes. You could immediately identify the instrument as a violin, it's slightly strained notes from the bow connecting with the strings were all too familiar to you.

You turned towards the guitarist's house where the song was the loudest. To your knowledge, the boy didn't play any other instrument than the guitar. Yet the violin's sweet yet sorrowful song was coming from his house. Without even thinking you rose off the ground, following the song's notes like it was your guide. You had heard the door of your friend's house open again, signaling that the girl had successfully brought her cello from her room to the front of her house. Unfortunately for her, you were walking a little faster than she could drag her cello case.

"Y/N?" The girl called, trying to catch your attention. "Y/N, where are you going?"

You stood in front of the guitarist boy's house, right before where the balcony was hanging. The door to the balcony was ajar, letting the cool afternoon air into the room and releasing the melody of the violin out. "Is that the guitarist boy's room?" you called out to her friend, not taking your eyes off of the balcony. Just as you spoke the violin came to a screeching stop as if the mere sound of your voice was disrupting the flow of its song.

"No," the girl responded after abandoning her cello and running to your side. She pointed to the other side of the house where the window's blinds were closed yet light still shined through them. "His room is right across from mine, I should know I get the brunt of the blow every time he strums his stupid guitar."

Your voices dropped into pure silence when you saw something moving in their direction from the balcony. The door to the outside area slowly screeched open as the figure on the other side pulled on its door handle, stepping onto the wood floor of the balcony and letting the floorboards creak under their weight. Your eyes widened at the sight of a red-tinged violin, it's body scratched from its long term usage and its color dull from the lighting the setting sun had given them.

A boy stepped into view after the violin, the brown hair bouncing on his head like a bunny's tail. His resting face looked like you were staring at a statue, unable to catch any hint of movement in most of his features unless he blinked his eyes every few seconds. Right beside his eyes was some sort of mark, more of a rosy color than the rest of rather pale skin. He must not leave his house that much. After a few moments of silence, he leaned over the balcony's hand railing and spoke, "What do you want?"

The girl beside you glanced between the boy and you frantically, trying to piece two and two together. "you... is that the—"

"I want," you yelled up to him, interrupting your friend's question to respond to the boy above them. A smile began to play on your lips as you spoke, excitement festering up in your chest. You had found him. You had found the violinist from your first year. "I want you to play for me one of your best songs yet."

II.

There was just something about mornings you hated, no matter the day of the week. They'd always leave you more exhausted than you were the night before, whether you had gone to sleep late or not.

Maybe it's because of the dorm room you stayed in, assigned the room the moment you had gotten accepted into your university. It wasn't tiny, but it was definitely much smaller than your room at home. Your belongings barely had enough legroom with your roommate's whole entire area taking up more than half of the room. Despite being rather clean, to an extent, and cool during the day it was also incredibly hot at night.

A few months back the air conditioning unit for the floor you lived on broke down due to age. The university had reassured the students that they'd be looking into the broken unit and the technicians would be coming in and out of the building to fix it. However, they were rather slow with the process. Instead of just moving toward the third floor where the problem had started, they were moving from room to room on each floor the building had.

Apparently, they were just going to fix the problem in one go, however one go suddenly turned into a few days. A few days turned into a few weeks. And a few weeks turned into two months.

Thankfully they were on the edge of the summer season, the crisp breeze of the autumn air in October beginning to blow throughout the city. However that breeze simply abandoned them every time the night fell, the hallways and the common room being filled to the brim with students trying to escape the blazing heat. One would think it would be much cooler around the nighttime, so did they.

You weren't the heaviest of sleepers either, which meant you'd wake up at even the slightest vibration of a phone. One could only imagine your reaction when your alarm clock suddenly blared its ear piercing wake up call. The irritating buzzing of the built on alarm would always shock you out of bed like a cat. Yet even when you knew you were wide awake, you constantly struggled to force yourself up and out of your room. If time would allow it, you would lay in your very warm and comfortable spot in the bed for at least an hour or more.

What's even worse for you was that your dormitory was co-ed, which meant that next door to you was a group of boys who were sharing a room for the school year. They were loud, constantly moving around in the middle of the night, and screaming at random times of the day which usually ended up being the time that you used to study. There were always noise complaints about those students. No one on their floor, or the floor above and below, like them that much. Yet they never seemed to tone down the problem, they made them worse with every noise complaint that was filled to their resident assistance.

Every time they'd get a noise complaint, they'd go and find someone else who was just a little too loud one day and pin the blame on them. It was a way to show that everyone in the building made a commotion and that they shouldn't be the only ones punished for it. You didn't really care about what they were doing until you had suddenly become a target one day.

"I'm sorry, what?" you questioned them, leaning up against the door frame with your arms crossed. In front of you stood the two boys that lived in the dorm next to you, nearly towering over you like the buildings in the city thanks to the monstrous amount of height. They appeared to be up to no good when they had randomly shown up, and you were absolutely right.

"Are you the one who has been playing that music for the past three days? What was it... classical music?" He asked, tugging at his hair as he spoke. He glanced towards his roommate for confirmation, who nodded his head vigorously in response to his question. "Are you a music major or something? Maybe in the orchestra? If not it's been blasting really loudly lately and my roommate here has a majority of his classes at eight am. Right, Jaehyun?"

The boy didn't seem like he was on board with being used as an excuse at first, raising his eyebrow and staring at his roommate in confusion before turning to you. "Right, I have to get up so early for all my classes. I'd really appreciate it if you keep the violins and cymbals and triangles to like a minimum so that it doesn't bother me anymore."

"If not we'll take it to the RA," His roommate quickly added to put their threat in full effect. "And we'll file a noise complaint for disturbing us."

You scoffed at the thought, wanting to slam the door closed and forget about their petty revenge. "Aren't you the same duo that got a noise complaint filed to them last week because of an extremely loud yet unidentifiable thud..." you began before turning on your heels and correcting yourself. "Oh, my apologies. I meant boom, extremely loud yet unidentifiable boom that came from the laundry room. Only for one of the students on the lower floors to go down there and find that one of the washers and dryers had literally malfunctioned and exploded?"

"Listen," One of the boys tried to interject, his ears burning bright red as you kept talking. "That's not... listen, we—"

"Didn't they go on the security cameras to find out who had done the damage? Because a washer and dryer going suddenly haywire on its own is extremely worrisome and dangerous for the students who may have been around during that time. And weren't you two—"

"Classical music is such an amazing genre of music!" The roommate interrupted, yelling over your voice in a panic. There was a pained smile on his face as he hooked an arm around the other boy, punching his arm to follow along as he spoke. "I mean, it has such a clean and light texture to it, simplistic but a great melody nonetheless! God, it gives me nostalgia for a time I wasn't even alive in! Isn't that right, Jaehyun?"

"Oh," the boy spoke, his eyes darting in between his roommate and you. Slowly a smile began to grow on his face to mask his growing embarrassment as he gestured towards the other boy. "Of... of course! Johnny has such nice music taste! So you know when he says a genre is really good it really means something. Seriously love classical music, man. Lulls me right to sleep!"

Needless to say, they choose to not bother you as much as they used to. The strange and loud noises that would echo through the dormitory walls had gotten significantly lower since that day. They didn't stop completely yet but it was enough for you to keep your peace of mind before waking up every day.

Your mornings had gotten relatively calmer after that incident as well. Both of those boys were usually out of the dormitory by the time you were awake to attend classes or work, so you didn't run into them much during the week. You'd have calm enough mornings to where you didn't feel the need to nearly pass out on a car or bus ride to your campus and almost miss your stop. It felt like a dream come true when you would hop out of whatever vehicle you were in and would be right on time before your classes even started.

"Y/N!" A feminine voice screamed, catching you off guard when an arm suddenly slung around your neck. You clutched onto the bag hanging off your shoulder as you nearly tumbled to the ground at the sudden addition of weight, bringing the other girl down with you as you struggled to comprehend what was going on. They got a few stares from the other students who were arriving and leaving the campus but no one said a word to them. Thankfully everyone practiced the art of minding their business. "You'll never guess what I got!"

"Do I want to guess?" You questioned, shoving the girl's arm off of you so you could regain your balance. Once you were stable enough to stand up, you turned around to see who had stumbled into your path. The girl's eyes were wide with innocence and excitement as she stood in front of you, fidgeting in place as she tried to contain herself. Most of the energy she'd originally be exerting into jumping up and down was focused into the beaming and bright smile she couldn't wipe off of her face even if she tried. "Do I have to guess?"

"Yes, you have to," She demanded, holding her hands behind her back to hide whatever got her spirits high. The girl must have ordered some sort of object online again and simply couldn't wait till after your classes to show you. "It's so worth it, I promise! Just... just guess!"

A sigh escaped your mouth as you straighten your posture, reading deep into the girl's expression to try and figure out what it was. "I'm going to guess—"

"Two front row seats to our school's very own band performance!" The girl nearly squealed, shoving two flimsy pieces of paper in your face. You took a few steps back in order to align your sight with the tickets, taking them out of the girl's hands to inspect.  Both tickets were for general admission, their names printed on it with the date they were expected to attend the performance. "Aren't you excited? I literally fought tooth and claw to get these before they sold out, and you know these sell out fast!"

"Band? Like the guys who play trumpets and bass drums during school games?" You questioned, glancing up from the tickets to face your friend. The tickets didn't have exactly who was performing written down on it, simply stating that it was a live music event. "Why would you go watch them play? I thought you were more of a... pop genre person?"

The girl rolled her eyes at your response, snatching the tickets from your hands and placing them back into your pockets. "No, not the band. Who goes out of their way to specifically watch our band team play?" She hissed. "I mean like rock bands. You know, the type of people who play the drums and guitars in one big band and perform on stage with a lead singer and everything. That type of band."

"My point with you being a pop genre person still stands," you mumbled in response.

"Yes I do like pop music, I understand that," The girl clarified. "But we're going to see Aurora. Our school's very own rock band! Do you seriously not know who they are? I know you listen to classical and orchestral music and all, but I thought you were at least in the loop with Aurora!"

You scoffed as you began to walk forward, shoving your hands into your pockets and you spoke. "Just because I don't listen to the popular music right now doesn't mean I'm out of the loop! I'll have you know that I am a very big fan of idol groups. I even participated in those farewell events when groups’ oldest members start enlisting in the military."

"Idol groups have absolutely nothing to do with Aurora and you know it," your friend grumbled. "Do you seriously not know who Aurora is? At all? Have I seriously been friends with a hermit crab this whole time?"

"Fine then," you shrugged. "Go ahead, tell me about this Aurora band since you're so obsessed and knowledgeable about this group I've never heard of."

Aurora is a much bigger thing than you had imagined. From your friend's knowledge, it was a group of boys who had gathered around the beginning of the year together, all of them having several different traits and personalities that simply meshed together all too well. They had created the band, Aurora, for fun at first as they were all instrumentalists with different crafts. They had started busking in order to make money as a side job and quickly grew in popularity with the audiences they performed to.

Their university had caught wind of their musical abilities and had asked them to perform during the annual club fairs to help attract more students. After that, they seemed to have skyrocketed in popularity within the college campus. Jung Wooyoung, the group's bassist, Song Mingi, the group's lead guitarist, Choi San, the group's drummer, and Jeong Yunho, the group's lead singer, had become some of the most well-known people on campus.

Everyone seemed to know them and wanted to listen to their music, which is why your friend was so excited to be getting front row tickets to their next performance. You thought it was funny though, Wooyoung was the guitarist boy that lived next door to the girl. 

"The past is in the past!" She exclaimed, throwing up her hands as the two entered the university's building. The indoors wasn't very crowded, all the students attending were spread throughout the area either taking a break before their classes began or nearly booking it straight up the stairs in fear of being late. "Sure I wanted to murder him with my cello beforehand, but it's okay because we put our differences aside like you said we should have. And it's good that we did because we ended up going to the same university."

"So..." you began, thinking for a few moments before turning towards your friend. "Does this mean he's your favorite member? I mean you've got the background and chemistry for a nice little love story don't you think?"

"Oh absolutely not," she immediately responded. "We may have made up that summer but I have not spoken to him since. Plus my favorite member is their drummer so if anything I'd like to start a love story with him. Do you think I should plan out of my outfit for the music event? What if I actually start a love story with him like in those tv shows my parents used to watch? We catch each other's eyes during the performance and before we're about to leave I get asked backstage to meet him in person!"

You visibly cringed at your friend's fantasizing, putting four feet of space in between the two of you. "Gross. Go to class before you contaminant me with your fantasies."

"Oh shut up." She rolled her eyes, stopping in her tracks so that you were forced to wait for her. "Everyone likes to fantasize about their love life every once and awhile. It's natural to want something grander than reality to happen to you."

"You are the most cliche woman I have ever met," you mumbled, glancing over your shoulder to look at the girl. "You just told me you want to make eye contact with him and immediately fall in love just like that! Have a fun time dreaming about that while you stand in a crowd full of people in your general direction."

"You're so mean to me!" She yelled, causing everyone in the vicinity to turn and stare at the sudden commotion. "You're just mad that the violinist boy from freshman year refused to play music for you even when you got on your knees! And you were looking for him your entire high school career!"

You sprinted towards the girl at full speed, clamping your hands over her mouth to silence her. She screamed into your hands as you dragged her away from the public eye and muffled her voice. "Heejin, are you out of your mind?" You growled, looking behind you to see if anyone had heard her. "I thought we had both agreed to pretend like that never happened?"

The girl pried your hands away from her mouth and smiled innocently up at you. "We did promise. I just never forgot."

You shoved the girl towards where her lecture hall was located, a frustrated frown growing on your face as a pinkish flush began to creep across your face. "Go to your stupid business math class. Go before I chase you all the way there!" you threatened through gritted teeth. Her friend laughed at the girl's response, skipping like a child to her class for the day.

You really did get rejected that day, it was too ingrained in your brain to forget. The boy had stood on the balcony staring down at the two with a bored and uninterested expression in his eyes, tilting his head like a dog's when you screamed your demands up at him. Honestly, you didn't know exactly what you were expecting. Did you really think that he was just going to pick up his violin and start playing whatever tune he knew just because you asked him to? You didn't even say please!

You had spent a good ten minutes arguing with the boy about how you had been searching for him for years just to make him play at least ten seconds of a song for you. Each time you'd explain your situation to him, he'd immediately give you a dry response of why he kept declining you. He didn't even say it politely! He stared at you straight in the eyes and told you," I don't want to play for you because you aren't worth it."

You swore if you could jump high enough, you would have bounced onto the balcony and strangled him for his rude behavior. It was truly a sight for sore eyes watching an angry and frustrated high school senior scream up at an innocent looking but totally uninterested boy on the balcony. The argument was always almost completely one-sided as well, which made it slightly embarrassing to watch from the sidelines.

You had forced your friend to promise you that she'd either forget the whole incident or pretend like it never happened. Either one was good with you since your friend was known to tell everyone's stories when you weren't paying attention. She had gone this far without saying anything so the urge to talk about it must have been truly bubbling up inside of her. It's been a few months since the incident occurred and the memory is still fresh in your minds.

"God, I'm never gonna live down that stupid incident am I?" you grumbled, practically stomping towards your end destination. "Just when I thought maybe I was finally growing past it, she has to go and bring it back up again. Doesn't she know I'm still healing from that embarrassment? It took a toll on pride and this is how she helps mend the wound? By opening up again?"

You stopped in place when a melody began to waver in the air, following along the cold breeze of the university's air condition. The music notes hopped from breeze to breeze as it traveled through your ears to the next. The sound continuously grabbed your attention as each note was struck no matter how many times you turned to keep walking. It was hitting you like a rock to the head as your brain immediately identified the music maker to a violin.

You slowly turned around to see a few students peering through a crack in some double doors, staring intently on what was on the other side. "They're at it again," one of the older students spoke, holding the door open for his friends to look through. "They're much earlier this time than usual, we'll only catch a little bit of the performance. Do you think something important is happening?"

"You think they're competing for first chair again?" One of the younger students asked, glancing up towards the boy who had spoken beforehand. He shrugged in response to their question, but he seemed to agree for the most part. "Whatever it is, I bet Hong is about to take the first chair again. He's always the first chair. No one can beat that boy when it comes to the violin."

"Kang is always right behind him though, don't forget that," another voice reminded, trying to get a better view of the inside. "Both of them are musical prodigies, and the conductor has always been fond of Kang's playing style. I think he'll get first chair this time."

You couldn't help but let curiosity take over, standing just a few feet away from the group of friends and trying to peer through the small windows of the door. It was rather dark near the entrance to the room, but farther back was lit up by lights that illuminated the wood floor stage where two performers stood. The doors seemed to have led towards an auditorium from the looks of it. You couldn't exactly see their faces from how far away you were, but you could make out a little bit of what was actually going on.

A boy stood in the middle of the stage, the music coming directly from him as he strummed the violin with his bow, grace and elegance oozing off of him. He seemed rather focused on playing his violin precisely, not missing a single note in the song as he allowed the rich and melodic song to ring through their ears. The opened door seemed to amplify his sound even more, ringing within your brain as if it was trying to engraved its sound into her ears. Hearing a violinist play in person was truly much different from hearing it through speakers.

In a chair behind the violinist sat another figure, holding what seemed to be a violin as well in his hands. You assumed that it was the competition who had played their song earlier before you had arrived on campus. His shoulders seemed to tense as the violinist held his final note, a plaintive sound echoing through the auditorium as he held his form to leave an everlasting effect on his listeners.

The students in front of you held their breath as he finished, staring intently at where you assumed the conductor was sitting for his reaction. There was a moment of silence after the note finally fizzled into nothingness, no longer bouncing off of the walls after finding a home in the audience's ears.

"It's Park," the younger student spoke, standing up from where they originally crouched down. "Park is the first chair once again. Honestly, was I expecting a change? No, not really. He's just that talented."

"I was really rooting for Kang this time," the other student spoke, huffing as they crossed their arms in disappointment. "I wonder what he did to not get picked again this time. Usually, Kang performs wonderfully but we weren't early enough to catch his turn."

"Whatever it is," the older student added, shutting the door to the auditorium and shrugging his shoulders. "I'm sure Kang will get over it. I mean that's always next time! But I guess I say that every time this happens..."

When the trio had disappeared from sight, you couldn't help but open the door to the auditorium and peek inside. You had been walking past this exact area how many times and you didn't even notice an event like this happening? Your either extremely stupid or completely oblivious, there's no in between.

You pulled on the heavy auditorium doors, peering in the room to take a look for yourself. The room was chilly, much colder than the breezes nature had been giving you so far. It was like you had stepped straight into the freezer, feeling the need to rub your arms for warm to make sure you didn't suddenly die from the cold. "How long has this place been here? I could have sworn this was an administration office or a classroom... literally anything but an auditorium..." you mumbled to mumbled, your eyes drifting towards the stage.

Only one violinist was at the stage, his instrument dangling in his hands as he sat in silence. The other violinist and conductor were nowhere to be seen, abandoning him to be alone with his thoughts. He must have been the one who wasn't picked by their conductor for first chair, reveling in his defeat by his peer. "Is it that serious?" you mumbled, going to close the door before you zoomed to your class, only just a few minutes late.

Though you saw the violinist rise from his seat in the corner of your eye, approaching the edge of the stage to leave the room. Of course, being the generally nice person you were, you pushed the door back open, holding it open for the violinist to pass through. "Hey, are you about to— Woah! Woah, woah, woah, don't do that!" You yelled at him.

The violinist had raised his instrument high above the ground, a bored and uninterested look in his eyes as he debated on whether he was going to let the violin drop from the height it was at and scar it. It definitely wasn't going to shatter and break, but an ugly dent would be achieved through the notion. Your yelling seemed to stop him in his tracks, preventing him from possibly making the worst decision in his life.

"Don't violins cost a lot of money?" You nagged, forgetting about the door you were holding open and marching towards him. "I know you might be frustrated over whatever just happened but is it really worth breaking your instrument? You should be satisfied with the fact that you even got the chance to be chosen as an option for, what was it, first chair? Whatever it is, I think breaking your violin might be a really bad..." you trailed off as you got closer, slowing down your pace as you got closer to the stage

The violinist stared at you through his long blonde bangs, his eyes gleaming in the dingy and dim stage lights. Despite the horrible lighting it seemed to illuminate him as if he was some sort of statue on display, every curve and sharp corner of his face being highlighted just perfectly. His impassive expression refused to let you in on any sort of emotion or thought in his head, locking you out with every chain known to man. His eyes glanced over you, reading you like an open book before he finally spoke. "Why... do you care?"

Your eyes dropped from his face to his violin, taking note of the bored expression and the red tinged violin in his hands. It seemed like it had been used frequently, it's the color worn from age and usage with scratches scattered throughout the instrument's body. "Oh...," you trailed, dropping your hands to your side in defeat.

How long had he been here? Hiding right under your nose in what seemed to be plain sight. How long were you going to go without realizing the violinist from your freshman year was attending the same university as you? "It's you again."

The boy titled his head curiously, a moment of silence expanding over them like a blanket. You felt like you were going to twitch and squirm under his gaze, the eerie silence of the auditorium and his almost blank stare making the atmosphere uncomfortable for you. All you could think about was the one sided argument you two had; how you had embarrassed yourself in front of your whole neighborhood just because you wanted him to play a song for you. The amount of humiliation that was crashing over you like angry waves could have washed you right of the auditorium if it wanted to.

The violinist crouched down on the stage to look down on you, resting his head on his hands as he began to speak. “Do I... know you?”

“Do you know me?” You repeated, disbelief prevalent in your tone of voice. “Did you really just ask that? Of course you know me! Remember from this summer? Just a few months back?”

The boy nodded his head as you spoke, absorbing all the information you were telling him and letting it process in his brain. He closed his eyes as he began to form his final thoughts, leaning back on his heels before opening them again and staring at you. “Ah... I remember now. You were Wooyoung’s fling for a couple weeks... right?”

“What?” You exclaimed, a rosy pink tint spreading across your face as you spoke. You’ve never even spoken to the guitarist boy when he lived near you, nevertheless have a fling with him. The mere thought of doing something so... dangerous like that made your skin crawl. “No... I don’t... listen, are you serious? You don’t remember who am I at all? Not a thing about me seems to trigger some sort of memory in you?”

“Not to be rude,” he responded, lifting himself out of his crouched position and beginning to walk across the stage to the stairs positioned at the side. “But you don’t look like the most memorable type. I mean if I don’t remember you are, would anyone else be able to?”

His blunt honestly was like a knife to the chest, only he was repeatedly sinking the weapon into your already open wound. Had he always been this straightforward with people? Of course he was, that’s why you never got him to play a song for you. You didn’t even know whether or not you liked the fact that he didn’t recognize who you were because he had formatted his words. You’d much rather be remembered for something embarrassing you did than be forgettable as a whole.

Though by the time you had clocked back into reality, a snarky and rude comment ready to hit the bullseye on the back of his head, he was gone. There was no sign of violinist boy anywhere in the room, as if he has quiet literally disappeared into thin air. “I should have just let him smash his violin to pieces,” you rumbled, now not only late to class but also filled with bitter rage that wasn’t even reciprocated.

[frozenprocedural]

Elsarik week, day 2!

Here's my submission for day 2! I wanted to create some sort of story behind this artwork I commissioned from @comickergirl.

Acquaintances

“Any success on the song?”

Elsa let out a sigh at Anna's question and rubbed her eyes, the mostly-blank staves of her sheet music seemingly burned into her retinas. She’d been fighting the song for weeks now- while the lyrics had practically written themselves, the tune continued to evade her.

"Nothing so far. I don't understand. I just can't hear a tune. I can't…" Something prickly and hot rose in her throat. Elsa threw the pencil aside and grabbed the paper, crumpling it and tossing it into the waste bin.

Anna stopped her when she reached for the lyric sheet. "Hey, no, leave that Els. It's been hard since Kai had to leave. Give it some time- it'll come to you."

The burning increased in her gut, and Elsa had to turn away. Kai had been with them for well over a decade. Beyond their accompanying pianist, he'd been a dear friend, helping both of them through the difficulties of establishing themselves as singers and songwriters. But with his wife falling ill, and his own age making it difficult to keep up with the job, he'd made the reluctant decision to retire.

And ever since then, Elsa had been stuck. The song lyrics had come easily enough, though she still had yet to choose a title, but nothing she tried seemed to work. Anna had helped, but both of them were quick to realize how much they'd relied on Kai and his inventive playing to create new works.

"I may have some good news. Kai was able to track down the guy he mentored… Hold on, I have his name somewhere…" Anna scrolled through her phone for several seconds, "Ah! Alarik! Alarik Geatland, that's his name. He'd been travelling, but he's interested in trying out."

Elsa shrugged. "It's worth a try, I suppose." She attempted to hide the disinterest in her voice. It wasn't that she was unaware they needed a new pianist, or how hard Anna was trying. But Elsa had always been withdrawn and slow to trust, and fitting new people into her life, even in what might only be a professional capacity, was difficult.

Anna's sad look was all she needed to know she'd been unsuccssful in keeping her tone neutral. Elsa forced herself to smile back, if only a little bit.

"I'm sorry, Anna, I know you're trying hard to make this happen. I'll keep an open mind, alright? When can he meet with us?"

"How does this afternoon sound?"

Too soon, Elsa wanted to say, but she nodded nonetheless.

………………

He was late.

Elsa was surprised to find she felt irritated at Alarik's tardiness, given how little she'd wanted the meeting. Nonetheless, she found herself tapping the edge of the chair and shifting in her seat.

Just as she was about to suggest they leave, the door to the studio burst open, admitting a tall lean man with a head of red curls flopping into his face. He was drenched, and Elsa realized it was pouring outside.

"I am so sorry!" he gasped, pushing his hair aside to reveal a sharp-featured face and bright green eyes. "I got a flat tire a few blocks from here, and had to run the rest of the way. If you are still willing to give me a chance to do so, I would still like to audition."

Anna was already standing, her smile wide. "Alarik, of course we will hear your audition. I'm sorry to hear you had trouble on the way, but you're here now, and that's what matters. I'm Anna, and that's my sister Elsa. Why don't you go ahead and play something for us?"

Elsa nodded, surprised to find herself almost… amused. Alarik's whole face lit up at Anna's words, with a wide grin that made him look boyish and young.

Alarik set aside his soaked jacket and went to the piano, lifting the key cover and sitting down. He closed his eyes, resting his hands on the keys for a moment, then began.

It was an old seafaring tune Elsa recognized from her childhood, simple enough in nature, but somehow, Alarik made it...more. He skillfully wove new harmonies and rhythms to create a masterful rendition that had Elsa tapping her foot and humming along, completely lost in the music. When he came to the last notes, she found herself wishing there was more.

Anna gave her a look, an eyebrow raised in question. Elsa nodded and stood, walking over to Alarik and offering her hand.

"Welcome to our group, Alarik."

Somehow, his smile was even wider than before.

…………

Despite their positive first meeting, it took Elsa time to become accustomed to Alarik's being there. To his credit, he gave her the space she needed, didn't try to engage her beyond what the job entailed. He and Anna got along almost right away, often laughing and joking. Even Kristoff, when he came in, tolerated Alarik's presence, although they spoke less to one another than Elsa spoke to Alarik.

And still, Elsa's song continued to evade her. With the upcoming tour looming, her frustration grew. She desperately wanted to perform it, but with each passing day, she was forced to accept it would not come to be.

It was after one particularly tough day, hot and muggy, with the air conditioning doing little to alleviate the oppressive atmosphere. With multiple failed attempts to gain traction with the tune, Elsa, fighting a growing headache, finally crumpled the paper and hurled it to the side with a growled “I can’t!”. Ignoring Anna’s outstretched hand and Alarik’s concerned look, Elsa found an empty room and entered, pressing her palms to her throbbing head.

She could just hear the murmured conversation between Alarik and Anna, although she couldn’t make out anything distinct. She heard retreating footsteps, then silence.

As she focused on her breathing, eyes closed, she heard a few tentative notes begin. Slow, spread out, the notes being teased out. Silence again, and then a lilting line began to play, a few notes standing out from the repeating pattern. Elsa listened, something hopeful growing in her chest. She stood, returning to the practice room to find her crumpled paper resting on the music shelf. Alarik was bent over the keys, and even without seeing his face, Elsa knew his eyes were closed. His head swayed back and forth, his fingers flying over the keyboard. The song had changed, sped up, the fingers of his left hand rolling over and over, invoking a feeling of running, of freedom.

“That’s it.” Elsa didn’t realize she’d spoken so loudly until Alarik stopped, turning to look at her with wide eyes. She shook her head, instinctively taking a step back. “I’m… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…”

“No, wait, please.” Alarik held his hand out. “Anna… Anna said you’d been working on this song. I’m sorry if I overstepped, but I wanted to try to see if I could tease something out. If you don’t want me to, I’ll stop.”

Elsa stopped, then stepped up to the piano, resting a hand on the edge. “Could… could you play the beginning again?”

Alarik grinned. “Of course.” He began to play once more, and it was Elsa’s turn to close her eyes, listening to the flow of the tune. With each rolling note, a melody began to form. She hummed it at first, then let the lyrics flow.

Every inch of me is trembling

But not from the cold….

…………….

No matter how many times she performed, Elsa always experienced a rush of nerves before stepping on stage. This time was no different, and she found herself nervously plucking at the fabric of her white dress. It was the final song of the night, after Anna and Kristoff’s duet.

“Hey,” She jumped, then turned to see Alarik. He wore a dark suit over a deep green shirt, his normally messy curls oiled and combed back. “Are you alright?”

“A bit nervous, that’s all.” He nodded.

“For what it’s worth, I know you’ll be fine. You’re amazing at this.” He flushed, looking away, but Elsa found herself smiling.

“So are you.” It was her turn to blush, but before she could say anything more, she heard their names being called, and the stage manager motioned them on. Before they stepped into the light, Alarik took her hand and squeezed it.

Elsa greeted the crowd, as she had done numerous times, and then nodded to Alarik, who was at the piano bench. He nodded back, then began.

The notes all but danced about her, and as she began to sing, Alarik’s playing wove masterfully around her, bolstering her sound without being overpowering, swelling as the bridge and final chorus echoed through the hall. As the final notes echoed throughout the hall, the audience surged to their feet, their applause thunderous. As they stepped back and made one final bow, Elsa glanced sideways at Alarik, surprised to feel a warmth growing within as she watched him, curls flopping in front of his face.

She found herself eager to see what more they would accomplish...together.

[anextraordinarymuse]

I'm just gonna go ahead and make a new post to respond to your points Katie (@jonesgirl88) so that we're not constantly reblogging and trying to load all of those gifs.

Jump to the DLO dance: there is a war going on in Oliver's head and the fact Eric can act that so we can see it? Brilliant. Chef's kiss. He's so torn and you can feel it and your heart breaks for both of them. He's holding her hand to his heart but Shane is also physically on his right side. Her chin is nearly resting on his right shoulder and he's pulled her close to his right side. What say you?

I noticed this too, of course. But first - Eric and Kristin deserve awards. All of the awards. They act beautifully, and they play off of each other so well - they're wonderful scene partners. Okay anyway. Yes, Shane is physically on his right side and has many points of contact along that side (like you said, her chin is nearly on his shoulder) but I pointed out their hands specifically because they are originally positioned away from their bodies. Shane and Oliver's physical closeness is a given in this moment because dancing is intimate. It requires that a lot of you be in contact with a lot of your partner. But originally Oliver and Shane's hands are extended away from them until Oliver pointedly draws them in and places Shane's hand over his heart. This movement is unnecessary in the context of ... well, anything. It's a purely instinctive and intimate move. He could have simply let go of her hand, or drawn it closer and then held it in some other position, but no: he pulls it right in against him. That's why I included it. I'm sure that it was included in the blocking and written in to the script because we're meant to notice it.

I could write for days about that DLO dance scene. THE. FREAKING. CHEMISTRY. I blush ridiculously easily (seriously it's A Problem and I hate it) and I would have been crimson that whole time if I were Kristin. The Tenderness. The Tension. The way his eyes dart back and forth right before he lets her go because he's so at war with himself: kiss her or let her go? O.Y.E.

They're standing in a line (because they're being given awards) but he's turning towards her and she's turning towards him. I just...I can't with these two.

This is totally A Thing©. Shane and Oliver both have a tendency to turn in toward each other like that - but especially Shane. It's an unconscious attempt to take refuge in Oliver and his strength, I think. She often does it in times when she's seeking comfort and closeness/affection. That moment where Shane is sleeping on Oliver's shoulder is one my favorite moments of it, but there's another one that's a small moment (that apparently was either filmed in a longer moment and cut, or aired as a longer moment/actual hug in one of the international versions).

Right before the scene fades into the next one we see Shane turn herself even more into Oliver's left side and tuck her head, as if she's going to bury her face in his shoulder. I wish we'd been gifted with more of this moment! Look at the way she tucks her arm into him and tips her head - she even kind of pushes her hip into his side. I just love this moment a lot.

1) Shane is shown to be freaking out when closed in the vault. Her fear seems to trigger at odd times? She's fine when she learned there's 13 hours of air; she's fine when she learns there's actually less than 5 hours of air; she's fine when she's bored and wants to play a game; but Katherine might be dead so she freaks out? I get it, she believes their fate to be tied together but then why wasn't she more fearful before they started reading the letters? It just doesn't make a lot of sense.

I think for a large part of this Shane was doing a good job of distracting herself and focusing on something else. But reading the letters made them both emotional: they connected with something poignant in those letters. They're reading about two people who fall in love despite their circumstances and share something beautiful even if it's only words - and then find out at the end that these two people may not have actually been able to be together. Not only does that mirror their situation, but all of a sudden it seems like they might never have the chance to be together either (to Shane) because, oh yeah, they're also in danger of not breathing anymore - and I think that just brought her fear to the surface. Also, it's a small moment, but Shane wasn't too thrilled about having to go into the vault at all. When she first sees it she hesitates and says "in there?" like she'd rather not go anywhere near it. I always took it as a small nod to the fact that Shane might not have a love of small spaces. We've never seen it mentioned again though, so who knows.

I know it's part of the story but he literally just wrote he's willing to give things with Holly another chance but then spends his time thinking of Shane when reading the letters.

Yes! And I have always taken this as another indication that, at this point, Oliver is saying what he feels he should have said long ago. He's making the effort he feels duty bound to make. I mean, I think part of him does want to put in the effort - but that part is his head. His rational mind, and probably his memories of Holly and his affection for her, and the importance he puts on his marriage vows. This is another reason why I truly don't think his heart is with Holly anymore, or in his marriage. AT NO POINT after he writes that letter and tucks it away does he think of Holly. He's reading powerful, moving love letters between two people and the only person he thinks about is Shane? And - we don't find this out until later, but still - the letter he does write to Holly isn't that romantic. He promises to try to see her dreams through her eyes, and says that he's willing to change, but there's nothing about how much he loves her or how her absence has affected his heart or his life. Maybe because Oliver didn't really believe when he was writing it that he was in danger? I don't know. But it's interesting.

That hand grab!! ... And then the way she looks at him as he sings along at the end when Rita wins?? I can't with this man. I can't with this woman.

Um, yes. Shane takes Oliver's hand and he just ... short circuits. It's hilarious. And they're so smitten with each other it's ridiculous.

And in that hospital scene, Oliver absolutely would have let anyone sleep on his shoulder like that. But it wasn't anyone: it was Shane, and it was Shane after all of the emotional intimacy they shared in The Treasure Box; and, once again, it was Shane turned into his side like Oliver offered to let her lay her head there, or she knew what she was doing when she did, because she's not facing forward in the chair with her head to one side like she just accidentally fell asleep and then her head sort of slid to one side. She's angled her body into his. Her feet are pointing toward him. Her hand is just under/next to his arm. How did they get to that moment? I NEED TO KNOW.

(I always understood Jordan to just be an angel. Definitely open to interpretation though.)

OLIVER IS THE ANSWER TO HER LETTER. His words, his faith, his person is the answer to Shane's childhood prayer she never forgot. He opens the wound but it's destined he's the one to help her heal.

Oliver is the embodiment of Shane's hope. Jordan couldn't answer her letter because it had to be Oliver, which he realized. And before he leaves the chapel he says to Oliver "take good care of that little letter writer." HE'S TALKING ABOUT SHANE. In the Impossible Dream, Shane tells Oliver that he's given her something she'll never forget: "a little hope for this world." Oliver. Is. Shane's. Hope. Oh my gosh! She's his heart, he's her hope. How tooth-rottingly, disgustingly sweet. I love it.

Extra point: Kristin can rock a leather skirt...like hot damn woman.

A) she always looks so good, but yes, this leather skirt and periwinkle/lavender top is one of my favorite looks on her, and B) I love her fashion and style and aspire to be that fashionable one day.

Holly and Oliver try to have a conversation with words and they fail.

This literally just occurred to me: Holly herself points out that she and Oliver suck at having actual conversations. Physically they click, so they obviously had a lot of chemistry, but they struggle to just talk to one another. Juxtapose that with Shane, who literally understands Oliver so well and on such a deep level that she not only understands him when no one else does, she can actively translate him. The reunion in HG instantly comes to mind here. She translates in real time for the audience what Oliver means ("And I might be the only person on Earth who understands what you just said!") But she also translates what he says for their waitress in OIAM ("Oh, he just means that people weren't having their booshes (or however you spell that) amused in the 20th century.")

In the Pilot and The Masterpiece, things get McSteamy so quickly but it never starts out that way ... He's trying for the sake of his marriage one last time but his head and heart aren't in it.

Exactly! The pull between him and Shane is magnetic. It's natural and impossible to ignore. This is why I maintain that even if Holly had changed her mind and asked to work on their relationship it never would have worked. Oliver was in love with Shane by this point even if he wouldn't say it or wasn't ready to acknowledge it (although Jordan played a part in making Oliver more aware of this truth. Hard to ignore when a freaking angel points out to you how important someone is to you.)

To Holly, kissing Oliver is akin to breaking promises to herself ... To Shane, kissing Oliver is akin to keeping promises.

Well, you just blew my mind. This is so true! Holly tells us that the only way she could see to live her dream was to stop kissing Oliver (insinuating that it was also to leave him behind); Shane's dream seems to just be ... Oliver. Sharing a life with him; delivering dead letters with him; loving him.

BRB, sobbing over this stupid show and these idiots in love.

I do think that Holly and Oliver parted amicably. I can't decide if I think that Holly asked about Shane, or if she made a comment about her (directly or indirectly). I kind of feel like Holly was more the type to make a comment than ask a question.

I am dying over the logistics of Oliver actually buying that porch swing. Well dressed Oliver scouring the aisles of Walmart at like midnight for the perfect porch swing while surrounded by a bunch of people in their pajamas and college kids on middle of the night snack runs because they're marathoning TV shows instead of studying? Hilarious. Headcanon accepted.

Back to the topic at hand...I do think some of the left/right stuff is purely ease of blocking

As do I. I'm definitely reading more into it than I'm meant to at some points, there's just SO MUCH of it and it's so fun to contemplate that I went for it.

THE HUG IN TRUTH BE TOLD.

hahahahahahaaa ... the way that Shane literally just drops everything and wraps her arms around him slays me. The stunned little pause where Oliver's arms are just up in the air for a second, as if he's somehow surprised at the force of her hug despite having watched her move toward him, and then he tentatively puts his arms on her back and then ... he holds her a little tighter. Ugh. UGH. I DIE.

CAN WE TALK ABOUT OLIVER IN FLANNEL WITH THE SLEEVES ROLLED UP??

Yes. A million times, yes. Oliver with his sleeves rolled up? Outstanding. Oliver in flannel? An absolute vision. Oliver in flannel with his sleeves rolled up? I C A N N O T.

There will be more. I need to make the gifs, but there's going to be a part 4. And probably 5. In fact, I think this is just going to become a series of Things I Need To Scream About™ with supporting gif evidence.

I'll try to break it up though, so there's just ShOliver stuff, just Shane stuff, and just Oliver stuff. And then all Postables stuff because they're the cutest little Postal family ever.

[shra-vasti]

Home

Pairing : Moon Junhui x reader

Type : Soulmate au, idol au

Genre : fluff

Warnings : none

Word count : 2-3k approx

Soulmate au type : In which the first words your soulmate says to you are written on your body.

Jun heard Seungkwan and Jeonghan snicker from behind him when he was wearing his shirt for the upcoming stage performance.

He turn around but glared at them through the mirror and proceeded to wear his outfit. The two just laughed at him more before waving themselves off towards the other members.

Jun sighed as he looked at himself through the mirror and then towards the one sentence which was tattooed near his navel, he huffed shaking his head, was it necessary for his soulmate's first words for being so sarcastic?

He wondered what he was going to say or do for his soulmate to get that sentence/accusion tattooed on his stomach.

But he didn't mind much since it was ultimately said by his soulmate but he often wondered what on earth he was going to do to get that sentence out of you.

He even dated multiple times thinking that his soulmate was someone close to him cause who in the hell gets this comfortable to roast someone on their first meeting?

"You guys are up in 10 minutes so gather up backstage."

The manager yelled from the door. They did the head count before finally making their way out of the waiting room towards the backstage.

They stood up before the monitor placed backstage for monitoring the stage performance going onstage live.

"Woah my best friend is doing great." exclaimed Seungkwan gaining Jun's attention along with other's too.

"Your best friend?"

Jun asked as he put his hand on the younger's shoulder eyeing up the idol group which was currently performing on stage.

"Kind of. It's like an inside joke between us but they are really nice and witty and we get along really well. I met them on the set of Mafia in prison and we have been in contact since then."

Seungkwan explained after which everyone started paying attention to their own thing with few of the members enjoying the stage.

Jun shook his head as he started fixing his microphone, getting ready since they were up next to your group which was performing currently on the stage.

He really envied how friendly and outgoing some of his members were like Seungkwan and Mingyu. They literally had friends everywhere and knew many people.

Jun wished he wasn't so shy so he could also make many more new friends.

He gets awkward and he know it will take some more time to get comfortable around to socialise with everyone else.

The performance ended as he heard audience clap and cheer loudly followed by lots of gasps.

He got pushed to one side of the backstage when 4 of the crew members ran past him carrying some one in their arms.

He hissed at the sensation but didn't feel the anger as it was an emergency but he really lost a bit of his temper when another person bumped into him twice the force earlier and to add to that he was shoved towards the wall making him collide with the wall too.

▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️

You were exhausted from your performance breathing uneven as you posed as the ending fairy for today's performance.

It felt really good to be performing again after your debut showcase, it was your first comeback and you were thankful for the amount of support your group got dispite coming from a rather small company.

Through your peripheral vision you could see the youngest of your group losing their balance as they started leaning toward the opposite direction.

You held their arms quickly and they managed to keep the balance but ended up losing consciousness and putting all of the weight on you.

You quickly caught them before losing your balance and placed th on the ground as other members started asking for help from the backstage crew.

The crew came not long after and carried them out of the stage and towards the emergency room where the treatment of minor injuries was done during the performance.

You ran behind them in hopes to stay with them as long as you could. You were worried from the morning as they looked comparatively pale.

You did give some medicine mixed inside their drink but you figured it wasn't enough or they simply didn't drink it.

You collided rather strongly with someone when you were on your last step on the stairs to go to the backstage, you didn't even dare to apologize or say a word as you pushed the person aside and ran as fast as you could towards your member.

Your were anxious as they had never lose consciousness like today as your other members were also running behind the crew.

You excused yourself mumbling sorry towards the other artist who were backstage as you kept colliding with them.

Backstage was always packed with little to no space as there were so many idols solo/group who were waiting for their turn, not everyone get to have a chance of having the waiting room all to themselves since there weren't much rooms so when you were done with your makeup and styling you get lead outside backstage to wait up for your performance.

You never really saw it as a hassle, it hadn't been much time since you debuted therefore you didn't realize how frustrating backstage was untill some inconvenience like this happened.

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"Hyung, let's go to the emergency room to check if your arm is alright."

They were all currently huddled inside the waiting room after their stage performance ended and Jun realized that his arm which collided with the wall is a bit sore due to the impact.

"Seungkwan take him to the emergency room."

Seungkwan immediately pulled Jun up after Seungcheol told him to take him to the emergency room and both the boys made their way towards the room while the rest stayed behind doing their own things.

They reached the emergency room, the nurse helped Jun with his arms and put a bandage on it.

"Seungkwan?" both the boys turned towards you when they heard your voice, you were carrying two bottles of water in each hands. You bowed in their direction, when the nurse finished dressing his sore arm both of them made their way towards where you stood.

"How's your group member?"

"They're fine."

"What exactly happened to them though I met them yesterday they were fine."

Jun stood there quietly listening to both of you, his awkwardness kicking in as he didn't know what to say. Seungkwan wasn't even introducing him to you neither he was acknowledging his presence so he just stood there a bit far watching you two talk.

"They said that they were sad because yesterday after talking with you they bumped into someone and that person said sorry and you know their soulmark is really common one so they misunderstood that stranger as their soulmate, which happenes almost all the time and they were so disheartened they didn't take their medicine nor eat anything so they fainted."

Seungkwan and your group was really close and therefore you could tell anything to him so you didn't mind telling him that.

"Oh is that so? That's sad. My Hyung here as the same soulmark as your member, 'first word written on the part of their body' one and although Hyung has been in many relationships before he still couldn't find his soulmate."

Jun eyebrows furrowed when he heard Seungkwan say his name and glare at him making you laugh loudly. Jun's expression completely changed when he looked at you, his heart skipping a bit at how beautiful you looked while laughing heartily.

"Some people dated once and found their soulmate, then there's you doing audition."

You stopped laughing as you looked at their expression feeling like you crossed your limits and offended him.

"I'm sorry." you quickly bowed towards him and the only thing Jun could mutter in utter embarrassment after hearing you say those words was.

"I didn't even audition for my company."

You felt a tingling feeling in your right shoulder as you heard him say. Yours, Jun and Seungkwan's eyes widened as soon as those words were said. Both the boys stood there in front of you shocked.

Seungkwan knew what his Hyung's mark said, he never ever asked about yours but the expression you both had gave it away that both of you were indeed soulmate. Seungkwan chuckled gaining both of yours attention and broke your staring contest with Jun.

"Yah, get out." Jun kicked Seungkwan out of the room and locked the door behind so the younger wouldn't come and disturb again.

You heart beat increased as he slowly made his way towards you, he was suddenly full of confidence with zero awkwardness with a hint of mischief in his eyes.

The duality this man held was really something out of this world.

He stopped when he was close enough to you, you put your head down unable to keep up with his intense look. The atmosphere suddenly went from soft to hot in no time.

You gulped when he hooked his index finger below your chin and made you face him. He leaned down placing a sweet and soft kiss on your lips.

He broke the kiss and you still stood there, eyes still close as you breathed his scent. He smiled when you finally locked eyes with him again and put his hand on your shoulder to play with your hair.

"I really thought I would say something cool to you as my first word but my thoughts got jumbled up when I looked into your eyes but I had to make up for it."

You laughed ruffling his hair and he looked at you endearingly.

"I'm sorry, for breaking your arm."

"I would have slammed myself on the wall hundereds of times if I knew it would lead me to you."

A blush crept up your cheeks as you push him away laughing at his cheesy self but you won't mind hearing his cheesy lines for lifetime.

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"Baby, I want to cherish our warmth, So no one can come between us, Tell me, you’re mine, I’m in you squirming inside, I’m suddenly afraid, What do I do? Without you my heart has no home, I’ve kept my insides empty for you."