#I'm trying to build suspense

[ratguy-nico]

My first commission is officially over, I should open a champagne but I don't drink so this will have to do

[chasani]

Finished the flat color ~ <3

[freedcmscall]

tag dump

[writers-potion]

Writing Female Fighters

The Heroine Must. Fight.

Today's female protagonists cannot sit on the side crying and breaking down or whimpering as the battle ensues.

Readers want to see autonomous female fighters who can at least defense themselves with courage and adequate skill.

Not all women are the same, but the heroine should get her butt moving.

Less Muscle, but More Flexibilty

The average woman is shorter than the average man, which makes it more difficult to wield a long sword or slam something down on the opponent's head.

A woman who works out can plausibly be stronger than a male couch potato, but if her male counterpart works out as much as her, the man is going to be much stronger.

On the other hand, the center of gravity in a woman's body is lower than a man's which makes it harder to knock her off her feet.

She is also more flexible, which gives her advantage in grappling fights, making use of complex landscapes, or deflecting blows.

A woman's small size can also be an advantage if her opponent has only ever trained with male opponents. His big hands might not get a good grip on her slender limbs.

In historical fiction, giving your heroine good muscule build can be tricky as exercise was generally considered harmful for women, with some exceptions for horseriding any maybe archery at best.

In such cases, make your heroine an accomplished dancer or an eager horsewoman, or the only girl whose father considered to be son replacement and thus, gave her a boy's education.

Women of lower classes who couldn't afford to be fashionably weak will be plausibly stronger, perhaps even more than an idle gentleman.

More Room for Negotiation, but Prolonged Ruthlessness

In the Suspense part of your fight scene, females are more likely to negotiate and talk more, strategically trying to descalate the situation rather than attacking on a momentary impulse.

Generally, women are less aggressive than men and remain level-headed longer than her male counterparts, opting for non-violent methods first before using force.

Exceptions apply if she is trying to protect her children (or someone who she cares for as a child). Mothers can be tigresses.

A female pre-fight conversation may be: "If you had not done so-and-so and betrayed me with so-and-so, we could have been good friends as I thought we would be." "What do you mean? It was in fact you who brought bad blood between us. I can still hear you laughing with so-and-so, taunting me, purposefully making me look bad -" "But that was so long ago! If you want me to say sorry about something so insignificant, you should have just said so: I'm sorry. There. Satisfied?" "Ha! I can't believe you say that so easily. You still don't get it, do you?" "Who's being petty and unreasonable now?"

A male pre-fight conversation will be shorter: "Who's the coward now?" "You're wrong." "Prove it." "Bastard."

Compared to men, it will take more time for a woman's fight hormones (adrenaline, neurotransmitters and such) to kick in.

She would be slower to engage initially, throwing reluctant punches and thinking, but she'll grow more and more violent and lose all rational thought and compassion, and once she's in full flow, may not stop even when her opponent begs for mercy.

When writing a male-female duo, you can show him going for the first blow while she observes and strategizes first. When he's past his peak and panting, she is flying about left and right. Later when the tension wears off and she becomes wobbly and teary, she can rely on him to have recovered faster and distract other teammates so that they won't see her cry.

Plausible Skills and Backstory

In many cultures and time periods, the general attitude of society towards girls is that they have no place in fist fights or martial arts, unlike how it is encouraged for boys of the same age. So if your heroine has physical prowess that surpasses typical 'fitness' or is hidden, build a backstory of how she's obtained it.

For modern heroines, it can be as simple as signing her up for martial arts classes or yearly membership at the local gym. For historical fiction or girls with strict 'feminine' upbringing, it can be trickier.

It can be related to profession: maybe she was an erotic wrestler, catfighter, or an assasin who thought killing was more honorable than prostitution. They may have dabbles with it for a short time and is now trying to hide their past from their respectable employer or fiance.

It can be family backstory: Perhaps her mother was an accomplished martial artist or she had to fend for younger siblings on the streets from an early age. Maybe she was the only girl in a family of many boys who refused to be the punching bag.

Inexperienced Female Fighters

A woman with no fighting experience or training is likely to resort to one of these on instinct:

Try to talk herself out of the situation, attempting to persuade or negotiate for her life.

Grab something to use as a weapon. This instinct seems to be stronger for women than it is in men.

Use her hands to try and break free, or kick (often wth little success)

Pull hair

Scratch.

In a serious fight, pulling hair and scratching won't be helpful, except when the police come to find her body, they would find the opponent's DNA under her fingernails.

Plausible Weapons and Clothing

All of the above applies to scenes where both parties have no weapons, or has the bare minimum (like one dagger each).

Weapons are equalizers, and if your heroine is pointing a gun at her opponent she will definitely NOT hesitate to be the one to shoot first.

When giving your female character a weapon, choose one she can plausibly use. It would take an unusually brawny woman to wield a great medieval longsword.

For historical fiction, give your heroine something she'll plausibly own. Swords and firearm were a no-go for women, but archery was borderline acceptable.

For clothing starters, you definitely CAN NOT dress her in a tight miniskirt and chainmail bra with long, flowy hair and multiple silver chockers. Unless she's trying to seduce her way into her opponent's bedroom, and he has a chainmail bra fetish.

A practical heroine will have her thighs covered, preferably with leather but at least with fabric, since a lot of blood flows through the thighs and a slash would be critical.

She'll keep her hair tied, tucked under a helmet, braided back, etc. so that it won't impede her vision.

She'll support her breasts with a strong sport bra. In a historical eprioid, she'll either tie her breasts tight with a fabric bandage or support them with some kind of leather corset.

Invent a female version of male fighter clothing of the time you are writing about if it doesn't exist.

If you like my blog, buy me a coffee☕ and find me on instagram! 📸

[dragons-socks]

I don't like reading slow burn, miscommunication, and will-they/won't-they stories.

Writing them is fine, I know all of the information about my silly little boys, I know if they will or won't and I know that the miscommunication is only temperary. So really I just don't like anticipation.

[clawsdevour]

js wanna be yours

wc: 0.8k content warning: ur his first ever crush and he's confessing to you, fluff, atumu x reader, not proofread

note: this is kind of like a follow up from his first crush because an anon requested to see how atsumu would confess! (also he is SO the type of guy that's chalant but goes lowk silent around you)

⠀𓈒 ◌⠀ֹ ͏⠀ 𓍼

A letter? That's odd. I rarely get letters left in my locker, you thought to yourself. Staring at the plain blank envelope, looking for hints or clues indicating who slipped it in the little slot. Absolutely nothing, not even a small pencil mark.

Carefully ripping the glued seal, you take out the small folded sheet of paper. Just like the plain envelope, there wasn't even any decorations or drawings left on the blank piece of paper.

Unfolding it, there only laid a few words to be read:

'Please come to the back of the school, near the lockers, at four pm. I need to tell you something important.'

You can't tell if this was some sort of silly prank being pulled on you. It was way too early for a prank, all you just wanted was to put on your indoor shoes. In your mind, you're contemplating about this letter that wasn't even signed.

Should I show up? I don't even know who this person could be.. this could just be a prank someone pulled on me!

Sighing, you close your locker and slip the note into your bag before heading to your first period. The letter could come second, overall school just began.

The day flew by without a worry, making you almost forget about that mysterious letter left in your locker. Looking back at the clock, it was three forty-seven.

Still, you couldn't quite wrap your head around this sudden opportunity to see who was behind the note left in your locker. You were more than just curious to know what their motives and intentions were as well.

Hearing the clock strike, you made up your mind. I'm going to see who this person is.

Heading out of your classroom that was filled with chatter, entering the quiet halls whilst you make your way down to the back of Inarizaki. You were on the lookout to see if any of the familiar faces lurking around could be that person.

Making it outside, the humidity in the air hits you while you fight past it. Near the lockers, you saw a tall figure disappear around the corner.

That was a bit odd. That guy's going the same way as me.. is that the guy behind the letter?

A bit concerned, heart starting to pick up the pace with every footstep that inched towards the back of the locker rooms. You're walking ever so slowly, trying to not make noise.

A tall and lean silhouette makes it's way into your vision. The man's wearing Inarizaki's volleyball uniform, perhaps they just left practice. He isn't facing you, but you had an idea of who he may be with that blond hair. It was no one else but someone you've just gotten closer with over the past few weeks.

"Atsumu, is that you?" breaking the suspenseful tension that rose in the air. His back turns away from you, chocolate eyes wide open with brows raised. Atsumu's face was slightly still flushed from volleyball practice and his hair sticking to his forehead.

"Hey! Um look.." his shyness taking over when you walked up to him. A hair scratching his nape.

"You wrote that letter in my locker right..?" The awkwardness starting to build up like the first time you both met.

"Yes, I just really have to say these words to you. It's like nippin' at me like crazy" his big eyes are nervously flicking back between his trembling hands and your face.

You've never seen your best friend act this way before. Something must be really aching at him if he's being like this. He's biting down on his bottom lip before parting them again.

"I really.. just, like ya" his husky voice getting lower, hoping you heard him through his slight mumbling.

Atumu's more than flushed. He was practically burning a hit red. His heart is thumping more than a hundred miles per hour. He can't believe he just confessed.

On your end, your face is frozen in mid-gasp. This was more than just a surprise since you've always had this nagging feeling that drew you towards him. You finally understand why, not just as bestfriends, but because you also liked him.

"Atsumu.." tilting your head up just right below his tall stature. You're automatically smiling from his words. The contentness you're feeling is unmatched by his, you can't even wipe off the grin from your face.

"..I just wanna be yours-" he's feeling a warm hand reach to caressing the side of his face. A wave of euphoria washing over him when your lips make contact with his.

His eyes are bigger than the volleyballs that he sets on court. He can't believe his confession went so well. He's gonna for sure brag about this to Osamu later.

Unlatching your lips to respond to him, a wide beam of joy radiating from your smile. Looking at his red complexation, his mouth parted, looking absolutely dumbfounded and awestruck.

"Duh, you've always been!"

masterlist here

[bellyyearner]

Office life at 550+ lbs

Word count: 1061

Extreme obesity, mobility issues, work environment, feedee perspective

No gender mentioned POV

Being a working feedee is hard sometimes, especially when your gain slows down to a snails pace despite how much you've been eating. In the last 3 years you've only put on another 40lbs, but you have an easy job that pays the bills and allows you to live comfortably so you can't complain too much. The only part of this job you hate though, is the journey inside.

As you exit your car you can already feel the sweat forming between your rolls, it's been taking a few tries lately to stand up after swinging your hefty left leg out onto the concrete. You've even questioned if you should bring your car to the shop to check the suspension just in case your fat ass crashing back down onto the driver seat a half dozen times a day might be causing issues. At the very least you were thankful for your personal parking spot only being about 250ft from the elevator up to the office floor. Only 100ft from the buildings entrance and the cold AC running throughout the building.

And so you begin your slow pendulous waddle, thighs scraping against each other with every step, causing so much friction your jeans always have a distinct wear pattern only a couple weeks after buying them. One foot infront the other you waddle, repeating the laboured motion as your breath grows heavy and your belly slaps against the tops of your thighs. Halfway to the door now you hear the clicking of heels against the concrete, 2 interns whizzing by you without a word. You can't even imagine moving as fast as they do, or why they'd even want to move that fast in the first place. Your sense of urgency left you a couple hundred pounds ago.

Another 20 heavy steps later you reach the door, a mailman on the other side who was about to leave opens it for you, clearly staring at your mammoth size and brow covered in sweat. You make it inside and can barely catch your breath to say thank you before he's gone. The AC graces your hot sweaty skin and you feel relief, you spot your double wide chair HR had fought to get installed for you last year, and plop down on it with a huff. All there's left to do is catch your breath for a couple minutes, walk 60 steps through the lobby, turn right, walk 10 steps to the elevator, a minute of standing, and another 30 steps to your cubicle. Where you will then chow down on a couple snacks you brought and rehydrate before looking at spreadsheets and grazing on more food for 8 hours. A routine you had grown so accustomed to that it became second nature.

You look at the handle bar bolted into the wall and remember when you found it insulting, but now it was a necessity. Gripping the bar you start to stand hoping a second try isn't needed because of how many people were in the lobby. You can feel your heart quake and your knees whine but thankfully you hauled your lard laden ass off the seat in one attempt.

The second journey begins and the heavy waddle ensues, gut bouncing, thighs scraping, mouth open and breathing loudly enough that you're attracting attention. You try to ignore their stares but it's only fueling your appetite, already making a mental list of what you're going to grab from the vending machine once you get off the elevator. A few minutes later you round the corner and take the final few steps only to notice a sign on the elevator. You can't read it yet but you can feel your heart sinking already. It can't be right? They would've told you. They would've sent an email or a text. "Out of order".

Panic sets in, you can't climb 4 flights of stairs, you bought a one story house for good reason, you haven't had to climb more than a curb in years at this point. Your mind is growing frantic as you feel the burden your legs are under grow stronger, anticipating if you're really gonna be expected to climb the stairs.

Your phone buzzes, a text from Susy in HR

"Hey! I'm so sorry 'your name', this just happened like an hour ago and I totally forgot to tell you. The elevator is having some major issues and we don't know when it'll be fixed. I dug up that old paper work you filed 6 months ago about work from home and I'm gonna push it through asap! I've sent Lucy downstairs with a work laptop for you to bring home, just take a couple days off while we get all the paperwork in order."

Relief washes over you as you hear the distinct clicking of heels coming down the stairs. You steady your breath and try to seem unfazed, almost certain you look ridiculous.

Lucy: "Hey 'your name', here's your laptop and a cherry cola, figured you would need it before heading back to your car ;). You know I'm gonna miss seeing you around here, less stuff to talk about and no one to gawk at. You have my number so just let me know if you need me to come over to help you adjust"

A quick farewell and her heels were clicking back up the stairs, but all you could think about was how you're never gonna see the inside of that office again. With no where to go and no decency to be upheld there was no reason you wouldn't finally break 600lbs. You chug the Cola, wanting to make one final show for the coworkers and acquaintances you've made over the years, and start the final journey, one to immobility.

With a gassy belly swaying from side to side, your humongous thighs atop fattened lard laden calves carry you through the lobby one last time. Not even trying to hide your burps and groans you walk out of the building, skipping the chair by the door you once saw as a refuge. Thoughts of what takeout you're gonna get delivered and a quickly growing Walmart order forming in your mind as you slowly waddle through the parking lot one last time. All fueled by the dream of being an immobile work from home piggy

Part 2

[writingmar]

d. 9 and 12 mayhaps? 🫢

nsfw ੈ✩‧₊˚ mdni

'𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐭, 𝐬𝐢𝐫.'

𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘪𝘥 𝘹 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

Prompt D9: Heavy Spanking + D12: Squirting.

when spencer decides to teach you a lesson, you figure out you should disobey him more often.

wc: 0.9k

content & tw: smut. dom!reid, brat!reader, spanking (with hand and belt), a bit of praise and a bit of degradation, fingering, squirting.

a/n: i had so much fun writing this omg

'f- four!' you yelp after spencers hand comes down on your ass cheek for the fourth time. your skin must be bright red already judging by how sensitive it feels.

'good girl,' spencer says as you're bent over his lap, 'keep counting, baby girl.' he says before he smacks down again. you do as you're told, counting the fifth spank you're receiving for back talking to him.

'you're taking it so...' spencer says before cutting himself off. the suspense of his silence is killing you until suddenly you feel one of his fingers sliding thru your pussy. you gasp softly, and spencer moves his hand to your face. 'look at that, princess,' he says, wiping his slick finger over your bottom lip, 'something tells me you like to be punished.'

you smirk, your eyes still down at the floor as you lay on his knees. 'and whatever is giving you that idea, doctor?' you ask, your battiness immediately being met with another harsh smack on your ass. spencer leans down, his mouth close to your ear as he whispers, 'because i've got your cunt dripping all over my trousers, little brat.'

his hand raises again, but lowers slowly, not giving you the impact you expected. you hear spencers belt buckle, and while you know you can take it, you feel nerves in your lower stomach start to build.

he pulls his belt out of his trousers and folds it, first softly caressing your sensitive skin with the leather. 'well, brat, if you like to be punished so much,' he says, his sentence being broken by the sound of leather making contact with skin, a harsh, boiling hot and sensual pain spreading over your ass cheek, 'i might have to just be a little harder on you.'

you let out a deep breath, turning up your attitude even more. you love playing cat and mouse, and with a smile you say 'give me your worst, sir.'

spencer lets out a breath, his smile audible, 'oh princess,' he says, his voice nothing more than a husky whisper, 'you're gonna regret that.'

the belt makes contact with your skin again, harsh and unforgiving and so beautifully painful. you let out a moan, laced with the sting on your skin. spencer uses his empty hand to touch your core again and laughs darkly. 'oh, baby girl, you've just gotten wetter.'

he slips one finger inside of you, making your breathing hitch the comforting, good feeling quickly being countered with another smack. the pain mixes with the pleasure, creating an intoxicating cocktail of excitement and arousal within you.

spencer curls his finger inside you, pushing another digit inside you with ease. he pushes against your inner walls exactly where you need him to, every moan he pulls from your body is answered with a harsh hit of the belt.

'is this what you wanted, brat? to be dripping over my fingers while i make you hurt?' spencer asks, his fingers not once stopping those magnificent movements inside of you. the pleasure and sting make it harder and harder for you to keep up your bratty appearance, make it harder for you to talk even, but you love to push his buttons. 'does it feel like i wanted this?'

the belt strikes again, even harder this time. spencer shows no signs of slowing down, your orgasm building with every stroke of his fingers. 'it feels like you fucking love being punished, princess.'

spencer pushes his fingers deeper inside of you, finding the spot that brings you the most pleasure. you whimper on his lap, your legs twitching but not once trying to get away. he plays with your g-spot, your body tensing more and more. 'fuck, sir, i'm so f- so fucking close,' you moan.

'ah, look, there are your manners,' spencer says sensually, speeding up his pace. 'allright, princess. you take three more hits, and then i think you deserve to cum. make sure i can hear you count.'

the belt strikes down once. 'one,' you say trying everything in your power to keep your climax at bay.

another hit, 'two.' you know you can't trick him, you have to control yourself. he knows your body better than you know it yourself, and the moment you're about to cum he would pull his fingers out.

he waits a painfully long time for the third strike, keeping your body in high alert for what is probably less than a minute but what feels like more than an hour. and then, out of nowhere, he curls his fingers in just the right way and smacks the leather down on your skin.

'three!' you moan, your orgasm crashing thru your body. spencer never disappoints you, but this release is more intense than anything you've ever felt before. your senses stop working, your ears ringing and your vision only displaying stars. you feel spencers hand stroking your hair, and when you come back into your body, you feel your thighs covered in fluid.

you laugh softly as spencer helps you into a straddling position, holding you up and kissing you softly. 'well, that hasn't happened before,' you say against his lips.

'no, it hasn't,' spencer says, a proud grin at his ability to make you squirt displayed on his face. 'but i certainly hope it'll happen again.'

[ennn]

Okay but the show deliberately left out the tarot significance of the Death card.

Yes, Rio is Death and the card literally points to that but the tarot card of Death signifies not doom, but change.

GIF credit: stevenrogered. Disclaimer: I'm no expert in tarot card readings and am simply going by good ol' internet research.

Assuming the show is staying faithful to real-world tarot card meanings — and they seem to be from what we've seen thus far —Death is one of the most feared cards in a tarot deck, but it's also very misunderstood: the Death tarot card doesn't mean physical death but a transition, a transformation, a new phase of life.

Change and loss is inevitable and common to us all. Put the past behind you, and focus on what is ahead.

The Death card is often a positive thing.

The viewer is not told this, of course, to build up suspense for the finale. They are told what the other cards mean and Lilia doesn't explain this one fully, stunned by the revelation. And viewers will probably also be distracted by all the implications of the Death character reveal.

The way I see it, Death may be an antagonist here but the true antagonist is their fear or uncertainty or resistance to change.

There's Agatha struggling to work with and be emotionally attached to a coven, to let go of her defence mechanisms. Jen is learning how to embrace becoming a witch again, as well as all other aspects of herself. Billy is trying to figure out who he is, what he really wants, and how to be a witch. All of them are grappling with their different traumas.

It makes sense to have their destination be Death, as they come to terms with and step into the next phase of their journey. They should develop as characters – and as a coven.

[bloodreinasbathwater]

Run for the Hills

Prologue

Jack Hughes X F!Reader

a.n: This is definitely not one of the anticipated chapters you guys want but I'm trying to get myself back into writing, so I made a new fic to try out and see where it goes for now.

Warnings: cursing, bad jokes, frat boy humor

Word Count - 3k

The only sound in the room was her soft breathing and the occasional scratch of paper from her novel. She was so engrossed in the page, a daydream she lost herself inside that the outside world paled in comparison to.

Y/n licked her finger and flipped the page and settled deeper into the couch where she had burrowed herself into for the last three hours. The silence in the room was shattered as the front door crashed open, sending a gust of wind whipping through Y/n's hair as she looked up from her book in surprise.

"Get up and help me!" her roommate shouted, staggering through the doorway with her arms full of overstuffed grocery bags.

Y/n hurriedly marked her page and set the novel aside, springing up from the couch just as one of the flimsy bags gave way, sending a cascade of canned goods and produce tumbling to the floor with a cacophony of clatters and thuds.

"Oh no, let me help!" Y/n rushed over, kneeling down to scoop up the fallen items as her roommate kicked the door shut behind her.

"I didn't realize you'd be back so soon," Y/n said breathlessly, glancing up at her roommate's harried expression. "What's the hurry?"

Her roommate let out an exasperated sigh, shifting the remaining bags in her arms. "I ran into an old friend downtown and got roped into helping her move some furniture. I was supposed to be back an hour ago but it took forever." She shook her head, shooting Y/n an apologetic look. "I'm sorry for the mess - can you grab those last few cans while I get the rest of this put away?"

Y/n nodded quickly, grabbing the stray items and following her roommate to the kitchen. With her roommate's unexpected return and the sudden chaos, the quiet solitude of her novel-induced daydream already felt like a distant memory. “So, what did you do today? Any plans? Any new boys?” Alyssa suggested slyly.

Y/n thought for a second as she filled the empty shelves with cans. “No boys and no plans, not that its anything new.” She replied honestly, almost embarrassed to admit it. A beat of silence followed. “Actually, I’ve realized I prefer fictional men as company,” she added with a laugh.

"Ugh, boring. Why'd I even bother asking?" Alyssa groaned, dramatically throwing her head back. She paused mid-eye roll, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. "Wait. This is perfect actually. The Bruins are playing tonight."

Y/n raised an eyebrow, failing to see the connection. "And that matters because...?"

"Because," Alyssa drawled, hopping onto the counter with the grace of someone who'd clearly done this a thousand times before, "every basic bro in the city will be glued to their TV screens. Which means..." She drummed her perfectly manicured nails against the granite, building suspense.

"Which means?"

"The good bars will be practically empty! Come on, Y/n. When's the last time you wore that little black dress that's been collecting dust in your closet? The one with the slit that makes your legs look incredible?" Alyssa's eyes sparkled with possibility. "I know for a fact that new cocktail bar downtown, Luna, will be dead tonight. We could actually get seats at the bar, maybe talk to the cute bartender I've been eyeing—"

"Alyssa—" Y/n started to protest, but her roommate was already in motion, sliding off the counter and grabbing Y/n's shoulders.

"No excuses! Your book boyfriend will still be there tomorrow. Tonight, we're trading fictional men for real ones. And I'm not taking no for an answer." She gave Y/n a gentle shake. "Besides, I have tea to spill about that furniture-moving friend I mentioned. Trust me, you're going to want to hear this story over a proper martini."

…

Y/n stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror while Alyssa worked her magic with a curling iron, fighting the urge to retreat to her book. The truth was, it wasn't just that she preferred fictional men – real ones had become disappointingly predictable. Every dating app conversation felt scripted, every bar interaction a tepid reproduction of the last. She'd grown tired of pretending to be impressed by startup jobs and fantasy football leagues, of dumbing herself down to stroke fragile egos.

"Earth to Y/n!" Alyssa's voice cut through her thoughts. "Are you ignoring me? Anyway, I’m done! Look at my handy work and tell me you don’t look hot."

Y/n had to admit, the black dress did look good, hugging curves usually kept hidden behind work attire. But even as they walked into Luna, even as heads turned to track their entrance, she felt that familiar emptiness creeping in. What was the point? No one ever made her pulse race, made her wonder what they'd say next, made her want to chase the high of their attention.

Three hours and several expertly crafted cocktails later, Y/n was actually enjoying herself – though that had everything to do with Alyssa's company and nothing to do with the parade of predictable men who'd approached their corner of the bar. She'd perfected the art of polite dismissal, sending them away with practiced smiles that never quite reached her eyes.

The bass pulsed through Luna's speakers as Y/n nursed her martini, watching Alyssa hold court at their corner of the bar. Three guys in button-downs – clearly fresh from some financial district happy hour – had been hovering nearby for the past ten minutes, shooting what they probably thought were subtle glances their way.

"Here we go," Y/n muttered under her breath, catching the familiar look of determination cross the tallest one's face as he finally worked up the courage to approach.

"Ladies," he announced, spreading his arms wide like he was presenting a TED talk. "My colleagues and I couldn't help but notice you've been drinking alone." He gestured to his friends, who flanked him with identical smirks. "We thought we'd fix that tragedy."

Alyssa straightened, flashing her practiced giggle. "Oh my god, that's so sweet of you!"

"I'm Brad," the ringleader said, then pointed to his friends who y/n couldn’t help but notice both had no socks on with their loafers. That was just the first of many icks she received that night. "This is Chase and..." he faltered for a moment, "...Tyler."

Y/n bit back a laugh. The third guy – apparently Tyler – looked slightly offended that Brad had to think about his name.

"Let me guess," Y/n said suppressing a giggle, unable to help herself. "You all work in finance?"

"Investment banking, actually," Chase jumped in, puffing up his chest. "We just closed a huge deal. Brad here's basically a genius with emerging markets."

"Bro, stop," Brad said with fake modesty, though he was clearly pleased. "But yeah, it was pretty impressive. The partners were blown away by my analysis of the—"

"The Asian markets?" Y/n finished dryly. "Let me guess, you're really into crypto too?"

The sarcasm flew right over their heads. "Holy shit, how did you know?" Tyler exclaimed. "I've got this sick NFT collection—"

"Oh my god, that's fascinating!" Alyssa cut in, shooting Y/n a warning look. "Tell us more about it!"

Brad moved closer to Y/n, mistaking her eye roll for interest. "You know, you look like a girl who appreciates ambition. I just got promoted to junior VP, and my bonus this year..." He trailed off suggestively.

"Fascinating," Y/n deadpanned. "Do you also have a podcast?"

"Actually..." All three of them lit up simultaneously.

"It's about mindset and grinding—" Chase started. "—and disrupting traditional paradigms—" Brad added. "—with a focus on sigma male energy," Tyler finished proudly.

Alyssa was doing her best to appear enthralled, but even she couldn't completely hide her wince at that last part.

"We should totally collab," Brad continued, edging even closer to Y/n. "I bet you'd love to hear about my morning routine. I wake up at 4 AM to meditate and do cold plunges—"

"Wow," Y/n interrupted, finishing her drink in one gulp. "That's incredibly..." she searched for a word that wouldn't entirely crush their spirits, "...consistent of you."

"Right?" Brad beamed, completely missing her tone. "Hey, you should check out my Instagram. I post daily inspiration quotes over pictures of wolves. The engagement is insane."

Y/n felt her soul trying to leave her body. She caught Alyssa's eye, silently pleading for an escape route, but her roommate was already deep in conversation with Chase and Tyler about their "entrepreneurship mindset course."

"Look," Brad said, lowering his voice to what he clearly thought was a seductive tone. "I don't usually do this, but I sense a real connection here. You're not like other girls."

"Oh god," Y/n muttered under her breath.

"You're obviously on that grindset wavelength. I could tell by your aura. So what do you say we—"

Y/n opened her mouth to answer when her phone lit up with her sister's ringtone. "Saved by the bell," she laughed, grabbing her phone. "I should take this – back in five!"

She headed for a quieter corner near the back of the bar, weaving between groups of people. The phone was still buzzing in her hand when someone slammed into her from behind, nearly sending her face-first into the wall. Strong hands caught her waist, steadying her, but instead of immediately letting go, they lingered – warm and sure against the thin fabric of her dress.

"Shit, I'm so sorry—" a voice said above her, close to her ear, low and touched with amusement. "Though I've gotta say, this isn't the worst collision I've had tonight."

Y/n turned, ready to deliver the kind of cutting remark she'd perfected over years of unwanted bar encounters – but the words died in her throat. The man still holding her wasn't anything like the finance bros she'd just escaped. He was tall, dressed in dark jeans and a perfectly fitted black henley that did nothing to hide the athletic build underneath. He was looking at her not with the desperate eagerness of Brad and his crew, but with an almost lazy confidence that made her pulse quicken.

"You can let go now," she said, finding her voice. "Unless you make a habit of holding onto strange women in bars?"

His hands slid from her waist, slowly, deliberately. "Only the ones who look like they're plotting escape routes." The corner of his mouth lifted in a half-smile. "Though I can't blame you, if you were running from those walking LinkedIn profiles I saw you with earlier."

"You were watching me?" Y/n raised an eyebrow, surprised by the little thrill that shot through her at the thought.

"Hard not to. You looked about ready to commit murder when the one in the blue started talking about his morning routine." He leaned against the wall, creating a bubble of space that felt separate from the rest of the bar. "I'm Jack. And you're definitely too interesting to be stuck listening to cryptocurrency bros all night."

"Interesting?" she challenged, surprising herself by stepping slightly closer. "You don't know anything about me."

His eyes dropped to her lips for a fraction of a second before meeting her gaze again. “I know you're intrigued right now, even though you're trying not to show it."

Heat crept up her neck at his directness. He wasn't wrong, but she wasn't about to let him know that. "That's a lot of assumptions from someone who's spent the last five minutes running away from his own problems."

"Running away?" He laughed, and the sound did something to her insides. "More like making a strategic retreat. Though I'll admit, diving behind the bar wasn't my smoothest move."

"Do I want to know why you were diving behind bars?"

"Depends." He shifted closer, just enough that she had to tilt her head back slightly to maintain eye contact. "How do you feel about blind dates, sports journalists, and elaborate escape plans?"

"That sounds like the start of either a very good story or a very bad lie."

"Buy me a drink and find out?" The challenge in his voice was unmistakable. "Unless you'd rather go back to hearing about sigma male energy and cold plunges?"

Y/n felt herself teetering on the edge of something dangerous. Jack wasn't like the others – there was something magnetic about him, something that made her want to push back, to see what would happen. He carried himself with the easy confidence of someone used to getting what he wanted, but there was something else there too – a spark of genuine interest when he looked at her that made her skin tingle.

"Counter offer," she said, meeting his intensity with her own. "You tell me the story first, and I'll decide if it's worth buying you that drink."

His smile turned wolfish. "I like the way you negotiate." He stepped even closer, until she could feel the heat radiating from his body. "But I should warn you – once you hear this story, you might not want to let me leave."

"That's a pretty big assumption," she replied, though her heart was racing. "I'm not that easy to impress."

"Good," he said simply, his eyes dark with promise. "I like a challenge."

…

"So about that blind date," Jack started, leaning against the wall beside her. His sleeve brushed against her bare arm, sending electricity through her skin. "My teammate thought it would be hilarious to set me up with his cousin – didn't mention she's also a sports journalist who's been trying to get an exclusive with me for months."

Y/n raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite herself. "And running away was your sophisticated solution?"

"Hey, I made it three whole minutes before I spotted her voice recorder in her purse," he laughed, running a hand through his already disheveled dark hair. "Though I'll admit, diving behind the bar and army-crawling my way to this corner wasn't my proudest moment. The bartender's face was priceless though."

"You did not," Y/n gasped, eyes widening with delight.

"I absolutely did. These jeans?" He gestured to his knees, where sure enough, there were slight wet marks. "Casualties of war. But hey, it led me to crash into you, so I'd say it was worth the dry cleaning bill."

The way he looked at her when he said it made her stomach flip. There was something magnetic about him – the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled, how he seemed genuinely interested in her reactions, the subtle way he'd shifted closer as they talked.

"So what's your story?" he asked, his voice dropping lower. "What's a girl who clearly doesn't want to be here doing in a bar on game night?"

"What makes you think I don't want to be here?"

"Because you've been watching everyone like you're taking mental notes for a novel. Like you're observing rather than participating." His observation was so accurate it caught her off guard. "Until now, at least."

Before Y/n could respond, a familiar squeal cut through their bubble.

"There you are!" Alyssa's voice rang out as she materialized beside them, her eyes widening as they landed on Jack. "Oh my god, Y/n, aren't you going to introduce me to your friend?"

Y/n felt her walls slam back up, recognizing the predatory gleam in her roommate's eyes. She'd seen it before – countless times. Alyssa had a way of commanding attention, of making herself the center of any interaction. And men always noticed her first, or noticed her eventually. It was an unspoken pattern in their friendship that Y/n had learned to accept.

"Jack," he offered, politely extending his hand to Alyssa, though his eyes flickered back to Y/n.

"I'm Alyssa, Y/n's roommate and best friend," she gushed, placing her hand in his and holding on a beat too long. "You look so familiar. Wait – oh my god, are you Jack Hughes? The hockey player?"

Y/n's stomach dropped. Of course he was someone famous. Of course this moment, like all the others that had promised to be different, would end the same way.

"Guilty," he admitted with a slight grimace, still trying to maintain eye contact with Y/n even as Alyssa positioned herself between them.

"This is crazy! I was just telling Y/n we needed to come out tonight because of the hockey game. I'm like, your biggest fan. Y/n doesn't follow hockey at all, isn't that funny?" Alyssa laughed, touching his arm.

Y/n watched as Jack tried to navigate the conversation diplomatically, occasionally attempting to include her, but Alyssa was a force of nature when she wanted something. She felt herself backing away slightly, the familiar role of wallflower settling back over her shoulders like a well-worn coat.

"I should probably check on that missed call," she said quietly, though she doubted either of them heard her.

As she turned to leave, she caught Jack's voice, sharp with what sounded like frustration. "Actually, Y/n—"

But Alyssa cut him off. "Oh my god, we should totally get your number. For like, future game tickets and stuff?"

Y/n didn't stay to hear his response. She'd seen this movie before, knew how it ended. She made her way back to the bar, signaling for another drink, trying to ignore the ache in her chest. For a moment – just a moment – she'd felt something real. Something that made her want to lean in instead of pull away.

But real wasn't for girls like her. Real was for girls like Alyssa, who knew how to claim what they wanted without hesitation. She raised the fresh glass to her lips, determined to wash away the lingering warmth of possibility.

She didn't notice Jack's eyes following her retreat, or the way he barely registered Alyssa's number in his phone, or how his jaw clenched when he realized Y/n wasn't coming back.

[flemingology]

Loving the Leah blurbs! Would you do one where Leah and reader are very drunk, coming home from a night out, and Leah’s very very hungry

midnight munchies ─ leah williamson x reader

warnings: alcohol, quite suggestive at some point, but not too explicit, definitely not smut

wc: 594

a/n: thank you for the request! hope you enjoy it :)

You and Leah stumbled inside after she took way too long trying to find the right key – finally back home after a long night out, and admittedly way too many drinks. You'd gone out to celebrate Arsenal's UWCL qualification and what was supposed to be a couple drinks and some food, turned out into a wild night through the busy streets of London.

"I'm starving", Leah shouted as she plopped down on the couch. She slurred her words, clearly affected by the one too many gin and tonics she consumed tonight. "Turn it down, Le," you said nearly as loud as her.

You threw your bag on the counter and leaned your head down, the cold kitchen tile a welcome feeling against your already throbbing head. "We're gonna-," you got interrupted by a hiccup, much to your girlfriend's amusement. "We're gonna regret this tomorrow," you finally managed.

Leah mustered up nothing more than a hum, getting back up from the couch. She had to stabilize herself against the wall to make sure she didn't fall, before making her way over to the kitchen and circling her arms around your waist from behind.

You slowly turned in her grip – making sure not to move too quick to avoid the headache building quicker – and clasped your hands together behind her neck, pulling her in for a bruising kiss. Leah deepened the kiss right away, as you let out a soft moan when you tasted the alcohol that was still lingering on her tongue. Her hands roamed all over your back and she pulled you tight against her, steadying the both of you against the kitchen counter to make sure you couldn't cause any accidents – neither you nor her trusting your own legs to hold you up.

Leah broke the kiss with a tug at your bottom lip, dipping her head down before starting to kiss up and down your neck. She bit, licked and kissed – if you weren't dizzy yet from the alcohol, you sure would be now. You tangled your hands into her blonde locks, tugging harshly whenever she licked a particularly sensitive spot in your neck. You brought her head back up towards yours and pulled her into another kiss, moaning into her mouth when you felt her knee nudging itself between your legs, making contact with your core.

"Fuck, Leah. Let's go upstairs," you slurred, trying to push the two of you in the direction of the stairs.

The arousal that had been building up steadily suddenly washed away when Leah pulled away from you rather harshly, leaving you confused as to what you said wrong. Her eyes scanned your face and body, suddenly feeling very exposed under the gaze of your girlfriend.

"No. I'm starving," she said matter of factly. You sighed, slouching down against the kitchen wall as Leah opened the fridge, on the hunt for anything that would quell her midnight hunger. You pressed the palms of your hands against your eyes in an attempt to subdue the headache that was forming, already regretting the decisions you had been making that night.

Before long, Leah retreated from the fridge with a tub of ice cream in hand – accompanied with a spoon and a playful glint in her eye. Any suspense that had been building between the two of you now washed away, you grinned at your girlfriend and how silly she looked – clad in a very hot suit, hair sticking out everywhere, droopy eyes that completely gave away her drunken state, now with a goofy grin spread across her face.

"You're a dork." "Your dork, indeed."

[billyshakesp]

How Tamsyn Muir Uses Information

I've been trying to pinpoint exactly why I've been so obsessed with The Locked Tomb for the better part of a year by now, and I think I've finally been able to draw some useful conclusions. Here's my analysis of Tamsyn Muir's writing, and, specifically, how Muir uses information to drive a plot.

For me, and for most fiction writers, one of the most critical elements which drives the plot of a story is the information you choose to give to the reader, and the information you choose to withhold. It is my opinion that no one uses (and arguably misuses) information as beautifully as Muir does. Muir is surgical both in the way she delivers information to the reader, and the way she fails to deliver information to the reader. Most writers aim to feed the readers information about the story, bit by bit, letting the reader finish the picture. Muir uses this idea, but her writing is so lush and so sharp is that the information she gives us is distorted almost beyond recognition, but just coherent enough that the reader can guess at the bigger picture. This method of delivery persists from the inciting incident, basically up until the climax.

By the climax, we, the readers, have recieved just enough information to guess at the direction of the story, but we recieve so little information that we are still scrambling for more. It is at this point where Muir finally reveals one or two critical pieces of information, and when she does, the true stakes of the conflict hit the reader with, as Muir would put it, the inexorable weight of a gravity collapse. The truth is that Muir has been building suspense for an entire novel, but it's hard for the reader to conceptualise truly how dire the situation for the characters is because we have been left in the dark. We were crawling at a snail's pace, and so we didn't sense the danger until we stood before the precipice.

I was going to include specific examples of what I've just described, but I changed my mind, and I'll explain:

If you've read The Locked Tomb, you know what I'm talking about (my heart shall never be whole again).

If you haven't read The Locked Tomb, read it! It is lush, dark, vivacious, and many other adjectives which make it unclear whether I'm describing a book or a person.

Ahem. Anyway. TazMuir, I love your writing, and Alecto the Ninth will be my end, as swift and sure as the hammer to the oxygen-sealant machine of my childhood.

[enbysiriusblack]

rereading lily's letter to sirius:

starting off strong with 'dear', very formal letter writing but also kinda endearing depends how you look at it. BUT she follows with his 'padfoot' soo it's def endearing. it already shows just how close the two are from those two words.

ofc harry's favourite present was the one sirius got him (#bestdogfather)

ofc sirius gets a 1yr old a toy broom (#funnestdogfather)

i love how chill lily is about harry almost killing the cat and smashing a vase. she's so the fun mum. also petunia and lily still sending each other christmas presents, like why do i find that so sad/sweet?? idk. i love their relationship sm it's so interesting. and ik some people are gonna be thinking 'oh petunia probably regifted the ugly vase' but no. i think she went shopping specifically for lily and picked it out thinking it looked great (she's got horrible taste)

lily saying james found it funny as if she didn't also. girl please, you know you found it so fucking funny. also james already planning out harry's quidditch career. the man is obsessed. (no war au hari def would've became a professional qudditch player i fear)

btw if you're not british, "we've had a very quiet birthday tea", basically means like an afternoon tea. they're not just drinking tea, they do have tea but also some food (like lunchy food, sandwiches and cakes) and sit down at a table and chat basically. and harry will likely also be opening presents during it too

harry kinda having a doting grandma with bathilda>>>

lily prioritising the order !! she's so responsible, smart, dedicated i love her. plus she's being so real about babies. like. yeah he ain't gonna remember it anyway (also i'm guessing this means like. sirius had an order mission so couldn't come to harry's birthday? but does this mean peter and remus did too? or was only sirius invited??)

james having trouble with just staying at home constantly <33 and trying to hide it so lily doesn't worry <333 cutest husband ever.

fuck dumbledoreeeee. i don't mind him sometimes, but how dare he take james' cloak (his family heirloom) so james and lily and harry can't go on secret outing together??? they are NOT made for staying inside. james needs his runs and flying and fresh air and chats to strangers and lily needs her woods and nature and hiking and camping.

"if you could visit, it'd cheer him up so much" SHE GETS THEM.. SHE GETS THEM

lily also calling peter "wormy", they're so also her best friends and not just james', do NOT even argue.

ik people argue this bit about the mckinnons as a proof lily was never close to marlene, but it so is proof of the opposite to me!! maybe i'm coldhearted, but i would NOT be crying all fucking evening just cause a family that i kinda know and am colleagues with one or a few of them got killed.. all evening??? ALL EVENING?? yeah, they were def close friends for sure. (and she's not just gonna single out marlene because it was ALL her family, it'd be a bit weird and disrespectful to only say marlene. especially if you, as a lot of people do, hc lily and marlene as roommates and close friends all throughout school. like lily would've visited marlene's family quite a few times. she'd know them fairly well)

lily getting ALL the gossip about dumbledore from bathilda. love that for her. also her not believing dumbledore was friends with grindelwald i'm giggling. she would've lost her mind at the idea of them as exes fr (also lily building up the suspense about dumbledore being friends with grindelwald by putting the "friends with grindelwald" part on the next page so he'd have to read the next page.. she totally didn't just run out of room. that was on purpose)

"lots of love" SCREAMING. THEY LOVE EACH OTHER SM. lilypad ily. lilypad ily. bestfriends fr!!!!!!!

also not related to the text itself, but severus taking the page where lily says "lots of love" and cutting lily out of the photo of harry on his broomstick like... FUCKING MAN.. that was for SIRIUS. that's lily's love for SIRIUS. don't take her love, she didn't fucking mean it for you, don't try to pretend it was you, you absolute wanker.. anyway

[seospicybin]

ON TOUR.

PART I: SOUNDCHECK.

Hyunjin x reader x Felix. (f,a)

Chapters: II. OPENING ACT / III. UNPLUGGED / IV. HIDDEN TRACK

Synopsis: Your best friend, Felix, is in a rock band and he takes you to join him on tour as the band's photographer. On the road, you learn how to deal with his bandmate, Hyunjin, who's not very welcoming of you . (10,2k words)

Author's note: The smut will not be taking place in the first part pls be patient because good things come to those who waits :)

Click here for ON TOUR playlist.

Content warning: mentioned vomiting.

A man is standing by the door of your apartment.

You take a few steps down the stairs to hide because he seems suspicious. He's dressed in all black with the hoodie pulled over his head, casting a dark shadow over his face and making it hard for you to identify him.

If that was someone you know, he would call you and let you know that he's outside your apartment. To add to your suspicion, he starts pacing back and forth by the door of your apartment.

You duck to get out of his sight and you shouldn't be afraid because you are in your apartment building, he's trespassing, and you have the rights to send him away.

As a precaution, you rummage inside your bag for your keys and tuck one between your fingers as a weapon. It's not the best form of self-defense but just in case it's not working, all you have to do is scream loud enough for your neighbors to hear you.

You take cautious steps up the stairs and approach the mysterious man who has his back facing you. You swallow air as your heart starts beating so fast that you feel like having a cardiac arrest.

The sound of his phone ringing interrupted the suspenseful moment and the man picks it up immediately, "Yeah, I don't think she's home. Do you..."

Wait, you know this voice but you can't pinpoint who it belongs to. It's like listening to an old song and trying to guess who sang it.

The hand that is raised and ready to attack slowly drops to your side as you rake your brain and try to remember.

The man suddenly turns around and in reflex, your hand raises to attack him again to only abruptly stop once you see his face.

"Whoa! Whoa! Calm down!" He says with his hands up.

Then you recognize the freckles, the small mouth, the nose, and his deep voice that you finally remember who it belongs to.

"Felix?" You ask in disbelief.

"Yeah, it's me!" He says with his hands still raised and a horrified look on his face.

You miss him so much your eyes teared up that you finally get to see him in the flesh.

"Were you about to punch me?" He asks, eyeing the key between your knuckles.

You cry-laughing in response, "And I'm still going to punch you," you say.

You proceed with your plan, playfully punching him in the chest, "You said you would never forget me when you become famous," you say between your exhausted grunts.

You gently push him away, sending him staggering backward, "you lied to me," you say with your index finger pointed right at him.

He laughs and walks up to you again, "Hey, come on! That's why I'm here," he says, opening his arms to welcome you to hug him.

It's useless to try to act upset when you're immensely happy to see him again, the frown on your face gradually turns into a smile.

"I miss you," he says, being the one to hug you first.

You cave in almost instantly and hug him back, letting the memories from the teen years you spent together flood your head like a fast-paced montage. You hug him as someone who misses her best friend would, tightly and warmly. What is there left to do than letting him know it with words?

"I miss you," you say back, saying it makes it real that you feel a sting in your heart.

-

"How did you know where I live?"

You take two cans of beer out of the fridge and push the fridge door close with your hips.

Felix is looking at the wall covered with photographs you took from your years of studying photography abroad.

"Your mom told my mom and my mom told me," he walks to the sofa to sit next to you, taking one of the beer cans from you.

"Thanks," he mutters, doesn't waste a second to open it.

You also take a long gulp, unexpectedly thirsty from experiencing a short adrenaline rush earlier.

"Oh, my God! I forgot that our moms are friends," you say.

You and Felix were neighbors thus explaining how the decade-long friendship formed since you were in middle school.

"Unlike us," you jokingly add.

While you had to leave to study abroad, Felix stayed and pursued his dream to study music which marked the part of your lives branched out, growing apart from each other.

"Here we are now," he says and clinks his can of beer with yours.

You smile and take a small sip.

"So, you're a photographer now?" he puts down his drink and leans back with his arms outstretched on the headrest of the sofa.

"Yep!"

"And how is it going?" He turns his head at you with his hand playing with the end of your hair.

"It's great! I got fully booked until the end of the year," you answer with a sly grin.

"That's incredible!" He sincerely praises.

"Yes, it is!" You take another sip of beer, then burst into laughter.

"Except that I'm lying," you sadly add as the laughter turns into a grim look.

Felix doesn't say anything but put his arm around you, lets you rest your head on his shoulder, and endearingly pats your shoulder to comfort you.

"I'm glad that we're reconnecting cause now I know I can borrow some money from you," you say with a heavy sigh.

He nudges your shoulder with his, "I'm sure it's not that bad," he says.

"It is that bad. I'm barely booked for a job," you admit how pathetic you are to a friend you haven't seen in years but it's relieving to have someone you can openly tell your worries to.

His arm draws you closer so he can plant a kiss on top of your head, "just give it some time," he says.

It's the one thing that doesn't change in him: a man of physical affection. As someone who knows him for years, you don't mind him entering your personal space because that's just how he shows his affection, it's through physical touches. As he brushed your hair with his fingers, you feel nothing but comfort.

"Are you busy tomorrow?" He asks.

"It's the perks of being a freelance photographer, you have a flexible working time which technically means that I'm jobless so yeah, I'm not busy at all," you ramble as you catch his hand and clasped it with his.

"How about we have fun and have some good music tomorrow night?"

You get what he meant when he said 'tomorrow night', his band is having a concert and you need the distraction from this adulting thing.

You turn your head to look at him, "I would love that."

He smiles while looking down at you, "I'll have someone pick you up tomorrow afternoon," he says.

You tilt your head up, "Doesn't it starts at seven?"

"You don't want to join us for the soundcheck?" He asks back.

You grin at the thought of being exclusively invited to it, "can I bring my camera?"

He thinks for a moment, "I think so, yeah," he doubtfully answers.

His phone has been vibrating inside his jeans pocket but he keeps ignoring it. You leer at him, "It's okay if you have to go," you tell him.

He takes his arm away and pulls his phone out to reject the call, "It's my manager. We have tons of interviews to do tomorrow before the show so..." he sucks air through his teeth instead of finishing his sentence.

You get it that he feels bad for not having time to catch up on a lot of things with you yet he has responsibilities to do on behalf of his job.

"Then go!" You simply tell him.

He squints his eyes at you, "Are you kicking me out?"

"Yes," you take his jacket from the armrest of the sofa and toss it at him.

As much as you wanted to catch up with him, you can't be selfishly holding him from fulfilling his duty. Moreover, he needs the rest.

It's close to midnight and the street is almost empty, it's a good thing, there's a thin chance of people recognizing him.

"You wanted to punch me earlier and now I got kicked out of your apartment," he mumbles as he pushes the door to get out of your apartment building.

"Goodness, Felix!" You sigh and it feels weird calling his name again after a long time.

You hail a cab from across the street for him and the other hand holding his, "We'll meet again tomorrow, remember?" you remind him.

The taxi stops on the side of the road and you open the door for him.

Felix puts his arms around you, pulling you into a hug, "I'm so happy to see you again," he says with a breath of relief.

Knowing that the feeling is mutual, you smile as you hug him back, "me too, Felix, me too," you say, rubbing the small of his back to let the words seep into him.

"See you tomorrow!" Felix doesn't hesitate to kiss your cheek, a long, lingering one then lets go after a while.

He flashes a warm smile at you as he gets into the taxi, "go back inside!"

You nod, walking backward toward the entrance of your apartment building with your hand waving at him, "Goodnight!"

You watch the taxi drives away which makes you hit by a wave of nostalgia.

The day you left to study abroad, Felix sent you away in a taxi and you remember crying so hard the whole ride to the airport, heartbroken by the fact you won't be meeting someone like him to where you were going.

The moment you're back at your apartment, you dig into your vinyl collection, searching for an old record you haven't been playing in a long time.

"Gotcha!" You exclaim when you finally found it. You rush to the record player and carefully place the needle on the vinyl.

As the song starts playing, you sit by the window sill with a new can of beer, looking out at the view of the city with its blinking lights. It surely reminds you of those grueling first few days of living so far away from home. You cooped in your small flat and listened to this song through the headphones, being severely homesick.

"So what do you say? You can't give me the dreams that are mine anyway."

It wasn't a place or a certain object or the dull routine that you long to do, Felix's face ran through your head whenever you thought of home.

"You're half the world away... Half the world away..."

And tonight, you want to replace the bittersweet memory it elicits and plant a new one so the next time you listen to this song, you'd think of this day when you finally reunited with him.

"I've been lost. I've been found. But I don't feel down."

-

The car is pulling up right in front of you and you doubt that it's the one Felix sent to pick you up. The car is way too big and too fancy to pick up someone like you.

The window rolls down and you see someone with a bleached, buzzcut hair on the driver's seat.

"Are you a friend of Felix?" He asks.

It takes you a moment to process such a simple question, "Y-yes, I am."

"Okay, great, get in the car then!" He says.

You stand there and exchange confused glances at each other.

"I came here to pick you up," he explains, "Felix sent me."

He butchered the key information that assures you he's the one Felix ordered to get you to the venue. Seeing that you're not convinced yet, he pulls out an ID hung around his neck.

"I would appreciate it if you get in the car right now or else, we'll be late for the soundcheck," he says.

You stifle a nod and get into the car, sitting on the passenger's side, and putting on your seatbelt quickly.

"And thank you for sitting in the front," he says.

He drives fast despite the heavy traffic on the way to the concert venue. While waiting for the traffic light to turn green, he uses the opportunity to introduce himself.

"I'm Lou, by the way," he introduces himself.

You introduce yourself back, "Are you working for the band?"

He sucks air through his teeth, "you can say that, yeah," he vaguely answers.

You don't want to pressure him to answer your question especially when you just met him minutes ago.

After driving past the intersection, he continues to speak more about himself, "I'm a friend of Han and he got me to work with him, as a roadie."

"Ah, I get it," you lowly exclaim.

"I guess it's better than staying unemployed," he says.

You nod, agreeing with him. Anything is better than having no money.

"What about you? I heard you're a photographer?"

"That's right, yeah, I'm a freelance so I'm as good as a jobless person," you jokingly say.

He glances to see that you're not bringing anything but a sling bag, "you're not taking any cameras with you?"

You planned on taking one but you doubt that they'll let you take any pictures in there anyway so you decided not to. You still can take pictures with your phone anyway.

"I'm not sure if they'll allow me..."

He nods, "Yeah, I'm not sure either."

You let out a breath of relief knowing that you made the right decision.

Lou parks the car at the back of the concert venue, he tells you to keep following him but he walks so fast that you start to panting.

"ID, please?" The security asks him.

He shows his ID at him then points at you, "She's with me."

Lou continues walking fast while greeting everyone he meets on the way. It's like walking in a maze but he takes you to one of the doors that leads to the pit.

"I think we're late," he says.

As he pushes it open, the sound of music playing greets you.

There they are, the three of them on the stage, adjusting their instruments to get them ready for the soundcheck.

"Sit whenever you want!" Lou tells you.

You nod and find it hard to choose where to sit despite they're all empty.

"I'll come back in a few minutes with a pass for you," he says before leaving.

"Thank you," you mutter to him but he probably can't hear it against the blasting electric guitar playing from the stage.

You can spot his red hair, catching your eye right away as if his head caught on fire.

He's shredding his guitar, playing a riff that you recognize is an intro from one of their songs. On the back, you see Felix, tightening the screws on his drums and checking his pedal.

The other one is setting the amplifier next to Felix's drums, playing his bass to see if it's the tune he desired.

It doesn't stop there, next, they're checking their mics by calling their names into it.

"Check one two, one two, it's Han," he says into the mic.

You wouldn't say you don't know any of them because who doesn't?

Ssick is a band founded by Han, the vocalist and informally, the frontman of the band. He met Felix at a college and started jamming together but to start a band, they needed a guitar player, so Felix introduced him to Hyunjin who's now their main guitarist.

So they began playing as a band from one place to another throughout their college years and they grew a great following.

A year later, they got offered a record deal. Little did they know, they're off to great things. It's their third year as a band now.

As you grow older, you're off the radar on knowing what's popular these days so you can't exactly know how big they are but they're having a showcase concert to promote their third album right now so that says a lot.

They start playing a song on the stage right now, it's one that you heard so many times on the radio and again that says a lot about their popularity.

You can't help but notice how much Felix has grown, he used to be this boy who eats sweets and left the wrappers strewn around your bedroom floor and now he's there, being what he always wanted to be, a drummer for a band, a rockstar.

It sounded like a silly dream back then but look at him, proving that you're wrong.

You unconsciously get up from your seat once the soundcheck is done and clap your hands together, you doubt that they can hear it because you're sitting far enough and they get off the stage right away.

"Okay, now what we're doing?" You awkwardly ask yourself.

Lou says he'll be away for a few minutes but he hasn't come back yet. You look around the empty arena only to spot a few staff putting numbers on the seats.

It won't be long until one of them find out that you're an intruder walking around the concert venue, it's not like they would believe that you're a friend of one of the band member. Things don't work out that way.

You exit through the same door Lou took you in and start looking for him. The faster you get to him, the better chance you get of not getting kicked out.

However, the constant reminder of telling yourself to put on a calm face only makes you even more suspicious. Someone spotted you walking through the hallway and makes his way toward you, it's too late to turn back.

"Sorry, miss," the tall guard says.

He looks for something which you believe is an ID hanging around your neck.

"May I know what your business here is?"

You open your mouth but nothing comes out of your mouth, it isn't like you commit a crime but it feels like you got caught stealing something.

"I-I got here with Lou," you stammer.

"Who?"

"Lou, I came here—" your throat is closing up the more you try to explain, "but h-he went to get me—"

"I'm sorry, miss. I can't let you walk around here without an ID," he sternly says, holding his hand out to escort you somewhere.

Somehow you find yourself walking to where he's leading you as you try to come up with something convincing, "I'm a friend," you say.

With a flat smile, you know he dismissed you right away.

"I swear, I know Felix," you say but that sounds delusional coming from you who have no proof whatsoever.

From the opposite direction, you notice a familiar face who you think may be able to get you out of this dire situation.

You only have a little time as you're about to meet in the middle, hesitated and groggy, you call out his name.

"Hyunjin?"

You see him walk past you with his headphones on. Hopeless, you pull the sleeve of his jacket at once that the phone he's holding drops onto the floor.

Hyunjin immediately turns around and sees you.

"I'm so sorry," you quickly mutter, scrambling to pick up his phone from the floor. In one glance, you can tell the song he's listening to on his phone.

"I'm sorry," you say again while looking up to see and make sure that it's him, the red hair peeking out from the black beanie he's wearing confirmed it.

He stares at you for a moment but you sense that he's going to come at you for dropping his phone.

"Can you help me?" You ask, getting ahead of him.

His forehead wrinkles in confusion as he cleans the screen of his phone with the sleeve of his jacket.

"Can you call Felix for me? Let him know that I'm here?" You desperately say as the guard stands right behind you, witnessing the awkward exchange.

He looks at you again with an even more intense stare.

"Please?" You plead with a thin smile.

Hyunjin shifts his eyes to check for any damage, "and who are you?" he asks without looking at you.

"I'm a friend of Felix," you say and you wished that you said it confidently.

He looks up from his phone, his eyes are once again on you but what is strange about his stare this time is it's as if he saw another human for the first time: pure bewilderment.

"Can you please call him for me?" You kindly ask him again.

But the long pause only tells you that he has no intentions to help you.

"You know what? Never mind," you sigh.

You decide to give up trying to convince him. You have no proof to make him trust you anyway so why bother trying?

You turn around to let the guard take you to wherever he's going to send you, probably toss you out to the street.

Thankfully, at the end of the hall, Lou appeared to stop that from happening.

"I've been looking for you!" He says when he's still a few meters from you when it should be you saying that.

"It's okay, she's with me," he says to the guard.

He lets go right away and turns to do his job elsewhere, as much as you hate to experience it but that man is merely doing his job.

You let out a big sigh of relief, "what took you so long?" You whine and sound exactly like you're about to cry.

He puts the pass around your neck like a necklace, you check it to see that it's an all-access pass.

"Logistics stuff," he concisely explains.

You choose to let him off easy, he's also, just doing his job.

Putting his arm around your shoulder after, Lou takes you walking with him in the opposite direction of the hallway and when you think about it, it starts to feel like a maze.

"Where are we going?"

"The green room!" He shortly replies.

You both arrived at two big doors with the name of the band plastered on them and guarded by a security guard. He glances at your pass before opening the door for you.

Suddenly, a wave of anxiety hits you. Because what if you're not welcome there? You stop Lou from taking you inside with your hand holding onto the door.

"Is it alright for me to be in there?"

Lou got so perplexed by your question, "Of course!"

The little incident earlier gives you an inkling that someone inside wouldn't want you there. Lou probably thinks that you're nervous, he takes your hand to drag you inside, "If it's not alright then why Felix asked me to take you here?"

The green room is empty except for a few people sitting on the couch and a few others are in another part of the room.

"Hey guys, I found her loitering outside," Lou playfully announce your arrival to Felix who was talking to someone on the couch.

"Should we take her or not?"

Felix chuckles and leans back on the couch, scanning you from head to toe, "I'm not sure," he says.

Lou grabs both of your shoulders, "okay then I'll just toss her into the recyclable bin," he jokes.

You glare at both Felix and Lou, keeping your face stern.

Felix softens right away, "Okay, okay, come here!"

He takes your hand, pulling you hard enough that you topple onto his lap. You immediately get off his lap, afraid that people might take it the wrong way.

"Thank you for taking her here," Felix thanked Lou.

"No problem, man!" He replies, walking to the fridge stocked with both alcoholic and non-alcoholic drinks. He picks up a can of cola and plops down on the other sofa.

"Where's Han?"

"In an interview in the other room," Felix replies, also grabbing a can of cola from the fridge without getting up. He opens it and hands it to you.

"Thanks," you mutter.

He leans back on the sofa again, looking tired even though his day is far from done.

"So, how was the soundcheck?"

You quickly swallow your first sip of soda to answer, "It was great!"

"Just great?"

You lowly chuckle, "we were much greater," you answer with a cheeky grin.

"That! I don't agree!"

Your head turns to see someone standing behind you and for a second, you thought it was the last person you want to see there and vice versa.

Han plops down on the sofa next to you, "I'm Han," he offers his hand at you.

You tell him your name while taking his hand to shake, "here I thought no one shakes hands anymore," you say.

A cocky grin appears on his small, round face, "I'm classy that way," he says.

Felix snorts next to you, "Trust me, there's nothing classy about this man!"

Han hits Felix with a cushion, "Back me up here!"

"She'd know if I lied," Felix defended himself.

"No, actually," You turn to Felix and continue speaking, "Anyone can tell when you're lying, Felix!"

Now, it's Han's turn to laugh, he puts his hoodie on and moves to the smaller sofa, getting comfortable by putting a cushion under his neck.

"I'm taking a nap," he announces and puts on earplugs.

Felix puts his hand around your shoulder and pulls you close until your head meets his, "am I that transparent?" He asks you in a whispery voice.

You lowly laugh, "Since day one."

He drops his head onto your shoulder and heavily sighs.

You pet his head and his hair is perfectly tousled as if someone spent hours styling it that way.

Something red enters your peripheral vision and your heart skipped a beat, you haven't decided how you should act upon the little incident earlier.

Should you be wise and let it go? You also hate to be in this situation.

"Hyunjin, I want to introduce someone to you," Felix shouts at him with his head still resting on your shoulder and your hand in his hair.

Hyunjin stops on his track for a while, looking at Felix, then at you. As he sets his eyes on you, you decide to bravely stare back at him, letting him know that it's the right time for him to say something.

All he does is this subtle shrug then goes to the other part of the room. No apologies or even a hint of regret for dismissing you earlier.

Holding a grudge seems to be the only right choice at the moment and you don't care how petty that sounds.

Felix knows that Hyunjin just gave you a not-so-friendly welcome greeting, "he's always like that before a show," he assures you.

"Man, he's like that even after the concert," Lou adds.

With eyes closed, Han injects himself into the conversation, "pretty boys are like that," he jokingly remarks.

"The fact that you aren't like that means you're not pretty?" Lou pokes fun at him.

He smirks with eyes closed, "that's because I'm cool," he ends with a bold statement.

-

Thankfully, Felix doesn't have to go anywhere but get his makeup done.

The make-up artist doesn't do much on him, just a thin layer of foundation that covers enough with his freckles still showing, dusting both of his cheeks and the bridge of his nose.

After that, he does his preconcert rituals and which consist of having a light meal, drinking hydration drinks, memorizing the setlist, warming up, and having a quick briefing with the stage director.

You feel like a real intruder as you walk with him to the back of the stage, you have no other choice with his arm around your shoulder.

The manager finally appears a few minutes before showtime, everyone gathers into a circle while you stand in the corner.

"Come here!" Felix says, gesturing you to join in.

Lou is pushing you from the back, also joining the circle for team cheer. Hands are stacked in the middle of the circle you can't tell whose hands belong to who anymore.

The manager shouts encouragement loudly as the opening sequence of the concert has began playing on stage and the crowd cheers at the anticipation.

"On three!" Han shouts.

"One, two, three!" He shouts as everyone throws their hands in the air in unison.

"WE'RE SO SSICK!" Everyone shouts in unison except you.

The path to the stage is signed with neon-colored tape plastered onto the floor but it's still dark to see what you're stepping on. Lou is quick to turn on the flashlight from his phone while fisting the back of your t-shirt, afraid that you might stumble with the cables slithering on the floor.

Everyone is stopping at the side of the stage, still out of the crowd's sight.

"You can watch from here!" Felix tells you.

You grab him by the elbow to whisper to him instead of trying to talk over the loud music, "Good luck!"

He smiles, then pulls you into a quick hug. He turns at Lou but he knows what he's going to say.

"Don't worry! I got her!" He assures him.

The moment each one of them steps into the stage, the crowd cheers louder it's deafening.

"Your friend worries a lot," Lou whispers to you.

"I know," you mouthed at him while laughing.

The show starts with a blasting guitar playing from Hyunjin, a riff from the title song in their last album. It feels as if someone just electrocuted you because all of sudden your body is buzzing all over but in the best way.

Then Felix starts banging his drum with his foot hitting the pedal so hard that you can feel every beat right in your eardrum.

After a few bars of intro, Han takes over his place in the front and pushes his mouth close to the mic, singing the first line of the verse followed by the crowd singing along with him.

Somehow, you picked up the lyrics of the chorus right away and sang along on the second verse. Your body is controlled by the music that you're no longer trying to stop yourself anymore but giving in.

In the break between the songs, you take a step forward to see how many people are there coming to the concert. Turns out, the arena is full of people from top to bottom, front to back. There are so many people you can't possibly count them in your head.

All of the hairs on your arms are standing as you take a step back to the side of the stage, "oh my God!"

Lou grins at you, he seems to be used to this view. Unlike you, he's busy looking at the members the whole time, to check if anyone needs something fixed quickly.

They'll signal him if something is wrong or the sound is either too low or high, mic problem. Lou also helps if either Hyunjin or Han needs a change of instruments.

"Here! Felix's solo is coming soon!" He gestures for you to come over to him.

You comply, standing a little too close to the stage but hidden behind the stage equipment. There, you get a clear view of Felix playing his drum, every movement of his hands and feet on the pedals.

Hyunjin stops playing his guitar, leaving only Han playing rhythmical guitar as the background to Felix's solo drumming.

You were wrong to ever thought that Felix's dream of becoming a drummer is a silly thing. Here you are, watching him become one and he's incredibly good at it that it feels like he's sticking his middle finger right to your face.

Other than that, you are so proud of him, proud of what he has become yet remains the same person.

Felix is too focused on playing that he only realized you were watching from the side once he's done with his solo. He slyly grins at you with one eyebrow raised while his hands are busy carrying the beat.

"Told you I'm great!" He shouts at you.

"Yeah keep telling that to yourself," you playfully reply.

It feels a whole lot different watching them from the side of the stage like this and seeing what's happening behind the scene, that there are a lot more people involved in the show to make sure everyone leaves with unforgettable memories.

They finish the last song on the setlist and take a break before going back in for the encore.

Lou is handing out extra towels as each one of them comes to the side of the stage. Felix grabs one, then begins aggressively drying his hair with it, making a mess of it.

Han has his tongue out as he tries to catch his breath, standing facing the nig portable air conditioner to cool himself down.

Hyunjin is the last one to come backstage, practically drenched in sweat. His t-shirt is soaking wet that it's stuck to his body.

He sits on top of a box with his head down, sweat dripping from the end of his hair with the red hair dye fades into the white t-shirt he's wearing.

Felix puts his hand on your shoulder as a support, as he too, is running out of breath. The sleeveless top he's wearing is sticking to his skin despite it having two gaping holes on each side, exposing just enough to let everyone know he has toned abs under there.

Realizing that you unintentionally ogling at your best friend, you shake the thoughts away, quickly grabbing a bottled water nearby and uncap it for him.

"For the greatest drummer in the world," you switch the towel in his hand with it.

He's too exhausted to laugh at it that he can only grin, then takes a long, big gulp of water it spills out the corner of his mouth and dribbles down his chin. He finishes the whole bottle in under a minute.

With the already damp towel, you dab the sweat on his face and neck, carefully not ruining the make-up that somehow survives the extra moisture on his face.

A few minutes have passed with the crowd chanting for an encore when it's obvious that they need another few minutes of break.

You check the setlist taped to the wall and they have three songs to play for the encore. You wonder how they can still fully function after performing for more than two hours already.

"Whenever you're ready, boys!" Someone says, which you believe is coming from the manager.

Felix grabs another bottled water, not to drink it but pours it on his head to cool it off, he pushes his bleached blonde hair to the back with his fingers.

This is the kind of sight that would make the fans go wild, but what can you say? Guess tonight they're not lucky as you.

Felix takes the towel back from you to wipe the water dribbling down his neck, "do I look alright?" He asks with his eyes wide.

You saw the stylist put on mascara on him earlier and now it's slightly smudged with how much he sweats, but that only adds to the rockstar look. You decide to only wipe the excess under his eyes ever so slowly with your pinky finger.

"Let's get ready!" Han says as he looks around for the members despite he's still catching his breath.

Felix puts his hand away from your shoulder to get a clean towel, using it to dab fresh sweat on his face.

Behind him, something catches your eyes, the red of Hyunjin's hair and him casually taking his t-shirt off in front of everyone. Well, everyone is probably used to this but not you, you're the only one having a hard time trying not to look his way.

Look away, look away, you repeatedly tell yourself, but instead of doing that, you do the exact opposite.

You stare at his back figure and see the ridges his back muscles made as he puts a t-shirt over his head that eventually covers his smooth skin, glistening wet even under the poor lighting backstage.

Han once again takes the lead, walking up to Felix and tapping him on the shoulder repeatedly as if to transfer his energy to him.

"Let's go!" He excitedly tells him.

Felix always manages to catch you off guard, surprising you by pressing a kiss on the cheek and you can only give in to him.

"Be right back!" He says with a grin.

Hyunjin follows them not long after, but stopping at the side to dry his hair with a towel, you feel a few drops of his sweat land on your arms.

He briefly glances at you, then tosses the damp towel away before entering the stage again.

That one stare reminds you why you're still holding a grudge against him, but at the same time, you don't want it to ruin the night.

However, once Hyunjin plays his guitar, you forget all about it.

You feel the shiver down your spine, and it's getting intense as the guitar riffs he plays charmed you to keep watching.

And it's hard to do so because he's so blinding.

Before you fall in deeper, you turn to see Felix who's just as blinding, shining in his own limelight. You don't have to talk about Han, he shines in his own way from the way he got everyone wrapped around his little finger.

The pit is going berserk as they play a song they have probably been waiting for. The loud cheering returns and the music starts filling the entire space, letting it hypnotize and control them.

There's no use in fighting it, you let yourself get carried away and notice that Lou joining you as he puts his arm on your shoulder, jumping together to the intensified music as it comes close to its ending.

As the music stops, you found yourself panting and turn to the side to find Lou laughing, you can't help but laugh along with him even though you feel like you're about to faint.

The concert is close to three hours long but it seems like none of the attendees wanted to go home. You can relate to that after what you've experienced, that incredible feeling of being a part of something much bigger than ourselves. It's one-of-a-kind, euphoric, and addictive.

"Let's wait in the back!" Lou says, leading you down the steps with the help of the flashlight from his phone.

After the curtain closed and the lights are out, they finally come down to the backstage. The cheers from everyone who's working just as hard behind the curtains welcome them, applauds and whistles.

They give handshakes, high-fives, and quicks hugs to thank them for their hard work while you're trailing behind as they make their way back to the green room.

Felix stops on his track with his head turned, searching for you.

"She's here!" Lou says as he gently pushes you his way.

You walk up to him with a proud smile on, profoundly proud of him for not only achieving his dream but keep thriving at it.

"You were so great!" You got choked as you tell him that and he knows it's coming from the bottom of your heart, you're about to hug him when he avoids it.

"I'm sweaty, babe," he says, maintaining a space between your bodies.

He drops his hand to hold yours instead and starts walking together.

-

Felix comes out of the green room with his damp hair brushed to the back, carrying a bag on one shoulder with a smile blossoming on his face the second he sees you.

You've been waiting outside because they must be tired from the show, you should give them the space to cool down.

You stole a few packs of sweets and waited outside with Lou.

Felix walks towards you with his arms outstretched, hinting that he's going to hug you and you immediately rise from your seat to receive it.

His freshly shampooed hair smells nice but what you like the most is that natural scent that clung to his clothes.

"You smell way better now," you playfully say as you pull away.

"I know," he coyly answers with a smile.

He puts his arm around you and starts walking down the hallway that leads to the parking basement where a van is already parked right outside with the driver already waiting.

"You get in first!" He says.

Again, you comply without a word and only realized that you have no idea where he's taking you once you are seated in the back row of the van.

Felix plops down next to you and puts his bag next to him.

"Where are we going?" You ask.

"The after-party, of course," he simply answers.

"Aren’t you... tired?"

That must have sounded so naive coming from you that he chuckles, "Why? It's past your bedtime?"

You nod, "Yes. I actually want to go home. I miss my bed."

He glances at you in disbelief and shakes his head with his hand rummaging the inside of his bag.

"I use the same one," you share as he takes out a cherry lip balm.

He applies it on his lips, then says, "Want me to apply it on you?" he leans in with his lips puckered.

Your hand reflexively pushes him away as he playfully tries to kiss you. At the same time, someone enters the car and from the bright red of his hair, you know who it is without having to see his face.

Your laughs die down as he sits on the seat in the middle, you hear him sighing then drops his bag on the space next to him with a low thud.

It's getting quiet inside the dark of the van, the only source of light is coming from Felix's phone as he's checking his messages.

"Are you even allowed to take your girlfriend?" Hyunjin suddenly asks.

He doesn't even turn his head to the person he's asking the question to. Felix puts his arm around you to pull you closer to his side even though he has no one to show it off to.

"Why? Are you jealous?" Felix asks back instead of denying him.

You turn to the side to see Felix slyly grinning with the lights from his phone illuminating his face. On the other hand, you hear Hyunjin sighs again then puts his headphones back on again, probably regretted for asking about it.

A while later, Han and Lou finally get into the van, sitting on the front seats together. They're already busy chatting about a few things all at once and it's the first time you hear Lou talks so much.

Someone else gets into the passenger's side and the car lurches forward, exiting the parking basement. As the car drives out of the building, you can see a group of people lining up to perhaps, see the band once more before going home.

They're cheering as the van rides past them despite they can't see through the heavily tinted glass.

Calculate it fast in your head, they have waited for almost two hours after the concert ended just to catch a glimpse of them.

It makes you realize that you're lucky to be able to comfortably enjoy the show and now, being in the same car with them, an experience that a lot of people dream of having.

The whole ride is quiet and when you thought they must be resting out of fatigue. When the car stops in another parking basement in which you have no idea where.

Everyone can't wait to get out of the car, you're the last one to come with Felix helps you get off by holding your hand.

It's when you enter the building that you recognize it's the hotel they're staying at.

As everyone waits for the elevator to arrive, Han notices you standing across from him. Since your eyes make contact, it's only right to say something.

"Hey," you sheepishly say, afraid that he's not in the mood to talk to someone.

"Hey!" He greets back, "How was the show?"

He looks alright for a man who has sung more than twenty songs in two and a half hours.

"Incredible!" You shortly reply then realize that's not enough of a compliment.

"It's just amazing from first to last," you add and hope that it doesn't sound phony, you're just bad at verbalizing your thoughts.

He smiles back while fixing the collar of his jacket, "well, I'm glad you came," he says.

You don't expect him to be this charming in person, he has the kind of charm that slowly growing in you.

Felix hisses at him, "she came for me," he says while pushing you into the elevator as the doors slide open.

Han nudges Lou's elbow, "I didn't know Felix can be this possessive," he whispers to him intentionally loud.

Inside the small space of the elevator, Hyunjin remains unbothered with his headphones still on, hands deep in the pockets of his jeans. You can only see his face through the reflection on the shiny furnace of the elevator as it shoots up to the top floor which you assume is where all the luxurious suites are located.

It shouldn't come as a surprise to you anymore but the reality that your friend is in a famous band hasn't sunk in yet.

The after-party isn't what you expected it to be, it's more like a get-together with a hotel bartender working behind a small bar, tending to everyone's drinks.

You recognize most of the people there as the staff working in the green room earlier except that they're way more relaxed.

Everyone scatters like they know where they need to go and you hate to always have to cling to Felix which only shows how shitty you are at socializing.

"Drinks?" Lou asks from beside you.

"Yes, please!" You let out a sigh of relief at the end of the sentence.

Lou doesn't hesitate to order a hard liquor while you chose to have something with the least amount of alcohol in it. You take a sip to confirm that it tastes more sugary than an alcoholic and have a bigger sip after.

Being Lou is exceptionally easy, maybe because he's so laid-back and nonchalant in a sense that makes you feel like he's not going to attack you with personal questions.

"So, what do you guys usually do at the after-party?" You ask.

He snorts, "Actually, nothing, we just... chill?" He doubtfully answers, then pulls out a phone from his jacket.

"Let's take a picture!" He gives you no time to think of a pose but holds out his hand far enough to fit both of your faces in the camera.

What kind of photographer who doesn't know how to pose? You almost roll your eyes at yourself as the thought runs through your head.

"What's your Instagram?"

"I don't have one."

He squints his eyes at you for a moment, "No media social presence? Cool!"

You can't tell if he's being sarcastic or earnestly complimenting you, whichever it is, you don't feel offended by him.

"I have one but it's for my photography and work stuff," you add before you weirded him out more.

"Here," he hands you his phone to let you insert your username.

As you're handing his phone back, Felix comes from behind you. He gently puts his hand on your shoulder and talks close to your ear.

"Hey, I need you to meet someone," he says.

You turn to the side to find him leaning so close to you that it startles you.

"Who?"

He drops his hand to yours, "come with me," he orders.

"Okay, wait," you gulp the rest of your drink before letting Felix take you somewhere.

You haven't had the chance to look around the suite to know there's a balcony and a group of people lounging out there.

This is where they scooted away to, you say as you spotted Han and Hyunjin sitting on the long sofa.

Felix is taking you exactly there and makes you stand in front of everyone, putting you in the center of attention.

He points at the man sitting on the other sofa, "This is Vin," he introduces.

"He's the tour manager," he adds.

You hold out your hand because this sounds formal and it's basic etiquette, something that you learned from Han earlier.

"Hi, pleased to meet you," you sincerely say.

There's a hint of regret that you didn't choose to drink something stronger back in the bar, this calls for that too with the attention you're getting.

"You're a photographer?" Vin asks.

You clear your throat before answering, "Yes," you stammer.

That doesn't sound convincing so you try again, "Yes, I am."

He fixes his seating on the sofa and leans forward as if he's needing to take a better look at you, "I don't see you taking your camera with you tonight."

"I thought I'm not allowed to so I–" you pause as you heard someone snorts, everyone else there is chatting to each other however you feel their eyes on you.

"I'm sorry," you conclude instead of finishing your sentence and oh, you hate to apologize when you don't even do anything wrong.

Vin nods as he takes his glass of drink from the glass table, "so what do you think about being the band's photographer?"

The question takes you out completely. Firstly, because you didn't ask for it, and secondly, you don't know how you feel about it because you never even thought about it.

"Felix has been telling me about you," he says.

You look at the culprit next to you and he's grinning ear to ear, he knows that you can't be mad when he's putting his sunshine face on.

"We'll be going on tour next month," Vin continues, shifting on his seat and hastily sipping his drink, "how about you join us, taking pictures of the boys, the stage, everything..."

This is so sudden, so out of the blue and you don't like doing things unplanned. You take a low breath to supply your brain with more oxygen so you can think clearly.

After a while, the cogs are turning and your head started to fill with the pros. One, It's a job, you're barely booked and the tour is next month, two, no one booked you next month and third, it's a huge opportunity, you'll not be just a photographer for a band, it's THE one famous rock band, it's Ssick.

Vin hisses as he takes another sip of his liquor, "Just for the tour and you'll be paid, of course!"

Oh, and money. You need money, a lot of it to rent a photo studio.

"Oh, you're going on tour with us?" Someone asks.

Your head turns to see Han sitting on the armrest of the sofa, talking excitedly as if he's delighted to have you as one of his entourage. Or maybe he does and that lands him on the pros list.

You're getting confident about it now and about to answer him when your eyes somehow turn to the guy sitting next to him, the bright red of his hair is a contrast to his pale face that tells he is opposed to the idea, well, he can be on the cons list and you couldn't care less.

You look away from him and turn to Vin, "I'd love to, yes," you confidently answer.

It's the first time in your life saying yes out of a whim and you feel anxiety rises inside you.

"See you on tour then!" He coyly says with his glass slightly raises at you.

You excuse yourself the second the deal is made and run back to the bar, you meet Lou on the way there as he's talking to someone.

"Can I have it?" You point at his drink.

He shrugs and hands it to you without complaint.

You drain it empty in one long gulp and wince at the bitter aftertaste. It's whiskey and it's burning your throat that you can't speak without feeling like you're about to spit fire.

He rolls his head to the back to look at you, "what's wrong?"

You can only respond by shaking your head, telling him that you're alright and that you needed to release some jitters.

When you thought you can take it, you can feel the alcohol is making its way back out of you.

Lou is quick-witted, he gets up from the sofa and pulls you to a bathroom at the end of the hall. He closes the door for you as you rush to kneel on the floor, vomiting into the toilet bowl.

You check yourself in the mirror and see the mess you made on your t-shirt. You wet a towel to clean it but it's doing nothing, if anything, everyone would know you just vomited.

Someone barges into the toilet, it's your fault for not locking it after Lou closed it for you.

"It's occupied!" You shout, putting a hand to stop someone comes inside.

"It's me!"

From his deep voice, you can easily tell that it's Felix. Slowly you let go of your hand from blocking the door and open it for him.

His eyes dart to your wet, tainted t-shirt.

"I'm so grotesque, I know," you whine and continue your effort to clean it by roughly wiping on it with the wet towel.

Felix takes off his hoodie and hands it to you, "here, wear this," he says.

You take it from him without thinking, it's the only right option. He turns around to let you change your clothes.

"Are you mad?" Felix asks.

His question sounds so loud in this bathroom that is bigger than your bedroom. Other than that, you hear the sheer anxiety in his words.

"I'm not mad, Felix," you shorty reply.

You take a second to put on his hoodie and fix it while looking at the mirror, "You can turn around now!" You tell him.

He turns around and puts his hand against the sink, leaning his body to one side.

"But...?"

He knows you well that no detail is missed from you, "I was just a little taken aback," you honestly tell him.

He stares at you, making sure you're being honest and you let him see it in your eyes.

"If you feel pressured to do so but couldn't tell Vin, you can just tell me," he says as he takes a step toward you.

You shake your head and toss your unsalvaged t-shirt into the trash bin unintentionally hard, "are you kidding me?"

Felix gets startled that he reels to the back, "What?"

"What makes you think I'll pass the chance to go on a road trip with you and get paid for it?" You put both of your hands on his chest and playfully shove him away.

"I don't think so," you add with a playful grin.

His face loosens at your answer, he pulls you into a hug but you're fast to avoid it. You walk past him and stumble out of the bathroom, running away from him.

Felix catches you with his arms around your waist and you squeal as he lifts you off the floor.

"Put me down!"

"No!" He refuses, tightening his arms around you instead.

You hit his arms to force him to let you go but he's starting to spin you around as if you haven't just vomited a few minutes ago.

"Can you guys get out of the way?"

Both of you turn your heads at the same time to see Hyunjin with his annoyed face, waiting for any of you to make a way for him.

"Sorry," you meekly say and get to the other side with Felix.

"There's another bathroom..." Before Felix can finish his sentence, Hyunjin is already inside the bathroom.

Felix shrugs, "he probably needs to go number 2!"

As your eyes meet again, both of you burst into laughter at the same time.

The after-party is still going but it's past midnight and you're booked tomorrow, "I have to go home," you tell Felix.

He starts groaning, fussing like a child, "stay a little longer," he pleads with an adorable pout.

"I am booked for a job tomorrow," you share, and that the job requires you to be there earlier than the appointed time.

He pouts more it's forming into duck lips and you put your hand over it, slowly pushing him away.

"I have to go," you groan back.

He holds both of your hands, looking defeated.

"I'll have Lou drive you home," he says.

"No!" You strongly refuse, "I'm sure he's tired already."

"I'll drive you then," he offers with a flirty wink.

He's so relentless it's silly, you laugh and push him away from you, "I'll take a taxi home, the hotel reception can get one for me," you tell him.

You make a quick trip around to say bye to everyone, well, just a few of them that you know.

"Hey, I'm still glad that you came," Han says as he waves back at you.

"See you on tour!" Lou says to you with a quick, side hug.

This feels nice, this feels like you're welcomed even though the tour hasn't begun yet. Part of it is because Hyunjin is still out of your sight until you leave the suite. Well, you don't have to worry about him until next month.

Felix insists on sending you off, he comes to the hotel lobby with you and waits for your taxi to arrive.

He intertwines his hand with yours on his lap, "It'll be fun!"

Felix is filled with giddiness after he made sure you fully agreed to join the tour.

"We'll have so much fun!"

His gleeful grins are so child-like, you can't say no to his wishes when he's adorable like this.

"Are you that happy?" You jokingly ask.

He enthusiastically nods his head like a puppy.

You can't help but smile. The hotel doorman informs you that the taxi has arrived. You both get up from the chairs and exchange a hug.

"You were so great today, Felix! I'm so proud of you," you've been wanting to tell him that and make sure he hears it well, he has to know that he's doing great.

It seems that he doesn't expect to hear that from you but you feel his hand squeezes your shoulder.

"See you soon!" He finally utters something after what you said to him, then pulls away.

You wave your hand at him before exiting the hotel and sigh the moment you get into the taxi. A month feels so long, so far when excitement fills you to the brim.

A month couldn't come sooner.

-

It feels nice to be home and be in the comfort of your bed.

You pick up your phone to set an alarm since you have to wake up early for a job tomorrow. There's a notification and you click on it to see the photo Lou posted on his Instagram with your handle tagged on it.

Turns out, Lou has his fans as his followers count can grant him an influencer status. You scroll down his social media page to see the photos he has posted and they're mostly the photos he took of the band, random bits, here and there.

There's one photo of Hyunjin eating a donut with a box full of it sitting on his lap with his hair still dark and tied into a tiny ponytail that formed a little palm tree on the top of his head.

"Flour boy," Lou captioned it and a chuckle escapes your mouth.

You slap yourself on the face to remind yourself that you're holding a grudge against him and the next thing you know, you fall into the rabbit holes of things you should have done or said to him, making scenarios in your head until you can't take it anymore.

You can't go to sleep like this, not when the last thing on your mind is that annoying red-haired flour boy. You're flipping through your vinyl collections to check if you have what you're looking for.

Everyone knows that album artwork of a painting of a banana by Andy Warhol but you're not sure if you ever bought it.

Giving up, you end up looking for the album on your phone and play the same song Hyunjin was listening to as you knocked his phone down.

You sit down on the carpeted floor listening to the song playing the intro of the song then you hear a girl starts singing...

"Here she comes

You better watch your step

She's going to break your heart in two

It's true..." 

-

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[tossawary]

The last time that I rewatched "The Fellowship of the Ring" (extended edition, of course), my favorite new detail that I noticed is that the characters, once they set out on their journey, are pretty much always traveling from screen-left to screen-right.

It had been a few years since I'd seen the films and I'd learned more about filmmaking in that time. I'm completely biased regarding the LOTR films; they're not perfect, but I grew up on them, I love them. I was trying to take notes on all of the little details that made the world of the films seem so rich and so enchanting to me. The camerawork, character staging, and editing is one of the many things that just happened to jump out at me at this time.

When Frodo and Sam are leaving the Shire, the camera is set up in such a way that they start on the left side of the screen (<- that side) and travel across it to the right side of the screen (-> that side).

This way to go the farthest you've ever been from home. ->

As the hobbits travel from Bree to Rivendell, as the Fellowship travels from Rivendell to the Misty Mountains, all of those gorgeous scenic shots of the Nine Walkers show them moving from screen-left to screen-right. I haven't rewatched the entire trilogy lately, but in "The Fellowship of the Ring", it is so beautifully consistent.

There are a handful of reasons why this is done. In staging and editing, consistency regarding where the characters are placed on the screen is a storytelling tool. For example: the "180 degrees rule" says to generally keep the camera on one side of the characters within a scene, so that the audience can mentally keep track of the characters within the environment and focus on the action/dialogue. If we're watching two characters talking in a diner, even in the close-ups, one character will usually be kept on screen-left and be shown facing screen-right, and the other will be kept on screen-right and be shown facing screen-left. It feels stable. (People will sometimes choose to break the "180 degrees rule". It can be a tool to create a sense of disorientation and/or instability in the audience.)

In "The Fellowship of the Ring", the maps that the audience is shown of Middle Earth tell us that the Shire is located in the West (left side of the map) and everything else of relevance (Rivendell, Moria, Rohan, Gondor, Mordor) is East (right side of the map). As the characters consistently travel screen-right, the audience builds up a firmer mental map of Middle Earth and can better keep track of the characters' progress on their long journey. With every step that Frodo takes towards screen-right (->), we know that he is traveling East, taking another step towards Mordor.

Left to right may also instinctively feel like the way forward in a culture that writes and reads from left to right. Regardless of which way you write: if your film establishes extremely consistently that one direction is forward, then this visual language can be used to tell the audience that something is wrong if the characters start traveling from right to left. They might be lost! It builds suspense in the visual depiction of the characters going backwards and undoing progress! This all suits the lengthy hero's journey of LOTR very well, in my opinion.

There's an old joke that knowing how anything is made ruins the magic, and another old joke that knowing anything about filmmaking makes you insufferable to watch movies with, but I've never felt that way, especially not here. How does that quote go? It's still magic even if you know how it's done. (GNU Terry Pratchett.)

I find it enchanting, honestly, that so many people can work so hard for an effect that can seem so simple. Actors, directors, camera operators, editors, storyboarders, and so many others on the crew of the films consistently placed characters, sets, and props just so! So that the audience could more easily keep track of where everyone was and lose themselves a little more deeply in the story.

It's such a simple rule! And it works so well! Left -> Right. West -> East. Shire -> Mordor. Home -> Adventure. Known -> Unknown.

I personally recommend trying to keep track of character movement across the screen in films, especially if you have any interest in visual storytelling (films or illustration or something else). It's fun! It's impossible for me to unsee, watching "The Fellowship of the Ring" now, and I think it's a wonderful piece of movie magic.

[sky-kiss]

Imagine Raphael giving you to Haarlep to cycle between edging and overstim for a day + aftercare. The next day Raphael puts you in suspension bondage and occasionally walks up while he is reading to play with your still raw and over sensitive clit/cock.

Plucking, stroking, teasing until your voice breaks. Then he walks away, licking his fingers.

A/N: I MEAN. HERE’S THE THING. Nothing I write is going to be able to touch that. But I will try. Hopefully you like it. Hiding sin under gif.

Raph x Haarlep x Reader (GN): HAHA I'M IN DANGER

___

He gives you to Haarlep to "rest." 

Of course, he smiles as he says it, eyes glittering specks of hellfire. He waves you away with a small smile and a pat on the ass. Raphael's good little toy, obedient and deserving a touch of kindness after hours at the devil's mercy. Every muscle in your body aches in the most delicious way, fingerprints emblazoned across your hips, shallow abrasions across your belly. Your throat is a ruin of kiss-sucked bruises. Precisely how he likes you, his pretty canvas.  

But you're tired. You need the rest. Haarlep coos to you, hands feathering over your hair. They touch and tease, massaging out the aching muscles in your lower back. The incubus always promises you the sweetest things, a whisper of affection as they settle between your thighs. 

It's "rest" only in the loosest sense of the word. You whine, hands clenching in the sheets. Sometimes, it's their mouth on you. It's an irresistible game, building you to a dizzying high only to pull back and leaving you wanting and cold. Up and up until you're left raw, a live wire sparking in the overheated air. You beg them to let you come. 

Haarlep always agrees. But a devil's acquiescence is rarely without cost. They stuff you full of cock, riding you until you're too hoarse to scream. They order you to come for them, laughing, bright, loud, and cruel. A hand fists in your hair, turning your face into the mattress. 

"Oh, my love, you asked for this, no?" He leans over you, licking up your spine. "Begged to come. Called me cruel! Wicked Haarlep!" You whimper. His right-hand snakes around your throat, squeezing and pulling you back against his chest. The incubus nips the shell of your ear, dragging the lobe between his teeth. "Scream for me, won't you? You can still do that much." 

You try. They make sure you try. But Haarlep is an industrious creature capable of making their own entertainment. After they've come, they flip you onto your back, moving you like their little doll. It's back to teeth and tongue, licking his mess clean, stroking you. It's too much. Pleasure and heat, spiraling until you think you'll black out. 

And the sweetest thing is that whenever you awaken, Haarlep is there, still toying with your body—building and breaking, building and breaking, over and over. 

One of them must hang you. You don't remember, blissed out, boneless. Raphael loves to display you like this: hanging near his desk, an art piece to observe at his leisure. The chains chafe a little, but you know that irritation will be dealt with after. For now, you enjoy the reprieve. There are no hands on you for the first time in what feels like days. 

"Did you enjoy your reprieve, mouse?" Raphael smiles at you, almost gentle, almost fond. There are so many possibilities, and your brain is too addled to parse any of them. He leans back in his seat, hands folded over his belly. "Haarlep lamented your performance. Uninspired, they called it." The cambion chuckles at this, humming. "But the results." 

He holds his arms out wide, smirking. Yes, the results- your ruination. Your head sags forward, chin resting on your chest. Raphael crosses the room, hooking a finger under your chin. The devil groans, kissing you deeply. His tongue presses past the seam of your lips, tasting you, dancing but not demanding. 

A contrast to the way he touches you. He doesn't build you to an orgasm; he wrenches it from your exhausted body, the touch stinging against your overstimulated flesh. You whimper into his mouth, twisting to take more, to get closer, to relieve the pressure in your wrists. He tuts. Raphael kisses your nose, your chin, your mouth. 

"Now, now, you know the game, mouse. Be very good, and we'll let you down early. For now…relax. Simple…be yourself." 

He pats your stomach and returns to his reading, brings his fingers to his mouth and licks them clean.